A Different Kind of Strength

by ScarlettBeat

Summary:

When the Saiyans arrive on Earth, there's a third saiyan warrior, a girl Gohan's age. As the daughter of Prince Vegeta, Cellera was raised to be the perfect Saiyan warrior - tactical, efficient, and merciless. But something about Earth's defenders makes her question everything she was taught about strength. Perhaps her mother was right. There is more than one way to be strong.

Through their battles, both Gohan and Cellera discover there's more than one way to be strong. While Gohan learns to overcome his fears and fight for what matters, Cellera begins to see that mercy isn't weakness and family isn't just about blood.

A canon divergence exploring how the presence of Vegeta's daughter changes the Saiyan Saga and beyond, examining themes of family, growth, and what it truly means to be strong.

Slow Burn Romance

Notes:

This is a fanfic purely born of my SIMPing for Gohan and then it turned into a whole rewrite canon divergence fic of what if Vegeta had a daughter when he came to Earth...Oops!

I saw that the DBZ Fandom desperately needed some Gohan/OC fanfiction and the one I loved is no longer around. So I hope you guys enjoy, as we will be going through the whole DBZ Series (Maybe Super?) with Gohan and my OC Cellera. I tried very hard not to make her a Mary-Sue. I've spent two weeks on the Saiyan Saga alone, and will spend many many more in the arcs to come as I am already working on the planning phase for Namek/Freiza.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Notes:

Updated as of 12/04/2024 - I noticed how bad the first 4 chapters are now that I know what I'm doing. In all honesty this fic started out as purely self-indulgent and now its grown into my baby...and I got a beta reader to help me keep stuff in line.

Update as of 01/31/2025 - I revised again, because i still hated the revised draft lol.

Planet: ?

The alien world's twin suns cast long shadows across a landscape of devastation. Where a thriving civilization had stood mere hours ago, only smoking ruins remained. Three Saiyan warriors surveyed their handiwork, their armor gleaming in the dying light.

Nappa's laughter echoed across the desolate plain as he continued firing random ki blasts at already-destroyed structures. "These weaklings weren't even worth the effort!" Another explosion lit up the darkening sky.

Cellera watched his display of pointless destruction, carefully keeping her expression neutral even as her mind calculated the wasted energy. Unlike Nappa's preference for drawn-out suffering, she had dispatched her sector's inhabitants with quick, precise strikes - just as her mother had taught her. A warrior's duty was to fight, not torture. Besides, efficiency served their mission better than cruelty.

She made her way to where her father stood several meters away, his arms crossed as his red scouter blinked methodically. Though she knew they had eliminated all life forms in their assigned sectors, Vegeta's thorough scans for survivors reflected the attention to detail he'd drilled into her since she could walk. As she reached his side, she found herself unconsciously mirroring his stance - a habit born of years watching him for subtle cues that could mean survival or death.

The wind caught her shoulder-length black hair, sending stray strands across her face. She brushed them aside with a practiced gesture, her sharp eyes still studying the battlefield's aftermath. Standing together like this, there was no mistaking her heritage as the daughter of the Saiyan Prince. She shared not just his bearing but his tactical mind, though her methods often differed from his increasingly brutal approach.

"We could have cleared the planet in six hours," she noted, keeping her voice crisp and professional despite her youth. "If we'd split the sectors more efficiently and avoided..." she paused, choosing her words carefully, "unnecessary distractions."

The implied criticism of Nappa's methods was clear, though she knew better than to state it directly. A warrior could question strategy, but challenging her father's tolerance of Nappa's excesses would only invite unwanted scrutiny of her own preferences for clean kills.

A small smirk crossed Vegeta's face at her assessment. His daughter's precision reminded him of her mother, though he'd never voice the comparison. "Always looking to improve our efficiency, aren't you?" His tone carried that familiar mix of pride and warning. "But sometimes..." He raised his hand, gathering energy for a final blast, "it's worth taking one's time. You're a Saiyan warrior - you'll understand that instinct soon enough."

The energy blast illuminated their faces as it obliterated the planet's last standing structure. Cellera observed the destruction with carefully crafted detachment, her year and a half practice helping her maintain the mask her father demanded. Since her mother's death almost two years ago, she'd learned to bury any hesitation beneath layers of Saiyan pride. If she couldn't feel it, it didn't exist - a mantra that had become as much armor as the chest plate she wore.

Her father had made it clear after Rhuba's death: sentiment was weakness, emotions on the battlefield invited defeat. The lesson was reinforced with each mission, his methods growing more brutal as if testing her resolve to maintain that emotional distance. Her tail coiled tighter around her waist - a tell she hadn't quite mastered controlling, much like the memories of her mother she couldn't quite suppress.

Emotions are a liability , she reminded herself, forcing her tail to relax its grip. Yet even as she projected the perfect image of a proper Saiyan warrior, some part of her recognized the cost of such rigid control. Her mother had channeled her feelings into precise, efficient combat rather than suppressing them entirely. But questioning her father's methods now would only invite unwanted scrutiny of her own carefully maintained facade.

While her Saiyan blood sang with the thrill of combat like any warrior's, Cellera found no satisfaction in prolonged suffering. Nappa's preference for terrorizing victims and her father's increasingly brutal methods felt uncomfortably similar to their current master's cruel efficiency. Instead, she followed her mother's example - quick, clean deaths for those too weak to truly defend themselves. The few times she'd attempted to mirror her father's drawn-out approach had left her feeling hollow, though she buried such reactions deep beneath her warrior's pride.

The memory surfaced unbidden - one of the rare missions she'd accompanied her mother on, before everything changed. It had been a simple purge of a low-power planet, yet Rhuba's approach had differed sharply from what Cellera now witnessed daily. Her mother's movements had been precise, elegant, each strike calculated to end life swiftly rather than draw out pain. But it was her eyes that Cellera remembered most clearly - not alight with savage joy like her father's, but carrying a quiet solemnity that her two-year-old self hadn't understood.

One moment stood out with particular clarity. The planet's defenders had stood their ground, knowing death awaited but refusing to abandon their people. " We may fall ," their leader had declared, " but we die protecting what matters. " They had fought with everything they had, though victory was impossible.

Rhuba had ended it quickly, but then paused over their fallen forms - a gesture so unlike the usual Saiyan victory stance that young Cellera had tugged at her mother's armor in confusion. "Is something wrong? " she'd asked, studying her mother's face with the same analytical focus she'd inherited.

"No, little one." Rhuba's voice had carried that unique blend of strength and gentleness that set her apart from other Saiyan warriors.

"But they were so weak," Cellera had observed, thumb pressing against her lip as she tried to understand.

Her mother's head shake had been gentle but firm. "They were very strong." When Cellera's confusion showed plainly on her face, Rhuba had simply touched her cheek. "One day you'll understand."

Such gestures of affection had always highlighted the contrast between her parents. Where her father's pride demanded rigid distance, allowing at most a brief hand on her shoulder for exceptional achievements, her mother had never hesitated to show warmth to her or her father. 

Despite that, Rhuba's own pride had burned just as fiercely as Vegeta's - it simply manifested differently, in calm superiority rather than explosive anger, in precise logic rather than brutal force.

Later, walking back to their pods, Cellera had asked the question that had been nagging at her young mind: "Why do you finish missions faster than Father?"

"Efficiency serves our purpose better than showmanship," Rhuba had replied, then added more quietly, "And a quick death is its own form of mercy, little one. We're warriors, not torturers."

"But Father says mercy is for the weak," Cellera had countered, repeating Vegeta's oft-stated beliefs. "Like Lord Frieza says."

A spark of that infamous Saiyan female fire had flashed in Rhuba's eyes, though her voice remained calm and precise. "Your father and Frieza confuse mercy with weakness because they've never understood the strength it takes to grant it." Her lips curved into a slight smile that held both affection and exasperation. "For all his tactical brilliance, your father often lets pride cloud his judgment. There's no honor in prolonging a battle already won - it only wastes energy we might need for real challenges."

The words had lodged in Cellera's memory like a splinter she couldn't quite remove, their full meaning beyond her young understanding. That blend of logical analysis and quiet defiance would surface years later in her own arguments with Vegeta, though she couldn't have known then how often she would find herself echoing her mother's measured criticism of his reckless pride.

"Speaking of efficiency," Nappa's voice cut through her memories, adjusting his scouter, "Raditz should be reporting back about Earth soon. Think he's handled Kakarot?"

"We'll know soon enough," Vegeta replied. His scouter suddenly beeped, drawing their attention. "What's this? Interesting... Raditz's power level just dropped significantly."

Cellera stepped forward, her own scouter confirming the reading. Years of analyzing combat data had taught her to recognize when battles turned decisively. "Either our scouters are malfunctioning, or..."

"Or Kakarot has proven more interesting than anticipated," Vegeta finished, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.

Without being asked, Cellera's fingers moved precisely across her scouter's controls, patching them into Raditz's transmission. Unlike Nappa's brute force approach to everything, she'd mastered the technical aspects of their equipment early - another inheritance from her mother's methodical nature.

"No, you die alone." A gruff, unfamiliar voice echoed through their scouters.

Cellera's spine straightened at those words. While Raditz was far from the strongest Saiyan, his defeat suggested Earth harbored warriors worth studying. Her careful attention sharpened as the transmission continued, especially at the mention of another child warrior - one who had helped bring down a Saiyan adult. The strategic possibilities intrigued her, though she kept such thoughts carefully hidden behind her usual mask of detached observation.

But it was the mention of "Dragon Balls" that truly caught her interest - magical orbs capable of granting wishes, even reversing death itself. Her father's sudden intensity told her this simple mission had just become something far more complex..

Through their scouters, Raditz's labored voice continued: "No... I'm afraid you're wrong, green man. This device on my face... it's also a transmitter. My Saiyan comrades heard every word. The three of them... they'll come."

Cellera watched Raditz's power level continue to drop on her scouter. Even dying, he wasted energy on threats rather than fighting to his last breath. Her mother would have found such theatrics pointless.

"When? When will they come?" the third voice demanded, strain evident in his tone.

"One year. And the funny thing is..." Raditz's weak chuckle carried through the static, "they're much stronger than me. Even the youngest one. She's about the same age as your own brat over there, Kakarot."

"Oh good, he remembers how I beat him in our last spar," Cellera muttered, keeping her voice carefully neutral despite the memory of easily outmaneuvering his predictable attacks.

Her attention caught on the mention of Kakarot's son. A child warrior who had helped bring down an adult Saiyan - that suggested training methods worth studying. The prospect of fighting someone her own age stirred something beyond mere tactical interest, though she kept such thoughts carefully hidden.

When Raditz's power level finally hit zero, their focus shifted to this new opportunity. The Dragon Balls promised power beyond even Frieza's reach - a chance at freedom that stirred something in Cellera's warrior blood. No more missions under their "benefactor's" watchful eye.

"What should we wish for?" Nappa asked eagerly. "Bring Raditz back to life?"

"No," Vegeta's swift dismissal carried familiar contempt. "That would be a wasted wish. Raditz was a weakling and a fool."

"Then what, Father?" Cellera asked, noting how his eyes had taken on that familiar gleam of ambition.

"Something far more grand," Vegeta announced. "Tell me, how does eternal life sound to you both?"

The prospect sent a thrill through her - immortality meant never having to bow to Frieza again. Her father's growing smile suggested his plans extended far beyond mere freedom, but for now, their goals aligned perfectly.

"If we can't die, no one will ever defeat us," Nappa grinned.

"Yes," Vegeta's dark amusement filled their scouters. "And we will ascend to our rightful place among the Saiyan warriors of legend. We will become Super Saiyans!"

Cellera suppressed a sigh at the familiar reference. Her father's obsession with the legendary transformation had only grown stronger over the years, each telling more grandiose than the last. Still, if it meant freedom from Frieza's control, she was willing to chase legends.

As they prepared their pods for Earth, Cellera found herself wondering about these warriors who had managed to defeat Raditz. They'd clearly proven more capable than expected - perhaps this mission would offer real challenges rather than the usual mundane purges.

The pods' doors sealed with a hiss, and three streaks of light shot into the alien sky, leaving only ruins to mark their passage.

Nappa's voice crackled through their pod communication system, breaking the long silence of space travel. "Hey Vegeta, my scouter's picking up some civilization on that planet coming up. Looks primitive." His eagerness was palpable even through the static. "Could be a good chance for some... entertainment before Earth."

Cellera studied the readouts on their pod's systems, irritation building. A detour would only waste time and resources. The power levels were negligible, barely worth the energy it would take to eliminate them. She'd endured enough of Nappa's idea of "entertainment" to know exactly what he meant - drawn-out deaths and pointless displays of brutality that served no tactical purpose.

"Father," she said quietly, careful to keep her voice from carrying through their pod's communication system, "this is beneath us. The strongest reading is barely higher than Raditz." She paused, choosing her next words carefully. "If we're hunting proper challenges, Earth's defenders have already proven more worthy of our time."

"A warrior should never waste an opportunity to train," her father responded through the main channel, though the slight nod he gave her suggested he understood her true point.

"Their average power level is 1,000," Cellera reported, keeping her voice even. "We could clear the entire planet in under an hour if we split the sectors properly." The implied criticism of Nappa's drawn-out methods wasn't lost on either adult Saiyan.

"Such precision from my daughter," Vegeta commented with that familiar mix of pride and warning. "But perhaps these insects might prove... amusing."

Nappa's eager laugh filled the communication channel. "Yeah! Been a while since we had some real fun!"

Cellera's tail coiled tighter around her waist as their pod changed course toward Arlia. She couldn't quite suppress her disappointment - this would be just another display of pointless brutality rather than true combat. At least Earth promised warriors who had earned the right to face Saiyan pride with their own strength.

Planet: Arlia

The barren landscape of Arlia stretched endlessly before them as they emerged from their space pods. Decay and desperation permeated the air, making Cellera's nose wrinkle in disgust. Her eyes tracked across the terrain - crude defenses in the distance, primitive weapons, exactly the kind of "entertainment" Nappa preferred.

"The castle appears to be the power center," she offered, keeping her voice professionally detached. A warrior's assessment to mask her growing irritation at this pointless detour.

Several of the planet's soldiers approached, their crude weapons raised. Nappa stepped forward eagerly, but something in their stance caught Cellera's attention.

"They're afraid," she observed quietly. "They know they can't win." Yet they still came, much like those defenders from her mother's mission. The parallel made her tail tighten around her waist - such thoughts were dangerous distractions.

"Then they shouldn't have come to die," Nappa laughed, raising his hand to blast them.

"Wouldn't it be more efficient to gather intelligence first?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them. "Find out if there's anything worth knowing about this rock before we destroy it?" At least that way, this waste of time might serve some purpose.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at his daughter's suggestion, a calculating look crossing his face. "Interesting thought. Very well - we'll play along with these insects. For now."

As they allowed themselves to be "captured" by the Arlians, Cellera caught her father studying her. She kept her face impassive, wondering if he had seen through her attempt to prevent needless slaughter or if he simply appreciated the strategic value of her suggestion.

Arlia's Prison

The Arlian prison reeked of decay and desperation. As they were led to their cell, Cellera's eyes catalogued every detail by instinct - structural weaknesses, guard positions, prisoner conditions. 

"Keep moving, outsiders!" An Arlian guard jabbed his spear threateningly.

Nappa growled, but Vegeta's slight head shake kept him in check. Cellera noticed her father's amused smirk - he was already treating this like a game. She recognized that look all too well. It usually preceded unnecessary bloodshed.

"These chains are a joke," she muttered, quiet enough for only Saiyan ears. "The metal's corroded. One burst of ki would-"

"Patience, daughter," Vegeta interrupted, that dangerous amusement still playing on his face. "Let's see what entertainment these insects provide first."

They were shoved into a cramped cell already occupied by another prisoner - a battle-scarred Arlian who introduced himself as Atla. While Nappa immediately began complaining about the accommodations, Cellera studied their cellmate with measured interest. Unlike the guards, his bearing spoke of actual combat experience.

"What did you do to end up here?" she asked, keeping her voice neutral despite her curiosity.

"I spoke against King Moai's tyranny," Atla replied. "He takes our people, our women, for his twisted entertainment."

"Touching story," Nappa sneered. "Want me to put you out of your misery now, bug?" He raised his hand, energy gathering.

"We might need information about the arena setup," she said quickly. "Local fighting techniques could be... instructive." The excuse sounded weak even to her ears, but anything that delayed Nappa's inevitable display of cruelty was worth attempting.

Vegeta shot her a sharp look, but nodded. "True enough. Though I doubt these insects have much to teach Saiyan warriors."

Something in Atla's willingness to fight despite overwhelming odds stirred her respect, though she buried the sentiment deep. They were here for Nappa's entertainment, nothing more. At least his inevitable "show" would bring them closer to their real objective - Earth and its proven warriors.

The arena erupted in jeers as the three Saiyans stepped into the light. Cellera's eyes immediately tracked possible attack vectors, escape routes, structural weaknesses - a warrior's instinct she'd inherited from both parents, though she favored her mother's precise approach over her father's overwhelming force.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" The announcer's voice grated against her sensitive hearing. "Today's entertainment - three alien warriors against our champions!"

"This ought to be good," Nappa sneered as two massive Arlian fighters entered the arena. Their armor was more elaborate than the guards', but Cellera's scouter confirmed they were just as weak.

"Brothers and sisters!" one of the champions bellowed. "We'll crush these invaders for your entertainment!"

Cellera's tail twitched in irritation. "Their power levels are barely worth measuring. This isn't even proper training."

"Then make it quick," Vegeta commanded, stepping back to observe. "Show me you haven't forgotten how to be efficient."

The first champion rushed her with a flurry of strikes that might have impressed the crowd but left gaping holes in his defense. She could hear Nappa toying with his opponent, dragging out the fight with cruel laughter.

"What's wrong, little one?" her opponent taunted. "Scared to- URK!"

She struck once, precisely, severing his spine at the base of his neck. He was dead before he hit the ground, his face still frozen in mid-taunt. A quick and clean death - all she could offer given the circumstances.

"Clean kill," Vegeta noted, though she couldn't tell if his tone held approval or disappointment.

Across the arena, Nappa continued to torture his opponent, ripping off limbs while the crowd's cheers turned to horrified screams. Her face remained impassive, but her tail's grip tightened. This pointless display only reinforced her eagerness to face Earth's defenders - opponents who had earned the right to real combat.

"Pathetic!" Nappa finally finished his opponent with a blast that took out half the arena wall as well. "That's how you put on a show!"

"If you're quite finished playing," Vegeta drawled, "perhaps King Moai would like to demonstrate his own power? Unless he's as weak as his champions?"

Cellera noticed the king's mandibles clicking nervously in his viewing box. This whole exercise had been pointless - exactly the kind of wasteful violence that seemed to delight Nappa.

"Father," she said, keeping her voice clinical, "their technology level is primitive. There's nothing of value here. We're wasting time that could be spent preparing for Earth."

King Moai's nervous laughter echoed through the arena. "You think this display impresses me? I have something special in store for you arrogant outsiders." His mandibles clicked with false confidence. "Behold, the Beast of Arlia!"

The creature that emerged made Cellera's scouter beep with slightly higher readings than the champions, though still pathetically low. Some "ultimate weapon" - it was just another waste of time.

"The Beast of Arlia!" Moai announced proudly. "Your execution will be quite entertaining!"

"Nappa," Vegeta commanded, boredom evident in his tone. "Deal with this pest."

Cellera watched as Nappa engaged the creature with his usual excessive force, dragging out what should have been a simple elimination. Her eyes drifted to the gathering crowd of prisoners being herded into the arena. Among them, she spotted Atla reuniting with who she assumed was his wife. Their determination to face death together rather than submit to tyranny was... tactically unsound, yet something about their courage nagged at her.

The sound of Nappa's laughter snapped her attention back as he literally tore the beast apart. "Now this is entertainment!"

"Efficient as always, Nappa," Vegeta remarked dryly. His tone made Cellera wonder if he actually found Nappa's methods as tiresome as she did, though he'd never say it openly.

"What should we do with the rest of these insects?" Nappa asked, gesturing to the horrified crowd.

"We're done here," Vegeta declared. "This planet has nothing of value." He raised his hand, gathering energy for a final blast.

His blast illuminated the darkening sky, energy spreading outward in waves that decimated the castle and surrounding civilization. Cellera watched the destruction, her tail coiling tighter around her waist. While combat stirred her Saiyan blood as much as any other of their kind, this kind of mindless annihilation served no real purpose. Her mother's words echoed unbidden in her mind: "We're warriors, not torturers."

Her hand drifted to the pendant beneath her armor before she caught herself. Such thoughts were dangerous - sentiment her father would view as weakness. She forced her attention to their next objective. Earth had proven it harbored fighters capable of real combat - not just insects playing at strength.

"Earth next," Vegeta announced as they reached their pods. "Let's see if Kakarot and his son provide more of a challenge than these insects."

The pods sealed with a hiss as they shot into space, leaving another dead civilization behind them. As Earth grew closer, Cellera found her Saiyan blood stirring with anticipation. Not just for the Dragon Balls, but for the promise of genuine combat against opponents who had earned the right to face Saiyan warriors. The fact that one was a child like herself only heightened her interest - what kind of training could produce such strength?

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Notes:

Notes: Chapter 2 revised as of 02/03/2025

Planet: Earth

The acrid smell of death hung heavy in the air, but Earth presented an unusual puzzle. Instead of the barren wastelands and hostile atmospheres they typically encountered, this planet radiated life. Lush greenery stretched across the landscape, millions of weak power readings scattered across its surface rather than concentrated in defensive clusters. Their usual tactical approach would need... adjustment.

Cellera surveyed the battlefield with practiced efficiency, cataloging the scattered craters where Saibamen had fallen. No fortress walls, no primitive defense systems, not even the basic planetary shields most civilizations managed to construct. Just open fields and mountains under a clear blue sky. Pathetic, really. Though something about the planet's defenders gave her pause.

These weren't the mindless drones or desperate soldiers they usually encountered. Each fighter displayed distinct combat approaches, coordinated movements, and most peculiarly... protected each other. Her lip curled slightly at such sentiment, though she couldn't deny their strategies showed promise.

The three-eyed warrior - Tien - exhibited precise ki control that spoke of disciplined training. His companion's self-destruct strategy, while ultimately futile, demonstrated an unexpected willingness to sacrifice for others. The scarred one had shown skill before overconfidence proved fatal - a mistake even a Saibaman could exploit. Analyzing their methods provided mild entertainment, at least.

But it was the Namekian's technique that truly caught her attention. Every stance, every ki fluctuation seemed calculated to shield Kakarot's boy from harm. Such focused priorities should be a weakness, yet somehow his power grew stronger for it. Her tail unwound slightly as she studied this anomaly before quickly tightening back in place at her father's knowing glance.

Her gaze settled on Gohan - the half-breed child who carried their blood yet clearly lacked proper Saiyan guidance. She watched him stare at Tien's lifeless form, desperately fighting tears. Her jaw tightened at such a display. Father had taught her better than to let fear rule her actions. This boy needed to learn what it meant to be a true warrior.

"It's a shame," she said, her voice carrying the same edge her father used for disappointments. "That attack might have worked if you hadn't hesitated."

"He gave everything..." Krillin breathed in disbelief. "Everything he had to help us... Goku! Why aren't you here? We need you!" His voice cracked with desperation, his small frame shaking. Yet he maintained his fighting stance, feet planted firmly despite the tremors running through him.

"Goku... Wasn't that the same name we heard a year ago?" Vegeta's question carried dark amusement.

Cellera gave her father a nod. "I'm sure that this 'Goku' is Kakarot, Father. I don't believe anyone else could be capable of killing Raditz other than the Namekian." Her gaze drifted to Gohan, assessing his trembling form. A year ago, she'd assumed the boy must have helped defeat Raditz - how else could such a weak warrior have fallen? But seeing him now, cowering behind his mentor... She almost scoffed at her earlier assumption. This child couldn't possibly have contributed anything to that battle except perhaps as a distraction.

Nappa floated above the battlefield, his mocking laugh echoing across the destroyed terrain. "So much for ol' Three-Eyes! Now then, where were we?"

His charge toward the remaining Earth warriors halted mid-motion at Vegeta's sharp command, leaving him frozen in an almost comical position.

"Hold on!" Vegeta's voice carried that unmistakable authority that even made the Earth defenders tense. "We need to ask them something about this 'Goku' they keep talking about."

"If you say so..." Nappa muttered through gritted teeth, maintaining his awkward hovering stance. "You're the boss!"

The Earth warriors retreated a step as Cellera moved forward, her stance mirroring her father's authority. "Tell us, does the name Kakarot sound familiar to you?"

"Yeah! Whatever you call him... That's right! That's what your Saiyan friend kept calling him!" Krillin's voice rose with anger as Vegeta's mocking laughter filled the air. "What's so funny?"

"That you two think Kakarot can beat us! He couldn't even beat his brother Raditz, and he was a weakling compared to Nappa, myself, and my daughter," Vegeta's taunt echoed across the battlefield, his confidence evident in every word.

"Shows what you know! He's way stronger than before!" Krillin's stance remained defiant despite his obvious fear.

"Just wait! You'll find your match in Goku." Piccolo's calmer assertion carried the weight of someone who had witnessed that strength firsthand.

Nappa's bellowing laugh cut through the tension. "This planet's not that big, so why isn't he here yet? He's smart! He's not going to show up here! He's hiding!" His massive form loomed over them as he delivered his mock.

An expression of exasperation crossed Cellera's features at Nappa's dense assessment. The warrior who had sacrificed his life to defeat Raditz would hardly abandon his son and friends now. Before any rebuke could be voiced, an unexpected defender spoke up.

"Hey, you jerk! My Dad never ran from anybody! He'll be here and he'll beat you! Just you wait!"

Cellera's eyes widened slightly at Gohan's outburst. Gone was the cowering child, replaced by a warrior's pride that even she had to acknowledge. His eyes blazed with that same fierce loyalty that marked their own race's dedication to family. Perhaps there was some Saiyan spirit in him after all. 

"You've caught my interest!" her father announced, his expression shifting to something more calculating as he looked at Nappa. "We're going to wait for him. Take a break Nappa. Cool off for a while."

"C'mon Vegeta! That's ridiculous! I was about to finish 'em off here!" Nappa pouted.

Cellera rolled her eyes at Nappa's attitude. The way he constantly questioned orders made her occasional challenges to her father look respectful by comparison.

"Just hold off for three hours. We'll give them that," Vegeta ordered, holding up three fingers. Nappa growled in frustration at the prospect of waiting.

"Forget it! I say they die now!" Nappa's massive frame tensed, veins bulging across his temples as he charged toward the Earthlings with the same mindless brutality he always displayed.

Cellera's fingers dug into her palms. Every mission, every time - his impulsiveness threatened their efficiency. "Nappa," her voice cut through the air like a blade, carrying her father's deadly precision. "Are you really defying orders?"

The larger Saiyan jerked to a stop mid-flight, his whole body going rigid. Sweat beaded on his bald head as he met her steely gaze. His throat worked as he struggled to form words, the same way he had when her father had first put her in charge of mission logistics.

Her father's lip curled at her command over Nappa. Vegeta crossed his arms, the movement deliberately casual, but the subtle shift in his stance made it clear he was ready to enforce her authority if needed, though they both knew it wouldn't be necessary.

"I-I'm sorry... I guess I got carried away..." Nappa sputtered as he quickly made his way over to her.

She glanced at the Earthlings, softening her eyes slightly. "The battle will resume in three hours, whether Kakarot is here or not." She gave a final look toward Gohan before turning around to find a tree stump to sit on. Despite his earlier outburst, the boy still hadn't shown anything to match true Saiyan potential. Nappa trailed behind her like a kicked puppy.

Gohan's hands wouldn't stop shaking as he looked down at the scorched ground, still warm from the recent battles. Yamcha was gone. Tien and Chiaotzu too. He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself as he glanced at the three Saiyans behind them. The huge bald one made his stomach clench with fear - he was even scarier up close than during the Saibamen fights. The short one with the pointed hair radiated a cold kind of danger that reminded him of when he still saw Piccolo as his enemy. But it was the girl who drew his attention most. Though she looked as young as him, she carried herself like royalty, commanding even the adults with just her voice.

After the three Saiyans had given them their three-hour reprieve, Gohan, Krillin, and Piccolo moved several yards away and began to discuss their failed ambush on Nappa.

Cellera watched them retreat, her hand absently tracing figures in the dirt with a stick as she calculated power readings. The boy's earlier show of spirit had faded quickly back to hesitation. Such wasted potential. Even untrained, she could sense the raw power in him - if only he'd stop cowering behind his mentor.

"Well, I'm more angry at myself for counting on him. What a waste of time!" Piccolo said, disappointment lacing his tone. "Just go home, Gohan. If you're not going to fight, you'll only slow us down."

Her attention sharpened at this exchange. The Namekian's training methods were... interesting. Less coddling than she'd expected from Earth's defenders. Perhaps that explained the brief flashes of strength she'd detected in the boy.

Glancing between Piccolo and Gohan, Krillin tried to derail the conversation. "Uhh, hey! Did you guys see how the big guy was taking orders from the girl?"

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Piccolo agreed, glancing at the Saiyans. Cellera maintained her focus on her calculations, though her lip curled slightly at their discussion. Let them wonder about her authority. Fear often proved as useful as respect.

"She doesn't seem too bad," Gohan whispered, immediately tensing when Piccolo's shoulders stiffened. "I-I mean, she seems better than the other two. She doesn't feel evil..."

Cellera's hand paused mid-calculation. The boy wasn't entirely wrong - she preferred efficiency to cruelty. But his assessment of "evil" showed how little he understood about survival. Just because something or someone didn’t ‘feel’ evil didn’t mean they couldn’t be. 

Her contemplation broke as she caught fragments of her father's conversation with Nappa. Her fingers tightened around the stick as she heard them discussing drawn-out torture for Kakarot. 

Cellera vaguely remembers her mother once telling her that not all Saiyans were sadistic and cruel, but as she listened to her father and Nappa, she couldn’t help but believe she and her mother were the only ones who thought otherwise. 

"And after he's come to understand the price of his betrayal..." Vegeta's chuckle carried a dark promise, "You and I can take our time tearing him apart."

The calculation stick slipped from Cellera's suddenly rigid fingers. Her usual composed stance faltered, a visible shudder running through her frame - that instinctive reaction she'd never quite mastered when her father and Nappa's expressions took on that particular brand of cruelty.

While her father's words might have been meant to placate Nappa's impatient nature, his tone suggested darker intentions. The tactical implications presented a troubling puzzle - refusing to wish back Raditz carried some logic, but eliminating Kakarot seemed counterproductive. The warrior had already proven himself superior to Raditz. Though considering Nappa's performance today, perhaps that wasn't saying much.

"I like the way you think, Vegeta! But what about Cellera?"

The brief moment of shared amusement over Nappa's humiliation faded as the hours dragged on. Curious humans gathered at the battlefield's edges, their behavior markedly different from typical civilian responses to Saiyan invasion. Where other worlds' populations fled in terror or succumbed to panic, these Earth dwellers maintained an unusual composure. They simply observed - despite the alien warriors in their midst and the fallen bodies scattered across their soil.

"She can fight Kakarot's child if she wishes," Vegeta said, noting how his daughter's eyes kept drifting to the boy with growing irritation. Every time the half-breed showed a flash of Saiyan pride, only to retreat back into fear... He recognized that look in her eyes - the same one she got when something wasn't meeting her exacting standards. "Knowing her, she'll probably end it quickly, though I suspect she'll want to show him how a true Saiyan warrior should fight first. She takes after Rhuba in that regard - efficient, but never one to waste a teaching opportunity."

An unusual softness crept into Vegeta's tone at the mention of Rhuba, drawing subtle reactions from both father and daughter. Cellera's stance shifted slightly, her usual rigidity giving way to something more reminiscent of the fighting style being discussed. The parallel between mother and daughter's methods hung in the air - a rare moment of acknowledged connection between the remaining- what would be- royal family.

"Of course, it all depends on if he actually decides to show up."

Nappa's entire demeanor brightened at the prospect of violence. "So if the guy doesn't show in a couple hours, I still get to kill these three, right?" His massive hands clenched at his sides with childish excitement.

"No, Nappa! Not all three."

The contrast in reactions proved striking - Nappa's disappointed whine against Cellera's barely concealed exhale of relief. Yet Vegeta's next words eliminated any hope of mercy.

"We still need to ask the Namekian about the Dragon Balls. Got it?"

"Then I'll take Kakarot's son," Cellera stated, her eyes fixed on Gohan with calculating interest. "I want to see if there's any true Saiyan warrior beneath all those tears.."

Nappa's laugh carried cruel promise as he turned toward the Earth defenders. "Don't you worry about it, Vegeta. He'll be spillin' his guts before I'm through with him."

The battlefield's tension heightened as multiple scenarios played across Cellera's features - her analytical expression suggesting calculations about properly testing the half-Saiyan's limits. The sharp sound of Piccolo's voice cut through these strategic considerations.

"I taught you everything I know. Just go home!" Piccolo's dismissal carried finality as he turned away, arms folded across his chest.

"But Piccolo!" Gohan's protest faded into resignation as his head dropped.

The boy's dejected retreat drew varied reactions across the field. Krillin called out for his return while Piccolo maintained his stern stance. Most telling was Cellera's unconscious forward motion - a gesture reminiscent of combat instruction - before she caught herself with a visible shift back to her observation position. The aborted movement spoke of ingrained training habits warring with current battle roles.

The strategic tension shattered as Nappa's ki beam carved through a nearby plateau, forcing Gohan to dodge. The massive Saiyan's pose struck an absurd contrast - one hand on hip, the other raised with lifted finger in mock maternal scolding.

"Hey, you little brat! You better run home! We wouldn't want you getting hurt!" Nappa's laughter carried cruel amusement.

"You shut up, you big bully!" The sudden steel in Gohan's voice matched his swift rise from the ground. "I'm not running away! You can't scare me anymore!" His declaration drew subtle reactions - from Piccolo's barely concealed pride to Cellera's reassessment of the young half-Saiyan's potential.

Gohan's meandering path suggested neither retreat nor advance, though his eyes still held that flash of pure Saiyan determination. The fierce look dissolved into awkward hesitation as he spoke again.

"I was just going to go over there to use the bathroom if that's okay with you..." His voice trailed off before dropping to a barely audible mutter, "You could use a shower yourself..."

The comment drew unexpected reactions from the observers. Cellera's composed demeanor cracked with a hastily covered snort, while even Vegeta's stern expression twitched slightly. Nappa alone remained oblivious to the insult, his massive form leaning forward with exaggerated attention, one hand cupped around his ear.

"What was that? Speak up, kid!" Nappa's mocking invitation hung in the air as Gohan's frustration built visibly. "Well?"

"Okay I said... YOU SMELL!"

The outburst shattered the battlefield's tension. Unexpected laughter erupted from both royal Saiyans - Cellera's unrestrained mirth joining her father's deeper amusement - while Nappa's expression transformed from shock to rage. Gohan's swift retreat to his companions carried more battle awareness than fear, his defensive stance suggesting preparation for potential retaliation from the insulted warrior.

Piccolo's combat instincts manifested in nearly invisible adjustments, each movement precisely calculated to maintain optimal positioning between his student and potential threats. His antennae twitched with each power level fluctuation, jaw muscles visibly straining beneath green skin. Every motion spoke of something beyond mere instruction - the instincts of a dedicated protector.

"Why you little runt! How dare you?! You're brave now, but we'll see what happens in two hours!"

The tension dissolved as Cellera resumed her position on the stump, traces of rare mirth still visible in her features. The brief moment of levity had shifted something in her gaze - suggesting observations about these Earth defenders that went beyond mere combat assessment.

The following hours stretched with mounting tension. Curious humans gradually gathered at the battlefield's edges, their behavior marking a stark contrast to typical civilian responses to Saiyan invasion. Where other worlds' populations fled in terror or succumbed to panic, these Earth dwellers maintained an unusual composure. They simply observed - despite the alien warriors in their midst and the fallen bodies scattered across their soil.

Vegeta's decision to grant Nappa unrestricted action added another layer of complexity to the situation. This planet had proven particularly defenseless - its mightiest warriors either defeated or standing their final ground, while civilian power readings barely registered on the scouters. The systematic destruction of non-combatants served no tactical purpose, wasting energy on targets that couldn't pose even a minimal threat.

Though the surface reasoning appeared to be placating Nappa's impatient nature during their wait for Kakarot, Vegeta's expression suggested deeper strategy at work. Each decision from the Saiyan prince traditionally served their greater ambitions, no matter how casual they might appear.

The Dragon Balls, and their wish.

The final minutes of their allotted time crept by with mounting tension. The battlefield remained empty of Goku's presence, while Nappa's return from his destructive rampage registered on the scouters as erratic power fluctuations.

A sharp alarm cut through the heavy silence - Vegeta's scouter marking the end of their three-hour deadline. The Earth's defenders shifted automatically into combat stances, the movement now practiced after hours of intermittent combat.

"Time is up! It seems Kakarot decided to let you die on your own." Vegeta's proclamation carried cruel satisfaction.

"Hey, Vegeta!" Nappa's massive form landed beside his prince, his power readings finally stabilizing after the rampage. "Where's Kakarot?"

"You were right Nappa, he's not coming."

"Yes he is!" Gohan's small frame vibrated not with his earlier fear but with absolute conviction. "My Dad's not afraid! He'll be here!"

"That's right! He'd never abandon his friends!" Despite his injuries, Krillin's stance remained steady, his loyalty matching his young friend's certainty.

The contrast between the Earth defenders' unwavering faith and the Saiyans' methodical cruelty hung heavy in the air. Even Cellera's typically composed posture showed signs of tension, her tail's grip notably tighter as the scouters continued their steady scan for approaching power levels.

Nappa's removal of his Saiyan armor and subsequent stretching display drew varying reactions from the observers - from the Earth defenders' tense anticipation to Cellera's barely concealed exasperation at such predictable showmanship.

"Oh yeah, much better! I should be able to make quick work of these pathetic weaklings!" Nappa advanced with unearned confidence, the sound of cracking knuckles and neck echoing across the battlefield. "Now do you want to die one at a time? Or all three at once?"

The Earth's remaining defenders had displayed unexpected resourcefulness throughout the battle. Even Piccolo's attempt at Nappa's tail showed tactical thinking - a strategy that had proved effective against lesser-trained Saiyans like Raditz. Their rapid combat adaptation and strategic thinking stood out all the more against Nappa's brute force approach. Yet their ignorance of elite Saiyan tail training had rendered the clever tactic futile.

Gohan scrambled to Piccolo's side, his mentor's still form showing no response to desperate attempts at rousing him after Nappa's devastating elbow strike.

"Piccolo! Wake up! Please say something! Piccolo we need you!" The boy's frantic pleas drowned out the sound of approaching footsteps, his attention fixed solely on his fallen teacher.

Cellera's hands clenched at her sides as Nappa's massive shadow fell over the small figure. She'd made it clear she wanted this fight - yet here was Nappa, once again ignoring tactical decisions for his own amusement. Her tail coiled tighter around her waist, a tell of growing frustration rather than fear.

"Hmm. You know, you should be proud. You're a Saiyan, too. Well, I suppose you're only half-Saiyan. But still, that's pretty good. The Saiyans are the strongest race in the galaxy." Nappa's mocking praise drew a whimper from Gohan, erasing his earlier show of courage. "Yep. Someday, you could've been a mighty warrior... Someday, but not today."

The kick landed with brutal efficiency, launching the small body upward. Nappa's follow-up chop sent Gohan crashing into the distant plateau with devastating force. The impact drew various reactions from the observers - Piccolo's barely conscious growl, and the visible tension in Cellera's stance as her fingers dug into her biceps.

The bandage around Gohan's head came loose, drifting to the ground like a surrender flag. Yet surrender didn't come. After several motionless moments, a twitch-then slow, deliberate movement as the boy pushed himself up. Blood trickled from his mouth as he fixed Nappa with a glare that spoke of his mixed heritage: human determination fueled by Saiyan pride.

"Is everything alright, Cellera?" Vegeta's question carried that familiar undertone of assessment, one eyebrow raised as he observed his daughter's tense posture and barely contained rage.

"I'm fine. Just wondering why that brute doesn't just end it already." Her words barely left her mouth before Nappa launched another charge at Gohan. And why he's still fighting MY opponent , she added silently, her jaw clenching at each of Nappa's attacks.

Vegeta's lip curled slightly, recognizing the signs of his daughter's mounting frustration. He'd seen that same look during training sessions when something - or someone - interfered with her precisely planned strategies. The way her eyes tracked every movement between Nappa and the boy suggested she was cataloging each mistake, each wasted opportunity for a proper Saiyan battle.

"He's making you look bad, Nappa," Vegeta commented dryly, noting how Cellera's tail tightened further at the mindless display of force before them.

"Not for long... He's mine!" Nappa's charge toward the small warrior drew everyone's attention, though Krillin's lack of defensive movement suggested an unexpected strategy.

"Here! Catch!" Krillin's taunt halted Nappa's charge. The precise arc of his arm launched the attack with practiced form. "Destructo-Disc!" The weapon's path carved into the earth as it gained momentum, adjusting its trajectory toward the massive Saiyan.

The disc's lethal potential became evident in the deep crevice it carved, yet Nappa remained oblivious to the obvious danger. His massive form stood ready with arms spread wide, approaching the attack with the same casual attitude he might show a training exercise.

"Play catch, huh? Why not!"

The contrast between Nappa's jovial stance and the weapon's deadly approach drew various reactions - Krillin's focused anticipation, Vegeta's sharp attention, and Cellera's telling tail-tightening at such tactical ignorance. Each observer recognized the potentially fatal consequences of such battlefield blindness, save for the target himself.

"Nappa! Don't touch it!"

Vegeta's warning drew sharp reactions - Cellera's head whipping around with visible frustration, Krillin's hope fading, and Nappa's belated recognition of danger. The massive Saiyan barely managed to dodge, the disc grazing his cheek before continuing its path through a distant plateau. The crash of severed rock filled the air with dust and debris, providing stark evidence of what might have been Nappa's fate.

"Father, why warn him? It would've been his own fault if he was defeated." Cellera's challenge carried the edge of their earlier conversations about weakness deserving elimination. Her gaze fixed pointedly on the destroyed plateau rather than their saved companion.

The brief meeting of gazes between father and daughter ended with Cellera's swift submission - that familiar dynamic playing out through subtle physical tells. Her shoulders tensed, head lowering slightly, in unconscious response to Vegeta's particular brand of paternal authority.

"Quiet," Vegeta's tone carried years of unquestioned command. "I won't stand to have my own daughter questioning me." The following silence spoke volumes as Cellera's posture shifted to mirror her father's crossed arms, though her version carried a hint of adolescent defiance beneath the compliance.

"Besides, while I don't disagree with you, I didn't want to end the fun just yet." Vegeta's words coincided with Nappa's explosive reaction to his injury.

"You, you cut me! You've gone and done it now! Scarring my beautiful face! Get ready to pay for it!"

Nappa's killing intent radiated across the battlefield as he gathered energy for a final attack. The scarred cheek stood as testament to how close Krillin's strategy had come to success, if not for Vegeta's intervention. The charged moment broke as an energy beam struck Nappa from behind.

"Who did that?!" Nappa's massive form spun to find Piccolo standing at the ready, the Namekian's recovery adding another unexpected element to the battle. "You Namekian trash! You think you can shoot me in the back and get away with it? How dare you!"

The scouter readings had clearly indicated Piccolo's position, making Nappa's surprise yet another display of his limited battlefield awareness. His continued fixation on single targets while ignoring broader tactical situations drew varying reactions from his companions - Cellera's exasperated eye-roll, and Vegeta's slight head shake.

"I thought it was your face!" Piccolo's retort cut through the tension.

The Namekian's barb drew unexpected amusement from both royal Saiyans - Cellera's subtle chuckle joining her father's sharp laugh. These Earth defenders had proven remarkably adept at penetrating Nappa's easily provoked temperament.

"Bring it on! I'm tired of you and your loud mouth!" Piccolo's taunt carried the confidence of someone who had already survived one near-fatal encounter.

"You arrogant fool! Your life is mine to take, whenever I want! The only reason you're still breathing is because we need you to tell us about the Dragon Balls!"

Nappa's theatrical response drew subtle reactions from his companions. Cellera's lips pressed together to suppress obvious amusement at the irony of his accusations of arrogance, while Vegeta's expression suggested the wearing thin of his legendary patience. The contrast between Nappa's childish outbursts and proper Saiyan warrior conduct grew more pronounced with each exchange.

"You caught me by surprise. It won't happen again!" Piccolo declared before suddenly freezing, his eyes widening in shock. He looked around, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "What in the world am I sensing? There's an incredibly huge power level that's heading straight for us!"

The battlefield's atmosphere shifted at Piccolo's declaration. Gohan's entire bearing transformed, tears of relief streaming down his face as he stared toward the horizon. "It's...it's my Dad! He's different somehow, but I know it's him!"

The unified certainty of the Earth defenders drew swift reactions from their opponents. Cellera's scouter clicked rapidly through settings as she attempted to verify their claim, while Vegeta's expression darkened at the implications. Though the devices registered nothing at maximum range, the defenders' shared confidence suggested capabilities beyond what their scouters could ever detect.

"You're just trying to distract me!" Nappa's denial manifested in aggressive posturing, his massive frame tensing with uncertainty. "You can't sense power levels without some sort of device! You have to be bluffing!"

The situation presented an unprecedented puzzle. While Nappa's skepticism aligned with their conventional understanding, the Earth defenders had already demonstrated several capabilities beyond standard combat parameters. Their consistent performance suggested personal advancement in unexpected directions.

"Oh, just wait and see," Piccolo's confidence remained unshaken despite his injuries. "He's on his way here right now! And judging by the power I'm sensing, you Saiyans are in store for the fight of your lives."

"I don't believe they're bluffing, father." Cellera's assessment carried the weight of careful observation. The defenders' unified certainty suggested something beyond desperate deception, a theory reinforced by Gohan's next outburst.

"Wow! This is great! I knew my Dad would make it here in time! Hurry up, Daddy!" The boy's entire bearing transformed, relief and joy replacing his earlier combat tension.

Nappa's denial manifested in frantic sky-scanning. "You're all a bunch of liars! Where is he?" His massive form turned in agitated circles, searching for visual confirmation. "I don't see anyone! Vegeta, Cellera! What do you think?"

"He's definitely coming." Cellera's fingers moved across her scouter's controls with practiced precision. "The scouter's detection has limits, but these Earthlings appear to possess more direct energy sensing capabilities. They seem too confident to be lying, this ability of theirs seems to have detection ranges beyond our technology."

"Keep calm, Nappa. There's nothing to worry about." Vegeta retrieved his fallen scouter, securing it in place with practiced motion. "Who cares anyway? Let him come." The calibration button's click preceded immediate chaos - both Saiyan scouters erupting with urgent warnings of detected power.

"Something is definitely headed this way." An unfamiliar edge crept into Vegeta's voice, drawing tense attention from all observers. "But it can't be Kakarot. The power level is too high..." His expression hardened as he fixed Nappa with an unusually serious look. "Whatever is coming has a power level of five-thousand."

"What! No way!" Nappa's spin toward his companions carried none of his earlier confidence. "Five thousand! Your scouter must be malfunctioning! Cellera, what does yours say?!"

"His scouter isn't malfunctioning, Nappa. The reading is correct." Cellera's methodical check of her own device spoke to deeper consideration. The implications stretched beyond mere numbers - if the Earth defenders could indeed manipulate their power levels, this reading might represent only a fraction of Kakarot's true capability. Even Vegeta's typically confident stance showed subtle signs of reassessment.

The mounting tension manifested in Vegeta's next command, his usual calculated demeanor giving way to unexpected urgency.

"Nappa! Quickly! Kill them all! We can't let them join with this fighter!" The sharp order drew startled attention from all present. "If it is Kakarot, he has to know that we will not be opposed by anyone!"

The sudden shift in strategy registered differently across the battlefield - the Earth defenders' horror, Nappa's eager bloodlust, and most notably, Cellera's unusual break in composure at this departure from tactical efficiency. The prince's uncharacteristic haste suggested considerations beyond mere battle strategy.

"But, what about the Dragon Balls?" Nappa's question cut through the tension.

"We don't need these fools to find them!" Vegeta's declaration carried fresh calculation beneath the urgency. "It must have been the Namekians who created the Dragon Balls here on this planet. I've heard of the Magic Balls of Namek before, but I'd always thought they were just a legend. It can't be a coincidence that there is a Namek here on Earth and that Dragon Balls exist here as well."

The revelation about Namek drew varying reactions from the Saiyan trio. While Vegeta's stance radiated certainty, Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip - that telling gesture of tactical analysis at work. Her gaze darted between their opponents and their distant space pods, suggesting calculations of alternative strategies. Yet Vegeta's rigid posture and sharp attention brooked no discussion of different approaches.

"I get it! A Namekian is all we need to make the Dragon Balls and planet Namek is loaded with them." Nappa's delayed comprehension manifested in a malicious smile as he turned toward Piccolo. "And if this one doesn't wanna cooperate, we can always find another one that will. So you're... expendable."

The implications hung heavy in the air - the difference between efficient strategy and unnecessary bloodshed becoming starker with each passing moment. The battlefield bore silent witness to this contrast between Vegeta's chosen path and the simpler solution their pods and Namek's coordinates represented.

"Hey Piccolo! Leave now! I can take care of this bully by myself until my Dad gets here!"

The implications hung heavy in the air - the difference between efficient strategy and unnecessary bloodshed becoming starker with each passing moment. The battlefield bore silent witness to this contrast between Vegeta's chosen path and the simpler solution their pods and Namek's coordinates represented.

"Hey Piccolo! Leave now! I can take care of this bully by myself until my Dad gets here!"

Cellera opened her mouth, ready to shout at Nappa about interfering with her intended fight again, but stopped short. The declaration had drawn startled attention from all observers. Gohan's stance carried none of the hesitation from his earlier plateau impact - instead radiating an unexpected confidence that even caused Cellera's composed expression to crack with surprise.

"What?" Piccolo's usual stoic demeanor faltered momentarily.

"If we lose you, then the Dragon Balls will disappear and we won't be able to wish any of our friends back to life!" The awareness in Gohan's explanation belied his young age.

"Thanks for your concern, Gohan," Piccolo's chuckle carried layers of sarcasm and something deeper, "but I really don't think you can handle these guys alone."

Nappa's slow laugh cut through the moment, that familiar sound that always preceded his most brutal attacks. Even Cellera's stance shifted at the sound, her tail tightening instinctively around her waist. "Just for that... you go first." When Gohan held his ground, Nappa charged forward, Piccolo's form blurring into motion to intercept. "Okay, brat! You die!"

The battlefield watched as Gohan's transformation occurred in an instant - fear vanishing beneath fierce determination. His small form launched upward with unexpected precision, his kick connecting solidly with Nappa's face. The impact sent the massive Saiyan sailing over Piccolo's head, crashing into the distant landform. Rocks cascaded down, burying Nappa beneath the debris as stunned silence fell over the observers.

The contrast could not have been more stark - the same child who had cowered moments ago had just delivered a decisive blow to a Saiyan elite. Cellera's eyes tracked the impact point, her subtle nod suggesting appreciation of the powerful execution. While such an attack wouldn't prove fatal, Nappa's pride had clearly suffered a direct hit.

The rubble covering Nappa trembled before exploding outward as he burst free. Landing before Piccolo and Gohan, he maintained an eerie stillness, blood trickling from cuts where jagged earth had marked his face. The sight only enhanced his menacing presence.

Veins bulged across Nappa's bald head as he raised his gaze to fix Gohan with a murderous glare. "You... I'll kill you!" The roar preceded a massive energy gathering, debris rising and exploding around his form as power built beyond reasonable levels for fighting a child.

Both Saiyan observers reacted to the display - Cellera's tail tightening around her waist at the familiar signs of Nappa's rage-fueled loss of control, while Vegeta's amused expression shifted to sharp focus. Their scouters beeped urgent warnings as the power readings climbed far past necessary thresholds.

The blast erupted from Nappa's hand, a searing wave of destructive force that made her scouter screech in warning. Cellera tensed, preparing to intervene - she'd waited too long to test the boy's true potential just to have Nappa's rage rob her of the opportunity.

"Stand down, Cellera. That's an order." Her father's voice brooked no argument.

"But father-" Her protest died as his eyes met hers.

"We don't have time for your little test with Kakarot approaching. Let Nappa handle the grunt work." The sharp edge in his voice made her tail coil tighter around her waist as she forced herself to stay still, watching Nappa's attack surge toward its target.

"Gohan! Move!" The Namekian's voice cut through the air like a blade.

Cellera's eyes widened as Piccolo moved - no, launched himself toward Gohan. It defied all logic. The smart play would have been to dodge, to preserve the stronger fighter. Yet something in his movement reminded her of moments she'd rather forget - her father stepping between her and Zarbon's unwanted attention, assigning her other duties during Dodoria's most brutal missions. The silent protection wrapped in calculated efficiency.

The blast connected with devastating force. As the dust cleared, Piccolo's form emerged, arms spread wide, having absorbed the full impact. Every scouter on the battlefield registered the dramatic plummet in his power level.

"Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan's scream echoed across the battlefield, raw and painful as he watched his mentor fall.

The settling dust revealed the attack's path carved deep into the once-lush field, earthen soil exposed in a crater stretching from Nappa's position to where mentor and student stood. Piccolo's body smoked from the impact as he swayed for several moments before collapsing. The scouters continued their steady decline of readings, confirming what every observer could see - a warrior's life force ebbing away.

Gohan crawled to his mentor's side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "No! You can't be hurt, Piccolo, you just can't!" his voice trembled. "We need you!"

"I'm... I'm not gonna make it..." Piccolo strained to speak, "It's up to you... You must stop them!"

The scene unfolding defied every principle she had been taught - a stronger warrior sacrificing himself for a weaker one. Yet Piccolo's actions carried none of the desperation typically seen in last stands. His fading voice reached across the battlefield, carrying something beyond duty or strategy.

"You're... like the son I never had. I'm proud of you..."

The words hung in the air, stirring different reactions in each observer. The Earth defenders' faces showed grief, while Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip, that analytical tell contrasting sharply with the slight tremor in her tail's grip around her waist.

The sacrifice resonated differently across the battlefield than the countless deaths that had come before. This death carried no rage, no pride, no desperate last stand - something entirely different powered the Namekian's choice. Protection . Not the calculated kind her father employed to keep her safe while maintaining their image, but something raw and willing that made him stronger rather than weaker.

It was what made all of them stronger, Cellera realized. These Earth defenders didn't fight for pride or survival or even victory - they fought to protect. Each sacrifice, each desperate stand... it wasn't sentiment making them weak. It was giving them power she hadn't understood until now.

Her tail coiled tighter as an unfamiliar emotion twisted in her chest. What did she have to protect? Pride? Reputation? Even her careful shielding of her father's position came from duty rather than... whatever this was. The realization left her feeling strangely hollow as Gohan cradled his fallen mentor.

Vegeta's scoff cut through the moment, though it failed to draw attention from the scene before them. Gohan cradled his fallen mentor, each sob accompanied by wild fluctuations in power that set the scouters beeping frantically.

"Fool," Nappa spat, gathering energy for another attack. Yet the scouters revealed what his battle-lust ignored - Gohan's power signature had changed. Gone was the chaotic energy of fear, replaced by something more focused, channeled through grief.

Her scouter began to beep in warning.

Gohan threw his head back with a powerful yell, his hardened, angry gaze fixed straight on Nappa. Now this... this was what Cellera had been waiting to see from him.

"Huh?! Alright! Let's go!" Nappa goaded.

Energy crackled around Gohan's hands as he gathered his power. Her scouter beeped again, tracking another spike in the boy's power. Static electricity sparked from the growing orb of light, casting shadows across his determined face.

"Masenko!" The blast erupted from Gohan's palms, surging toward Nappa with devastating force. The scouters' collective warnings filled the air with urgent beeping.

"That runt's power level is over two thousand!" Vegeta's usual composure cracked with disbelief as his scouter tracked the rapidly climbing numbers.

The readings continued to surge beyond expectations, causing both Saiyan observers to tense. "No..." Cellera's voice carried rare amazement, "it's over three thousand!"

"Nappa watch out! This one is much more powerful than he appears!" Vegeta's second warning in one battle - an unprecedented occurrence that spoke volumes about the danger Nappa had underestimated.

"Still nowhere near my level," Cellera muttered, though her tail's grip betrayed a deeper interest in the boy's sudden power surge. Maybe, just maybe, his attack would rid them of Nappa's constant interference. Between stealing her intended fight and his endless tactical blunders, she'd had enough of the brutish warrior.

Her scouter beeped frantically with each spike, recording the pattern of Gohan’s strength. The first surge had manifested in his kick to Nappa, raw power fueled by anger. Now again, his grief and rage pushed his readings beyond normal childish limits. These weren't the desperate flails of a dying fighter, but something far more familiar - pure Saiyan battle power, though untamed.

The blast illuminated the battlefield. Debris scattered in all directions as Nappa redirected Gohan's attack, sending it careening into a distant plateau. The explosion lit up the sky like a second sun. Alas, his second and best attack still wasn't enough. Gohan stood there in disbelief that his strongest attack had been thwarted so easily. Cellera couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment - both at the wasted potential of the attack and the continued survival of their increasingly liability of a companion.

"Hey, not too bad kid. That made my arm numb!" Nappa lightly praised, cradling the arm he'd used to redirect the attack. He let out a laugh. "Alright, then... It's my turn!"

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. The boy had the instincts, the raw potential, but none of the control that came from proper training. Each burst left him drained, vulnerable. If he could learn to harness that power though... She pushed that dangerous line of thought aside. Her father unfortunately had no intention of letting her have her desired battle, and she had already questioned him enough for one day.

"Ah," her father said, drawing her attention. "That one shot drained his energy completely." He clicked his scouter, recalibrating it. "His power level has returned to normal."

"Don't worry, Piccolo... I won't let you down!" Gohan panted out, exhausted from his attack.

Exhaustion was evident in Gohan's trembling limbs, but Cellera noticed something different in his stance - gone was the frightened child from before. Even drained, he faced Nappa without flinching. She could hear Krillin yelling for him to run, Nappa mockingly echoing the sentiment. Gohan smiled.

"No way... Piccolo's counting on me," he stated before falling to all fours, his tired body finally giving out.

"It's up to you…You must stop them!"

Piccolo's words to Gohan echoed through her head, and she couldn't help but commend the boy’s courage…his own Saiyan pride. Even though he had no way to defeat Nappa in his current state, he was still willing to keep fighting to prove his now dead mentor's faith in him was not misplaced.

Her tail shifted uneasily as she watched Gohan struggle to stand. Even exhausted, even knowing defeat was certain, he fought on - not for glory or because of orders, but for the mentor who believed in him. The concept went against everything her father had taught her about strength, yet the evidence was undeniable. These Earthlings drew power from bonds her father would call weakness.

Her fingers dug into her palms as she watched Nappa's massive boot descend toward Gohan. After everything - the boy's raw potential, his fierce determination, those moments of true Saiyan pride - to have it end like this, beneath the heel of a warrior who couldn't even dodge a simple energy disc...

"Nice knowin' ya kid! There'll always be a soft spot at the bottom of my boot for ya!"

Just as Nappa's foot descended toward Gohan's prone form, a golden streak blazed through the battlefield. The Nimbus cloud snatched the boy to safety, drawing an irritated growl from Vegeta.

Nappa's massive form turned in confused circles, his delayed recognition of events drawing another example of his limited battlefield awareness. Finally spotting Gohan hovering safely behind him on the cloud, he demanded, "Hey! Where did that thing come from?"

"Nimbus?" Relief colored Gohan's voice as he stared down at his father's faithful cloud companion.

"How did he... what the...?" Nappa's confusion manifested in sputtered protests.

"It looks like he finally made it." Cellera's gaze lifted skyward to where a figure in orange gi descended, her father's angry glare following the same path.

"What is that thing? What's going on?!"

Another eye roll crossed Cellera's features at Nappa's continued display of tactical blindness. The warrior's realization didn't dawn until Goku touched down on the battlefield.

"Ahh! Daddy!" Pure joy transformed Gohan's bearing as he offered his father the most genuine smile seen since the battle began. Krillin's expression mirrored his friend's relief.

"It's... Goku!"

Following her father's path through the air, Cellera touched down beside him and adopted his signature pose - arms crossed, stance rigid. She couldn't help but glance at Piccolo's body, the echo of his sacrifice still raw in her mind. The urge to wince pulled at her features, but she mastered it quickly. Thankfully it went unnoticed; both her father and Nappa were too focused on Kakarot's arrival to see the sympathy she was failing to hide. She quickly forced herself to put on a confident smirk, one that resembled her father's, in an attempt to hide the momentary weakness she'd displayed.

"Welcome Kakarot. Nice of you to join us." Her father's lips curved into a smirk before a low chuckle escaped him. The sound started small but grew, echoing across the battlefield with an edge that made Cellera's tail tighten around her waist.

Nappa stood frozen, confusion etched on his features as he glanced between her father's growing amusement and their new arrival. Cellera studied Kakarot's face, searching for any trace of the Saiyan warrior her father expected him to be.

Behind them, Gohan's energy radiated pure joy. The boy's previous exhaustion seemed forgotten, hope lighting up his features. Even the bald warrior, Krillin, appeared transformed by his friend's arrival, relief replacing his earlier desperation.

But something in Kakarot's eyes gave Cellera pause. He showed none of the fear their presence usually inspired, none of the uncertainty she'd come to expect from Earth's defenders. Instead, he carried himself with a quiet confidence that seemed to amuse her father to no end.

"Well, I was beginning to think you weren't going to show up, especially after your little family reunion with Raditz," her father jeered. "Did you two have fun catching up?"

Kakarot didn't say anything, continuing to stand in the same spot with that quiet confidence. Something about Kakarot's silence unsettled her almost as much as her father's cold stares. Her intimidation of her father came partly out of respect for him as a parent, but the rest came from the cold looks and sharp words he would give her when she showed what he deemed as "weakness." She glanced over at her father when he stopped laughing and saw that he too had noticed that Kakarot was different from the fighters they had faced so far. They all stood at a standstill for a few moments before her father tried to elicit a reaction again.

"I see... not much for words, eh, Kakarot?" her father sneered. "Well, you're just in time to watch us finish off these so-called fighters."

Kakarot turned away, ignoring both her father's taunt and Nappa's presence as he made his way to where Piccolo lay. He pressed his fingers to Piccolo's neck, checking for a pulse and only confirming what they all already knew.

"Piccolo..." "He was protecting me... He saved me!" Gohan explained to him, his voice becoming choked up at the memory of his fallen mentor.

She studied Kakarot's face as he began to look around the battlefield. He called out each of his friend's names as he found their slain bodies littered throughout, growing angrier with each one.

"Yeah that's right. I took care of them all," Nappa bragged, unable to hold himself back from gloating. "Well, except for that little guy. He decided to blow himself up!"

She watched as Kakarot and Nappa's eyes met, the former's filled with pure anger while Nappa wore a satisfied grin. Kakarot clenched his fist tightly, his body shaking with rage at Nappa's cruel dismissal of his friend's sacrifice. If Nappa were smart, he would close his big mouth and refrain from saying anything more. She could only imagine what Kakarot might do in anger if Gohan was anything to go by. Having seen this pattern before, she adjusted her scouter to focus on Kakarot's power level.

"And the whole time while I was pounding them, they were waiting for you to show up. Somehow they knew you were coming, but it didn't matter. You were too late!" Nappa cackled.

Cellera shifted her eyes between the rising numbers on her scouter and Kakarot's advancing form. "Father, you may want to examine the reading on Kakarot."

"Kakarot's power level is increasing..." her father observed, tension creeping into his tone.

Either Nappa didn't notice or simply didn't care because he just laughed, either oblivious to or ignoring the danger in front of him. Oh well. She'd had enough of Nappa's foolishness for today. Whatever happened to him at this point was his own undoing.

Nappa threw a punch toward Kakarot, but he disappeared! Cellera blinked, trying to make sure she was seeing correctly, her tail tightening around her waist. "He's fast!" she said, impressed. When she finally spotted him, he was next to Gohan.

"Come on, Gohan," he said, and the cloud Gohan rode on followed him over to where Krillin lay on the ground.

She watched as Kakarot checked on Krillin before crouching down and pulling out what appeared to be... a bean? Her analytical nature kicked in as she studied the small object. First their ability to sense energy without scouters, and now this? She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in confusion as she heard him calling it a 'Senzu bean.' What could one mere bean accomplish?

Her question was answered immediately as both Krillin and Gohan sprang up, restored as if they hadn't spent the last hour beaten and unconscious. Even their minor injuries had vanished completely. Cellera's eyes widened at the display. A single bean, split in half, had accomplished what their most advanced healing technology required hours to achieve.

These Earth defenders continued to defy conventional understanding. Her father's dismissal of this planet as primitive suddenly seemed dangerously shortsighted. What other capabilities might they be hiding? 

Krillin pointed over to Nappa, and Kakarot turned. His face, which had just held a smile, now wore a mask of anger - teeth gritted, a vein pulsing at his temple. He began to growl, and Cellera could both feel*and*see the amount of pressure and power he was exuding as he made his way toward them. Gohan attempted to follow, pleading for his dad to come back, but Krillin quickly held him back.

"This has gone on long enough," Kakarot declared, directing the comment straight at Nappa. "It ends right here, right now."

"Come on, then! I wanna see what the great Kakarot's made of!" Nappa challenged.

"Ha! You want me? You got me."

Kakarot began to power up again, and Cellera's stomach dropped as she realized the amount of power he was emitting was even more than before, sending bits of rock from their earlier destruction flying through the air. Her father also stood in shock while Krillin and Gohan backed away to take cover.

Her scouter let out an alert, and her eyes widened at the number being reflected on the transparent red screen covering her left eye.

8,900.

And still it climbed!

"Father..." she said, trying to check if she was seeing correctly, but judging by the dumbfounded expression on his face, she definitely was.

Kakarot finally stopped powering up, and the only sound was the noise of rocks hitting the ground.

"Vegeta, what does his power level read?" Nappa turned, uncertainty creeping into his voice.

"It's over nine thousand!" Her father tore off his scouter and crushed it into bits.

"Nine thousand?!" Nappa cried out in shock. "There's no way that could be right! It can't!"

"It's true, Nappa," Cellera confirmed, hitting the recalibrate button once again on her scouter. "I advise that you watch yourself."

"Well, I was trained in the art of Kaio-Ken," Kakarot replied, calm confidence lacing his words.

'Kaio-what? ' Cellera's brow furrowed at the unfamiliar technique. In all her father's teachings about Saiyan combat, she'd never heard of such an art. The way Kakarot mentioned it so casually, yet with such assurance... there had to be more to his training than they knew.

"Huh? Kaio-ken?" her father spat, brow furrowing.

Nappa, being the simpleton he was, didn't think twice about the new martial art that Kakarot had learned, and began to barrel toward him. "Kaio-whatever! Who cares? I'm still gonna crush you! I don't care what you've learned." Just as Nappa made a jump for him, Kakarot disappeared just as he had earlier. When he reappeared, it was with his foot planting itself firmly on the back of Nappa's neck, causing the larger man to fall face first to the ground.

'Like father, like son.' She couldn't help but think, her lips twitching up at the corners.

Nappa got up from the ground, growing increasingly enraged. "You... You'll pay for that!"

"We'll see, but I haven't even warmed up yet," Kakarot stated, not showing an ounce of concern on his face.

"That was luck! I'm the second strongest Saiyan in the universe!" Nappa claimed, making Cellera narrow her eyes.

'Sure ', she thought to herself. She had beaten Nappa in spars multiple times - his attacks were so predictable that countering them took minimal effort. Nappa was only spouting this nonsense because his ego was bruised from Kakarot making him look like a fool. She decided to let Kakarot be his punishment for such a false claim. What she didn't expect, however, was Kakarot to call Nappa out himself.

"Heh, don't you mean the fifth strongest?"

"What do you mean?" Nappa growled out angrily.

"It's obvious your friend and the girl are stronger than you. So that would make you the fifth," he stated as if it were obvious.

Though Goku's statement implied he might be stronger than both father and daughter, Cellera's lips twitched with barely contained amusement. The truth of Nappa's position at the bottom of their hierarchy was apparently obvious even to an Earth-raised Saiyan. Nappa's reddening face and clenched fists showed he failed to appreciate the observation as much as Cellera obviously did.

"Kakarot..." he growled out, his anger once again taking control. "I'm gonna rip you apart!" He began his charge, throwing a flurry of punches and kicks which Kakarot dodged with ease.

Cellera glanced over to see her father watching the spectacle with his hand to his chin, analyzing the fight with the same calculating expression she'd inherited from him. "It's strange. Just a year ago he couldn't beat Raditz, and now he's making sport of Nappa."

"Nappa is letting anger control his attacks," Cellera pointed out. "Although, that alone shouldn't be the only reason Kakarot is making him look like such a fool."

They both continued to watch as Nappa tried to deliver a particularly power-filled punch toward Kakarot, who swiftly moved out of the way to stand a short distance behind him.

"Over here!" he called, causing Nappa to turn with teeth gritted and rage building even further.

"I'll get my hands on you! And when I do..." Nappa continued to threaten.

Cellera found herself intrigued by how much stronger Kakarot had grown within the year since Raditz. Perhaps it had something to do with that fighting style he'd mentioned earlier. Kaio-Ken, was it?

Kakarot took a stance before rushing toward Nappa with incredible speed, taking the larger Saiyan off guard. He vanished again, reappearing atop Nappa's head. Nappa raised both arms up in an attempt to trap his legs, and the second he did, Cellera knew it was over.

Kakarot quickly moved back to the ground as soon as Nappa shifted his guard, and delivered a devastating punch to his now exposed abdomen. The bald Saiyan groaned in pain and shock, bending over to clutch at his stomach.

"That's for my friends, all four of them," Kakarot declared.

Nappa fell to his knees from the pain, forced to now look at Kakarot's boots, practically at his mercy in this position. "I was Commander in Chief of the whole Saiyan Army! You're nothing compared to me!" he roared before continuing his wild, unsuccessful assault.

'How the mighty have fallen',she thought to herself as she watched Kakarot demonstrate a level of combat prowess that made Nappa look like an amateur. He was even able to completely absorb one of Nappa's attacks as if it were a splash of water, leaving everyone in shock.

"How was that pathetic fool able to stop that?!"

"Father, I believe we may be in for a real challenge."

Her tail unwound slightly as she studied Kakarot movements. Perhaps this turn of events would work in her favor - if Kakarot proved strong enough to defeat Nappa, she might still get her chance to test Gohan's true potential. After all, the brute had done nothing but interfere with her intended fight since they'd arrived.

Nappa began to try and charge another attack, but Goku was already a step ahead, surging up and appearing behind Nappa with his hands clasped together and arms raised.

"This one's for Piccolo!" he called out before bringing his hands down onto Nappa's head, sending him flying downward. "And this one is for Yamcha!" Before Nappa could even reach the ground, Goku appeared below him and delivered a kick that sent him crashing into a landform, which crumbled at the impact.

Cellera watched intently as Kakarot systematically took Nappa apart, her analytical mind noting how each strike was delivered with purpose. Unlike Nappa's usual brutish style, these weren't random acts of violence - each hit was dedicated to one of his fallen friends. She found herself more impressed by Kakarot's precision than concerned for her supposed ally.

She glanced over at Krillin and Gohan who were cheering at the display of strength. Her attention lingered on Gohan. His father, Kakarot, had proven fascinating, and his son was no different. While Piccolo had clearly mentored him recently, she wondered what techniques Kakarot might have passed down before. One way or another, she would get her fight with the boy before they left this planet.

Gohan must have felt her stare because he finally turned to meet her gaze. She let a predatory smirk cross her features, the same one her father wore before a promising battle. The boy tensed but didn't look away - another flash of that Saiyan pride she'd glimpsed throughout the day. They held each other's look for a moment before both turning back to watch Nappa pick himself up out of the rubble.

Her tail unwound slightly as she studied Kakarot's movements. Perhaps this turn of events would work in her favor - if Kakarot proved strong enough to defeat Nappa, she might still get her chance to test Gohan's true potential. After all, the brute had done nothing but interfere with her intended fight since they'd arrived.

"I hate you!" Nappa snarled, throwing a piece of rock towards Kakarot, who effortlessly dodged.

"You hate losing," Kakarot corrected. "You're not used to fighting someone stronger than you."

Cellera's lips twitched. Kakarot had no idea how right he was. Other than herself and her father, Nappa rarely faced any real challenge - and when he did, it was usually due to his own incompetence. Every mission, every time - his impulsiveness threatened their efficiency. Today was just another example of how his poor decisions could endanger them all.

When Nappa launched into yet another tirade about elite status and class rankings, Cellera had to suppress a derisive snort. The evidence before them made such claims sound hollow - Kakarot was dismantling the so-called "elite" warrior with embarrassing ease. She'd beaten Nappa in spars multiple times - his attacks were so predictable that countering them took minimal effort.

"Nappa, don't be a fool! Calm down!" her father commanded beside her, evidently as fed up with Nappa's display as she was. "How do you expect to win when you're so mad you can't even see straight?! Even Cellera doesn't let anger cloud her judgment this badly, now settle down!"

This was the third time her father had to correct Nappa. She knew her father well enough to recognize that if Nappa slipped up again, there would be no more warnings - and judging by the slight tremor in Nappa's movements, he knew it too. By this point, she'd lost what little patience she had left for his poor tactical decisions. Too many times had he made errors that put their missions at risk, and one day, it could cost them all their lives.

"All right, Kakarot, round two!" Nappa chuckled, claiming that Kakarot had been 'lucky' to land those hits.

Cellera knew it wasn't luck, and by her father's angry glare at Kakarot, he knew it too. Kakarot's skill far exceeded what they'd anticipated. Nappa truly was oblivious to what he was up against, and with his short temper, she could easily predict the outcome. More than likely, her father would be the one taking care of Kakarot by day's end.

Nappa began to attack Kakarot again, this time with a less direct approach. He powered up and channeled his energy, trying to create an explosion around where Kakarot stood. Kakarot took flight, masking himself amongst the smoke and debris, but Nappa took off after him.

They both engaged in mid-air combat, each Saiyan throwing a flurry of punches and kicks before separating. Nappa opened his mouth, firing an energy blast that Kakarot quickly met with one of his own. The attacks canceled each other out, creating a massive explosion.

The explosion kicked up dust and created a backdraft so strong she felt her hair flying behind her, much like when she took flight. She brought her arm up to shield her eyes from the debris and noticed her father doing the same beside her.

Cellera looked up when she heard Nappa's laughter, trying to see through the lingering dust. She was mildly impressed to see two figures still above them. Nappa's shot had been almost point blank - she had to acknowledge Kakarot's speed, even if Nappa would never admit to it.

"All right! That's it! Enough!" her father yelled in that tone she'd grown quite familiar with hearing directed at Nappa. "You heard me, Nappa! Come down here! You're finished!"

Nappa growled and looked at her father in surprise and anger, evidently not liking being called away from his fight. Cellera couldn't blame her father though. At this point, it was just embarrassing to watch Nappa's display.

"Don't look at me like that! You haven't managed to land a single punch! I think you've embarrassed us long enough! Cellera and I will take it from here."

Cellera looked at her father in surprise for a moment before catching the smirk that appeared on his face as he and Kakarot met each other's eyes. A test of true Saiyan elites was about to begin.

"Cellera, I'll leave Kakarot's son to you. I know you've been itching to fight him since he attacked Nappa."

Cellera smirked and glanced at Gohan, but her expression fell when she noticed Krillin holding him protectively as they both stood terrified at the approaching confrontation. This could complicate things.

"I said it's our turn. Now get down here!" her father commanded once more toward Nappa who, despite his anger, finally obeyed the order.

"It's too bad he won't let me help finish you off," Nappa told Kakarot before descending. "Now, what can I do for fun?" She heard him mutter to himself. Her eyes narrowed as his gaze darted toward Gohan and Krillin. "I know!"

Clearly, Nappa had misunderstood her father's orders, thinking they would both fight Kakarot together. She gritted her teeth in anger - she'd had enough of this brute for one lifetime. Too many times had he made tactical errors that put their missions at risk, and one day, it could cost them all their lives. Just as she was about to step in and stop him, she saw Kakarot trailing behind him.

"Kaio-Ken Attack!"

A crimson aura erupted around Goku's form as both Saiyan scouters blared urgent warnings. The readings doubled in an instant, his movement becoming almost too rapid to track! The devastating combination sent Nappa plummeting toward the ground before Goku appeared below, catching the massive warrior with one arm and hoisting him up as if he weighed nothing. Gohan and Krillin stood frozen, still processing their near miss.

"How in the world did he do that?" Gohan's voice carried equal parts awe and confusion.

"Good question. I really don't know!" Krillin responded, his own bewilderment evident.

Goku hurled Nappa in their direction, his voice carrying none of its usual warmth. "He won't be fighting anymore."

"I-I can't move my legs!" Nappa's desperate gaze sought out his companions, finding only clinical assessment in their expressions. Vegeta's features hardened into a glare while observing this display of unexpected power.

"That technique seems to increase speed and power," Cellera's analytical nature manifested in her tilted head and focused expression. "Do tell, Kakarot, is this the 'Kaio-Ken' you mentioned earlier?" Her tail began to unwind slightly - that tell of her curiosity - before quickly rewrapping at her father's warning grunt and Kakarot’s observant gaze.

To her surprise, a slight, gentle smile touched his mouth. "That's right. It's like a massive upsurge in energy. Everything heightens - power, speed, hearing, and vision improve dramatically. It can only be used for a short time, though, so you have to get the job done quickly," he explained, and she nodded in understanding. His willingness to share such vital information was...unexpected.

"Do you think you'll be able to teach me how to do a move like that someday, Goku?" Krillin questioned excitedly.

"Maybe," he replied without looking away from Vegeta. The two warriors continued their silent assessment of each other.

"Why didn't you use that attack on him in the first place, Goku?" Krillin inquired.

Cellera could already guess the answer. "Heightened power comes at a cost," she found herself saying, and Kakarot gave her another oddly kind smile. His eyes showed no hostility toward her, which she couldn't understand. Didn't he realize she was partially responsible for his friends' deaths?!

"That's right. The increase in energy has a chance to destroy my body. You're pretty smart if you were able to deduce that. You’ve been taught well." Goku glanced at her father. She wasn't surprised he'd made the connection - while she might look more like her mother, her analytical nature came straight from her father.

"It... could kill you?" Krillin asked nervously, seeming to regret ever asking about learning the technique.

"Yes." Goku gave a nod in response.

"Vegeta, give me a hand... I can't get up." Nappa's pathetic plea drew attention back to his prone form. The once-proud Saiyan Army 'Commander in Chief' now lay reduced to begging after his defeat by a supposed low-class warrior. His hand reached toward his prince.

Vegeta extended his own hand toward his fallen comrade, though something in his expression caused Cellera's tail to tighten instinctively around her waist. That particular look had preceded too many similar moments - Nappa had exhausted his final warning about reckless behavior.

"Thank you," Nappa said, oblivious to the shift in atmosphere.

"Sure. It's the least I can do, Nappa."

The battlefield fell silent as Vegeta hurled Nappa skyward. The larger Saiyan's cry of fear revealed his belated understanding - all those warnings, all those chances, squandered.

"Maybe you won't be such a disappointment when you're dead!" Vegeta's declaration came accompanied by gathering energy that created sparks and whirlwinds strong enough to force the observers to shield their eyes. His final word carried years of accumulated frustration: "Goodbye."

While the Earth defenders stared dumbfounded at this casual disposal of an ally, Cellera's expression remained neutral. She'd seen this coming since her father's first warning about Nappa's mistakes. Between his constant interference with her intended fight and his endless tactical blunders, this outcome was inevitable. The fool had squandered every chance he'd been given.

The explosion from Vegeta's attack dwarfed all previous destruction, shattering plateaus and crumbling mountains as if they were made of sand. Through the settling debris and smoke, two figures emerged - father and daughter methodically scanning the area for their opponents. 

Above them, Goku hovered with son and friend held safely in each hand, their faces frozen in horror at what they'd witnessed. Vegeta and Goku locked eyes across the battlefield, an unspoken challenge passing between them. The tension in their stances spoke volumes about the battle to come.

Vegeta and Goku locked eyes across the battlefield, an unspoken challenge passing between them. The tension in their stances spoke volumes about the battle to come.

"Krillin, take Gohan and get out of here," Goku said firmly, his gaze never leaving Vegeta.

"But Dad-" Gohan's protest died as uncertainty warred with determination in his stance.

"Listen to me. I need you both to go to Master Roshi's house. Now."

The tension shifted palpably across the battlefield as Goku attempted to send the children away. Cellera's posture stiffened, her earlier anticipation threatening to dissolve into frustration.

"Running away already?" Cellera's challenge halted Gohan mid-flight. "And here I thought you wanted to prove yourself worthy of your mentor's sacrifice." The boy's shoulders tensed visibly at the mention of Piccolo, small fists clenching at his sides.

"Gohan, don't listen to her!" Krillin's protective instinct overcame his own fear as he grabbed the boy's arm. "Your dad knows what he's doing!"

"That's right, son," Goku's voice carried that same gentle tone that seemed to perplex both Saiyan warriors. "This isn't your fight anymore."

"Not his fight?" Cellera's short laugh carried an edge of challenge. "He made it his fight the moment he stepped onto this battlefield today. I've been waiting to see what a half-Saiyan can really do." Her smirk widened as she saw the conflict in Gohan's stance. "Unless of course, you're afraid to face someone your own size." 

Gohan's stance betrayed his internal struggle even as he hovered in the air - his ki fluctuating between retreat and advance, hands clenching and unclenching as filial obedience warred with warrior's pride.

"I... I can't," Gohan said finally. "I won't run away again!" His eyes met Cellera's, that same fire from their earlier encounter blazing forth. "If you want to fight me, then fine!"

Cellera's smirk carried echoes of her father's confidence, though something different flickered behind her eyes as she glanced between Gohan and Vegeta. Her tail coiled tighter around her waist, a tell of deeper thoughts at work. The way she studied the half-Saiyan boy suggested plans beyond simple combat, though she kept her stance as rigid as her father's.

Vegeta gave a dark chuckle. "Come on Kakarot, why not?" he goaded. "Don't worry, unlike me my daughter shows 'mercy' to those weaker than her."

The battlefield fell silent as the opponents assessed each other. Goku's attention moved between his son and the young Saiyan warrior, his usually gentle expression taking on an unexpectedly analytical edge. As his gaze settled on Cellera, she stiffened noticeably, her carefully maintained composure wavering under his scrutiny. Something in his assessment seemed to satisfy him, though what exactly he'd seen remained unclear.

"Dad, please," Gohan begged, moving to look his father in the eyes. "Please let me fight! I won't let you fight alone!"

Goku's attention moved between his son and the young Saiyan warrior, his usually gentle expression taking on an unexpectedly serious edge. As his gaze settled on Cellera, she stiffened noticeably, her carefully maintained composure wavering under his scrutiny. Something in his assessment seemed to satisfy him, though what exactly he'd seen remained unclear.

"Alright, Gohan. But Krillin is going with you."

"Fine by me. So long as he doesn't interfere." She shot a pointed look at the said fighter, who recoiled. “Is that understood?”

"F-fine!" Krillin stuttered before adding a warning. "Oh, yeah! Goku! Don't rely on grabbing his tail, we already tried that. Piccolo tried grabbing that big guy's tail, and he got hammered for it, really bad." They floated in the air a few more moments, surveying the battlefield. "They did their best. We all did. But in the end... I guess we just didn't have what it took."

Something in Krillin's words about the fallen warriors caused a visible shift in Cellera's expression, though she quickly masked it.

"Then I guess... It's up to me to finish this," Goku said.

He glanced at her again with that knowing look. Cellera stiffened under his gaze, her tail coiling tighter around her waist. Unlike other opponents who only saw what she wanted them to see - the perfect image of a Saiyan warrior that her father demanded - something in Kakarot's eyes suggested he saw deeper. Past the careful mask of indifference, past the calculated responses, to something she herself wasn't ready to acknowledge.

She forced herself to maintain eye contact, though her father's presence beside her made her hyper-aware of keeping her composed demeanor. The way Kakarot carried himself - openly showing care for his son, unashamed of his emotions even in battle - stood in stark contrast to everything she'd been taught about warrior pride. Yet his power was undeniable. It challenged everything her father had drilled into her about sentiment being weakness.

"Well, it's time." Goku turned to his son, his usual bright smile masking the tension of the moment. "Try not to worry about me, son. I'll be just fine. I'll be over to help you before you know it." A pause allowed his pride to show through. "I'm very proud of you, Gohan."

The open display of affection made her tail grip even tighter. She quickly looked away, unable to watch this father praise his son so freely. The scene stirred memories she usually kept buried - her mother's gentle touch on her cheek, the casual warmth of her approval. Those gestures had vanished with Rhuba's death, replaced by her father's rigid standards of what made a proper Saiyan warrior. It stirred something uncomfortable in her chest - not quite envy, but a growing awareness of what she carefully locked away to maintain her father's approval.

"You can spend all the time you want assuring your son, but you're simply postponing the inevitable!" Vegeta's call carried impatient anticipation.

"It's too bad," Goku replied, his response drawing varying reactions from the observers. "It seems he's totally determined to end things this way. He sure would make a good sparring partner!"

The unexpected appreciation for combat drew subtle responses from the Saiyan observers. Cellera's analytical posture softened momentarily, that familiar thumb-biting tell making an appearance as she studied this unusual warrior. Her father's expression suggested recalculation of his opponent's Saiyan nature.

"Hey, Goku..." Krillin extended his hand toward his oldest friend, voice thick with emotion. "You're my friend. We grew up together! Just make sure we both grow old together, too!"

"Right! I couldn't have asked for a better best friend than you, Krillin." The firm handshake between them drew an unconscious tail-tightening from Cellera, her gaze shifting between her father and their distant pods. The question of growing old carried different weight for those under Frieza's command.

Cellera found herself wondering if she or her father would ever have the chance to grow old, or if they would eventually die by Frieza's hand once he tired of them. Every mission could be their last - one failure, one moment of defiance, and they'd join the rest of their race in extinction. The Dragon Balls might offer more than just immortality; they could mean freedom.

The air crackled with tension as the warriors assessed each other. Though Vegeta radiated confidence, both Cellera and Goku's stances suggested awareness of how unpredictable this battle could become.

"So Kakarot! You ready to get this over with?" Vegeta called as Goku descended closer to them.

"I know a better place than this!" Goku replied. The destroyed landscape around them, littered with craters and debris, emphasized the wisdom of his suggestion. Even Cellera's analytical gaze sweeping the ruined battlefield seemed to confirm the tactical advantage of relocating.

"Wherever! Just lead the way!"

Goku shot into the air, the others following close behind. The fate of Earth hung in the balance, but the way both Vegeta and Cellera's expressions had darkened at mentions of Frieza suggested far more than one planet's destiny might be decided in the coming battle.

Notes:

As a heads up, the Saiyan Saga alone is like 25k words. While it could be more, i personally didn't find it important to rehash and write out the whole Saibamen battle (Who knows, i may decide to update and change that one day idk). Also, bits and pieces of the canon will be changed if I feel it doesn't serve a purpose, as we will see in the next chapter! Hope you guys are enjoying the story thus far!

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Notes:

Revised as of 12/06/2024

The group flew for several miles, the terrain beneath them transforming from verdant fields to rocky landscapes littered with canyons and crags. Tension manifested differently across the airborne formation - Gohan's gaze darting anxiously between his father and Vegeta, Krillin's protective hovering near his young friend, while the Saiyan royals maintained their calculated distance ahead.

"Hey, Gohan, try not to worry!" Krillin attempted reassurance, noting the boy's growing anxiety. "Your dad knows what he's doing. Goku is the toughest guy in the whole world! Plus, you and I are a team. I got your back in case something happens."

"But Krillin!" Gohan's voice carried a new authority as they flew. "Piccolo gave his life protecting me. I won't let that sacrifice be for nothing." His hands clenched at his sides as determination replaced fear. "This is something I need to do myself."

"Gohan-" Krillin's protest died at the sight of fierce determination replacing fear in his young companion's expression. The conviction in the young half-Saiyan's voice reminded Krillin of Goku's own unwavering resolve. 

As they followed behind Cellera, Gohan studied her flight pattern - precise and controlled, so different from her father's intimidating presence or Nappa's brute force approach. Her combat intent lacked their cruelty, and despite clearly outmatching Nappa's strength, she had refrained from joining the previous battles - a detail that hadn't escaped his notice.

Throughout their encounters, he'd observed multiple signs that set her apart - her attempted intervention when Nappa first attacked, the flash of discomfort near Piccolo's body, that oddly gentle look when Nappa had demanded combat before his father arrived. Even her reactions to his moments of fear had carried the same disappointed edge as Piccolo's, as if she expected more from him.

His father's muttered words broke through his thoughts.

"Yeah, no one will get hurt if we fight way out here." Goku's quiet assessment preceded his descent toward one of the massive rock formations. Cellera and Vegeta touched down on an opposing plateau, their synchronized movement speaking to years of coordinated combat.

"Kakarot," Vegeta announced, "I have a proposition for you. I'm only going to say this once, so listen carefully."

The announcement drew varying reactions. Cellera's glance between her father and Kakarot carried an unexpected flicker of hope - his choice of location had not escaped her notice. Unlike her father who relished in collateral damage, Kakarot had deliberately chosen a place where no innocent lives would be at risk. It was the kind of tactical consideration her mother might have made. 

"I, Vegeta, would like to offer you, Kakarot, the opportunity to stand beside me in this conquest. With Nappa gone, I could use a good man! Of course, your son will suffice but he needs more training. He's not very Saiyan ."

The proposal sent ripples of surprise through the observers. Gohan's expression shifted rapidly between confusion and disbelief - the offer's extension to him particularly unexpected. His gaze darted to Cellera, wondering at her potential influence in this inclusion.

"Think about it..." Vegeta continued, his voice carrying dark promise. "We would rule the planets. You could have anything you desired. There's no one in the universe that could touch us! What do you say, Kakarot?"

"I could have everything I want right here on Earth! So I'll have to say... no thanks." His father's reply was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. "Besides, I've seen how you treat your partners. Not much job security."

Gohan noticed Cellera's expression fall slightly, her hand moving to her mouth in that thinking gesture he'd observed before. His father's words about having everything he wanted here seemed to strike something in her - her eyes took on that distant look that suggested she was processing something deeply

"Alright, then, so be it! You had your chance." Vegeta turned to Cellera. "Take your fight a little ways from here, but don't stray too far."

Though it was clearly a command, Cellera simply nodded before looking at Gohan and Krillin, tilting her head to indicate they should follow. Gohan gave his father one last look before he and Krillin took off after her.

The air crackled with tension as Cellera touched down across from Gohan, her movements deliberately casual despite the battle raging between their fathers nearby. She studied him with the same analytical gaze she'd worn throughout their earlier encounters, but now there was something else in her expression - curiosity, perhaps even anticipation. She took off her scouter and crushed it beneath her boot, causing both boys to look at her in surprise.

"It's practically useless with how you can all hide your power levels," she said with a slight grin.

Gohan recognized that eager expression - it was the same one his father wore when practicing new techniques outside while Gohan did his homework, or when telling stories of adventures from his own childhood.

"Hey baldy, your name is Krillin, right?" Cellera asked, turning to the warrior who stood at Gohan's side.

"Huh?" Krillin flailed slightly at being addressed by the powerful girl. "Y-Yeah! What's it to ya?!"

"I’ll make it clear once more, I want no interference from you," she stated, turning back to face her true target - the boy who'd impressed her by landing that kick on Nappa. "This battle is between us."

Cellera dropped into a defensive fighting stance that mirrored her father's perfectly. "Your turn to prove yourself, half-breed. Show me what the Namekian taught you."

"You've got this Gohan! Take her down!" Krillin cheered from the sidelines.

Gohan balled his hands into fists and took up Piccolo's signature stance - a detail that didn't escape Cellera's notice. The two young warriors studied each other for a moment before charging simultaneously, exchanging a flurry of punches and kicks. Despite his best efforts, Gohan found himself holding back with each strike, his mother's lessons about never hitting girls echoing in his mind.

Cellera could feel the hesitation in each of Gohan's attacks as she blocked them. A scowl darkened her features. "Fight me like you mean it, dammit!" she yelled, driving a hard punch into his chin. Gohan retreated quickly as she pressed forward with another strike.

"Sorry, my mom always told me not to hit girls..." Gohan said, rubbing his chin. The words had barely left his mouth when he realized his mistake. Cellera's expression turned murderous - the most threatening look he'd seen from her yet. Both he and Krillin took an involuntary step back.

"Oh?" Cellera's eyebrow arched dangerously, her tail unwinding slightly from her waist in growing irritation. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed his stance - still holding back, still refusing to acknowledge the gravity of their situation. Every pulled punch, every hesitation fueled her mounting anger. How dare he treat this like some schoolyard sparring match when everything was at stake?

"Is that so?!" She took a deep breath, consciously trying to control her anger, determined not to lose control like Nappa had. Her next strikes carried more force, precision giving way to genuine frustration. Each attack meant to push him, to force him to fight seriously.

When she'd collected herself, she let out a sharp laugh. "Your mother's manners won't save you or your planet." She vanished, reappearing behind him with startling speed. "The universe isn't polite, Gohan."

Gohan barely managed to block her kick, the force still sending him skidding backward. She pressed forward with a series of precise strikes - not meant to damage, but to test his defenses. Each pulled punch from him only fueled her growing rage.

He gritted his teeth as he blocked another punch. Each of Cellera's strikes carried precision rather than pure power - testing his defenses, analyzing his responses. Her eyes tracked every movement with the same calculating focus he'd seen during their earlier encounters.

"Fight me like you mean it!" she demanded, driving a hard punch that he barely deflected. "Your father, Kakarot, is over there giving it his all!" She followed with a precise kick aimed at his guard. "You have the luxury of having something to protect - so discard your hesitation, be a Saiyan, and fight!"

Gohan retreated from her next combination, still holding back. Her features darkened with genuine frustration.

"Some of us have to fight just to survive another day." Her next strike tested his left side - noting how he favored it after Nappa's attack. "You were born with Saiyan blood, with the power to protect what matters. Yet here you stand, wasting that gift!"

What do you mean?" Gohan caught her fist, finally meeting her gaze directly.

"Sometimes fighting is the only choice we have," she replied coldly, pulling her fist back and creating distance. "Not all of us have the luxury of living in peace." Her eyes hardened. "Now fight me with everything you have!"

Before Gohan could respond, they both felt a powerful shift in the atmosphere. Their attention turned toward where Goku and Vegeta battled, where a glowing orb hung in the air.

"Father... you really had to resort to using that ..." Cellera's voice carried a mix of resignation and concern.

"What is that?!" Krillin demanded.

"To keep it simple, a fake moon that creates something called 'Blutz Waves,' which are needed to transform us into what we refer to as 'The Great Ape,'" Cellera explained, turning away as if the sight itself was distasteful. It was clear she had no intention of using that transformation for this battle.

"W-Wait! So you're telling me... All of you Saiyans turn into that giant rampaging ape?!" Krillin asked, horror creeping into his voice.

Cellera nodded. "That's right. Based on your reaction, I'd say you've seen the transformation before. For my father to use this, he must be in a bind." A mighty roar echoed across the battlefield, causing her to grimace at what Kakarot would now face.

"Krillin." Gohan's voice carried an unexpected authority. "Go and help my dad." 

"But... Gohan!" Krillin's protest died in his throat as he met Gohan's stern gaze - an expression that Cellera noted bore an uncanny resemblance to his father's.

"I'll be fine. He needs you more than me right now."

Krillin looked between Gohan and the direction where his best friend fought, conflict clear on his face before he made his choice. "Alright then, be careful Gohan." With that, he took off toward where the two fathers battled.

"Finally," Cellera smirked, dropping into a fighting stance. "Now we can have a proper battle without your bodyguard hovering about." Her expression carried that same prideful confidence her father often displayed before a promising fight. "Let's see what the son of Kakarot can really do."

Cellera launched forward again, pleased to see that Gohan maintained his guard. Their exchanges grew faster, more intense, though she could sense that his attacks still felt restrained.

Frustration mounting at his basic combat level, Cellera stepped back to analyze the situation. Something wasn't adding up - she'd observed his raw power against Nappa, yet here he fought like someone who'd barely begun training. His form showed recent instruction but lacked the ingrained muscle memory that came from years of practice.

"How pathetic. I know you were mentored by the Namekian, but I thought Kakarot would have at least trained you better than this."

"I never trained until we found out you were coming," Gohan admitted, causing Cellera to pause mid-attack. "Piccolo was my first teacher."

Her mind slowly began to piece together everything. A Saiyan child with no combat training until maybe a year ago had still managed to land solid hits on Nappa. The raw potential there... She remembered her own endless hours of training since she could walk, her father's relentless drills and the constant push to be stronger had come after her mother died. She had taken a more gentle approach. 

"Well, that explains everything," she said, processing the new information in her mind. If mere months of training had produced this level of power, what could real pressure bring out? "But right now, your planet's fate hangs in the balance. Will you let everyone's sacrifices be for nothing because you weren't ready to fight?"

"I won't let Earth be destroyed!" Gohan snapped, his power flaring just as she'd predicted it would.

"Really?" Cellera's smirk held a calculated challenge. "The same boy who could only watch while his allies fell? Who couldn't even save—"

The rest of her taunt was cut off as Gohan's fist connected with her jaw, raw emotion finally overwhelming his hesitation. His power surged, just as it had when Piccolo fell. Their battle shifted into a higher gear, Gohan's emotional strength meeting Cellera's technical precision. She found herself genuinely challenged, having to utilize every bit of her training to stay ahead of his wild but powerful attacks.

Their exchange of blows intensified, each strike carrying more power than the last. Cellera found herself having to dodge rather than block some of Gohan's hits - his raw power becoming dangerous when fueled by emotion. Still, she needed more. He wasn't fighting with everything yet.

"You know," she said, positioning both pointer fingers to touch and form a square shape in front of her, "after we're done here, maybe I'll convince my father to keep your mother alive. She could make an excellent servant." The taunt felt hollow, but she pressed on, watching his power spike as purple energy began gathering within her formed frame. "Or maybe we'll just destroy this whole planet like we did the last one. Your choice."

Gohan's aura flared brighter, his attacks becoming more precise in his anger. He launched a series of ki blasts that Cellera had to work to evade, each one leaving craters in the landscape behind her. "I won't let you hurt anyone!" He charged forward, his speed increasing. "You won't destroy my home!"

Cellera smirked, though something in his growing power made her wary. "And who's going to stop me? You? The boy who couldn't even save his own mentor?" The energy within her frame took on a crystalline structure, mixing blues and purples reminiscent of her father's Galick Gun. "Face it, Gohan. You're too weak to protect anyone!"

"Nova Frame!" she called out, the concentrated burst of energy erupting from her formed square. At the same time, Gohan brought his hands above his head.

"Masenko-HA!"

The beams collided with explosive force, creating shockwaves that shattered nearby rock formations. Both children strained against each other's energy, neither willing to give ground. Cellera's eyes widened as she realized Gohan's beam was gradually pushing hers back - his emotional power matching her technical precision.

With a final surge of determination, Gohan's Masenko overwhelmed her Nova Frame. Cellera barely managed to deflect most of the energy, but the force still sent her crashing through several rock formations. She pulled herself from the rubble, wiping blood from her mouth as Gohan appeared above her.

His next series of strikes caught her off-guard - each hit carrying that same raw power she'd seen against Nappa. She blocked what she could, but several punches broke through her guard. A particularly powerful kick sent her skidding across the ground.

Cellera pushed herself up, spitting blood but wearing an approving smirk. Finally, he was fighting with his true potential. She readied herself for another exchange, but Gohan's next words froze her in place.

"I won't finish it," he said firmly. "Because you don't really want to hurt my mother, or destroy Earth." His eyes met hers. "You're not like Nappa. You're not evil or cruel, no matter how much you want others to believe it. You're just trying to make me stronger... like Piccolo did."

Cellera stared at him, genuinely stunned. This half-breed had seen through her act completely. Her hand unconsciously moved to where her mother's pendant lay hidden beneath her spandex, though she caught herself before actually touching it. More surprisingly, he'd shown her mercy not out of weakness or fear, but out of understanding.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, both breathing heavily from their battle. Then Cellera did something that surprised even herself - she laughed. Not mockingly, but with genuine appreciation.

"You're an interesting one, Gohan," she said, wiping blood from her split lip. "You remind me a lot of my mother…she was softhearted as well, but not any less powerful." Her tail swayed thoughtfully as memories began to flood her mind.  

Gohan recognized her use of the word ‘ was’ and the way her eyes took on a forlorn look as she spoke about her mother. He couldn’t even begin to think about a life without his mother in it, asking him if he ate, or if he’s caught up with his studies. “I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. 

Cellera looked at him confused for a moment, realization took her features. “Of course you caught that.” she gave a rueful smile, “Yes, my mother died on a mission with the last few surviving Saiyans roughly two years ago. Although, I suspect it wasn’t as much of an accident as it was made out to be.” 

She stood silently for a moment, trying to push down the anger she felt beginning to rise as she thought back to the ‘accident’. She could still remember Dodoria’s face as he delivered the news to her and her father. The smirk he wore that day had never left her mind, not even three years later.

As she finally regained her composure, her voice took on a more fond tone. “Mother always believed that true power came from knowing when and when not to use it, she was never one for mindless brutality."

“Is that why you didn't attack us right away when you first landed?" Gohan asked. "The others we fought... they seemed to enjoy causing pain. But you're different."

She gave a small nod. “I take a lot after her in that regard. She told me once before that a quick death is its own form of mercy…The only kind I've ever been allowed to give under my father’s command and Frieza’s rule.” She looked toward the horizon where another massive roar echoed. “Anything else would be seen as weakness, plus…there's enough suffering in the universe without adding to it needlessly.”

"Who’s Frieza?" Gohan asked, his expression softening at how her voice had changed when she mentioned that name again. 

"Someone who's truly evil. My father's and Nappa's brutality is nothing compared to him." Her fists clenched. "That's why we need immortality, for a chance to free ourselves." She paused, studying him thoughtfully. "At least... that's what I want it for."

Before Gohan could respond, a devastating crash interrupted them. They turned to see the Great Ape form of her father holding Goku in a crushing grip. Even from this distance, they could hear his screams of pain.

"We need to go," they said simultaneously, then shared a brief look of understanding before taking off toward the battle.

"Father!" Cellera cried out, while beside her, Gohan called "Dad!" with equal concern.

They arrived just in time to see a flash of metal - some fat human with a sword slicing through the air - and then her father's agonized roar as his tail was severed.

Cellera stared at the fleeing swordsman in shock before turning back to assess her father's condition. Kakarot had clearly done significant damage during their battle - a shoulder piece of her father's Saiyan armor was chipped, with scuff marks littering its surface. His right eye remained closed, suggesting injury.

"Gohan..." Cellera said, glancing back toward where the mysterious warrior had disappeared. "Who was that? He wasn't with your group earlier."

"Beats me! I have no idea!" Gohan replied.

"Yajirobe!" Krillin exclaimed as he landed beside them. "He... did it!" His excitement died quickly under Cellera's sharp glare.

The Great Ape form continued shrinking, Kakarot slipping from her father's rapidly diminishing grasp. Gohan winced as his father's battered body struck the ground. "Daddy!" he cried, concern evident in his voice.

Cellera couldn't fault his worry. Kakarot had clearly taken the worse beating - while her father could still stand, Kakarot lay motionless on the ground.

Vegeta's heavy breathing echoed in the wake of his transformation and tail loss. His gaze snapped to where his daughter stood with the half-breed. Her battle-worn appearance, bruised and bloodied from her fight, told him everything - she had failed her single task. "You're all going to... pay!" he snarled, rage filling his voice.

Vegeta's rage-filled eyes swept over them, lingering on his daughter with particular disappointment. She had one job - eliminate the half-breed - and instead he still stands there, alive and well, both of them bearing the marks of a genuine battle rather than an execution.

"And you," he snarled, suddenly appearing before Cellera. She barely had time to register his movement before his fist drove into her stomach with crushing force. "I expected better from my own blood!"

Cellera doubled over, shock written across her face more than pain. She'd seen her father's anger before, but never directed at her with such force. As she crumpled to her knees, she heard Gohan call out her name in concern.

"Stay focused on your own survival, boy," Vegeta warned, turning his attention to Gohan and then to Krillin. "You're the ones truly responsible for this humiliation. A lowborn soldier and his half-breed brat... You'll both die for this insult!"

Cellera tried to push herself up, but the combination of her earlier fight with Gohan and her father's unexpected attack left her struggling to maintain consciousness. Through blurring vision, she watched as her father advanced on the two Earth warriors, his power crackling dangerously despite his injuries.

"Your... fight's with me... Vegeta..." Kakarot's strained voice came from where he lay.

"Oh, you'll get your turn, Kakarot," he promised darkly. "But first, I'm going to make you watch as I eliminate these insects!"

"Gohan, get out of there!" Krillin yelled, watching Vegeta's gaze shift from him to the boy who stood practically within the Saiyan prince's reach.

Before Gohan could react, a fist collided with his face, sending him tumbling backward several feet. As he pushed himself up, he found Vegeta standing over him, wearing a malicious smirk that reminded him too much of Nappa. Gohan felt his body begin to tremble.

The Saiyan delivered another punch, matching the force he'd used on his daughter, leaving the boy clutching his stomach and gasping in pain.

"A brave Saiyan like yourself shouldn't be scared. It's not becoming." Vegeta raised an elbow, ready to strike, but paused. "I guess those powers of yours are taking a nap. Pity."

Just as he prepared to land his next attack, Krillin charged toward him. Vegeta reacted instantly, delivering a roundhouse kick that sent the smaller warrior flying through multiple rocky formations.

"Patience, little man. You'll get your turn." Vegeta laughed before turning back to Gohan, placing his foot on the boy's head and grinding his nose into the dirt. "Up, you brat. Get up! I'm not through with you just yet!"

Gohan struggled against the pressure, but Vegeta suddenly hoisted him up by his gi.

"Come on, boy! Defend yourself. Aren't you a Saiyan? I bet that's what my daughter was trying to teach you earlier, wasn't it?"

Gohan's eyes drifted to Cellera's unconscious form nearby. Even she hadn't been spared her father's ruthless tactics.

"So fight me! Show me what you're made of!" Vegeta continued goading. Seeing Gohan try to lift his head gave him an idea. He jerked the boy forward suddenly, slamming their foreheads together. Gohan's cry of pain echoed across the battlefield as a nasty mark formed. "You're low-class scum just like your father."

Vegeta yanked Gohan in his grip again. "I think it's time I threw you out with the rest of the trash. You're all used up." His gaze drifted to his daughter's still form. "Normally my daughter has such good analytical abilities, but I guess even she can make a mistake. She actually thought you could be worth something so I extended that proposition for your father to you as well."

Vegeta began walking toward the cliff overlooking where Goku lay. "You and your measly planet of fighters have obviously made her too curious, allowing her to give into the same weakness her mother had, and I won’t allow it to happen again.."

With those final words, he hurled Gohan over the cliff, the boy landing in a battered heap beside his father.

Hearing his son land beside him, Goku stirred. "Gohan...It's dad."

"Well, Kakarot's awake again," Vegeta mused to himself. "He just doesn't know when to quit, does he?"

"Gohan, please don't give up." Goku continued, cracking open a tired eye to look at his son. "Listen, my body is shredded. I can't use it anymore, so you're going to have to fight both of us." He gave a once-over towards Vegeta, taking in his opponent's disheveled form from their battle. "He's got to be hurting pretty bad too...This is our only chance. Please, Gohan!"

Gohan remained on his back, eyes closed in pain as he responded. "Dad, I don't think I can do it! He's just too strong for me." The next words tasted bitter on his tongue. "I'm scared of him!"

Vegeta's rough voice echoed through the area. "I hate to say I told you so... But you and your son really should have joined me, Kakarot. Now it's too late! You had your chance. Now you, your son and the bald guy will be history!" He shot an icy glare in the direction the fat man had run. "And let's not forget about the sneaky bastard who cut my tail!"

Yajirobe gave a small yelp in fear and clung harder to the rock he was hiding behind.

"Don't be scared, son." Goku tried to encourage Gohan again. "You're a lot stronger than you think. Piccolo trained you well." He glanced over to where Krillin was slowly trying to pick himself up from the nasty kick he'd taken earlier. "You're not alone. You still have Krillin to lend you a hand."

Gohan struggled, attempting to get up from his back, but to no avail. "I can't move. I don't think I can do it, Dad!"

"Yes you can!" Goku protested, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I know it, and so did Piccolo! He believed in you. That's why he gave his life to save yours." Goku knew Piccolo wasn't a fool - he wouldn't have sacrificed himself if he truly didn't think Gohan had a chance.

This sparked something in Gohan. His eyes flew open as he relived the event that had happened only hours ago - his mentor taking a hit meant for him because he couldn't overcome his fear and move out of the way.

"I believe in you too, son. And as crazy as it may seem, I think that girl does too." Goku had sensed something different in the Saiyan girl from the moment she'd arrived - not the mindless destruction that drove Nappa, or the cruel pride that fueled Vegeta. She seemed to be searching for something more, testing strength not to prove superiority but almost as if trying to understand a different way to fight. However, he knew she could still be cold and deadly if pushed - her father's influence ran deep.

Goku began painstakingly attempting to stretch a hand toward his son. Gohan noticed and tried to meet him halfway. Just as their fingers nearly touched, Vegeta appeared and slammed his knee into Goku's already damaged abdomen, causing him to cry out in agony and spit up blood. Gohan cried out at the ruthless display as Vegeta gave a satisfied smile.

"Being a good fiend is like being a photographer..." Vegeta mused, "you have to wait for the right moment."

"G-Gohan!" Goku called out desperately, only to receive a kick to his skull from Vegeta.

"Sorry! Father-son time is over!" Vegeta continued stomping on Goku's abdomen and kicking his sides, each hit drawing out another cry of pain. His psychotic laughter filled the air. "Perhaps I've been too lenient with her, just like I was with her mother! Both of them, always trying to show mercy where none was deserved." Vegeta's eyes flashed dangerously. "When this is over, I'll remind her what it truly means to be a Saiyan warrior! She's forgotten Rhuba's weakness got her killed!"

Gohan watched helplessly as Vegeta continued to mercilessly attack his father - a father who couldn't even move to fight anymore. The anger began welling up inside him again. "No...Stop!" he pleaded, but Vegeta just continued his assault. He couldn't take it anymore! "I said STOP!" he screamed, a burst of energy surging through him enough to help pick himself up off his back.

Vegeta turned in surprise to see the half-breed back on his feet and in a fighting stance.

"You heard me!" Gohan shouted angrily, his body trembling with a mixture of fear and rage. He wasn't sure which emotion was stronger, but he knew he couldn't let everyone down now. "Let's go!"

"Sure kid! Why not? I'm game." Vegeta smirked, accepting the boy's challenge with dark amusement.

Nearby, Cellera finally began to regain consciousness. Though still unable to pick herself up to fight, she managed to turn her head enough to observe the battle. For a moment, she thought her vision must still be clouded from the blow - because when she looked up, she swore she saw Gohan landing a solid kick to her father's jaw.

"Little punk!" Vegeta snarled.

Gohan attempted to press his advantage with another blow, but Vegeta swiftly maneuvered himself into a backflip, returning the kick Gohan had given him. They traded blows in the air for several moments before Vegeta finally connected another solid punch to Gohan's face.

"Well, it seems there is more to you. My daughter may have been right after all." Vegeta cast a glance at Cellera. She had regained consciousness, he noted, but it would still be some time before she could rejoin the fight.

The battlefield had grown eerily quiet save for the sounds of combat between Gohan and Vegeta. Cellera, still struggling to rise, noticed something strange happening with Kakarot. Though battered and seemingly helpless, his face had taken on an intense look of concentration.

Krillin crawled closer to his oldest friend, trying to keep his movements subtle to avoid drawing Vegeta's attention. He could feel something different in the air around Goku, a familiar sensation but somehow larger than anything he'd felt before.

"Krillin..." Goku's voice was barely a whisper. "Come close. I need you to listen carefully."

Vegeta remained focused on trading blows with Gohan, unaware of the exchange happening below. Cellera, however, found her tactical mind engaging despite her injuries. Something about Kakarot's demeanor and the way his remaining energy seemed to be gathering...

"Take it. All of it." Goku strained with effort as he began to transfer the collected energy.

The power transfer was subtle - nothing like the flashy energy displays of their previous battles. But Cellera saw it, her eyes widening as she realized what was happening. This was why her father had always warned her never to underestimate an opponent, even when they seemed defeated. It seems he had forgotten his own lesson.

Krillin's eyes grew wide as he felt the enormous energy flowing into him. He had to fight to keep his composure, to prevent his power level from spiking and giving away what might be their last chance.

"Don't force the energy," Goku instructed softly. "Just let it flow through you."

After a few moments, Krillin seemed to get the hang of having so much energy in one hand, as he was soon able to mold it into a spherical shape hovering above his palm. "Wow, I did it!" he exclaimed in amazement, his face then morphing to one of confusion. "Um...what did I do?"

"It's a Spirit Bomb," Goku explained. "King Kai taught me... Listen, you can do this!" His face twisted in pain as even talking proved difficult. "I know you can... But you have to be careful. We only get one shot."

"Got it! I promise I'll do my best!" Krillin assured his best friend.

Cellera watched the spherical ball of energy in Krillin's hands, amazed that Kakarot could keep something so powerful hidden from her father throughout their battle. Not to mention, passing off the task of handling it to someone else... The closest she had ever gotten to that from her father was mission logistics. He had always taught her to rely on herself and her Saiyan instincts. These Earthlings, however, seemed to trust not only themselves but each other.

Her attention returned to the battle between her father and Gohan. The boy now lay on the ground after taking a nasty hammerfist to the back of the head - punishment for landing that elbow to her father's already damaged right eye.

"He's just way too strong," Gohan muttered, more to himself than anyone. "If my dad couldn't beat him then how could I? I'm just a kid!"

His own words reminded him of Cellera. The girl who had been doing this probably since she could walk. She was his age. He knew she had trained much more than he had, and even she had gone down with one punch from her father. And yet...

“You have the luxury of having something to protect! So discard your fear, be a Saiyan and fight!”

He clenched his fists, terrified yet sure, and picked himself up again.

Vegeta descended to the ground, laughing as he strode over to Gohan. "I've got to hand it to you, your strength is surprising! Yes, you should be proud. You fought well."

Cellera watched her father approach the bruised and bloody Gohan, conflict churning inside her as she remained unable to move. Even if she could, she wouldn't make it in time, and even then - what would she do? Defy her father again? She had already seen where that path led. But watching Gohan die... the thought of more needless death made her stomach turn.

She may have feared him, but she also respected her father. Often she wondered if their world hadn't been destroyed by the meteor, if they hadn't been taken in by Frieza, would he be different? Would this ruthlessness still define him? Nappa, having been by her father's side since his youth, had mentioned offhandedly during their spars how Vegeta had grown more violent and ruthless over the years. Cellera could only assume this was the result of losing their home, losing her mother, and living under tyrannical rule for so long.

“Dammit!” she bit out through her clenched teeth and slammed a fist on the ground. Defying him felt like betraying her own blood, but even worse, it felt like giving up hope that they could find any semblance of happiness together, any chance of peace if she didn’t do anything at all. She slowly tried to pick herself up as her father spoke again.

"But unfortunately for you, it wasn't well enough. Think of it - if my daughter had only done her job earlier, you would've had a quick and painless death. So you have her to thank for what happens to you next."

Finally able to push herself to her knees, she looked over to see Krillin getting into position behind her father with the sphere of energy Kakarot had given him. Perhaps this could be their chance? If they could land this hit, maybe she could muster enough energy to get her father away from here - if the attack didn't kill him.

She watched as her father began sending ki blasts toward Gohan, who barely managed to dodge each one. However, the assault didn't stop. As the ki blasts continued their relentless path toward Gohan, the boy kept backing away.

"You can't run forever!" Vegeta shouted, not letting up for a moment.

Krillin still stood on the pillar, holding the ball of energy, frustration evident on his face as he wrestled with the decision to attack.

Vegeta finally landed a hit when Gohan stumbled during one of his dodges. The blast sent him crashing into a cliff side, the impact causing rocks to cascade down upon him.

Cellera's breath caught for a moment, but she released a small sigh of relief when she saw the rubble move and Gohan emerge. The relief proved short-lived as Vegeta sprinted toward him, the half-breed still dazed and unaware.

"I hope you're watching this, Kakarot! Get a good look! Because it's the last time you're going to see your son!"

Cellera squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to witness what her father was about to do. Suddenly her eyes snapped open as she remembered! She whipped her head toward Krillin, who evidently had the same revelation that this was the perfect moment to attack.

"This is it!" Krillin yelled.

"Krillin! What the hell are you waiting for? Just throw the damn thing, will you?"

Cellera whipped her head toward the unfamiliar voice, seeing the fat man from earlier. She couldn't believe he was still here, and she currently wished he wasn't - his loud mouth may have just ruined the Earthlings' chances. However, she noticed Gohan was now alert, looking toward the battle rather than the ground.

Her tactical mind raced. There might be one last option if the attack from behind failed! However, she didn’t know anything about this particular attack Kakarot had created, it may not work the same as a normal ki blast. 

Vegeta snapped to attention, turning around to see a bright ball of energy hurtling toward him, its light nearly blinding. "What is that thing?!" he shouted in confusion as it approached.

"Come on, hit!" Krillin pleaded. His stomach dropped as he watched Vegeta barely manage to jump over it in time. "I missed him!" he yelled in frustration.

"No...There may be one more option..." Cellera muttered to herself. Suddenly an unfamiliar voice echoed in her mind.

"I'm all ears."

She startled, looking around for the source of the voice.

'Calm down, kid! I'm speaking with you telepathically. The name is King Kai.' Cellera recalled hearing Kakarot mention that name to Krillin when passing over the energy, and earlier...

"Well, I was trained in the art of Kaio-Ken"

'So you're the one who trained Kakarot for our arrival, ' she confirmed.

'Yes, but there's no time for that! While I would rather not take advice from the daughter of someone currently trying to destroy the Earth, beggars can't be choosers.'

Cellera didn't bother to argue - he wasn't wrong. 'Is there a way to rebound this attack?'

Silence stretched for a few moments before King Kai spoke again. 'It is possible, so long as there's no evil in the heart of the one who rebounds it.'

Cellera smirked as she watched the ball of energy heading toward Gohan. Perfect. 'This should work then. I believe Gohan can rebound the attack. It would be the last thing my father would expect from him.' She glanced over to where Kakarot still lay. 'Relay this information to Kakarot so he can tell Gohan! Quick!'

The mental connection fell silent. Cellera's hands clenched at her sides, her analytical mind warring with her heart. ‘ I'm sorry, Father. But enough blood has been spilled today.’  

King Kai quickly contacted Goku, relaying Cellera's idea about Gohan rebounding the Spirit Bomb back at Vegeta.

'Gohan, it's Dad! Can you hear me?' Goku called out through King Kai's telepathic link.

Across the battlefield, Gohan's head snapped up at the sound of his father's voice. "Huh?"

Cellera watched Gohan's surprised reaction and allowed herself a small smile, seeing the plan being relayed. All that remained was to hope the attack wouldn't completely kill her father.

'Bounce it back, Gohan. That ball won't hurt you if there's no evil in your heart! You have to bounce it back!' Goku instructed firmly.

Gohan stared in apprehension at the massive energy sphere approaching him. He hesitated for a few moments until another voice echoed across his thoughts - a familiar, female one.

'You can do it, Gohan!' Gohan glanced over to where Cellera sat on her knees, still worn but no longer face-down on the ground. Their eyes locked for a moment and she gave him a slight nod.

Gohan held out his hands as the ball of energy made contact with his palms. He concentrated, trying to imagine the energy bouncing off his hands like a rubber ball against a wall. Suddenly, the force of the reverb sent him backward, his back slamming against the rocky cliff behind him.

The Spirit Bomb rebounded off Gohan's hands with incredible force, shooting back toward Vegeta who had barely registered what was happening. Cellera watched, her heart pounding, as her father turned just in time to see the massive sphere of energy hurling back at him.

"WHAT?!" Vegeta's eyes widened in shock. He tried to dodge, but his previous injuries and exhaustion had slowed his reactions.

The impact was devastating. The Spirit Bomb engulfed Vegeta completely, its pure energy lifting him high into the air as he screamed in agony. Cellera had to shield her eyes from the blinding light, her emotions warring between concern for her father and relief that the battle might finally end.

Light erupted across the battlefield, temporarily turning the dark sky bright as day. The energy pulsed outward in waves, causing the ground to shake and rocks to crumble around them. Krillin and Gohan braced themselves against the shockwave while Goku remained motionless, conserving what little energy he had left.

When the light finally faded, Vegeta plummeted from the sky like a meteor, crashing into the ground with enough force to create a small crater. The silence that followed was deafening. '

Cellera struggled to her feet, her legs shaking with effort as she tried to sense if her father still lived. She could feel his ki - severely weakened, but still there. The relief that flooded through her was quickly replaced by uncertainty about what would happen next.

Gohan made his way towards his father, who hadn't moved from his position, his body too broken to shift. "Dad... are you going to be okay?" he asked, his young voice trembling with worry.

"Yeah, but I'll probably be sore for a while," Goku replied, managing a weak smile for his son's benefit.

Krillin approached them, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, I gotta admit, I have seen you look better."

"Maybe so. But it could be worse."

From her position, Cellera found herself puzzled by Kakarot's optimism. How could it possibly be worse with his body as broken as it was? Then her gaze drifted to her father - his armor shattered, blood streaming from multiple wounds as he struggled to even lift his head - and understanding dawned. This was the man who had shown mercy to Nappa, even after everything. Of course he would find hope even now.

"Yeah, you could be that alien!" The three began to laugh, though Cellera noticed how even their laughter held pain.

Krillin's expression suddenly hardened as he got up and made his way towards Vegeta. Cellera watched him tense as her father began to stir in the crater, each movement clearly agonizing. "I don't believe it..." Krillin's voice shook with a mixture of fear and anger. "He's still alive! We can't risk him recovering! He's too dangerous to leave alive!"

Those words sent ice through Cellera's veins. Despite her own conflicted feelings about her father's actions, the thought of watching him be executed made something primal inside her revolt. Fighting through her own injuries, she forced herself forward, her tactical mind finally understanding what drove the Earth fighters to such desperate acts of protection. This wasn't about strategy anymore - this was about preserving what mattered, just as they had done for their fallen friends.

"Wait!" she called out, her voice raw with desperation.

Krillin turned toward her, his remaining ki already forming the deadly disc above his palm. His expression flickered with sympathy at the sight of the injured girl stumbling toward them, but his resolve held firm. "After everything he's done - Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Piccolo... How many more people have to die?!"

"If I could have it my way, none!" The words burst from her before she could stop them. Her mother's face flashed through her mind - the same determined expression she'd worn when arguing against unnecessary bloodshed during missions. She positioned herself in front of her father, her stance protective despite her trembling legs. "My father wasn't even the one who killed them," she argued, knowing even as she spoke how hollow the defense sounded. "That was a Saibaman and Nappa!"

"But he let it happen!" Krillin's ki disc pulsed brighter with his anger. "If anything, he gave the go ahead! He even hurt you! His own child!"

"He's beaten." The admission felt like ash in her mouth. Never had she imagined speaking such words about her father, but these Earthlings had a way of making her question everything she'd ever known as truth. "He can barely move!"

Krillin held his position, the Destructo-Disc still humming with lethal energy. Cellera took a deep breath, knowing she needed to appeal to their demonstrated capacity for compassion. Though this wasn't just for show - every word that followed came from a truth she'd barely acknowledged to herself.

"You're right about him," Cellera admitted, her admission stunning both Krillin and Gohan. Her voice cracked with emotion she'd never been allowed to show. "He is dangerous. He's done terrible things. But..." she trailed off, feeling an unfamiliar sting in her eyes and a tightness in her throat that she fought to control.

Saiyans didn't typically express emotions like love or sympathy, favoring instead the more acceptable displays of anger and pride. Or at least, those were all Cellera had ever witnessed and experienced in her short life. Yet that knowledge couldn't stop her next words, nor did it make them any less true.

"Your strength today came from protecting what matters to you." Her gaze moved from Gohan to his barely conscious father, unaware of the tears now trailing down her cheeks. "He's what matters to me! He's all I have left!" With that declaration, she moved from standing protectively before her father to crouching over his body. "And if you're going to take his life, then you must take mine as well."

Her declaration stunned the Earthlings - and even her father himself.

Vegeta weakly grasped her wrist, attempting to pull her away, to die as a Saiyan warrior with his pride intact, but she remained immovable. His grip held no strength, a testament to how close to death he truly was.

She met Krillin's gaze unflinchingly, letting him see the absolute truth of her words despite the tears staining her face. The determination in her eyes made it clear - she would follow through on her declaration. She felt her father's grip go slack, and a quick glance confirmed he had finally lost consciousness.

"Cellera..." Gohan's voice was soft with understanding. He remembered what she'd told him about her mother's death, how it may not have been an accident, about Frieza. 

"Krillin... let them go," Goku's weak voice broke through the tension.

"Goku?" Krillin turned to his friend in disbelief. "Show him... we're different," Goku continued, each word clearly an effort. "Show mercy..."

Hearing that word struck Cellera like a physical blow.

Mercy

The kind she never had the luxury of having - the mercy of sparing a life. She had been granted this mercy, not once but twice, by both Gohan and now his father, Kakarot. Her mother's words echoed in her mind: True power comes from knowing when not to use it . She'd lived those words through quick deaths, the only mercy she could offer under her father's command. But here were these Earth warriors, showing her there could be more.

Just as Gohan had seen through her act during their fight, recognizing she wasn't truly cruel, Kakarot now offered the same understanding. Both of them proved her mother's beliefs hadn't been weakness after all - mercy could come from a position of strength.

"But Goku..." Krillin's energy disc began to waver as his resolve weakened. "After everything he's done..."

"I know." Goku managed a small smile despite his obvious pain. "But killing him won't bring them back. Besides..." his eyes moved to Cellera, carrying a warmth she'd hadn’t seen directed at her since her mother. "I think there might be hope. Light amongst the darkness."

Cellera rose at his words, forcing herself to stand straight though the effort made her wince. After a moment of internal struggle, she unwound her tail from her waist, wrapping her fingers around its base. She knew her father would be livid at what she was about to do, and found herself grateful he wasn't conscious to witness it. At least they'd match now.

"What are you-" Krillin started to ask.

"Saiyans take great pride in their tails," Cellera explained, keeping her voice steady despite her trembling hands. "It's a symbol of our warrior heritage, our strength." She first met Krillin's gaze, then Gohan's. "But today, you've shown me there are different kinds of strength that don’t stem from pure power."

With one decisive motion, she severed her own tail. The pain was intense, but she didn't cry out - wouldn't cry out. Her father had taught her better than that. She let the tail fall to the ground between them, a bridge between what she had been and what she might become.

"Consider this my proof," she declared. "We will leave your planet. You have my word."

Gohan's eyes widened in understanding of the sacrifice she'd just made. Even Krillin finally dispersed his attack, struck by the gravity of her gesture.

"Thank you," Cellera continued softly, "for showing mercy. For showing that strength can mean knowing when not to kill." Her gaze drifted to her father's broken form. "Maybe... there's another way to be strong." A way her mother had always tried to show her - through precision over brutality, through knowing when to hold back rather than destroy. Even under Frieza's rule, Rhuba had found ways to maintain that different kind of power, though it ultimately led to her death.

While the truth of her mother's path resonated deeper than ever, Cellera wondered if she could ever help her father understand. Then there was Frieza... She pushed those thoughts aside. Those were concerns for after she got her father to a healing pod.

Krillin finally relaxed his combat stance completely. "Alright," he conceded. "But if you ever come back to threaten Earth..."

Cellera nodded, understanding the unspoken warning. She pulled their space pod remote from a built-in pocket of her damaged armor. The pod responded immediately, landing meters away with an impact that created yet another crater in the battle-scarred landscape.

Hooking her arms under her father's shoulders, she began the arduous task of moving him. Her exhausted muscles screamed in protest as she dragged them both toward the pod. As she passed Gohan, something about how he looked at her made her pause. "Don't forget what I taught you today," she said sternly, meeting his gaze.

"I won't!" Gohan replied firmly before giving her a small smile. "But you learned something too, didn't you? About having something worth protecting." His eyes flickered toward her unconscious father. "And maybe there's more out there worth fighting for, just like your mother believed."

The observation caught her off guard. "You still want to fight? Even knowing what it can cost?"

"I understand now - I'm lucky to have things worth protecting," Gohan said with quiet determination. "My home, my family, my friends... I want to be strong enough to defend them all. Not just because I have to, but because I choose to."

"You're getting better at analysis," she noted with grudging approval. "Speaking of which - if you haven't been training to be a fighter, what have you been doing?"

Gohan's face lit up. "I'm studying to be a scholar!" he proclaimed proudly.

Cellera couldn't suppress a chuckle - probably the most genuine laugh she'd shared with anyone besides her father, and even those had been rare. "A Saiyan wanting to be a scholar." She met his eyes one last time, seeing all the possibilities there. "Gohan, the scholar and protector of Earth. I like it."

With those final words, she continued her path to the pod, carrying both her father and a new understanding of what strength could mean.

NOTES: Soooo, I saw no point in Gohan turning into the Great Ape when I was rewatching DBZ. LMAO. Even if it was for him to beat Vegeta...we still technically got that with him rebounding the Spirit Bomb? Also, after this the Great Ape form never returned to the series so I didn't see the point of keeping that whole scene. Hopefully you guys are still enjoying. Until next time!

Notes:

Soooo, I saw no point in Gohan turning into the Great Ape when I was rewatching DBZ. LMAO. Even if it was for him to beat Vegeta...we still technically got that with him rebounding the Spirit Bomb? Also, after this the Great Ape form never returned to the series so I didn't see the point of keeping that whole scene. Next chapter will be the wrap up of the Saiyan Arc and the transition into the Namek/Frieza saga, which is one of my favorites in the series and for this fic, which hopefully you guys are still enjoying. Until next time!

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Notes:

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

The space pod carrying Cellera and her father disappeared into the sky with a final twinkle, her last words echoing in Gohan's mind: "Gohan, the scholar and protector. I like it."

His smile came despite the exhaustion wearing him down. She'd understood something about him that was just becoming clear - that fighting and learning didn't have to be separate paths. Mr. Piccolo had started teaching him that, and now...

His chest tightened at thoughts of his mentor. Piccolo had believed in him enough to die protecting him, and today he'd finally started living up to that faith.

"Hey, what's that sound?" Krillin's voice pulled Gohan from his thoughts as a whirring noise grew louder overhead.

The approaching aircraft looked nothing like the alien pods they'd seen today - this was definitely Earth technology. His heart leaped as a familiar face appeared at the window.

"Hey! Hello down there!" Master Roshi waved from above. "Krillin! Goku! Gohan!"

"Gohan!" His mother's voice hit him like a physical force. A whole year had passed since he'd heard it last, suddenly making him aware of every scrape and bruise she would worry over.

"What are you waiting for? My baby needs me! Open that door!"

The moment the door opened, his mother vaulted over Master Roshi and sprinted toward him. She even jumped over his dad, who flinched despite his injuries - some instincts never fade, Gohan supposed. Then her arms were around him, surrounding him with the familiar scent of home.

"I was so worried!" Her fingers smoothed his wild hair, just like she used to do before all this started. "I'm here now! I won't let anything happen to you!"

"No worries Mom. I'm okay. Really." The tears he'd been holding back finally escaped as he glanced at his father's broken form on the ground. His dad's breathing was shallow, face twisted in pain despite trying to hide it. Even after everything that had happened today, he'd still found the strength to help them win. "I'm not sure about Dad though."

"Yeah, did you see Goku over there?" Krillin approached carefully. "I don't want to scare you, but he's in pretty bad shape. If you're going to worry about anyone, well..."

His mother wasn't listening. She lifted him into her arms like he was still a little kid - though after today's battles, Gohan wasn't sure he'd ever feel like just a kid again.

"Oh, Gohan!" She carried him toward the ship through her tears. "Let me get you all patched up! Then we'll get you to the doctors!"

Consciousness returned slowly to Gohan. After his mother had patched up his small wounds, she'd pulled his head onto her lap where he'd drifted off to sleep. As he lifted himself up, her arms immediately crushed him in another hug.

Looking around the aircraft, he noticed someone missing. "Where's dad?"

"I'm okay, Gohan. I'm right here."

Following his father's weak voice, Gohan found him laid out behind their seats. Blue blankets elevated his head while an orange one covered his body. Despite his injuries, his father managed a weak smile.

"You did great today, son. We really showed them, didn't we?"

Warmth filled Gohan's chest as they shared a light laugh over their victory. He was chatting with his father when his mother's angry voice cut through their conversation, yelling at Yajirobe.

"I don't have a single thing to say to that man right now. It's his fault my baby almost got killed by that girl and her crazy father!" Her fingers stroked through his long hair, seemingly trying to calm herself.

Unease settled in Gohan's stomach at his mother's words. While he understood her anger, it wasn't fair to blame everything on his dad. He remembered his own choice during those first six months of training, when he'd found his way home accidentally. He could have walked through those doors to hugs and hot meals.

Instead, seeing his mother peacefully drying dishes at the window, he'd chosen to protect that peace. Piccolo had watched from above as Gohan walked away in tears, declaring his mission to defeat the Saiyans.

"Mom!" Gohan protested, trying to defend his bedridden father. "But the Saiyans were gonna destroy the Earth!"

"They can blow up the universe for all I care! That's no excuse for putting my little boy's life at risk!"

Gohan could only stare at her in disbelief.

Yajirobe grunted, turning toward his father. "Man, Goku...Your wife is crazy!"

After a few moments, Gohan spoke softly. "I'm sorry we worried you mom."

"Oh, Gohan-"

"But..." he paused, remembering Cellera's words about having a home and family worth fighting for. Meeting his mother's eyes with newfound resolve, he continued, "I'm not sorry for fighting to protect you."

Something like recognition flickered in his mother's eyes before she gave him a small smile and kissed his cheek. He thought he heard her mumble about him taking after his father, but Krillin's voice drew his attention as Bulma prompted him to explain what had happened.

As Krillin described the Saiyans' search for the Dragon Balls and Piccolo's true identity as a Namekian, Gohan's gaze dropped to his feet at the mention of his mentor. Hope sparked in his chest though when they discussed the possibility of Dragon Balls on Planet Namek.

"Then that's it!" Korrin exclaimed. "If we can somehow get to Namek, we can use their Dragon Balls to wish our friends back!"

Excitement bubbled up in Gohan's chest. "And we can wish Piccolo back first!"

"Now, Gohan," his mother chided, "You shouldn't get too excited."

But Krillin was already following his train of thought, explaining how bringing back Piccolo would restore Kami and Earth's Dragon Balls too. Everyone except Bulma joined in their enthusiasm until she cut through their celebration.

"Just stop it, you guys! It's pointless."

Gohan looked to the blue-haired woman, noting how her shoulders remained hunched as she piloted the ship. His excitement dimmed as she explained the impossibility of finding Planet Namek's location. Just as disappointment started to settle in, his father's voice brought fresh hope.

"Hey, wait! I have an idea. King Kai, are you there? We could really use your help right now."

"Yes Goku, I'm here. So you're looking for Planet Namek? Well of course I know where that is!"

Gohan startled at the unfamiliar voice echoing through the airship. Looking around, he saw everyone else reacting with similar surprise.

"Um, say you guys. Is anyone else hearing voices? Or is my old age finally catching up with me?" Master Roshi asked nervously.

"Thanks, King Kai. I knew I could count on you." His father's tired voice remained calm despite his injuries. "Go ahead, we're listening."

"Sure, but as long as I have the podium for a minute, let me congratulate you all on a battle well fought. It looked like that Saiyan really had you guys on the ropes, but thanks to his daughter's quick thinking and Gohan's execution, you pulled through!" King Kai praised.

"I hate to say it, but he even had me a little scared," his father admitted. "Even a Kaio-ken times four attack wasn't enough to stop him.

Gohan felt his cheeks warm at the praise, but confusion nagged at him. Before he could ask, Krillin voiced the same question.

"Wait! What do you mean by his daughter's quick thinking?"

"Cellera had the quick idea to rebound the energy after Vegeta dodged Krillin's initial attack. Once she heard that the Spirit Bomb doesn't hurt those who have pure hearts, she was confident that Gohan could do it."

Gohan felt his mother's arms tighten around him. "That girl..." she started, her tone sharp, but then paused. "She... helped save you?"

"She did more than that, Mom," Gohan said quietly, remembering their fight. "She could have hurt me badly, but instead she tried to make me stronger. She wanted me to understand why we need to fight to protect the things that matter." He looked up at his mother. "Like you."

His mother's expression softened with confusion. "But she was trying to destroy Earth..."

"No," Gohan shook his head. "I think that was more of her father's idea, not hers. She even removed her tail to prove they'd leave us alone."

"She..." his mother trailed off, processing this new information.

"That's not all," Krillin added, seeming to understand what Gohan was trying to explain. "When Vegeta was down, she put herself between him and my attack. Said if I was going to kill him, I'd have to kill her too." He scratched his head. "Pretty brave for a kid."

"Wait, so did you let them go?!" Master Roshi asked in shock and Krillin gave a nervous laughter in response, promise to tell his teacher the whole story later.

His mother was quiet for a long moment, then pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Well then," she said, her voice carrying that tone that meant she'd made up her mind about something, "I suppose I'll let the matter go as of now."

Gohan leaned into his mother's embrace as King Kai explained Planet Namek's location. "The coordinates are 9-0-4-5 XY."

"What? Is he serious!" Bulma's exclamation drew everyone's attention. "9-0-4-5 XY? But that's..." He watched as she demanded Master Roshi take control of the ship while she pulled a calculator from her pocket.

As King Kai described Planet Namek's history - once lush and green like Earth before some catastrophe struck - Gohan's mind wandered to his conversation with Cellera. She'd told him about their own destroyed planet, their nearly extinct race forced to serve someone named Frieza. Her father's wish for immortality made more sense now, though she probably didn't know the Dragon Balls couldn't restore everything they'd lost.

"Good news everyone!" King Kai's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "I found the Namekians! I can sense about a hundred of them still on the planet, alive and well!"

Hope surged through Gohan. They could save Piccolo and the others! He could repay his mentor's sacrifice and show him how much he'd grown.

But Bulma's calculations crushed that hope - four thousand years just to reach Namek. His heart sank until an idea struck him.

"What if we used a Saiyan spaceship?" The words left his mouth before he could second-guess them. Everyone turned to stare.

"There's an idea," Master Roshi nodded. "But where are we gonna get one of those? I thought the Saiyans left?"

"Well, Vegeta and Cellera left. And it looked like their ship was barely big enough for the both of them. There's no way that Nappa guy could've squeezed in there with them. He had to have a ship of his own!" Krillin's observation made Gohan shudder at the thought of being trapped in a small ship with Nappa.

When Bulma examined the remote control Krillin had found, her expression turned gleeful. "Pack your bags! We're going to Namek!"

---

Days later, Gohan sat in his hospital bed, staring blankly at one of his study books while his mother hummed and peeled an apple. His mind kept drifting to Bulma and Mr. Popo's search for Kami's ship.

"Here!" His mother held out the peeled apple.

"No. Thank you," he replied absently, not looking up from the page he wasn't really reading.

"Gohan." Her tone brooked no argument. "Eat or you'll never get better. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a hospital?"

The sight of the juicy apple finally sparked his appetite. "No," he conceded, closing his book to accept it.

Krillin burst in with exciting news about Bulma's successful test flight to Jupiter. While his friend spoke, Gohan stared at the half-eaten apple in his lap. He needed to recover quickly if he wanted to help find the Namekian Dragon Balls and bring Piccolo back.

Later, noticing his mother's absence and his father and Krillin napping, Gohan seized his chance. Slipping out of bed, he snuck to the balcony to test his recovery. The first twenty pull-ups went smoothly until pain shot through his left wrist. He lost his grip, catching himself on a lower ledge with a yelp.

"That was a close one." After pulling himself up, he checked the empty waiting area through the doors, relieved no one had witnessed his near fall.

Balance came next - walking the railing with outstretched arms. One wobble, quickly corrected, then he eyed the ground with determination.

"Here goes!" A series of flips brought him to the ground. No pain. He stomped hard to be sure, grinning when his body held up. "See, I knew I felt better!

"Gohan!" His mother's voice shattered the quiet.

His heart jumped as he quickly grabbed the book he'd brought as backup, dropping onto a nearby bench and pretending to read. The balcony door creaked open.

"Gohan!" His mother's scolding tone matched her stance, hands planted firmly on her hips. "I've been looking all over for you."

"Oh, hi Mom! I, uh, thought some fresh air would do me good. So I came up here to read." Gohan buried his face deeper in the book, hoping she hadn't noticed the slight sheen of sweat from his impromptu training session.

"You had me worried sick!" Her voice made him flinch, trying to disappear further behind the pages.

Then, to his surprise, she crouched down in front of him. "Hop on and we'll go back to the room."

Something in Gohan bristled at being treated like he couldn't handle himself. After everything he'd faced - Mr. Piccolo's training, the Saiyans, protecting Earth - being carried like a helpless child felt wrong. "But... I can walk. I feel fine," he protested.

"Don't be silly," his mother shook her head. "Now, chop chop. Come on Gohan."

Swallowing his pride - and the urge to demonstrate just how well he could move - Gohan gave a reluctant nod. He climbed onto his mother's back, remembering how just days ago he'd stood against warriors who threatened entire planets. Now here he was, being carried back to bed like he'd never left the four-year-old she remembered.

As his mother secured him and started walking, Gohan couldn't help but wonder what Cellera would think of this scene. She'd probably shake her head at how quickly he'd gone from warrior back to coddled child. But then again, maybe she'd understand something else too - what it meant to have someone care this much about keeping you safe.

When they returned to the room, Gohan found Bulma, Mr. Popo, and the others waiting. As he settled back into bed, Bulma explained how the ship could reach Namek in less than a month, having already tested it to Jupiter.

The excitement dimmed when Mr. Popo revealed he couldn't abandon the lookout for two months. Gohan watched Bulma's panic rise at losing her Namekian translator and co-pilot. Even as Krillin tried reassuring her about learning the necessary words, Bulma's anxiousness about traveling alone was clear.

Gohan's hands tightened on his blanket as Krillin declined joining her, citing needed training for future threats. His friend's words brought back memories of the battlefield, of Piccolo's sacrifice, of everything worth protecting.

"Hey... guys?" His quiet words drew everyone's attention.

"What's wrong, Gohan? Do you have a tummy ache?" His mother's gentle concern made what he had to say even harder.

Frustration built as he clutched the blankets tighter, forcing the words out. "I want to go with Bulma and Krillin!"

The shock in his mother's face twisted into hurt. "Wait a minute, Gohan. You don't want to leave me alone for two months."

Guilt gnawed at him - she'd just gotten him back after a year, battered and changed. But he had to make her understand. "But, Mom, Dad will be here with you! And I really want to go with them."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing. You'd rather go with them than stay with me?!"

"Sorry, mom... But, I really need to try to help bring Piccolo back."

His mother's tirade about wanting a normal family that ate dinner together and watched TV made Gohan think of his father's extraordinary life. Nothing about their family had ever been truly normal.

When she forbade him from going, calling him a child who should act like one, something in Gohan snapped. He thought of Piccolo's final moments, of Cellera's words about being lucky to have something worth protecting. He remembered the battlefield, death and sacrifice - things that had already changed how he saw the world.

"I'm going!" His shout stunned the room. "There's no time for those childish things anymore. My friends are gone, and they're not coming back. I've got to help find the Dragon Balls." Taking a breath, he softened his tone. "Mom, Piccolo died trying to help me, so I think I should do everything I can to help him. I'm sorry I yelled at you, Mom. But these are my friends - they're worth fighting for."

The conviction in his voice revealed how much he'd grown. Like Cellera protecting her father, he understood now what it meant to fight for something bigger than himself.

"Don't worry, Chichi." His grandpa's gentle hand rested on his mother's shoulders. "You have a brave son there. I'm sure he'll make it back just fine."

Gohan noticed his grandpa's proud smile, and looking around, saw everyone except his mother wearing similar expressions. The attention made his cheeks warm, but something about their faith in him strengthened his resolve.

"I promise to keep an eye on him at all times, Chichi," Bulma assured. "Nothing will happen to your little boy. And besides, Krillin will be there too!"

After Bulma and Mr. Popo agreed to delay departure by ten days, Gohan sat patiently as his mother brushed his hair. Her gentle strokes reminded him of simpler times, before Raditz, before Piccolo's training, before everything changed.

"Aren't you finished yet?"

"Be patient," she scolded gently. "Even superheroes have to spend quality time with their moms. We may need to get you a haircut before you leave."

Gohan didn't correct her about being a superhero. After keeping her alone for a year, he could give her these moments of mothering. She'd have to watch both her son and husband leave again soon enough.

When she left for his medicine, his father caught his eye, holding up a bandaged hand. "Give it a try."

His first punch landed soft in his father's palm.

"Don't hold back, Gohan. I need to see if you're really okay."

Taking Piccolo's stance - the memory of his mentor sending a fresh wave of determination through him - Gohan channeled his energy into a real punch. The sunset painted their hospital room golden as father and son shared an understanding look.

"Now that's more like it. You're definitely ready. You sure made a quick recovery. But then again, I had no doubt you would. You've gotten so strong!"

Pride bloomed in Gohan's chest at his father's praise. If the strongest person he knew believed in him, maybe he really could bring everyone back.

---

Day of Depature

On departure day, Gohan tried focusing on his book in his grandpa's vehicle, but anticipation about their journey to Namek made the words blur together.

"We're here." His mother's eyes held that familiar worry. "Are you sure you still want to go?"

"Yes Mom, I'm sure."

"My little boy really has grown without me in the last year." She sighed, then added softly: "But... I'm proud of you, son."

The words caught him off guard. His mother, who'd fought alongside his father at the World Martial Arts Tournament but wanted a different path for her son, was proud of him choosing this warrior's path. His vision blurred as he realized - maybe she understood now that fighting wasn't just about combat, but about protecting what mattered.

At Master Roshi's island, Gohan hesitated to exit, dreading everyone's reaction to his new look. The bowl cut and formal outfit his mother insisted on made him feel like a little kid again, though he'd secretly packed his own clothes. These small rebellions felt strange - the old Gohan would never have gone against his mother's wishes. But he wasn't that same boy anymore.

Krillin's laughter at his appearance made his cheeks burn. "I worried about not having a space suit... At least I don't have to wear a little uniform."

"Yeah. Dad thought I looked pretty funny, too," Gohan admitted, remembering his father's similar reaction.

"I don't know why. I think it makes him look like the cutest thing. Don't you think so, Gohan?" His mother's hopeful tone made him stay silent. He could give her this too, before leaving again.

His mother's detailed inventory of his excessive luggage - everything from extra uniforms to study materials - made Krillin's eyes widen. But Gohan understood. She was trying to mother him the only way she could now.

"Can we go now?" Bulma asked from her spot against Kame House. "This suit is heavy. I'm looking forward to zero gravity."

As they boarded for their month-long journey, Gohan felt the weight of their mission. He was choosing this path - not just for Piccolo and their friends, but for himself. Somewhere beyond Earth, new challenges waited. This time, he was ready to face them.

---

The rhythmic hum of the space pod's life support systems did little to soothe Cellera's racing thoughts. Her father lay unconscious beside her in the cramped pod, his labored breathing mixing with the occasional beep of their navigation computer. She pressed her thumb to her lip, analyzing their situation with the same tactical precision her father had drilled into her. The pod's emergency protocols had automatically rerouted them to Frieza Planet 79 after detecting their severe injuries - a logical choice, but one that made her tail want to tighten anxiously before she remembered its absence.

She tried not to look at the space where her tail had been. The phantom sensation still lingered, an echo of what she'd sacrificed. Instead, she focused on monitoring her father's vital signs on the pod's medical display. Each steady pulse helped quiet the voice in her head questioning if she'd made the right choice.

"You've grown weak," she imagined him saying when he finally woke. The words he'd surely speak burned in her mind, but they didn't carry the same weight they once had. She'd seen something different on Earth - strength that came from protection rather than destruction. The boy Gohan, the same age as her, fighting not for pride or power but for those he loved.

The pod's computer chirped, announcing their approach to Frieza Planet 79. Cellera's hands tightened on the controls as she initiated landing procedures. She knew what awaited them - not just the healing tanks, but the questions. How had the mighty Prince Vegeta been so thoroughly defeated? What would Frieza do when he learned of their failure?

As they entered the atmosphere, her father stirred slightly. His face contorted in pain, but even unconscious, he maintained that iron control he'd always demanded of her. No sounds of weakness escaped him.

"We'll be there soon, Father," she whispered, though she knew he couldn't hear. "Just hold on a little longer."

The medical bay staff scrambled to attention as their pod crashed into the landing pad. Cellera ignored their shocked expressions at her missing tail as she helped transfer her father to a stretcher. She caught fragments of their whispered conversations - speculation about what could have happened to leave the proud Saiyan prince in such a state.

Cellera's eyes darted around the medical bay, cataloging potential threats and escape routes - another habit inherited from her father. "Prepare two healing tanks immediately," she commanded, adopting the same tone she'd used to control Nappa. Her usual calm expression masked her exhaustion, though she caught herself pressing her thumb to her lip as she calculated their vulnerability in this position. The medical staff hurried to comply, but the head doctor held up a hand.

"Your injuries are minor compared to your father's, a few hours' rest should-"

"Two tanks," she repeated firmly. She wouldn't leave her father vulnerable, not here.

As the healing tank's blue fluid rose around her, Cellera watched through the glass as the doctors worked to stabilize her father in the adjacent tank. The familiar sensation of accelerated healing began to take hold, but her mind remained active.

She thought of Gohan's words about fighting to protect, so similar to her mother's teachings that she'd nearly forgotten under years of her father's training. Of Kakarot's inexplicable mercy, reminding her of stories Nappa used to tell of how her father was different before Frieza. Of the way they'd all fought together, supporting each other instead of competing for dominance - a tactical advantage she couldn't help but analyze even now.

Her gaze drifted to her father's tank. What would he say when he learned she'd allowed their enemies to live? That she'd removed her own tail to prove their sincerity? The doctors' surprised murmurs when they'd discovered the clean, self-inflicted cut told her that news would spread quickly.

But she remembered too the way her father's grip had weakened on her wrist in those final moments. How he'd tried to push her away from Krillin's attack, perhaps his own way of showing protection. There was something there, buried beneath years of Frieza's influence and the weight of their lost heritage.

As the healing fluid dulled her senses, Cellera made a silent promise, her analytical mind already forming strategies. She would find a way to show him the strength she'd discovered on Earth, the same strength her mother had tried to teach her about mercy. And somehow, she would help him remember what it meant to fight for something beyond pride and power. Perhaps then they could both be free of Frieza's influence - a tactical goal worth far more than any planet's destruction.

The tank's sedatives finally took hold, pulling her into unconsciousness. Her last thought was of Gohan's determined face as he'd stood up to her father. Perhaps they weren't so different after all - two children trying to live up to their fathers' expectations while forging their own paths.

In the adjacent tank, Vegeta's vital signs slowly stabilized, father and daughter healing together yet separated by more than just glass.

The healing tank's sedative pulled Cellera deeper into unconsciousness, past the clinical analysis of their current situation into older, rawer memories….

The training room's familiar walls blurred around her as she dodged her father's strikes. Even at three, she knew to watch his eyes for tells, to analyze each movement for tactical advantage. Her mother's voice echoed in her mind from their last training session: "Remember, power alone isn't enough. Even a stronger opponent can be defeated with proper strategy."

"Your stance is too wide," her father critiqued, though his tone carried none of the bitter edge it would develop in later years. Back then, pride in their Saiyan heritage still outweighed fear of Frieza's growing control. "Strategy is what separates elite warriors from common soldiers."

The door burst open, breaking their routine. Two of Frieza's soldiers entered - not unusual, but something in their stance made her young tail tighten anxiously around her waist. Behind them lurked Dodoria, his presence immediately setting off warning signals in her mind, young as it was. High-ranking officers didn't deliver routine mission reports.

"Vegeta," the first soldier began, then hesitated. Even at three, she recognized the tension in his posture. Her father must have seen it too because he stepped slightly in front of her - a protective gesture that would become increasingly rare after that day.

"What is it?" Her father's voice carried that dangerous edge she'd learned meant trouble.

"It's about the mission to Planet Tarius..." The soldier's eyes darted to her, then away. "Rhuba's squad encountered... unexpected resistance."

The memory blurred, fragments surfacing through the healing tank's sedative. Her father's face hardened into the mask she'd come to know so well. Her mother's pendant retrieved from the mission site, pressed into her small hands. The whispers that followed them through Frieza's base - not just about the "accident," but about other Saiyan squadrons that had met similar fates.

Dodoria's satisfied smirk remained sharp in her memory as he delivered the "official" report. "Such a shame," he'd said, voice dripping with false sympathy. "First that meteor destroyed Planet Vegeta, now this... It seems the mighty Saiyan race isn't as invincible as they thought."

Her young mind hadn't understood then why her father's hands had clenched at the mention of Planet Vegeta's destruction. Hadn't recognized the calculated cruelty behind Dodoria's words. But now, with analytical clarity honed by years of observing Frieza's methods, she understood.

Every "accident," every "unexpected resistance," had targeted the strongest Saiyan warriors. Those most likely to band together, to question orders, to remember what it meant to be truly free. Her mother had been one of those warriors - too strong, too independent, too likely to nurture those same qualities in her daughter.

The memory began to fade as the healing tank's systems deepened her sedation. But her tactical mind, even in sleep, cataloged every detail of Dodoria's expression that day. The same way she'd learned to analyze opponents' weaknesses during combat, she analyzed this memory for the truth it revealed.

Her last conscious thought carried the cold precision her father had taught her: some deaths deserved to be quick, but others...others required a calculated response. After all, strategy was what separated elite warriors from common soldiers.

The pod's hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss, releasing healing fluid onto the medical bay floor. Cellera's eyes snapped open immediately, awareness engaging before her body had fully recovered out of reflex. Her father remained unconscious in the adjacent tank - stable, but still requiring several more hours of healing.

She glanced at the current spectators of her awakening, analyzing the changed dynamics in the room. The medical staff's nervous glances and hurried movements suggested news of their Earth defeat had already spread. More concerning was the presence of Zarbon waiting near the doorway, his perfectly styled hair and gleaming armor a stark contrast to the utilitarian medical bay.

Even at her young age, Cellera understood why many found Zarbon handsome. His graceful stance reminded her of the way some of Earth's fighters had moved - efficient, precise. But she noted how that beauty masked deadly capability, like poisonous flowers on planets they'd purged.

"Lord Frieza requests your presence," Zarbon announced, his cultured voice carrying an edge of command. "Since your father is... indisposed, you'll be accompanying Dodoria and myself on several priority missions."

Cellera's hand twitched, wanting to tighten around a tail that was no longer there. The movement didn't escape Zarbon's notice, his perfect features arranging themselves into a look of false concern.

"Such a shame about your... modification," he said smoothly. "Though I suppose it makes you look slightly more civilized than the average monkey."

She maintained her neutral expression, the same one she'd perfected watching her father handle Frieza's taunts. "I'll prepare immediately," she replied, her voice carrying the crisp authority she'd learned to project despite her age. "Will Lord Frieza be briefing us personally?"

"Indeed." Zarbon's eyes flickered to Vegeta's healing tank. "He's quite interested in hearing about your... experiences on Earth."

Cellera's analytical mind raced through the implications. Being separated from her father while he was vulnerable, paired with Dodoria of all people... She forced down the memory of that smirk from years ago. Now wasn't the time for revenge. Strategy first, just as both her parents had taught her.

"I'll report to Lord Frieza's chambers within the hour," she stated, already cataloging potential scenarios and responses.

"Don't keep us waiting, little princess." Zarbon's mocking tone carried just enough threat to be noticeable. "Your father's not here to protect you anymore."

As he turned to leave, his cape swirling with practiced elegance, Cellera allowed herself one small gesture of defiance - the same thumb-biting tell that drove her father mad, now deployed intentionally to project childish uncertainty rather than the analysis actually racing through her mind.

Let them think she is weakened, changed by Earth's influence. Let them believe her father's absence made her vulnerable. She glanced at his healing tank, remembering his lessons about appearing weak when you were strong.

They'd learn soon enough that some things ran deeper than tails or titles. The analytical mind she'd inherited from her father, the strategic patience from her mother - those were weapons no one could take away.

She began her preparations, each movement precise and measured. After all, she'd learned from Earth that true strength came in many forms. And revenge, like any good strategy, was worth waiting for.

First Mission - Planet Sorus:

Cellera kept pace behind Zarbon as they traversed the crystalline terrain, his movements graceful despite the treacherous surface. She caught herself studying the way his braid swayed with each step, almost hypnotic against his gleaming armor.

During quiet moments between patrols, she tried what she'd observed on Earth - reaching out with her senses, trying to feel energy without the scouter. The attempt at concentration earned her a headache and nearly missed an incoming attack.

"Careful, little princess," Zarbon's cultured voice cut through her frustration. "The locals are known for ambush tactics."

As if summoned by his words, crystal spikes erupted from the ground around them. Cellera leapt back, but one shard caught her arm, drawing blood. If she could just sense energy like the Earthlings... but the skill remained frustratingly out of reach.

The mission

Second Mission - Planet Raxus:

The healing tank's fluid drained away, her first major recovery in two weeks. The emergence left her stronger, a fact that didn't escape Dodoria's suspicious glares. During the quiet hours in the tank, she'd practiced focusing on energy signatures, finding it easier in the tank's isolation.

Today she'd try masking her own power level - another technique she'd seen on Earth. Her first attempts felt like trying to hold her breath underwater. The moment her concentration slipped, her power level spiked back to normal.

The planet's defense forces had actually managed to coordinate a decent resistance. As Dodoria dealt with their ground troops, Zarbon engaged their aerial fighters. Between dodges, Cellera kept trying to suppress her energy, managing a few seconds at most.

"Lord Zarbon," she called up, noting how his power level fluctuated erratically. "The eastern quadrant still requires-"

"Silence!" The snarl in his voice broke her concentration completely, her power level flaring with startled response.

Final Mission - Planet Keras:

"How disappointing." Zarbon examined his reflection in a shattered piece of architecture. "All this dust is terrible for one's complexion."

Cellera barely heard him, straining to sense approaching enemies without her scouter. After weeks of practice, she could detect large power signatures if she concentrated hard enough, but the fine control the Earthlings possessed still eluded her. Her right leg throbbed from a blast she hadn't sensed coming.

She managed to mask her power level for nearly a minute now, but maintaining it while fighting proved nearly impossible. Each blast or quick movement required starting over. Still, even this limited ability had saved her twice already when her scouter malfunctioned.

A massive energy signature suddenly flared behind Zarbon - clear enough that even her developing senses screamed warning. "Behind you!"

The blast caught Zarbon square in the face...

"You..." His voice deepened, flesh rippling. "You damaged my face."

What happened next burned away any lingering fascination she might have held. Zarbon's transformation was nothing like the efficient power of the Saiyans' Oozaru form. This was grotesque, his refined beauty splitting and bulging into a monstrous form.

"Pity you had to see this, little princess." The guttural voice barely resembled his usual cultured tones. "I do so hate showing this form to an audience."

The next few minutes taught Cellera more about true monsters than any of her father's lessons. When she emerged from the healing tank days later, her newfound strength was accompanied by a deeper understanding: true ugliness had nothing to do with outer appearance.

She found herself missing the straightforward battles on Earth, where enemies and allies were clear, and transformations came from training rather than deception. Even Kakarot's strange power-up had held a certain honor to it.

Her hand brushed the scar from that final mission - a reminder that beauty, like any weapon, could be wielded to deceive. She thought of Gohan and his father, their power coming from protection rather than pride or pretense. Perhaps there were worse things than being a "monkey" who fought with honest strength.

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Notes:

Hello! So if you haven't noticed yet, i did revise Chapters 1-3 (soon to be 4) of the fic now that I have a better grasp of where I'm going with everything and now have a Beta Reader. With that said, I hope you enjoy the start of Namek!

The tank's fluid drained as Vegeta slowly regained consciousness.

"You're fully healed now. You may open your eyes," said Dr. Rooster, the short lizard-like alien.

Vegeta opened his eyes and stepped from the pod. The first thing he noticed was Cellera in the adjacent tank, her small form floating limply in the healing fluid.

"Your injuries were quite extensive. You've been unconscious for nearly a month."

"A month?" Vegeta's voice carried a dangerous edge. His gaze hadn't left his daughter's tank. He knew her injuries from Earth were not near the extent of his - there should be no reason for her to still be healing. "And her?"

"This is her third healing session since your return. Lord Frieza has had her accompanying Zarbon and Dodoria on high-priority missions. Unfortunately, we weren't successful in reconstructing either of your tails."

Vegeta turned to Dr. Rooster, his confusion quickly turning to anger. "What nonsense are you spouting? My tail was the only one severed in battle."

"According to your daughter, she removed hers herself. She refused to state the reasoning."

Vegeta's gaze returned to Cellera, narrowing at the distinct lack of her tail floating behind her. He would make her explain her reasoning, whether she wanted to or not.

"No matter. I don't need it," Vegeta dismissed, flexing his limbs to test their durability after so long in the healing tank. His eyes drifted back to his daughter.

"She should remain in healing for at least another hour-" Dr. Rooster began.

"Wake her. Now."

As Dr. Rooster complied, not wanting to argue with the fully healed Saiyan, Vegeta studied his daughter through the blue-tinted glass. The scar on her leg was fresh - Zarbon's handiwork no doubt. Something had changed in her expression, even unconscious. The same change he'd noticed on Earth after her fight with Kakarot's brat. She'd survived a month of missions with Frieza's elite. He might have felt pride in her survival if not for the implications of who she'd been sent with.

The tank began to drain as Vegeta's mind raced. A month under Frieza's direct command. Missions with Zarbon and Dodoria, most likely an attempt to get rid of Cellera without Vegeta being around to keep an eye on her. He needed to get to Namek to collect the Dragon Balls and make his wish. But first, he needed to get properly clothed and have a little talk with his daughter...

-

After the doctors fetched them new battle armor, Vegeta and Cellera began to dress. The new armor felt stiff against Vegeta's healed skin as he secured the chest piece. Through his peripheral vision, he watched Cellera pull on her own armor, noting how she compensated for movements that would have involved her tail.

"Explain." The single word carried years of command.

Cellera continued adjusting her armor, her movements precise. "I needed to get them to let us go."

"So you mutilated yourself?" Vegeta's voice held that dangerous calm she'd learned to recognize early. "Made yourself less Saiyan?"

"I made a tactical choice." She used his own teachings, keeping her voice steady. "The Earth warriors had us defeated. This way, we survived."

"Survived?" He turned to face her fully. "You sound like those weak Earthlings. A true Saiyan-"

"A true Saiyan adapts to survive," she cut in, then immediately tensed at her own defiance. "You taught me that."

"I taught you to think like a warrior, not a coward." The words struck harder than any physical blow. "Now Frieza's men will whisper about the Saiyan princess who mutilated herself to her appease enemies."

"They were different from other enemies." Cellera secured her last piece of armor, fighting to maintain composure. "They showed strength through-"

"Mercy?" Vegeta spat the word. "And what did that mercy cost us? Our tails, our pride, defeated by low-class warriors and their half-breed brat. Now Frieza's men will use that to their advantage."

"I did it to protect you." Cellera said quietly.

The words hit Vegeta like a physical blow. For a moment, he saw her again - his daughter placing herself between him and the Earthling's attack, declaring they'd have to kill her too if they wanted to kill him. His jaw clenched against the unwanted memory. The same foolish sentiment that had evidently driven her to remove her tail so she could get them off Earth in one piece.

"Better to die with Saiyan pride than live with such disgrace." His voice held bitter disappointment, though something else flickered beneath it. "I thought I taught you better than that."

Cellera's hands stilled on her armor. She'd never seen her father look at her with such disappointment - not even during their harshest training sessions. For a moment, she was three years old again, desperately trying to earn his approval. Back then, his criticism had been tempered with occasional pride in her progress. Now...

She straightened her shoulders, fighting the urge to defend her choice. How could she make him understand? The Earth fighters had shown her there were different kinds of strength, a real purpose to fight other than pure pride and bloodshed. But there was a small voice in the back of her mind, questioning if it was worth losing your only remaining parent?

Their exchange was interrupted as Dr. Rooster walked back in, holding Vegeta's ruined armor from Earth. Cellera quickly masked her expression, just as her father had taught her. Never show vulnerability, especially not in front of Frieza's men. The irony wasn't lost on her - even as he dismissed her choices, she still fell back on his teachings.

The shattered pieces of his armor told their own story. Whatever had happened in his battle with Kakarot had changed more than just his body. She watched him eye the broken chest piece, noting how his fists clenched at the visible evidence of his defeat. Perhaps that's why her choice to end their battle through mercy cut so deep - it reminded him of his own failure to win through strength.

"Care to tell me what happened, Vegeta? Or is the wound to your ego still too raw to be examined?" Dr. Rooster asked, his tone carrying a hint of mockery as he examined the broken chest piece. "Judging by the stress fractures in your protective armor, you must have received quite a beating, and that's putting it lightly. I hope you're not entertaining ideas of revenge. I might not be here to put you back together next time."

Cellera watched her father's face tighten with frustration as she tugged on her boots. Though she hadn't witnessed much of his battle with Kakarot, its outcome was clearly written in every crack of that armor. Her father yanked on his gloves, causing Dr. Rooster to flinch back.

"Is Frieza here? I need to see him." Vegeta turned his back on both of them.

"He left. I don't know where he is," the doctor replied nervously.

"I hope you're not lying to me. I'm in no mood."

"Perhaps Cui can help you find him." Dr. Rooster suggested. "I saw him heading to the training center earlier. You could catch him there before he leaves, if you hurry."

Vegeta gave a short laugh before heading for the door. "I have no use for that coward. If you see Frieza, tell him I'm looking for him."

Cellera noticed her father had left his scouter behind. As Dr. Rooster moved to retrieve it, she gently took it from his hand, assuring the frantic doctor she would bring it to him.

Following her father's path, she couldn't ignore how he hadn't waited for her as he usually would. His earlier words still stung, but this dismissal cut deeper.

"Father!" she called out, causing him to stop. She held out the scouter. "You left your scouter."

He stared at her for a moment before turning away without a second glance. "I have no use for it."

Cellera stood frozen, the scouter heavy in her hands. In all their years under Frieza, they'd never been without their scouters. It was more than just technology - it was their lifeline, their way of staying connected during missions. His rejection of it felt like another wall being built between them.

"Is it because you've learned how to sense energy like the Earthlings?" she asked, quickening her pace to catch up. If she could just get him to talk about fighting, about tactics - anything to return to familiar ground. "I've been practicing. During missions, I managed to mask my energy a few times."

His continued silence made her press on, words tumbling out faster. "It's difficult to maintain, and sensing others is even harder. But I thought maybe you could..." she trailed off as he didn't even break stride. Before Earth, he would have at least critiqued her technique, pointed out where she’s going wrong. Now he acted as if she hadn't spoken at all.

She fell quiet, the distance between them feeling wider than the few steps that separated them. Everything she'd learned on Earth - the energy sensing, the new perspectives on strength - she'd been eager to share with him. To show him there were other ways to grow stronger. Instead, each attempt at connection seemed to push him further away.

As they walked down the hall past Frieza's men, she caught their whispers, their smirks. A month ago, her father would have silenced them with a glare. Now he seemed lost in his own thoughts, leaving her to face their mockery alone. She straightened her spine, adopting the proud stance he'd drilled into her since she could walk. Even if he wouldn't acknowledge her, she wouldn't shame him by showing herself vulnerable to these low-level soldiers.

"Well Vegeta, I heard you and your little mini-me took quite a beating recently." Cui laughed. "You couldn't even take over one measly planet. And if all the rumors are true, which I'm sure they are, you couldn't beat a third-class Saiyan."

"Drop it, Cui." Vegeta warned as he moved past. "I don't have time to waste gossiping with half-wits like you."

Cui grabbed Vegeta's shoulder, stopping him. "Just a minute. The word is that Frieza isn't too happy with you two, nor your attitude, Vegeta."

Cellera felt her body tense at Frieza's name. The past month of missions had only heightened her fear of what would come next.

Vegeta scoffed before giving a small laugh. "Just let Frieza try to do something about it."

Cellera couldn't hide her surprise at her father's open defiance. Even Cui seemed taken aback.

"Now get your hand off me," Vegeta commanded, his tone one Cellera knew well.

Cui removed his hand but pressed on. "Your mouth is big, but I think you're biting off more than you can chew. You don't know what you're up against, Vegeta. Nobody has survived a fight with Frieza."

Cellera felt anxiety gnaw at her, her body still searching for the comfort of wrapping her tail - a habit now impossible to satisfy. 

"You just don't seem to get it, do you?" Cui continued when Vegeta only huffed. "Frieza is utterly indestructible."

"Enough!" Vegeta's outburst made Cellera flinch - his temper had never been this short. "Now tell me where Frieza has run off to hide!"

Cui's next words felt like a death sentence: "The planet Namek."

Cellera's thumb instinctively pressed against her lip as her father's teeth clenched. Had Frieza somehow overheard their plans through the scouters? If so, they were both doomed.

"Do the smart thing and just give up, because you will never get those Dragon Balls. Frieza will most certainly find them first. And when he does, he'll destroy the planet Namek," Cui said, his arrogance confirming their worst fears.

Vegeta growled, then shouted, "I can't give up!" He snatched the scouter from Cellera's hands and took off toward the pod launch bay.

Cellera stood frozen as her father left her in the hall with Cui, who called uselessly after Vegeta. She glanced between Cui and the direction her father had gone before racing after him, but she was too late. His pod had already launched, headed for what she could only assume was Namek.

Her fists clenched, a mixture of anger and hurt burning in her chest. Ever since their conversation in the medical ward, he'd been different - distant in a way that went beyond his usual harshness. She'd get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

Her pod's door stood open, inviting escape, but something made her hesitate. "Ever since Earth, you've been different," she whispered to herself. Her hand traced the pod's frame, remembering countless missions where he'd made sure she was safely launched before his own departure. How he'd waited to ensure she was following, even if he'd never admit the protection behind the gesture.

The coordinates to Namek felt heavy in her hands. Following him meant facing not just Frieza, but this new version of her father - one who left her behind without a second thought. One who looked at her like she'd betrayed everything he'd taught her. Maybe she had. The Earth fighters had shown her another way, one that reminded her of her mother and brought hope for something better. But they weren't here now. It was just her, trying to understand how protecting what mattered had created such distance between them.

She caught her reflection in the pod's window - a princess without a tail, a warrior who chose mercy, a daughter her father could barely look at anymore. But beneath her changed exterior beat the same heart that had placed itself between him and death on Earth. She might not be the daughter he wanted anymore, the one he’d trained to slaughter enemies without mercy or hesitation, but she was still his daughter.. 

She quickly entered the pod, hands shaking as she punched in the coordinates. The trembling could have been from anger at being abandoned, or fear of what awaited them both. Both emotions felt justified - fury at his dismissal warring with terror of what Frieza might do once they arrived on Namek.

As the pod's door sealed with a hiss, she settled into the familiar position, unconsciously she tried to wrap her tail, something she no longer possessed, around her waist. Another reminder of what she'd given up to save him. What she'd probably give up again, even knowing how it would disappoint him.

"I won't lose you too," she murmured, thinking of her mother as the pod launched. The pendant her mother had worn still hung beneath her armor, a reminder of another parent lost. Frieza had already taken one from her. She wouldn't let him take the other, even if it meant facing both his wrath and her father's disappointment.

The pod accelerated into space, following her father's trajectory toward Namek. He might not want her there, might see her presence as unwanted. But she'd learned something on Earth that seemed to have escaped him - sometimes true strength meant standing your ground not because of pride, but because of love.

As the ship's sedation systems engaged, Cellera's last thoughts drifted to Gohan. How his understanding of protecting the people and things that matter, rather than blazing a path of glory and conquest. She wondered what he'd think of her now, chasing after a father who seemed determined to push her away.

The familiar darkness of space travel surrounded her pod, carrying her toward whatever awaited on Namek. Whether her father wanted her there or not, she'd face it beside him. After all, that's what family did - even if they didn't understand each other anymore.

-

The pod's impact rattled Cellera's teeth as she landed on Namek's surface. Three suns cast overlapping shadows across the alien landscape of blue grass and green water. Her father's empty pod sat nearby, still warm from entry, another reminder of his abandonment.

"Of course you didn't wait," she muttered, climbing from her craft. Even the air felt wrong here - heavy with tension and unfamiliar scents. She closed her eyes, trying to sense his energy the way she'd been practicing. The familiar frustration built as multiple power levels blurred together, impossible to distinguish clearly. She could feel... something. Several larger powers scattered across the planet, but sorting through them gave her a headache. One particular power level made her stomach clench - massive and unmistakably cruel. Frieza.

The sound of approaching soldiers broke her concentration. She ducked behind her pod as two of Frieza's men landed nearby.

"Lord Frieza wants the Saiyan found," the taller one said, adjusting his scouter. "Though I don't know why we're bothering to track him when he'll probably come right to us once he realizes-"

"Quiet!" his companion hissed. "Just keep scanning. His power level can't hide forever."

Cellera watched them take off, heading east. Her father must have learned to suppress his energy like the Earth fighters - it would explain his earlier dismissal of the scouter. Following these soldiers might lead her to him, or at least to information about Frieza's plans.

She kept her distance as they flew, grateful for the time she'd spent practicing energy suppression during those missions with Zarbon. At least one good thing had come from that month of "training." The soldiers' scouters occasionally beeped, but they seemed more focused ahead than behind. Their overconfidence reminded her of Nappa - another advantage she could use if needed.

Suddenly, they changed direction. She followed the two soldiers as they landed, still keeping her distance as they rounded a corner of a cliff. The two either had to be meatheads like Nappa, or her energy suppression has gotten much better.

“Hey, who’s that?” the tall, muscular blue-skinned soldier with long gold hair and mustache asked his partner, a small purple alien. 

“Whoever they are, they’re not from around here.” 

“Looks like we get to have ourselves some fun. Zarbon said if they’re not Nameks, we don’t even have to question ‘em before we kill ‘em.” the blue skinned-soldier says with a laugh.

The mention of Zarbon made her jaw clench. If he was here, then Dodoria wouldn't be far behind. Frieza had brought his elite - which meant he knew exactly how valuable these Dragon Balls were. 

The only small victory was that the Ginyu Force was elsewhere. She'd overheard enough during meetings with Frieza's elite to know the squad's power levels were beyond anything she'd seen - though their attempts to recruit her still baffled her. Her father had been livid when he learned they'd tried to teach her their poses at age two, claiming she'd make the perfect addition to their force. Even now, years later, they still brought it up whenever their paths crossed, much to her embarrassment and her father's fury.

She pushed those thoughts aside, focusing back on their current situation. She circles back to the other issue of there being other people here besides Namekians. Just who else would be here on Namek? She is drawn out of her thoughts when she hears the sound of blasters and screaming, and then familiar laughs carried along the wind. Thinking there's no way they could be here, Cellera pokes her head around the side of the cliff.

Her eyes widened at the sight of Gohan, Krillin, and a blue-haired woman she didn't recognize. What were they doing here? Then it clicked - the Dragon Balls. Of course they'd come to wish their friends back. The ones she'd helped... She pushed that thought aside, focusing on the immediate threat.

The two boys were sending thumbs up to each other with smiles. 

“Well that was easy enough, huh? Krillin asked. 

“Don’t look so happy!” the blue-haired woman yelled at the two, looking severely angry before her face began to tear up. “How are we supposed to get home now?”

All of a sudden Cellera noticed one more soldier hiding across the way, the three Earthlings completely oblivious. The hidden soldier's power level was pathetic compared to the Earth fighters, but they were distracted by their celebration. Some habits died hard - she found herself assessing the situation just as her father had taught her. The tactical choice would be to let events play out, to avoid revealing herself...

Cellera made up her mind as the soldier attempted a surprise attack. Just before he could get the drop on them, she dashed out of her hiding space and delivered both of her feet into his abdomen, sending him crashing into the water. 

"Cellera?" Gohan's surprise lacked the fear from their first meeting on Earth. If anything, he seemed pleased to see her.

She landed beside them, adopting her father's crossed-arm stance more from habit than intention. Krillin's cautious step backward was expected, but Gohan's step forward caught her off guard. These Earth fighters and their strange trust...

"I was right! You were one of the three pods!" His eyes darted around, clearly searching for her father. "But, where's Vegeta?"

The question stung more than she'd expected. "I'm actually trying to figure that out myself," she admitted, hating how small her voice sounded. "He went straight for Namek without me and was gone by the time I landed. Everything happened so fast I didn't even have time to grab my scouter, and I'm still struggling to sense energy properly."

"Whoa, you can sense energy now?" Krillin asked, shocked.

Cellera shifted her weight, uncomfortable with admitting any weakness. "After Earth... I had time to practice during missions." She wouldn't mention those 'missions' were with Zarbon and Dodoria, and more than likely meant to kill her. "It's saved me a few times when my scouter malfunctioned, though maintaining it while fighting is still..." she trailed off, remembering several close calls.

"But you managed to hide from us completely!" Gohan said, that same earnest tone he'd used on Earth. "We didn't sense you at all."

A small surge of pride cut through her frustration. At least she'd mastered that much. "Suppressing energy is easier than sensing it. Though..." she glanced in the direction where her and her father's empty pods were, "apparently I'm not the only one who's learned new tricks." She turned back to Gohan, brow furrowed. "When you mentioned three pods-"

"It's hopeless!" The blue-haired woman's wail cut through their conversation. "Our ship is completely destroyed! We're stranded here forever!"

Cellera's initial annoyance at the interruption faded as she took in the smoking wreckage. The soldiers' blast had torn through what appeared to be the ship's main engine. If she'd moved sooner instead of analyzing the situation... She pressed her thumb to her lip, studying the damage. Her time maintaining pods between missions had taught her enough about spacecraft to recognize this wasn't a simple repair.

The blue-haired woman rounded on her suddenly. "Oh great, another Saiyan! As if Vegeta wasn't bad enough!" She wiped her eyes angrily. "I'm Bulma, by the way, since these two seem to have forgotten their manners. And thanks to those thugs you were watching instead of stopping, we have no way home!"

Cellera blinked, caught off guard. No one except Kakarot had ever spoken to a Saiyan with such directness. Even Frieza's men couched their disrespect in false politeness. Yet this woman showed no fear, only frustrated anger. Cellera found herself studying the wreckage with genuine regret.

"I..." Cellera started, caught off guard by the woman's direct approach. "I should have intervened sooner."

The admission surprised even her. Her father would call it weakness to acknowledge such a thing. But she remembered Gohan's words about strength coming in different forms.

She glanced back to the lake where Frieza's soldiers had disappeared. "We need to move. Those scouters have transmitters - Frieza will know his men were defeated the moment they lost consciousness." 

"We?" Krillin questioned, his tone carrying memories of their last encounter.

Cellera paused. She hadn't meant to include herself in their group, but the word had slipped out naturally. Finding her father would be easier alone, yet something made her hesitate to leave. Perhaps it was tactical - safety in numbers against Frieza's forces. Or perhaps...

"Come on Krillin, she did just help us." Gohan's defense surprised her, though it shouldn't have. After their battle on Earth, his willingness to see beyond her Saiyan heritage was becoming a pattern. These Earth fighters and their capacity for trust - it went against everything she'd been taught about survival.

"Well...alright." Krillin conceded, though his stance remained guarded. "But we should hurry. Grab what you can Bulma."

She caught the slight change in his tone - less suspicious than during their fight on Earth. He'd been ready to kill her father then, yet now he was willing to trust her judgment. Perhaps he recognized something in her that she was only beginning to understand herself - that same potential for change she'd discovered during her battle with Gohan.

Bulma knelt in the wreckage, trying futilely to piece together shattered equipment. Each broken piece seemed to bring fresh tears.

"The Namekians might be able to help repair the ship," Gohan offered, his optimism unwavering. "We're not going to be stuck here. I promise."

Cellera couldn't stop her grimace at his words. Both boys caught her reaction.

"What?" they asked in unison.

"Let's get somewhere safe first," she said, eyeing the horizon. "There's... a lot you need to know about what's happening here."

They gathered what supplies they could salvage, Bulma still muttering about Saiyans and ruined equipment. As they began walking along the cliff's edge, keeping close to cover, something finally clicked in Cellera's mind. 

"Dad's in the hospital," Gohan said quietly. "The fight with you and Vegeta... he was hurt pretty badly."

"But he'll catch up soon," Krillin added quickly. "Once he's healed, he'll be even stronger than before."

Cellera's steps faltered. They didn't know. "Like after each healing tank session," she murmured, more to herself than them.

"What do you mean?" Gohan asked.

She studied him for a moment, noting how his own power had grown since Earth. "You've gotten stronger too, haven't you? Since our fight?"

Krillin glanced between them. "Now that you mention it, both you kids feel way more powerful than you did on Earth. Even after just a month..."

"It's a Saiyan trait," Cellera explained, falling into the analytical tone she used when studying combat data. "Think of it like learning the foundation of something such as science or math, and expounding upon it by learning new things. Our Saiyan blood does the same with fighting - each battle is ingrained into our bodies. But when we recover from severe injury..." She paused, seeing Gohan's eyes light up with understanding.

"The increase is even larger," he finished, his academic mind grasping the concept.

"Exactly. During my missions this past month..." she trailed off, not wanting to detail her time with Zarbon and Dodoria. "Let's just say I had several trips to the healing tank."

"Is that why you're so much stronger now?" Gohan asked, his curiosity overtaking his usual shyness.

"Wait," Krillin interrupted, realization dawning. "Are you saying Goku's going to come back even more powerful than before because of how badly he was hurt? That would explain a lot…”

"Assuming he survives the recovery," Cellera nodded. "The worse the injury, the greater the potential increase." She glanced at Gohan. "That's why you're stronger too."

"That's amazing!" Bulma chimed in, momentarily forgetting her distress over the ship. "A biological response that converts trauma into power enhancement! I wonder if-"

Suddenly, all three fighters stiffened as a massive power level erupted in the distance.

"That... that has to be Vegeta!" Krillin stammered. "But how did he get so powerful?"

"Cui..." Cellera winced at the strain of sensing the second power level. Her father's old rival had found him, and judging by their clashing energies, neither intended to walk away. "Father's power level is incredible. He must have gotten a huge boost from his injuries on Earth."

Another spike in energy, then nothing. Cui's power level vanished completely.

"So that's what you meant about severe injuries leading to greater power increases," Gohan said quietly.

"He must have been the third pod," Cellera realized, remembering Gohan's earlier comment. 

"We need to move," Krillin urged, helping Bulma to her feet. "Come on!"

"Why can't you just carry me?" Bulma complained as they hurried across the landscape. "My legs are killing me!"

"We can't risk flying," Krillin explained. "Using energy like that would make us easy to detect. There's a cave up ahead where we can-"

He froze mid-sentence, face draining of color. Cellera felt it too - a power level so massive it made her father's seem insignificant.

"What?" Bulma asked, noting their horrified expressions. "What is it?"

"Trouble! Everyone get into the cave and hide, right now!" Krillin commanded.

They scrambled into the darkened cave, pressing themselves against the cool rock walls. Cellera's hands shook as she tried to suppress her power level - something that had become almost second nature during her missions, but now seemed impossibly difficult. Fear made her control slip, something she hadn't experienced since in a while.

Gohan glanced at her with wide eyes. The confident Saiyan warrior who had fought him on Earth, who had just saved them from that soldier, was trembling. Her usual calm composure had cracked completely, revealing raw terror underneath. He'd never imagined seeing her like this.

"Cellera?" he whispered, concern overriding his own fear for a moment.

She pressed her thumb hard against her lip, trying to focus. "You don't understand," her voice came out barely audible, nothing like her usual crisp tones. "I've seen... during the missions... what he does to..." She couldn't finish, her father's lessons about showing no weakness in front of Frieza warring with memories of what she'd witnessed during her month under the tyrant’s command.

The terror felt different from anything she'd known - not the controlled fear her father had taught her to channel, or even the desperate protectiveness she'd felt on Earth. This was primal, paralyzing. The kind of fear that made her understand why her father had lived so long under Frieza's boot, why he'd taught her to value survival above pride. The same fear that had made her mother's death just another "accident" no one dared question.

Cellera pressed herself further against the cave wall, hating how her hands wouldn't stop shaking. All her training, all her father's lessons about Saiyan pride, meant nothing in the face of Frieza's overwhelming presence.

Krillin and Gohan shared a look. If someone as strong as Cellera was this terrified...

"Everyone quiet," Krillin breathed. "And keep your power levels as low as possible."

They huddled in tense silence, barely daring to breathe. Even Bulma, picking up on Cellera's uncharacteristic fear, stayed perfectly still. The massive power level moved closer, each moment feeling like an eternity.

Cellera squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against memories of broken planets and shattered warriors. She'd rather face her father's disappointment a thousand times than encounter Frieza directly. At least her father's cruelty had limits.

Soon, an entire group flew past the cave, Frieza leading the charge with Dodoria and Zarbon flanking him, each holding large golden orbs. They remained frozen until long after the group had passed, the silence broken only by their careful breathing.

A chunk of rock clattered to the cave floor as Bulma's grip slipped. She stepped outside, scanning the horizon. "Looks like they're gone. That was close! They didn't even slow down - must be after something else."

She turned to find all three fighters still frozen, trembling. Her casual relief made their terror more stark.

"What is it, you guys? What's the matter?"

Krillin stepped forward on shaky legs, bending over with his hands on his knees as if the mere presence of that power had been physically crushing. "Bulma... better check the Dragon Radar."

"Okay... but why?"

"Those four Dragon Balls we saw gathered together before..." His voice shook. "Look again. See if they're still there."

Bulma checked the device, confirming what they'd seen - Frieza's squad carried the Dragon Balls.

"I was afraid of that. This is bad. Real bad." Krillin straightened, turning to the two children still huddled in the cave. "Gohan! Cellera!"

They remained frozen until he called again. Gohan moved to join him but stopped, noticing Cellera slumped against the wall, head buried in her knees, arms wrapped tight around her legs. The confident warrior who'd fought him on Earth, who'd just saved them moments ago, looked impossibly small.

He approached carefully, extending his hand. She stared at it for a long moment before accepting, letting him help her to her feet.

"So... that guy in front..." Krillin began.

"Was that..." Gohan looked to Cellera.

She nodded, thumb pressed to her lip - not in analysis this time, but in an attempt to stop its trembling. "Yes... Frieza."

"H-He was pure evil," Gohan whispered. "His power level is the highest I've ever sensed."

"Me too. Our situation just got so much worse," Krillin added.

"Why? He can't possibly be stronger than Vegeta, can he?" Bulma asked, looking to Cellera.

A bitter laugh escaped her. "If my father was stronger than that tyrant, we wouldn't have been under his boot for so long." Her voice hardened. "I doubt even Kakarot would stand a chance."

"And those other guys with him..." Krillin added. "We've got to figure out how to get the Dragon Balls from them! How are we gonna do that?!"

"We don't!" Cellera snapped, her fear turning to desperate anger. "You're all asking for a suicide mission!" The beeping of Bulma's device caught her attention. "What is that?"

"This is the Dragon Radar. I created it when I was younger to find the Dragon Balls on Earth."

Cellera blinked, momentarily distracted from her fear. This woman had created such technology herself? At such a young age?

"They're heading directly for another Dragon Ball!" Bulma announced. "It's like they know exactly where it is!"

"Frieza's scouters can detect power levels," Cellera explained, falling back on analysis to keep her voice steady. "He's tracking the Namekians."

"Which way?" Krillin asked reluctantly.

Bulma pointed to where Frieza's group had vanished. "Over there! About ten miles that way!"

"While we were walking I sensed a group of Namekians coming from that direction," Gohan said, realization darkening his features.

"Right, I did too." Krillin confirmed. Cellera couldn't help the twinge of frustration at not being able to sense them herself. Her father had somehow mastered this skill during one battle, while she still struggled after a month of practice.

"I guess we better go find out what's happening." Krillin took off his cap, throwing it to the ground with grim determination.

"I'm going with you!" Gohan insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument as he shed his backpack.

Cellera watched him with a mix of surprise and something else - respect, maybe. This wasn't the same frightened boy she'd fought on Earth. Here he was, willing to follow the very power that had them all trembling moments ago. The irony wasn't lost on her. But if Gohan could face this…

"I should warn you both that if we're caught, we could all die," she said, searching their faces for any hesitation. When she found none, she sighed. "Fine. I'm coming too."

"What about me?!" Bulma's shout echoed off the rocks. "You can't just leave me here all by myself!"

"All right. You can chase the bad guys with us if you really want." Krillin's tone carried a hint of sarcasm.

"Then again, it might be best for one of us to stay and hold down the fort, don't you think?" Bulma matched his tone.

"Good idea, Bulma."

Bulma looked from Krillin to Cellera, her expression softening slightly. "Please don't let them do anything stupid."

Cellera nodded, surprised by the trust in Bulma's voice. They'd only met an hour ago, yet this woman was treating her like an ally rather than someone partially responsible for their being here. The weight of that trust settled uncomfortably on her shoulders.

"Remember guys, keep your power levels pushed down so they don't spot us," Krillin instructed, taking point on their impromptu mission.

She and Gohan nodded before they all took their stance. As they began leaping across the blue valleys, Cellera couldn't help wondering if she was being brave or foolish. But watching Gohan's determined expression beside her, she realized maybe there wasn't much difference between the two.

They moved swiftly but cautiously across the landscape, each leap measured to avoid detection. Cellera found herself studying Gohan's profile, trying to focus on anything but the overwhelming power level ahead of them.

"Your hair's different," she said quietly, needing to break the tense silence. The observation felt safer than discussing what awaited them. "I see you’re wearing that outfit that resembles the Namekian’s again."

"Yeah, I said the same thing when I first saw him," Krillin chuckled softly. "Quite a change from that fancy uniform his mom originally had him in."

A small smile crossed Gohan's face. "He believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself!" His expression grew distant. "I respect him just as much as I do my dad. That's why we have to get the Dragon Balls - to bring him back."

"Is that why you're not afraid this time around?" she asked before she could stop herself. "Because you're doing this for him?"

"I am afraid," Gohan admitted. "But Piccolo taught me that being brave isn't about not feeling fear. It's about doing what's right despite being afraid." His expression shifted to something more determined, remembering her words from their battle. "You told me to discard my hesitation, to fight seriously when something matters. We have to protect the things important to us, right?"

His words struck something in her. All those times she'd hidden her fear behind tactical analysis, tried to be the perfect warrior her father demanded... yet here was Gohan, openly acknowledging his fear while choosing to act anyway. Like she had on Earth, standing between her father and death. She'd pushed him during their fight to find this strength, and now he was reflecting it back to her. Maybe they understood each other better than 

Their conversation died as they neared the village, the weight of what lay ahead settling over them once more. But Cellera felt steadier somehow, her earlier terror tempered by this small moment of understanding.

A rocky ridge appeared ahead of them, and Krillin raised his hand for them to stop. "This is close enough. We should walk from here and keep low to the ground."

They crouched behind the ridge's edge, peering over carefully. Cellera's stomach dropped as she spotted Frieza's group directly in front of them.

"Just our luck, they're right in front of us," Krillin whispered, his voice tight. "Let’s go around. That way we can see what's happening without being spotted"

Cellera nodded in agreement, impressed by his strategic thinking. It was the kind of strategy she'd use during stealth missions, though the stakes felt infinitely higher now.

They backtracked quietly, making a wide arc around the village's perimeter. Each step closer to Frieza's energy made Cellera's skin crawl, but she forced herself to focus on their movements, on staying hidden. She couldn't afford to let fear compromise their position - not with both Gohan and Krillin trusting her to help keep them alive.

The village came into view as they reached their new vantage point. Small dome structures dotted the landscape, similar to the buildings they'd passed earlier. But it was the gathering in the center that drew their attention - Namekians being herded together by Frieza's soldiers, Zarbon and Dodoria flanking their master like deadly sentinels.

"Hey, that looks just like the spaceship we came here in," Gohan pointed out as he peeked his head over the ridge, looking at one of the dome structures.

"That's weird. I thought they had a radar, but it looks like they're still searching..." Krillin noted.

"Frieza's scouters can only detect living beings. I believe you are the only ones who have a radar for detecting the Dragon Balls, thanks to Bulma," Cellera informed them, unable to hide a hint of admiration for the Earth woman's technology.

Krillin's shocked gasp made her blood run cold. "Check it out! Take a look at the size of the Dragon Balls those guys have tucked under their arms! They're huge!"

Cellera moved instantly, throwing an arm over each of them and pressing their faces to the ground. Her heart hammered in her chest as she heard that familiar, silky voice.

"What's wrong, Dodoria?" Frieza asked, his raspy tone making her fingers dig unconsciously into Gohan's shoulder. "Does your scouter indicate something?"

"I don't know. For a second, I thought I detected a very weak power level. And then it just disappeared. It's probably just a bird or a small rodent." Dodoria dismissed. "Nothing that should cause us any alarm."

They remained frozen until Dodoria's attention shifted away, then released a collective breath. Cellera could feel them both trembling beneath her arms - or maybe that was her own shaking she felt.

"Let's be a little more cautious, shall we?" she whispered, fixing Krillin with a pointed look. "If we're spotted, we're as good as dead."

They carefully raised their heads again, watching as Frieza's soldiers herded more Namekians from their homes. 

"They look just like Piccolo!" Gohan breathed in surprise as an elder emerged with two younger ones.

Cellera squeezed his arm in warning to lower his voice, but her attention was fixed on Frieza's expression. That slight smirk - she'd seen it too many times during her missions with Zarbon and Dodoria. It meant he was about to start enjoying himself. 

Watching Dodoria's brutality, Cellera bit the inside of her cheek, the pain keeping anger at bay. Every casual murder, every satisfied laugh reminded her of that day - the way he'd announced her mother's "accident" with that same cruel satisfaction. She'd spent years analyzing his methods, his patterns, storing away every detail. One day, she'd make him answer for everything. Not just for her mother, but for all the families he'd torn apart under Frieza's orders.

Gohan's eyes shifted from the soldiers to Cellera. "Why are they wearing the same uniform as you guys? I thought it was just something Saiyans wore."

"It's Frieza's standard battle armor," Cellera replied, her voice tight. "Issued to all his soldiers." A bitter edge crept into her tone. "Stretchy enough to accommodate even our Great Ape form, yet durable enough to withstand powerful attacks. Though not indestructible." The memory of her father's shattered armor from Earth flickered through her mind, but Frieza's cold voice pulled her back to the present.

"We know there were others here with you earlier. At least five." Frieza's tail flicked lazily behind him. "And since my men and I have much better things to do than hunt down a bunch of Nameks, I wonder if you'd be so kind as to tell us where they are." A red sphere of energy materialized above his finger. "Where are my manners? I didn't say please."

Cellera flinched at the familiar sight of that energy ball. She'd seen too many planets, too many people, end at the whim of that single finger.

The Namekians remained silent, their children clutching the elders' robes. Frieza's giggle at their fear made Cellera's stomach turn - she knew that sound too well.

"You see, we can do this one of two ways." Frieza's tail struck his spacecraft with deliberate slowness. "Either you can tell us what we want to know, or we can force you to tell us. And believe me, you don't want the latter."

The elder spoke in Namekian, only for Frieza to cut him off, demanding they use the common tongue. When the elder finally complied, explaining about the workers in the fields, Cellera recognized the defeated tone in his voice. She'd heard it countless times during purge missions.

"See how well we do when you cooperate?" Frieza dissipated the energy sphere. "Now onto the next question. I understand that you have something here in your possession that I would very much like to have in mine. The Six-Star Dragon Ball!"

All three fighters tensed at the mention of their shared goal.

The elder's denial was weak, transparent. Frieza's responding giggle made Cellera's hands clench.

"Dodoria." The name alone made Cellera's jaw tighten. The pink warrior stepped forward, and she found herself unconsciously leaning closer to Gohan. "Do you remember that first Namek elder we visited? Doesn't our new friend here remind you of him in some way?"

"Yeah, he thought he could play dumb too. Said he had no idea what the Dragon Balls were." Dodoria's laugh carried the same cruel edge she remembered from her mother's death announcement.

"Quite stubborn at first. But then he was willing to talk once we started killing his friends one by one."

The horror in Gohan and Krillin's gasps reminded Cellera that they'd never witnessed Frieza's methods firsthand. She remained still, too familiar with what came next.

"He was a well of information," Frieza continued, detailing the Dragon Balls' history with the same casual tone he used when ordering planet purges.

"You cold-blooded murderer," the elder growled.

Cellera's eyes traced the four Dragon Balls, each one representing a village like this one. When Frieza mentioned the "agreeable" nature of the other elders, she felt a twisted sort of relief - at least some had chosen quick deaths over watching their people suffer.

The Namekians' protests about their brothers' loyalty drew another laugh from Frieza.

"You underestimate our powers of persuasion. Zarbon, why don't you show them?"

Before anyone could react, Zarbon's boot connected with the elder's face, sending him flying backward into the gathered Namekians. Cellera instinctively pressed lower against the ridge - she'd seen too many of Zarbon's "demonstrations" during their missions together.

One of the Namekians in the herd lunged forward, rage overtaking reason.

"No, stop!" the elder shouted, but it was too late.

Zarbon smirked, tossing his Dragon Ball high into the air before launching himself after it. His movements were deliberately showy - the same theatrical display she'd witnessed countless times. He wasn't just fighting; he was performing for Frieza's amusement.

The Namekian warriors sprang into action, their power levels spiking enough to make even Cellera's limited sensing abilities take notice. Several of Frieza's common soldiers fell in quick succession, their scouters shattering before they could even register the threat.

"They're strong!" Gohan whispered, hope creeping into his voice.

Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip. "Don't," she breathed. "This is just part of the show."

As if confirming her words, Zarbon's elegant form appeared above the village. The energy beam that followed was as precise as it was devastating.

She felt Gohan tense beside her, ready to intervene. Her hand shot out, gripping his arm - not roughly, but firmly enough to hold him in place. "We can't," she whispered, hating how much her voice sounded like her father's. "Not against him. Not yet."

The blast illuminated the horror on both boys' faces, but Cellera kept her expression carefully neutral. She couldn't afford to show how much this reminded her of her month under Zarbon's command - how many times she'd been forced to watch his "artistry" up close.

Zarbon landed with practiced grace, casually sweeping a stray hair behind his ear before catching the falling Dragon Ball in the same fluid motion. The Namekian warrior's smoking body hit the ground as the children pressed closer to their elder, trying to hide from what they'd just witnessed.

"Oh man! They killed him!" Krillin's shock was palpable.

Beside her, Gohan's energy began to fluctuate dangerously. His teeth ground together, fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. "No..." he growled.

"Gohan, you gotta keep your power level down. They'll notice," Krillin warned.

"I'm just too angry." The boy's power spiked again - that same raw energy she'd felt during their battle on Earth.

"I know it's hard, but there's nothing we could've done. We can't beat these guys fighting them head on," Krillin tried to reason.

"We'll have to outsmart Frieza if you want to get the Dragon Balls and wish your mentor and friends back," Cellera added, hoping the mention of Piccolo might help center him. But Gohan's rage only seemed to build at the slaughter that was occurring before him. 

"Whatever happens down there, we'll just have to wait." Krillin yanked at the blue grass, his own attempt to channel his frustration without raising his power level.

They turned back to watch Frieza's men surround the elder Namekian with predatory grins.

"What do you want with the Dragon Balls anyway?" the elder asked, clearly stalling.

"Oh, just a tiny little wish." Frieza's casual tone made Cellera's skin crawl. "For the one thing I don't already have: The power of eternal life."

"Eternal life? Well that figures," Krillin muttered.

"Isn't that what you and your father wanted to wish for?" Gohan turned to her.

Cellera nodded slowly. "Yes. Although, our wish for it was mainly to be able to beat Frieza. Or at least, mine was..." She thought of her father, somewhere on this planet pursuing the same goal. "I'm positive my father is here looking to get the exact same wish."

"So I guess they really are Vegeta's competition," Gohan said.

"And they're winning," Krillin added grimly.

The elder Namekian's defiance drew Cellera's attention back to the scene. "Do whatever you will with me, but I'm still not going to give you a Dragon Ball."

She found herself admiring his courage, even knowing what it would cost him.

"Even under the threat of pain you refuse to surrender your precious Dragon Ball." Frieza's gaze shifted to the children, his smile widening. "Let's see how noble you are when your children are at stake."

Cellera's breath caught as Frieza raised that dreaded finger again. The elder's resolve crumbled instantly, offering to tell them anything. The children huddled closer behind him.

Suddenly, Dodoria's scouter beeped. Cellera's heart nearly stopped, fearing it had detected Gohan's fluctuating power level. They dropped flat against the ground as Dodoria turned toward their position.

"Lord Frieza, I'm picking up that power level again. It came from just over that ridge. I think someone's been watching us."

Her pulse thundered in her ears as she glanced at her companions' terrified faces pressed to the dirt beside her.

"Now it's coming from over there," Dodoria announced, and Cellera sensed what he'd detected - three significant power levels approaching from ahead of them.

Three Namekian warriors emerged on the horizon, their power levels registering as insignificant on Dodoria's scouter. Cellera watched his confusion with growing interest - they were masking their energy just like the Earth fighters.

"Lord Frieza!" one of the soldiers called out. "Three more Namekians are approaching!"

When the Namekians landed, the soldiers opened fire, their blasters creating a barrage of light that the Namekians easily dodged. 

The Namekians burst into action, their true power exploding outward as they tore through Frieza's common soldiers like paper. Bodies flew in every direction as the warriors demonstrated just how outmatched the basic troops were.

Cellera noted their movement patterns - precise, controlled, nothing like the farmers Frieza's men expected.

"Dodoria, what's their power level?" Zarbon asked, his usual grace tinged with uncertainty.

"It's... it was only 1,000 a second ago," Dodoria stammered, his scouter beeping frantically. "But now it's 3,000!" 

"Look at them go!" Gohan whispered excitedly.

Krillin grinned. "They know how to suppress their power levels too!"

Cellera watched the systematic destruction of Frieza's men with careful analysis. These Namekians were stronger than she'd anticipated, but her eyes remained fixed on Zarbon and Dodoria's reactions. Their confusion would soon turn to action, and that's when the real danger would begin.

"Don't celebrate yet," she warned quietly, recognizing the growing anger in Dodoria's stance. "This is only going to make things worse."

As if on cue, Dodoria set down his Dragon Balls, cracking his knuckles as Frieza gave a slight nod.

"So do you just want me to kill one as an example?" Dodoria's casual tone made Cellera's stomach turn.

"Kill them all." Frieza's command held no hesitation.

The elder Namekians finger shot up suddenly, destroying Dodoria's scouter in a precise blast. Before anyone could react, he launched into the air, systematically destroying the remaining scouters on the fallen soldiers below.

"The scouters!" Zarbon's usual composure cracked with realization. "I should've known! That's what he's aiming for!"

The elder's triumphant laugh confirmed Zarbon's words.

"That crafty old dog," Krillin whispered, admiration clear in his voice.

"W-Wait a second. Why is he just destroying the scouters?" Gohan asked.

"Without the scouters, Frieza will have no way to find the other Namekian villages, nor the Dragon Balls," Cellera explained, genuine respect coloring her voice. It was brilliant really - facing certain death, the elder had chosen the most tactically sound path. Not wasting energy on futile attacks or begging for mercy, but ensuring his people had a fighting chance. Even if Frieza acquired more scouters, this bought valuable time for the other villages to prepare or hide.

"You gotta admire him. He's risking everything to protect his people!" Krillin's words hit deep, drawing Cellera back to Earth. To Piccolo taking Nappa's blast for Gohan. To the small warrior Chiaotzu sacrificing himself against impossible odds. Even to her own choice to remove her tail - all of them choosing to give everything for something greater than themselves.

She watched the elder hover defiantly above Frieza's forces, wondering if this was what real strength looked like. Not the brutal efficiency her father taught, but the courage to make your death mean something.

"You think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Dodoria's growl cut through her thoughts...

Cellera felt both boys tense beside her as Dodoria's rage built. She'd seen this before - when his targets showed more cunning than expected, his brutality always escalated.

"I'll kill all you Namekians!" he roared at the hovering elder. "Starting with you! Ready to die?!"

As Dodoria launched himself upward, one of the younger Namekians shouted for their elder to flee. The children's terrified faces reflected what Cellera already knew - Dodoria at his most brutal was a sight no child should have to witness.

"Dodoria! Not yet!" Frieza's voice stopped the pink warrior mid-attack. "I want you to eliminate these three young warriors first!"

Dodoria's execution was swift, efficient in its brutality. A hand through one warrior's chest, a devastating elbow to another's gut, and an energy beam from his mouth that left nothing behind. The third warrior's attempted counter-attack did little more than leave a crater - Dodoria emerged without a scratch before crushing him against the cliff face.

"You're kidding!" Krillin's voice shook. "That didn't even phase him? Come on!"

Dodoria's chuckle mixed with Frieza's laughter made Cellera's jaw clench. She'd heard that particular combination too many times during her missions.

"Do you finally understand?" Frieza's voice carried that dangerous edge she recognized - his patience wearing thin. "As I've explained from the start, it is impossible for you to defeat us.... NOW, GIVE ME THE DRAGON BALL!"

The elder's slow descent to the ground spoke volumes. Cellera had seen that defeat before - the moment when protecting others meant submitting to the inevitable.

"And since you owe us something in return for destroying our scouters. I think this is more than an equitable trade, don't you agree?"

The elder's glance toward the whimpering children made Cellera's chest tight. "You wretch... you leave me no choice. Just promise me you'll leave us in peace."

She couldn't stop the scowl that formed. Frieza's promises were as empty as space itself. As the elder walked off to retrieve the Dragon Ball, she felt that familiar spike in Gohan's energy. His fear from Earth had transformed into something far more dangerous - pure rage.

"I hate him!" he snarled.

"Calm down, Gohan! We told you, we're just gonna have to wait. Cellera and I don't like it either, but we aren't gonna do any good by getting ourselves killed!"

Cellera watched Gohan struggle to contain himself, his whole body trembling with suppressed fury. She remembered that feeling - watching Dodoria's satisfied smirk as he'd delivered news of her mother's "accident."

The elder emerged with the Dragon Ball, handing it to one of Frieza's men while demanding they honor their agreement. Cellera's heart sank as he argued for peace - she'd witnessed this scene too many times before.

"Fool..." she muttered sympathetically, "Frieza doesn't do agreements."

"Oh, shut up. I promised nothing." Frieza's casual dismissal confirmed her words. "And considering the circumstances, I'd hardly say you're in a position to be issuing threats. Now tell me what I want to know or I'll beat it out of you!"

The elder's defiance earned him Dodoria's elbow to the face, sending him crashing into one of the dome structures. The children rushed to him, their concern making Cellera's hands clench. She thought about the countless number of children left without their parents due to Frieza’s rule. Something that she felt ashamed that she had played a part in, being his ‘planet brokers’. 

"You can torture me all you'd like. I don't know where they are!" The elder's desperate lie might have worked on someone else, but Cellera could see Frieza wasn't fooled.

"One: you're lying. And two: You've already hindered my search by destroying the scouters. I'm giving you one last chance to save yourself."

"And why should I trust the words of a murderer?" 

Frieza's laugh sent chills down Cellera's spine - she knew that sound. It meant he was done playing.

"I guess you caught me. I was planning to kill you even if you talked."

The elder struggled to his feet, facing what Cellera knew would be his last moments. "Children, listen to me. Run and get help!"

She scowled as the children fled, knowing exactly how this would end. Frieza's cruelty didn't discriminate by age - she'd been one of the few exceptions, and only because of her father's value as a warrior. The memory of other children on other planets rose unbidden in her mind.

Dodoria's energy beam caught one of the fleeing children, leaving nothing but smoking remains. Krillin and Gohan gasped in horror, but Cellera remained still, her expression locked in that careful neutrality she'd learned during her month under Frieza's command. Only her eyes betrayed her, following the surviving child's anguished cry for his friend.

"No... Cargo!"

The name made it worse somehow. Giving the dead child an identity when Frieza's forces preferred to think of their victims as nameless targets. She pressed her thumb hard against her lip, trying to focus on tactics, on surviving through this, on anything but the memories that were stirring up.

Beside her, Gohan's power continued to spike dangerously. His small frame shook with barely contained fury, and Cellera could feel the energy rolling off him in waves.

"Gohan, please," she whispered, recognizing the same build-up of power she'd witnessed during their fight on Earth. But this was different - deeper, darker. "You have to control it."

"Listen to her, Gohan," Krillin added desperately. "I'm sorry, but if we go down there, we'll end up just like that kid. We can't help anyone if we're dead!"

But Cellera knew they were losing him. She'd seen that look before - when something inside a warrior finally snapped. The moment when rage overwhelmed reason, when all the careful tactical planning in the universe meant nothing against pure, burning fury.

Below them, Dodoria's massive form blurred into motion. His fist connected with the elder's neck, a precise strike that spoke of years of calculated cruelty. Before the elder could even process the pain, Dodoria appeared behind him. The sound of vertebrae snapping echoed across the sudden silence.

The elder's body crumpled, lifeless, as the remaining child's scream pierced the air. 

Cellera felt Gohan's power spike once more, and this time, she knew there would be no holding him back. All she could do was prepare for what would come next, and hope they survived the consequences of his rage.

"That's two Namekians down and one more to go." Dodoria's satisfied tone mixed with Frieza's laughter, a sound that had haunted Cellera's nightmares during her month of missions.

The remaining child broke into a run, tears streaming down his face as Dodoria launched after him with practiced efficiency. Cellera had seen this game before - Dodoria enjoyed toying with the ones who ran.

She felt it before she saw it - Gohan's power exploding outward as something finally shattered inside him. His scream of rage made her blood run cold.

"STOP IT!"

Before she or Krillin could grab him, Gohan launched himself from their hiding spot. His kick caught Dodoria completely off guard, sending the massive warrior crashing into the side of another dome structure. Rock and debris rained down as Dodoria disappeared into the impact.

Cellera's tactical mind kicked in even as shock froze her in place. She'd felt Gohan's power spikes during their fight on Earth, but this... this was something else entirely. The raw fury behind that kick had contained more power than she'd thought possible from the usually gentle boy.

Through the settling dust, she could see Frieza's surprised expression - a look she'd never witnessed before. It would have been satisfying if it wasn't so terrifying.

"Take that, jerk!" Gohan's voice carried an edge of pride she'd never heard from him before as he landed beside the Namekian child.

"What? Where did you come from?" Dodoria's rage at being caught off guard was palpable. The pink warrior had always hated surprises - Cellera had learned that during their month together.

As Gohan planted himself between Dodoria and the child, Cellera felt an unexpected twist in her chest. The stance was so familiar -it reminded her of when she'd put herself between her father and Krillin's attack on Earth. But where her protection had come from desperation to save and protect her only remaining parent, Gohan's came from something purer. He was protecting someone he'd never met, simply because it was right.

The logical part of her brain screamed that this was suicide, that they were revealing themselves to Frieza's forces for a stranger. Yet watching Gohan stand his ground, she understood something her father had never taught her - sometimes the strongest choice wasn't the most tactical one.

"Well, here we go!" Krillin launched himself into action, and Cellera found herself moving before she could second-guess the decision. Some choices, she was learning, transcended tactical analysis.

"If you want him, you're gonna have to get through me!" Gohan's challenge carried the same fire she'd seen in his father. 

"If you insist-" Dodoria's threat was cut short as Krillin's kick sent him upward, perfectly positioned for Cellera's overhead strike. She put every ounce of suppressed fury from the past month into the blow, driving him into the cliffside with savage satisfaction.

"Good one, you guys!" Gohan's cheer reminded her how young he really was, even in the middle of this chaos.

Krillin swept in, gathering the Namekian child in his arms. "C'mon Gohan! We gotta get outta here! Right now!"

Gohan froze, the adrenaline faded, bringing dawning horror at what they'd just done. Cellera recognized that moment - when survival instinct finally caught up to noble intentions.

"Move, Gohan!" she shouted, already calculating how long they had before Dodoria recovered. She'd seen him take worse hits during their missions together. Their only advantage now was speed and whatever head start they could manage.

They raced across the Namekian landscape, Krillin clutching the child while Cellera and Gohan flanked him. Every instinct she'd developed during her missions screamed at her to suppress her power level further, to find cover, to do anything but fly in the open like this.

"What happened back there?" she found herself asking Gohan, still processing his transformation from the terrified boy she'd met on Earth to whatever force of nature had just challenged Dodoria.

"I... I don't know," Gohan admitted, his voice shaky now that the rage had subsided. "I just couldn't watch anymore. When I saw him kill that kid..."

"You fight the opposite of how father taught me," Cellera observed, keeping her voice low as they flew. "You let your emotions fuel you and give you power.”  She thought back to their battle on Earth, how his power had spiked whenever his friends were threatened. "Though, I'm still not sure if what we just did was incredibly brave or incredibly foolish," she said as they flew, keeping her voice low.

"Probably both," Krillin responded, adjusting his grip on the Namekian child.

She studied their small group - an Earth warrior, a half-Saiyan, and herself, all risking everything to save one child. A month ago, she would have called it weakness. Now... now she wasn't so sure. There was power in this too, different from the brutal strength her father valued, but no less real. She enjoyed the feeling she had of doing something helpful rather than hurtful, despite the lingering fear of the possible repercussions. 

Before she could respond, a familiar energy signature flared behind them - Dodoria had recovered and was in pursuit.

"Move faster!" she urged, knowing all too well what happened to those who earned Dodoria's personal attention. "And keep your power levels as low as you can while flying!"

Their attempted escape proved futile as Dodoria gained on them, his massive form eating up the distance despite their top speed.

"Oh, great! Lumpy's gaining on us! We're in trouble!" Krillin called out, glancing back.

"Give it up! It's no use! You can run but there's nowhere to hide!" Dodoria's voice carried that familiar sadistic pleasure Cellera remembered from their missions. As they weaved through a narrow crevice, his threats continued. "I'm going to get you. And when I do, I'm going to make you pay!"

Ki blasts peppered the air around them. While Cellera and Gohan managed to dodge, Krillin struggled with the added burden of the Namekian child. A blast clipped his arm, causing him to lose his grip. As Krillin dove after the falling child, Dodoria seized his ankle with brutal efficiency.

Cellera's discerning mind raced, assessing both threats in a split second. "Krillin, I'll get him! Just get yourself free!" She accelerated toward the plummeting child, knowing even as she moved that she wouldn't make it in time. But Gohan appeared from below, catching the young Namekian with practiced ease. Her relief was short-lived.

"You guys! Get going! He's closing in and fast!" Krillin's warning preceded another of Dodoria's mouth blasts, which they barely avoided.

Dodoria's laughter behind them brought back memories of other chases, other victims. She'd been on the other side of this pursuit too many times during the past month.

"Gohan, Cellera! Listen!" Krillin's voice carried urgent command. "Whatever happens, just keep going! Don't look back. I think I might have a way to slow this guy down!"

Every instinct screamed at her to stay together, but she forced herself to trust Krillin's judgment. She and Gohan pressed forward until Krillin rejoined them moments later. A glance back revealed Dodoria clutching his face, howling about his eyes.

They seized the opportunity, dropping to ground level and finding cover. Dodoria's frustrated roars and graphic threats echoed across the landscape.

"That was great Krillin! Where'd you learn that?" Gohan's admiration was clear.

"Oh, uh, it's just a little trick I picked up from Tien." Krillin's modest response carried a hint of embarrassment.

"It was a brilliant move," Cellera admitted, her eyes tracking Dodoria's movement above them. They pressed against the canyon wall, every breath measured. As Dodoria's search pattern brought him closer to their position, she pressed her thumb to her lip, analyzing their options.

"If Dodoria somehow finds us and attacks, hide your power levels and use the blast as a smokescreen to hide in plain sight," she whispered. She couldn’t help but inwardly laugh at the irony - using her father's teachings to protect instead of destroy…It was a nice change of pace. 

Every mission under Frieza had taught her something useful, but not in the way they'd intended. There was a certain satisfaction in turning her month of forced cooperation with Frieza's elite against them. Especially Dodoria - every bit of inside knowledge she could use to frustrate him felt like a small payment toward a debt long overdue. The memory of his smirk while delivering news of her mother's "accident" made her plan feel personal in a way her father might disapprove of, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Watching Gohan protect the Namekian child only strengthened her resolve. She'd witnessed too many children die at Dodoria's hands during their missions together. Perhaps this was her chance to balance those scales, even if just a little.

Dodoria's shadow fell across their hiding spot. Cellera held her breath, feeling Gohan tense beside her. A cruel laugh echoed above them.

"Found you!"

The energy blast that followed was massive - exactly what she'd expected from someone who always chose overwhelming force over precision. As the attack approached, she caught both Gohan and Krillin's eyes, giving a sharp nod.

They dropped their power levels to nearly nothing just as the blast hit, decimating the islands around them. The explosion sent water and debris flying in all directions - perfect cover for their deception. They stayed submerged, watching Dodoria's silhouette through the churning water.

His laughter carried even underwater - that same satisfied sound she'd heard too many times during their missions together. The sound that usually meant another planet's population had been "processed."

"It doesn’t matter who they were, they’re dead now!" 

She watched with grim satisfaction as he flew away, completely fooled by their strategy. It was fitting, really - using his own arrogance and lack of critical thinking against him. The same traits that had probably made him careless during her mother's "mission accident."

They waited until his energy signature was barely detectable before surfacing, all three gasping for air while the Namekian child clung to Gohan.

"It worked perfectly," she said, a familiar smirk crossing her features - one that mirrored her father's pre-victory confidence. "Just like I thought - too proud to even consider checking for bodies. And they call themselves elite warriors." The scoff in her voice carried that same disdain she'd learned from watching her father deal with incompetent soldiers.

"That was close!" Gohan grinned, turning to Cellera with genuine admiration. "Great plan!"

"Yeah, you really saved our hides!" Krillin added as they flew out of the water.

Cellera's initial impulse was to bask in their praise, but she caught herself - she had a reputation to maintain, after all. Still, she couldn't quite hide the slight upward curve of her lips. These Earth fighters' open gratitude was... different from what she was used to.

"Hey, can you fly?" Gohan asked the Namekian child still clinging to him.

"Yes." The boy demonstrated, though his wobbly hovering showed his inexperience. "Actually, I'm still learning. Oh, and thanks a lot for saving me." He bowed his head gratefully to his rescuers.

"Thank Gohan," Cellera said, nodding toward the boy with a slight smile. "He's the one who started this whole rescue."

"Yeah," Krillin agreed. "He's the one who charged in to get you, we just followed his lead."

"Thanks, but that's not true guys. If it weren't for Krillin and Cellera's quick thinking, that guy would've caught us for sure!" Gohan's earnest denial made Cellera run a hand through her dark hair, unused to such genuine acknowledgment.

"Why don't you stick with us?" Krillin offered the Namekian. "I promise we're nowhere near as bad as those other jerks."

The child's face lit up with hope. "Yeah!" 

"Great! Just follow us. It's that way!" Gohan pointed toward their cave hideout, but paused when he noticed Cellera hadn't moved. Her eyes were fixed on Dodoria's distant trajectory, her expression unreadable. "Cellera? What's wrong?"

Something had changed since Earth. She'd seen a different kind of power in Gohan's protection of others, in Krillin's willingness to trust former enemies, even in Bulma's fearless confrontation of warriors who could destroy her. The Saiyan way had always been about becoming stronger through combat, but she was starting to see that maybe there were other ways to grow stronger in tandem with her upbringing.  

But first, she had unfinished business with Dodoria.

She remained silent for a long moment, feeling an opportunity she'd waited years for finally within reach. "Gohan, Krillin... I'll meet you at the cave soon."

The boys exchanged worried looks, but Gohan's eyes showed understanding as they met hers. "You're going after him, aren't you?"

"I have something I need to settle," she said, but the words felt insufficient. For years she'd suppressed her rage about her mother's death, channeling it into survival, into becoming the perfect tactical warrior her father demanded. It would have been safer to keep running, to stay with the group and focus on survival.

But watching that Namekian child cry out for his fallen friend had cracked something in her carefully maintained control. How many other children had lost parents to Frieza's cruelty? How many other daughters had been left with only bitter memories and unanswered questions?

The logical choice would be to return to the cave with the others. But sometimes, she was learning, there were things more important than tactical choices.

"I promise I'll come back."

Gohan studied her face for a moment before nodding firmly. "I believe you."

The simple trust in those words hit harder than she expected. On Earth, she'd given her word about leaving peacefully, and now this boy trusted her completely to keep another promise. She wouldn't disappoint that faith.

Cellera took off in Dodoria's direction, her power level carefully suppressed even in pursuit. She had unfinished business with her mother's murderer, and after years of waiting, she finally had her chance.

Back near the water, Krillin watched her disappear into the distance. "Hey Gohan... do you really think she'll come back? Or was that just something she said to keep us from following?"

Gohan thought back to that moment - her smile, different from any expression he'd seen on her face before. The way she'd said "I promise," carrying the same weight as when she'd given her word on Earth. There had been something in her eyes then, just like now - an understanding between them that went beyond words.

"She'll be back," he said with complete certainty, turning to Krillin. "I know she will."

The young Namekian looked between them, confused by their concern for someone who wore the same armor as their attackers. But Gohan just smiled, knowing that sometimes trust came from seeing something in others that they might not even see in themselves.

As they headed back toward the cave where Bulma waited, Gohan sent a silent wish for Cellera's safety. Whatever she needed to settle with Dodoria, he hoped she'd find the peace she was looking for.

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Her feet barely touched the blue grass as she tracked Dodoria's ki signature across Namek's endless horizon. Each step brought warring impulses - the calculating warrior her father had crafted wanting to plan, study, strategize, while her mother's pendant seemed to burn against her chest with three years of suppressed rage. Even her growing ki sense, usually giving her headaches from overthinking, now burned with startling clarity.

Three years of carefully maintained control fell away with each step. The perfect warrior her father had crafted, the sharp mind that always planned first... all of it disappeared beneath one memory: Dodoria's satisfied smirk as he'd announced her mother's "accident."

She'd been too young then to understand the cruelty in his eyes, too naive to question why Frieza's right hand would personally deliver news about one Saiyan's death. But even at five, she wasn't that helpless child anymore.

The pendant beneath her armor felt heavier than usual. Her mother's last gift, pressed into tiny hands before that final mission. Before Dodoria had returned alone, his faux sympathy masked the satisfaction of another Saiyan squad being eliminated.

"All this time," she whispered, suppressing her power level as she gained ground. "A whole month of missions, watching you destroy families while pretending you hadn't torn mine apart."

She thought of the Namekian child crying for his friend, of all the other children who'd lost parents to Frieza's cruelty. Her father would call this personal vendetta an error due to her emotional response. But maybe some battles needed to be personal.

Ahead, Dodoria's bulk cast a shadow across the landscape as he flew, completely unaware of what pursued him. She could almost hear her father's voice - 'A true Saiyan warrior would wait, analyze, and plan the perfect attack.'

But she remembered Gohan, choosing to act rather than analyze when that child was in danger. Sometimes the strongest choice wasn't the most tactical one.

Her power coiled tight within her chest as she closed the distance. Three years of questions would finally have answers. Almost three years of nightmares would end here, beneath Namek's three suns.

She was done analyzing. Done waiting. Done pretending she didn't know exactly who was responsible for her mother's death.

"Found you," she whispered, and let her power level begin to rise. Just when she spotted Dodoria's figure below, another presence made her freeze - her father's ki signature, as familiar as her own. Her body tensed automatically, muscle memory from years of training warring with the memory of his disappointment on Frieza's ship. She masked her ki and ducked behind the elevated landform, falling into the stealth techniques he'd taught her even as she used them to hide from him.

She masked her ki and ducked behind the edge of an elevated landform nearby. As she peered around the rock, she watched Vegeta crush a red scouter beneath his boot.

"Now you'll never find Frieza or the Nameks!" Dodoria yelled.

"But you're wrong." Her father's smug chuckle carried familiar pride. "You see, I discovered that it's possible to sense power levels and energy without a scouter. It's one of the many things I learned during my time on Earth. I could hardly believe it myself. But then I was forced to rethink my notions of possibility."

The words sparked recognition. She remembered trying to discuss this with him back on Frieza's ship, how his distant expression had matched the one he wore now. He must have been reflecting on his battle with Kakarot even then.

"It was...an enlightening experience, to say the least." Her father continued. "After that it was only a matter of time before I could duplicate the technique myself." He snorted. "I'm sure even my daughter has figured it out by now."

"I get it..." Dodoria pointed an accusing finger at Vegeta. "Those little brats with your kid I chased out here were Earthlings! You used them to lure me away from Frieza!"

"They were what?!" Her father's surprise quickly turned to scorn. "Don't be such an idiot. There's no way those Earth scum could have gotten here so quickly. And even if there was, my daughter wouldn't be assisting them."

"You are lying!" Dodoria insisted. "But guess what? I killed your little friends and daughter, Vegeta! And if you stay, I'll do the same to you!"

She stepped out from behind the rocks, unable to resist the opportunity. "Funny, I don't feel very dead." Her voice carried that same edge she'd learned from her father, though now it held a dangerous undercurrent. "Though I suppose accurate reporting was never your strong suit, was it, Dodoria? Just like with my mother's 'accident'?"

Dodoria's face showed genuine fear - he remembered exactly who had been watching his methods all those months, studying, waiting.

"Unfortunately for you, Father was correct about my learning to sense energy," she said, keeping her voice deliberately casual. "It proved quite useful during those 'missions' with you and Zarbon - the ones Frieza tried to pass off as training rather than murder attempts." She narrowed her eyes, letting a knowing smile play across her lips. "Though I should thank you for the power boost."

She noticed her father take a step forward, his expression darkening at the mention of her month away. Dodoria attempted to retreat but froze, suddenly remembering her position behind him.

"Final warning," Dodoria gritted out, unable to fully mask the nervous edge in his voice. "Go now or feel my wrath!"

"No, I think I'll stay." Vegeta's amusement grew as Dodoria remained motionless. "Go ahead. Attack either of us."

"Why Dodoria," Cellera joined in, savoring his growing panic, "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were scared."

"Let me guess." Her father's voice carried that dangerous confidence she knew so well. "You were monitoring my fight with Cui earlier. You've seen my power." Dodoria's expression shifted from thoughtful to terrified, confirming Vegeta's suspicions. "I'm right, aren't I? So you know you're outmatched."

"No! That scouter was malfunctioning! You cannot be that strong!" Dodoria launched an energy blast at Vegeta, following it with a barrage of smaller shots.

Cellera rolled her eyes as her father rematerialized before Dodoria unscathed. As the pink warrior prepared another attack, forgetting her presence, she seized her opportunity. Her kick sent him flying toward Vegeta, who caught him with practiced efficiency. Her father spun Dodoria around, grabbing both arms and yanking them backward until joints dislocated.

Dodoria's scream of pain brought a flash of satisfaction, quickly followed by guilt as she imagined her mother's disapproving face. Cellera pushed the image aside - she needed answers more than she needed moral comfort.

Vegeta began to tug even harsher at his arms, causing another cry of pain to erupt. "It's the true might of a Saiyan warrior!" he laughed maniacally. "The more we fight, the stronger our opponents, the stronger we become! So you see, these Earth fools did me a favor when they almost killed me."

"And you proceeded to make blunder after blunder each time you failed to get rid of me and I came back out of that tank." Cellera added. She watched as Dodoria tried to force his way out of her father's hold, but to no avail, her face impassive.

"It's amazing what a coward you can become when you're not hiding behind your master, isn't it? Too bad Frieza won't save you this time!" Her father tormented.

"Please, don't do this! I know what really happened to your homeworld and Rhuba!" Dodoria cried out, making Vegeta pause his ministrations.

She put her thumb to her lip in thought and closed her eyes. Even Cellera was surprised, she had her suspicions with her mother, but she'd always been told their planet was destroyed by asteroids. However, after the month she's been with Dodoria and Zarbon on missions. Seeing Frieza's cruelty….Like a puzzle, everything slowly began to piece together.

"Planet Vegeta was destroyed! It's gone forever. What else is there to know?" Her father asked.

"If you kill me now, you're never going to find out!" Dodoria said, hoping his bargain for a few more moments of living would work.

"Don't let him go."

The words came out in a tone that made even Vegeta pause. Gone was any trace of her mother's mercy or measured control. In that moment, she was purely his daughter - every bit the cold-blooded Saiyan warrior he'd trained her to be. Yet something in her voice carried an edge that could almost rival her father's.

She took measured steps toward Dodoria, her usual analytical movements replaced by the predatory grace of an executioner. For a brief moment, Vegeta saw Rhuba in her stance, in the set of her jaw - but where his partner's anger had always burned hot and quick, their daughter's rage held an icy precision that made him almost grateful she wasn't facing him.

"Start talking." The command held none of her usual careful consideration. Her eyes, so like her mother's, had gone dark and empty - reflecting the same merciless void he'd cultivated in himself after Rhuba's death. The sight stirred something uncomfortable in his chest, a feeling he quickly suppressed.

"A-Aren't you going to-" Dodoria's stammering cut off as Cellera raised her hand to his face, energy gathering in her palm with deadly intent.

Dodoria began explaining how the story of Planet Vegeta's destruction had been fabricated. Each word confirmed suspicions Cellera had harbored during her month under Frieza's command. Not meteors, but their supposed protector had destroyed their home. The same tyrant who demanded their loyalty had orchestrated their near-extinction, systematically eliminating Saiyan squads by sacrificing his own soldiers to avoid suspicion.

Her analytical mind pieced together all the "accidents," all the failed missions that had claimed Saiyan lives. She thought of her mother - another casualty in Frieza's careful culling of their race. The pendant beneath her armor felt heavier with each revelation.

"And Rhuba?" her father's voice cut through her thoughts, tighter than she'd ever heard it. For the first time since Earth, she heard something beneath his usual cold control - raw pain that matched her own.

"I was under orders," Dodoria stammered, his bravado crumbling under Cellera's empty stare. "Lord Frieza said Rhuba was becoming too influential among the remaining Saiyans. She wasn't like the rest of you - she gave quick deaths when she should have shown the might of Frieza through torture, found ways to complete missions without maximum casualties." His eyes darted between father and daughter. "You remember how she was, Vegeta. She didn't revel in the brutality like other Saiyans, always talking about how there was strength in precision over power, about finding another path beyond Frieza's control-"

"The truth," Cellera interrupted, her voice carrying that same void as her eyes. "About how she died."

Dodoria's nervous laugh died as her energy blast grew brighter. "Like I said, I was just following ord-"

"You enjoyed it." The words came out soft, almost contemplative. "Every mission this past month, I watched you. The way you smiled when families tried to protect each other. The satisfaction in your eyes when children screamed for their parents." The energy in her palm pulsed with each observation. "Just like you smiled when you told Father about her 'accident.'

Vegeta's grip tightened on Dodoria's arms, his own memories of that day surfacing. His daughter had been too young to understand the cruel pleasure in Dodoria's expression then, but he'd seen it. Had spent years suppressing the urge to act on that knowledge, knowing they couldn't afford to move against Frieza's right hand.

"She fought well," Dodoria's fear finally cracked his facade. "Better than expected for someone so soft. But orders were orders, and Lord Frieza-"

"Wanted her dead, yes." Cellera's free hand moved to the pendant beneath her armor. "But you're the one who chose to make her suffer first."

The energy gathering in her palm shifted from its usual precise blue to something darker, crackling with unrestrained hatred. This wasn't the controlled warrior her father had crafted or the merciful killer her mother had inspired. This was something new - a fusion of tactical analysis and raw fury, focused into a single purpose.

"Every mission, every death - you took pleasure in destroying families," Cellera's voice remained cold as the energy in her palm stabilized into deadly precision. "But family is all we Saiyans had left after Frieza destroyed our world. And you took mine apart piece by piece."

She met her father's gaze again, seeing her own pain reflected there beneath his hardened exterior. They shared this moment of understanding - about their planet, about her mother, about everything that had been stolen from them. But where her father's expression held familiar rage, something else crystallized in Cellera's mind.

"You're right about one thing, Dodoria," she said, her energy blast taking on a focused intensity. "My mother was different. She believed in protecting what mattered, not just destroying what stood in our way." Her thoughts flickered to Gohan, to Piccolo's sacrifice, to all she'd witnessed on Earth. "And now I understand why Frieza feared that most of all."

The blast that followed was swift, precise - not from mercy, but because she refused to become what Dodoria was, what Frieza wanted them all to be. As his body disintegrated, she allowed herself one final cold satisfaction:

"Burn in Hell."

She felt her father's approval at her execution, but something had shifted between them. Where he saw vindication for their race's destruction, she saw a warning about the path of endless vengeance. The Earth fighters' words echoed in her mind - about fighting to protect rather than destroy, about finding strength in something beyond mere power.

"Father," she said quietly, turning to face him fully. "What Dodoria revealed changes everything. But not in the way you might think."

"So Dodoria wasn't lying about the Earthlings," Vegeta's voice carried that dangerous edge she knew too well. "Or about you being with them."

Cellera turned to face her father, chin lifting in a gesture he'd seen countless times from Rhuba. "No, he wasn't. They're here seeking their own wish from the Dragon Balls."

"And you thought to help them?" His laugh held no humor. "The same warriors who humiliated us on Earth? Who made you soft enough to remove your own tail?"

"They showed me there's more than one kind of strength," she said, standing her ground despite his growing anger. "What Dodoria just confirmed - about our planet, our people - proves what we suspected. Frieza feared our growing power, what we might become if we united against him."

"Your mother's mercy and ideology got her killed," Vegeta snapped, though something flickered behind his harsh tone. "And now you stand here, spouting the same weak sentiments she did."

"Is that really what you believe?" Cellera's voice softened, remembering countless small moments when her father had watched her train with Rhuba, how his expression would soften when he thought she wasn't looking. "Or is it what Frieza taught us to believe? Mother showed us another path, but Frieza eliminated her for the same reason he destroyed our planet - he couldn't risk any Saiyan showing there might be more than just serving his will." She took a step back, feeling the distance between them grow into something more than physical space. "I won't stop you from seeking your wish, Father. But I won't help you become another Frieza either."

For a moment, she saw conflict war across his features - the same look he'd worn years ago watching her mother train their daughter in precision over power, mercy over cruelty. But his expression hardened again, burying whatever emotion had surfaced.

"Then you're as weak as your mother in the end," Vegeta's voice was cold, though something in his eyes betrayed the lie. His energy began to rise. "And that same softness she had will doom you too."

Cellera recognized his stance - the same one he'd taken countless times during their training. But this wasn't training, and they both knew it. "Father-"

His movement was too fast even for her enhanced battle senses. One moment she was facing him, the next his hand connected with the base of her neck. As consciousness faded, she caught a glimpse of his expression - the same look he'd worn when her mother left for that final mission.

"So become strong and prove otherwise," he said softly, knowing she was already too far gone to hear. "But don't let what all your mother and I have done to keep you safe be in vain."

He lowered her unconscious form to the ground, allowing himself one moment of unguarded concern before his features hardened again. The Dragon Balls awaited, and with them, the power to become everything necessary to defeat Frieza - even if it meant becoming what his daughter feared most.

Without looking back, Vegeta blasted off toward where he'd sensed power levels earlier. Let her find her own path with the Earth fighters if she survived. He had a wish to claim, and a tyrant to surpass.

---

Pain throbbed at the base of Cellera's neck as consciousness returned. She pushed herself up slowly, memories flooding back - Dodoria's confession, her father's expression, that final moment before darkness. Typical of him, really - always choosing what he thought would protect her, whether she agreed or not.

The three suns had shifted position significantly, telling her she'd been unconscious for at least two hours. Her neck still ached from her father's precise strike - he'd known exactly how long he'd wanted her out of commission.

Focusing through her headache, she searched for familiar ki signatures. Gohan and Krillin's energy flickered faintly in the distance, masked but detectable now that she knew what to look for.

She found the cave easily enough, but something was different. A dome-shaped building sat inside, completely out of place on this alien world. After a moment's hesitation, she approached and knocked on the door.

"Cellera!" Gohan's face lit up as he opened it. "You came back! Just like you promised!"

His genuine joy at seeing her caught her off guard - so different from her father's carefully measured approval or Frieza's calculated praise. She managed a small smile despite her aching head. "I did say I would."

"Are you okay?" His expression shifted to concern, obviously noting how she looked fatigued. "Did something happen?"

Something in his innocent worry made her throat tight. Here was exactly what her mother had believed in - strength born from caring rather than conquest. Maybe she'd made the right choice after all.

"It's a long story," she said quietly. "One I think you all need to hear. Though first..." Cellera studied the impossible structure before her, trying to process this new technology. On countless purge missions, she'd never encountered anything like it. "How did you get an entire house inside a cave?"

"Oh, that's easy!" Bulma chimed in from her spot on the couch, coming to walk over to the door. "It's capsule technology - we can compress almost anything into a tiny capsule for transport. Pretty neat, huh?"

Cellera's eyebrows rose slightly, impressed despite herself. These Earthlings continued to surprise her with their innovations.

"What happened after you left?" Gohan asked as they made their way inside. "Did you find Dodoria?"

Her expression darkened as she sank into a chair. "I found him. And my father. And the truth about everything - our planet, my mother, why Frieza really keeps us under his control..."

Cellera met his gaze steadily, weighing her words. She told him about Frieza's destruction of their planet, the systematic elimination of Saiyans through false missions, her father's descent into cruelty after her mother's death.

"So he really did destroy your planet," Gohan said quietly.

"And he'll keep destroying others unless someone stops him." Cellera's hand moved to her mother's pendant. "What you showed me on Earth - fighting to protect rather than destroy - it's exactly what Frieza fears most. It's what my mother believed in, and why he had her killed."

"But what about Vegeta?" Krillin asked cautiously. "That was his energy we felt earlier..."

"My father chose a different path," she replied, unconsciously rubbing the spot where he'd struck her. "He believes the only way to defeat Frieza is to become more powerful than him, no matter the cost."

"Then you're really going to help us?" Bulma asked, studying the young Saiyan with new understanding.

"Yes." Cellera met each of their gazes in turn. "Frieza can't be allowed to get his wish for immortality. Not with the power he already possesses."

"We'll help you too," Gohan said, recognizing the same pain he'd felt losing Piccolo. "That's what friends do."

Cellera paused at the word 'friends', but found herself nodding. Looking at these Earth fighters - who'd crossed space itself to save their companions - she felt something she hadn't experienced since losing her mother. Hope.

"So," she said, pressing her thumb to her lip in familiar analysis, "what's our next move?"

"First, we eat!" Bulma announced, pulling containers from the fridge. "You won't defeat anyone on an empty stomach!"

Cellera's stomach rumbled at the sight of food. As she devoured her meal alongside Gohan and Krillin, her mind turned back to earlier events.

"You mentioned seeing my father?" she asked between bites of noodles.

"Oh yeah! It was close," Krillin said. "If not for that fish..."

Cellera paused mid-bite. "Fish?"

They explained how Vegeta had nearly found them when the young Namekian couldn't suppress his power level, but a fortunate fish's splash had diverted her father's attention.

"Fortune does seem to favor you Earthlings," she said with a slight laugh, though part of her wondered if her father had truly been fooled so easily.

"Oh!" Bulma perked up. "You weren't here earlier - Goku should arrive in six days! My father replicated and modified his old space pod for training."

"Kakarot's coming?" Cellera set down her chopsticks, remembering his condition after Earth. "He's healed already?"

"Yeah!" Gohan's eyes lit up. "Once he gets here, he'll beat Frieza and Vegeta, and we can wish our friends back!"

Cellera studied his hopeful expression, doubting Kakarot could match Frieza's power. But looking at Gohan's earnest face, she couldn't bring herself to dim that hope. "Kakarot would definitely help our odds," she said diplomatically.

All of a sudden, the Namekian boy gave a sigh. When Cellera glanced at his meal, she noticed he hadn't eaten even a bite.

"I know it's not very good, but you should probably try to eat something to get your strength back." Krillin said to the boy.

"Not very good!" Bulma cried from her place at the fridge, throwing the dessert she pulled out at Krillin. "Well that sure hasn't stopped you from stuffing your fat face! Would it kill you to show a little appreciation for once?! Huh?!" She questioned as she grew closer to him.

"I-I wasn't talking about the food!" Krillin began to plead. "I swear, it's the best I ever had!"

In Cellera's opinion, she thought the food tasted great, but then again, Saiyans aren't too picky. She glanced over at Gohan's plate of food which was just as finished as hers.

Cellera and Gohan watched the spectacle of Bulma continuing to yell at Krillin before meeting each other's gaze and laughing.

"Shut up you two!" Krillin said, evidently embarrassed.

Gohan caught sight of the Namekian boy still looking down at the table, not joining in with the jovial laughter. Bulma mentioned how maybe the boy is too upset to eat after everything today and Krillin attempted to coax him into eating, however the Namekian just shook his head.

"I'm sorry, but we don't eat. We Namekians only drink water." he informed.

Upon hearing this Krillin questioned him about the fields of vegetables out by the village. The boy explained that they were Ajissa plants and how there used to be forests of them back when Namek was still lush and beautiful before the massive storm came and nearly wiped them to extinction. He went on to talk about how the plants brought beauty to the planet and made their soil rich, so they are planting more in attempts to bring their planet back to life.

Everyone sat in silence for a moment and Cellera couldn't help but feel connected to the boy's story. While she may never be able to restore her planet or race, she's glad that the Namekians at least have a chance. Or at least, they would if Frieza wasn't around.

"Y'know, I just realized you haven't told us your name yet!" Gohan's voice cut through the silence.

"I'm sorry. It's Dende." The boy apologized. "And who are you? What brings you to Planet Namek?"

Suddenly, Krillin and Gohan tensed, setting down their food. Before Cellera could ask what was wrong, they rushed outside the cave. She followed, finding them staring intently into the distance.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated, trying to sense what had alarmed them. Her growing ki sense struggled to focus on the distant energies.

"Hey! What is it?" Bulma called, emerging from the cave. "Did they find us?"

"No... it's multiple power levels, all fading," Krillin said, fists clenched.

"The Namekians are dying!" Gohan's voice shook with anger.

Finally, Cellera caught it - numerous weak signatures disappearing one by one. But among them, she felt a devastatingly familiar energy. Her heart stopped.

"It's Vegeta! He's attacking a village!" Krillin spat. "Those Namekians never had a chance!"

"Father..." The word escaped her barely above a whisper.

"He's just an animal!" Bulma declared.

"He's learned to sense power levels without scouters," Cellera explained, her voice tight. "I should have mentioned it earlier."

"If either of them gets the Dragon Balls, it's over," Krillin's shoulders slumped. "No one could stop them."

Bulma suggested hiding one Dragon Ball, but Gohan shook his head. "They'd kill every Namekian until they found it."

"He's right," Cellera confirmed, watching Dende's horrified expression. Guilt twisted in her chest - while she hadn't killed anyone but Dodoria, her father's actions still felt partly her responsibility.

Krillin dropped to his knees, punching the ground. "What can we do? Even Goku might not be enough against both of them." He looked down, voice bitter. "I should've killed him when I had the chance."

"Krillin!" Gohan's sharp tone carried a warning glance toward Cellera.

Krillin's words hung in the air as he realized what he'd said. His head snapped up, face paling as he met Cellera's gaze. "I... I didn't mean..."

"You're not wrong," Cellera said quietly, surprising them all. "Back on Earth, you showed mercy. I begged for his life, promised we'd leave peacefully." Her thumb pressed against her lip, but this time it wasn't in analysis - it was to stop it from trembling. "Now more families are being torn apart. More children are losing their parents, just like..." She trailed off, her free hand unconsciously moving to her mother's pendant.

"Cellera..." Gohan stepped toward her, but she shook her head.

"My father believes becoming stronger than Frieza is worth any cost. Even becoming what destroyed our own people." She looked at Dende, seeing her younger self in his devastated expression. "I chose a different path, but that doesn't erase my part in bringing this here. Your mercy on Earth gave me a chance to change. Those Namekians dying now..." she trailed off.

"You can't blame yourself for his choices," Krillin said, his earlier bitterness replaced by understanding. "Besides, you're here now, helping us try to stop it."

"Maybe," she said, but her eyes remained fixed on the horizon where her father's ki signature continued its deadly work. "But understanding why someone becomes a monster doesn't make the victims any less dead."

"I…I still don't understand…Who are you?" Dende asked, drawing everyone's attention. "You know about the Dragon Balls, about these evil men..." he glanced cautiously at Cellera. "Please... are you here to help us?"

Krillin explained their journey to Namek, their hope to revive their fallen friends. Cellera noticed he said "Vegeta and his partner" rather than "partners." The distinction warmed her, though guilt still gnawed at her for not stopping what had happened on Earth.

"But he let it happen!" Krillin's words from Earth echoed in her memory. "If anything, he gave the go ahead!"

"And what about you?" Dende turned to her, his wariness clear. "You call one of our attackers father, yet you stand with them."

"I won't stop these Earth fighters from reviving their friends," Cellera said firmly. "And I won't let Frieza or my father destroy another world." Her hand moved unconsciously to her mother's pendant. "Some of us have learned there are things worth protecting."

Determination suddenly lit Dende's features. "Then we must fight together! And I know who can help - the Grand Elder!"

Gohan watched her as she spoke, seeing beyond the warrior facade to the girl his own age who'd never known peace. Who now stood against her only remaining parent to protect others from suffering the same fate.

Understanding passed between Cellera and Dende - two children watching their worlds torn apart by forces beyond their control. "Your world has been terrorized by these men too," he said softly. Determination suddenly lit his features. "Then we must fight together! And I know who can help - the Grand Elder!"

Dende explained how the Grand Elder had survived their planet's catastrophic storm, single-handedly repopulating their world. When Bulma questioned how, his response caught Cellera off guard.

"He spit the eggs out of his mouth, of course."

Cellera watched the ensuing confusion over Namekian biology with mild amusement, but her discerning mind was already racing ahead. While Bulma puzzled over single-gender species being "boring," Krillin focused on what mattered.

"So this Grand Elder can really help us?"

"Yes, but we must hurry," Dende urged, looking toward where Vegeta had attacked. "They already have five Dragon Balls. If another village is falling now..."

"Sorry kid," Krillin's voice held defeat. "I think it's too late."

"The energies are gone," Gohan confirmed gently. "Vegeta didn't leave survivors."

Cellera watched Dende's shoulders shake, his voice cracking. "Then... there are only a few of us left now." Her heart clenched, remembering similar words about her own people.

Then it clicked. Her hand moved to her face in that characteristic gesture of concentration as pieces fell into place. "My father has the sixth Dragon Ball, and if there aren't many Namekians left..." She met Dende's eyes. "The Grand Elder has the last one."

"That's right."

"This is bad." Cellera's tone couldn't quite mask her concern. "Frieza may struggle without scouters, but my father's energy sensing is far more advanced than mine. He'll find your Grand Elder."

"That's why we must warn him!" Dende pleaded. "Please, you have to help!"

"It's risky," Gohan said, "but we're in more danger if either of them gets that Dragon Ball."

Krillin placed his hands on Dende's shoulders, resolve hardening his features. "Lead the way. I'll follow."

Dende's answering smile carried pure gratitude.

"This shouldn't take long," Krillin turned to Cellera and Gohan. "But you two stay with Bulma."

Cellera started to protest until Krillin continued: "We can't risk Vegeta sensing all of us. Cellera, he knows your energy better than anyone's."

The logic made her argument die in her throat. "He's right," Gohan agreed. "We'll be safer split up."

"Be careful," Krillin warned as he and Dende rose into the air.

"You too!" Gohan waved while Cellera raised a single hand, watching them disappear across Namek's green sky. She couldn't shake the feeling that their group's separation marked the beginning of something far more dangerous than they'd faced yet.

---

It wasn't too much later that the two Saiyan children had begun to spar outside of the cave, hoping that it would ease any lingering anxiety about Krillin's and Dende's departure to see the Grand Elder.

"Keep your guard up," Cellera called out, circling Gohan. "Your left side is still open."

Gohan adjusted his stance, studying her movements. "Like this?"

She nodded, throwing a light punch to test his defense. "Better."

They fell into an easy rhythm of strikes and blocks, neither fighting to win, just practicing. After a few exchanges, Gohan found himself studying her style - so different from what he'd seen on Earth.

"You know," he said, blocking another combination, "you really don't fight like Vegeta at all. Every move is so... precise and careful. Like you're solving a puzzle instead of just attacking."

Cellera paused mid-strike, those words hitting her with unexpected force. Her father had once said those exact words about her mother, during one of those rare moments he spoke of the past. For Gohan to echo them so unknowingly... "You noticed that?"

"It's hard not to," Gohan said, maintaining his guard this time. "Vegeta and Nappa just powered through everything, but you... you look for your opponent's openings and weak points."

Her lips curved slightly, remembering similar praise from her father during early training sessions. Before Gohan could react to this rare show of emotion, she swept his legs out from under him. "And you still need to work on staying focused during conversation."

Gohan laughed from his new position on the ground. "I deserved that one."

"Yes, you did." But there was no mockery in her tone as she offered him a hand up - another difference from her father's style that didn't escape Gohan's notice.

As they resumed their stances, Gohan caught a glimpse of that thoughtful look she often wore, like she was processing more than just combat moves. Despite the looming threat of Frieza - in this moment they were just two kids training together, finding any slice of normalcy in their abnormal situation.

"Bulma's going to yell at us for not resting," Gohan said between blocks.

"Let her," Cellera smirked. "I'd rather spar than sit around waiting. Besides," she landed a light tap on his shoulder, "you still need to work on that left side."

---

Bulma did eventually come outside to yell at them.

"Will you two get in here and REST?" her voice cut through their sparring session. "I swear, you're as bad as Goku - always training instead of taking care of yourselves!"

Cellera was about to ignore her, but something in Bulma's stance made her pause. The Earth woman stood with her hands on her hips, radiating the same commanding presence Cellera had seen in Frieza's highest-ranked officers - except there was genuine concern beneath Bulma's anger.

"Five more minutes?" Gohan tried, using the same tone he probably used with his own mother.

"Now!" Bulma's foot actually stamped the ground. "Don't make me come out there!"

"We should go in," Cellera said, surprising herself and Gohan. At his questioning look, she added quietly, "She reminds me of Mother when she's angry. Best not to argue."

As they headed inside, Cellera found her attention drawn to Bulma. The Earth woman was an enigma - showing no fear of Saiyans while casually ordering them around, creating technology beyond anything Cellera had seen on purge missions, yet fussing over them like children. It was a contradiction that somehow worked.

"About time!" Bulma huffed, but her hands were gentle as she checked them for injuries. "Honestly, you kids are impossible. Sit down, I'll get you some water."

Cellera wouldn't admit it out loud, but something about Bulma's fussing felt... nice. The last person who'd shown such casual concern for her wellbeing had been her mother. She'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone care about things like rest and hydration instead of just power levels and battle.

"I heard that eye roll, young lady," Bulma called from the kitchen, making Cellera start. She hadn't even realized she'd done it. "Just because you're part of a warrior race, doesn't mean you get to skip basic self-care."

Gohan caught her eye and grinned, clearly used to this treatment. Cellera found herself fighting back a smile. Maybe there was something to be said for Earth women and their fierce protectiveness.

"Here," Bulma set water in front of them before disappearing back into the kitchen, muttering about 'stubborn Saiyans' and 'going gray early.'

"Thanks," Cellera said softly, surprising herself again. These Earth customs were becoming strangely natural.

"So..." Gohan took a long drink before asking, "Do you know how your parents met? I mean, from what I remember of you telling me about her, your mom sounds like the complete opposite from Vegeta."

Cellera traced the rim of her glass, remembering one of the rare times her mother had shared the story - one of those rare moments they had together at all. "She was the strongest female Saiyan warrior during Frieza's rule - one of the very few left after…." she trailed off, the implication left unsaid.

"She met Father during one of Frieza's missions," Cellera continued, not lingering on the revelation of what Dodoria had revealed earlier. "Said she fought like she was solving a puzzle instead of just destroying everything."

Cellera paused, the words echoing their earlier sparring session. She looked over at Gohan, unable to suppress a small smile as their eyes met - he had unknowingly echoed her father's exact words.

"Father was impressed by that," she continued, keeping her voice even. "During one of those rare times he spoke of her, he told me that's what caught his attention - she made him truly think instead of just reacting." Her hand moved to her familiar thinking pose. "Though lately, it seems he's forgotten the value of thinking before acting entirely."

"Did they fall in love?" Gohan asked with childlike curiosity.

Cellera wrinkled her nose at the sentiment, still very much a Saiyan child despite everything. "Saiyans don't really... I mean, we're warriors, not..." She fumbled for words before settling on, "They respected each other. Under Frieza's rule, that was rare enough."

From the kitchen, Bulma couldn't help but smile at Cellera's awkward explanation of Saiyan relationships. For all their power and pride, they were still just kids trying to understand grown-up things.

"You know," Bulma joined them at the table, "Gohan's parents met at a martial arts tournament. His mom actually fought his dad before they got married!"

"Really?" Cellera's eyes widened with interest. Fighting was something she understood, though the concept of marriage puzzled her. Among Saiyans, partnerships were determined by strength and potential for powerful offspring - romance was a foreign notion.

"Yeah! Right after Dad beat Piccolo too." Gohan added proudly.

"The Namekian who trained you?" Cellera's brow furrowed in confusion. "But I thought..."

"He wasn't always on our side," Gohan explained. "His whole purpose was to kill my dad - he was literally born for it. Everyone was terrified of him."

"Born to kill Kakarot?" The idea made her head spin.. Among Saiyans, trusting a former enemy with combat training was unthinkable. Even after years of service together, she'd never fully trusted Nappa. "And your father trusted him enough to let him train you?!"

"Well, dad didn't really say yes or no..." Gohan scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Bulma's grimace caught Cellera's attention - clearly there was more to this story than simple trust. She recognized that expression; it was the same one her mother used to make when discussing her father's more... questionable training methods.

"But I'm grateful he did because now I'm here being able to help save my friends!" Gohan continued. "Besides, he wasn't that bad. In fact, I kind of think of him like my big green uncle, although he didn't like it when I told him that." His laugh faded as his eyes grew distant. "Still, he died protecting me. His enemy's son."

Cellera studied Gohan's expression, trying to process this strange notion of chosen family. The idea of an enemy becoming a protector, of sacrifice driven by something other than duty or strength... It challenged everything she'd been raised to believe.

"I don't understand," Cellera admitted, adopting her familiar thinking pose. "He was raised for one purpose, then chose to die for the opposite?" Her mind drifted to her own training - endless drills on proper Saiyan conduct, on maintaining pride and power above all else. "You also referred to him as an 'uncle' even though he doesn't share blood with you or Kakarot unlike Raditz..."

The notion felt foreign to her very core. In their diminished race, blood ties were sacred - one of the few things even Frieza couldn't take from them. Yet here was Gohan, casually claiming deeper kinship with an enemy than his own uncle.

"That's what makes Earth so special," Bulma said softly. "People can change. They can choose who they want to be, no matter what they were born or raised for."

Her father would call it weakness - just as he had called her mother's mercy weak, just as he'd dismissed Kakarot's soft heart. Yet here was Gohan, proving that compassion could breed its own kind of strength. Like her mother before her, like Kakarot and his son - they had found power in protecting rather than destroying. Perhaps there was something to this gentler path after all.

"That's kind of our thing," Bulma added with a gentle smile. "Turning enemies into family. First Yamcha, then Piccolo….Yamcha lived in the desert robbing people before he met us," she continued with a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Now he's one of our closest friends and my boyfriend!"

Cellera's eyes widened slightly. These Earth customs grew stranger by the minute - not only befriending former enemies but forming romantic attachments to them? Everything her father taught screamed against such attachments. Yet watching how these connections had transformed Gohan from a crying child into a warrior who could match her in combat... perhaps there was strength in letting others close after all.

Despite her part in Yamcha's death, Bulma still showed her mercy. That trust weighed heavier than any battle armor. "But how can you trust so easily? After everything we did..."

"Who said anything about easy?" Bulma winked. "But sometimes you just see something in people - something they might not even see in themselves yet. Just like Piccolo probably never saw himself as a mentor until he met Gohan."

The words struck something in Cellera - they had seen potential in her that she hadn't recognized herself. Beyond the warrior her father demanded she become, beyond Frieza's tool of destruction. Even after everything she'd done on Earth, they'd offered her a chance to be something more. Just as Gohan had helped transform his would-be killer into a protective mentor, these Earth fighters had shown her another path.

She watched him casually claim the Namekian as his uncle, saw Bulma's fierce protection of them all, witnessed Krillin's unwavering loyalty. By Saiyan logic, it made no sense. Yet these bonds had produced warriors strong enough to challenge her father.

"Your way of living doesn't make you weak like Father claims," she said quietly. "It gives you something to be strong for... Thank you for helping me understand."

"That's what friends are for," Gohan grinned. The casual claim of friendship again caught her off guard, but before she could process it, Bulma clapped her hands.

. "Alright you two, get cleaned up. And Gohan, your mother will have our heads if you don't do some homework."

"Homework?" Cellera tilted her head, the unfamiliar word catching her attention.

"Yeah, Mom packed all my studying materials," Gohan sighed, leading her to another room where stacks of books towered precariously. "She says even saving the world isn't an excuse to fall behind."

Cellera stared at the mountain of books with a mix of confusion and fascination. "And you have to... learn all of this?"

Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip as she examined the complex equations. While she'd been trained to analyze battlefield tactics and enemy weaknesses, here was an entirely different kind of knowledge. One that somehow produced warriors as strong as Gohan without focusing on combat at all. She found herself studying each problem he solved, trying to understand how this "homework" fit into Earth's strange methods of creating strength.

As she watched him work, her analytical nature found familiar patterns. These problems had their own kind of strategy, like planning attack sequences or calculating power levels.

"This is incorrect," she said, her attention catching the error like she would a weakness in an opponent's stance. "The answer should be 8."

"Oh, wow! You're right!" Gohan exclaimed, quickly erasing and reworking the equation. "Thanks a lot, Cellera! Hey, do you mind checking through some more of these for me?"

Cellera blinked, taken aback. She hadn't meant to involve herself. While evaluating weak points in combat came naturally, being valued for her mind alone felt foreign. She glanced at Bulma, now napping on the couch. Surely he'd prefer the Earth woman's help over hers.

As if reading her thoughts, Gohan clapped his hands together. "Please?"

Cellera remained quiet, trying to will herself to say no, but something in his expression made refusal impossible.

"Fine," she breathed out, already treating this like a training exchange. "However, in exchange, you will help me master energy sensing. The headaches are becoming troublesome and if father can do it without them, then so can I."

"Deal!" Gohan thrust out his hand. Cellera studied the gesture before accepting the handshake, still unused to these casual Earth customs. Her confidence wavered as he placed a stack of papers about two centimeters thick in her hands. Perhaps she should have negotiated better terms.

---

"See how these variables connect?" Cellera pointed at the equation. "Like tracking multiple opponents - each part affects the others."

"Oh!" Gohan's eyes lit up. "So if I change this number, it shifts everything else, kind of like how power levels affect each other during battle!"

They continued working through problems, each finding ways to translate concepts between their different backgrounds. After an hour, the homework pile had noticeably decreased.

"Thanks Cellera!" Gohan stretched, setting aside the last completed page. "Ready to work on energy sensing now?"

Her immediate grimace made him laugh. "The headaches again?"

"I don't understand why it's so difficult," she admitted, frustration building like a failed battle strategy. Every attempt to track energy felt like trying to calculate trajectories with missing variables. "Father mastered it almost immediately during his battle on Earth." The comparison stung - she'd always prided herself on learning techniques faster than even Nappa, approaching each skill like a puzzle to be solved. But this... this defied her usual methodical approach.

"Maybe that's because he wasn't overthinking it," Gohan suggested. "Like how you just helped me with math - you didn't analyze every tiny detail, you just showed me how to see the connections."

"That's different," she protested. "Mathematics has clear rules, precise formulas..."

"Okay, close your eyes," Gohan instructed, shifting to teacher mode just as she had done with him. "Let's try something different."

Cellera settled into her usual meditation pose - spine straight, hands positioned perfectly, everything controlled and precise. Just as she'd been taught.

"No, no," Gohan shook his head. "You're too stiff. Relax a little."

"I am relaxed," she replied, not adjusting her posture one bit.

"You're trying too hard to control it," Gohan said as Cellera struggled with another headache.

The words triggered a memory - her mother's gentle voice during early training sessions: "Not everything can be mastered through force, little one. Sometimes you have to let go of control to find true strength."

Back then, she'd been too young to understand. Now, being taught by this gentle Earth child, her mother's wisdom finally made sense.

"Just feel the energy around you. Like..." He thought for a moment. "Like when you're sparring, and you can tell where your opponent will move next."

"That's called reading movement patterns and calculating probable-"

"No calculations!" Gohan interrupted. "Remember how you helped me understand the math problems? You didn't start with complex formulas. You connected it to something I already knew - fighting."

Cellera opened both eyes now, her thumb unconsciously moving to her lip as she processed his words. "So... you're suggesting I need to find a different way to approach this?"

"Exactly! Instead of trying to measure every energy signal like it's a power level on your scouter, just... feel it. Like a rhythm during a fight, it should feel natural."

Giving it another attempt, she closed her eyes, trying to let go of her rigid posture. It felt wrong, almost sloppy.

She tried again, forcing her posture to loosen. Everything in her training screamed against such sloppiness. But she remembered her mother's way - feeling the flow of combat rather than just its mechanics.

"Better!" Gohan encouraged. "Now, without trying to calculate anything, can you tell where Bulma is?"

"In the kitchen," Cellera answered immediately, then blinked in surprise. She hadn't analyzed the energy pattern or calculated distance - she'd just known.

"See? You did that without thinking! Try finding something else..."

"There's a bird... no, three birds," Cellera said slowly, "nesting above the cave entrance." She frowned. "But that's just observing small power levels, not-"

"You found them without a headache," Gohan pointed out. "Keep going. What else can you feel?"

She maintained that loose awareness, fighting her instinct to analyze. "Fish in the lake... some large animal in the distance..." Her brow furrowed. "The bigger powers are... overwhelming."

"That's normal," Gohan assured her. "Piccolo said it's like learning to swim - you start in the shallow end before diving into deeper water."

"The Namekian taught you this too?"

"Yeah! Though..." Gohan scratched his head sheepishly, "his teaching methods were a bit more... intense."

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know, throwing me at mountains, leaving me alone in the wilderness for six months..." He caught her shocked expression and laughed. "But hey, it worked! And I'm not going to throw you at any mountains, promise."

Cellera shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Your training methods are as bizarre as everything else on Earth."

From the kitchen doorway, Bulma watched their interaction with growing amusement. The young Saiyan warrior who'd arrived on Earth ready for conquest was now sitting cross-legged on her floor, being taught by the very child she'd once fought. And somehow, it seemed perfectly natural.

"You're drifting again," Gohan's voice brought Cellera's focus back. "Try to sense something further away. But remember - feel, don't calculate."

She took a breath, consciously relaxing her shoulders like he'd shown her. "There's... something big. Moving fast across the planet." Her eyes snapped open. "Father!"

"Don't tense up!" Gohan reminded her quickly. "You'll lose the connection. Just... let it be there. Like background noise during training."

Cellera closed her eyes again, fighting her instinct to analyze her father's power level and trajectory. Just observe, don't calculate. Just feel…

"Wait..." Cellera's concentration shifted, her relaxed posture tensing slightly. "That's not just Father. There's another power level with him..."

"Can you tell who it is?" Gohan asked, noticing her growing unease.

Her eyes snapped open, face paling. "Zarbon." The name came out barely above a whisper, memories of her month under his command still fresh.

"Who's Zar-" Gohan started to ask, but stopped as Cellera's eyes squeezed shut in pain, her hands pressing against her temples.

"They're fighting," she managed through gritted teeth. "But it's... everything's getting muddled. Too much power, too fast..."

"You're trying to analyze again," Gohan warned, but Cellera shook her head.

"Zarbon's energy... it's changing. Growing. He's-" She cut off with a sharp intake of breath, the headache overwhelming her attempt to track the battle.

"But Father-"

"Is too stubborn to die. I saw that firsthand with Goku." When Cellera looked puzzled, Bulma shrugged. "Let's just say I had front row seats. Now lie down before you make yourself sick."

Cellera wanted to resist. Warriors didn't need coddling. But something in Bulma's tone - that same authority her mother used to have - made her comply. The thought of accepting comfort made her shoulders stiffen, yet Bulma's gentle hands reminded her of buried memories: her mother easing training headaches, those rare moments between missions when both her parents were home. Before she could stop herself, she was letting Bulma guide her head into her lap.

"Rest," Bulma instructed softly. "The universe won't fall apart if you take a break for five minutes."

From his spot nearby, Gohan watched the scene with a small smile. Somehow, Bulma had a way of adopting every stray fighter that crossed her path - even former enemies.

"By the way Gohan, you're awfully calm despite everything going on." Bulma said, not stopping her gentle strokes through Cellera's hair.

"I've thought the same," Cellera agreed tiredly from her spot on Bulma's lap.

"It's easy! I know everything's gonna be okay once my dad gets here." Gohan replied, his sure smile reflecting none of the doubt she'd expect given their situation.

"Well, I hope he gets here soon." Bulma replied, leaning back slightly.

"As do I." Cellera found herself agreeing, surprised to realize she meant it. Perhaps their optimism was contagious. Their unwavering faith in Kakarot still puzzled her, though something about their certainty was oddly comforting.

"I just hope Krillin and Dende are still doing okay." Gohan wondered aloud as he began to meditate.

---

When Cellera woke, she found herself still in Bulma's lap, the Earth woman now running a brush through her hair with the same gentle authority she seemed to apply to everything. The sensation was so familiar yet foreign - no one had done this since her mother.

"Your split ends are terrible," Bulma muttered and Cellera furrowed her brow in confusion at the unfamiliar term.

Later, outside the cave, she and Gohan worked on combat maneuvers. Teaching him a new ki blast felt natural now after spending all that time helping him with his homework. Watching him master the technique so quickly, she couldn't help but give him a proud smile. They had moved on to combo attacks when Bulma's voice called them over.

"It's moving! It looks like it's heading right for us." She stated, holding the radar for them to see. Just like she said, there was a yellow ball on the screen with the number 1 by it heading in their direction. "Maybe it's Krillin on his way back."

"All right! Way to go, Krillin! I just knew he'd come through!" Gohan raised his hand in what Cellera recognized as another Earth gesture. She hesitated, studying his open palm like it was a combat technique to be analyzed, before awkwardly meeting it with her own. The casual contact felt foreign, yet somehow appropriate for what they'd become to each other.

"There's something that's been bugging me though." She begins to zoom out on the radar showing a cluster of Dragon Balls, the one Frieza has, one moving which is Krillin, and one lone ball by itself.

"How strange." Cellera muttered. "There's one by itself?"

"It looks like it's over in that direction." Gohan said as he turned and the pieces clicked together.

"That's where my father was attacking the village! He must've hid the Dragon Ball somewhere over there to come back for later!"

"He's not there anymore. I don't sense him….Now might be our only chance to get it." Gohan said.

"I agree. I haven't been able to sense his ki since his fight with Zarbon earlier." She said quietly, looking down. The earlier strain of trying to track their battle still lingered behind her eyes. She took a steadying breath before looking back at Gohan. "You should take the radar and find that Dragon Ball while we have the opportunity. I'll stay with Bulma - my father may not be there now, but if he returns..." She left the implications unspoken. Better to have someone who could mask their ki properly remain as protection.

"Got it! You can count on me!" Gohan nodded dutifully as Bulma handed him the device. "I'll be back as soon as I can!"

---

Cellera was glad she had stayed behind. As she and Bulma sat outside the cave, the Earth woman had been explaining how she'd witnessed the battle on Earth - something about a crystal ball and someone called Baba - when Cellera caught a gleam in her peripheral vision.

Trying to relax her mind despite the lingering headache, she caught fragments of a familiar ki signature approaching. The energy was clear enough to recognize Krillin, but tracking it still made her temples throb. Before she could warn Bulma...

"Are you alright?" Cellera asked as she went to help the woman up.

"Yes, thank you." She said sweetly to Cellera before her face changed to one of anger and turned towards Krillin. "How many times have I told you?! Don't do that!"

Before Krillin could defend himself and Bulma could get angrier, Cellera decided to step in. "It seems you've gotten the Dragon Ball."

"I sure did!" Krillin replied with a wide proud smile.

"Wow…" Bulma said, her anger forgotten as she took a closer look at the orbs. "The Dragon Balls on this planet sure are big!"

"I assume the ones on yours are not of this size?" Cellera asked and Bulma shook her head.

"Hey, so where's Gohan?" Krillin asked as he looked around for the boy. "Is he in the cave? Get him, I want to take you guys to meet the Grand Elder, Guru!"

"He went off to find a lone Dragon Ball near the village my father destroyed," Cellera replied. "But, why do you want-" Cellera cut herself off when she felt two familiar ki's headed their way and by the looks of Krillin's face, he sensed them too. While she was filled with relief to know her father was alive and by the looks of him, it seemed he was fully healed. Chalk up another boost in power for him.

"Oh, no." Krillin muttered, and shortly after, Vegeta landed next to them.

"It's Vegeta!" Bulma and Krillin exclaimed in panic.

"Well, the surprises just don't stop, do they?" Vegeta's voice carried that dangerous edge she remembered from their last encounter. "I seem to have found my traitorous daughter and her new Earthling friends." His eyes fixed on the Dragon Ball in Krillin's hand. "Along with exactly what I'm looking for."

"It seems you survived your run in with Zarbon, Father." Cellera stepped in front of Krillin, unconsciously adopting the protective stance she'd seen Piccolo use with Gohan. "I'll admit, I thought he had you beat when I sensed your energy fade."

Her father's mocking smirk widened at her mention of ki sensing. "Look at you, thinking you can distract your dear old dad. Learned a few tricks from these Earth weaklings, have you?"

Something in his tone reminded her of their last conversation - of disappointed lectures about Saiyan pride and proper she wasn't that same obedient soldier anymore. These Earthlings had shown her another kind of strength - the same strength her mother had died protecting. The power that came not from brutality or pride, but from protecting what mattered. Perhaps that's what Frieza had feared most in her mother, and what these Earth fighters now embodied.

"Tell me, daughter," Vegeta's voice dripped with sarcasm, "have these Earthlings convinced you their way is better? That mercy and sentimental feelings makes you stronger?" His eyes flickered to the pendant beneath her armor. "Their idealism will get them killed - just like your mother's did."

The mention of her mother made Cellera's fists clench, but she kept her voice steady. "They know enough, Father. About Frieza, about Mother, about everything. They understand more than you think."

"Understand?" He barked a laugh. "They understand nothing of our world, of what it takes to survive under Frieza's rule. They may speak of mercy and protection, but they've never known true tyranny."

Still, she had to play this carefully. While she hoped Gohan would return with the other Dragon Ball soon, they needed to avoid her father's suspicion. She caught flickers of another power level - the energy signature felt familiar but trying to focus on it made her head pound. Still, she managed to warn them: "We have company," she said, looking toward the sky behind Vegeta, just as Zarbon appeared.

Zarbon's arrival brought unwanted memories flooding back - a month of watching his methodical cruelty, of learning to mask not just her energy but her reactions to his "training methods." She noticed Bulma's admiring gaze and felt an uncomfortable twist in her stomach. She'd seen too many fall for Zarbon's beautiful facade, only to discover the monster beneath too late.

Krillin muttered something about being in trouble to which Bulma agreed, but not in the same way. When Cellera looked at the woman, she seemed to almost have hearts in her eyes.

Krillin and Cellera looked at each other before looking back at Bulma.

"Bulma, I really don't think he's here for a date!" Krillin said.

"He's right. Besides, he's not as handsome as you think he may be." Cellera warned and couldn't help the satisfaction she felt when she noticed Zarbon's energy flare slightly.

"You're just a kid, you don't understand!" Bulma retorted before getting a dreamy look again. "Do you really think he'd go on a date with me?"

Cellera decided to ignore Bulma's infatuation; she'd find out here soon enough what Zarbon was really like. It wasn't even five minutes from then when Zarbon transformed into his monster body and Bulma was thoroughly disgusted.

"So much for that date..." Bulma sighed. Cellera glanced at her, puzzled - hadn't she just been talking about her boyfriend Yamcha?

Cellera watched the battle unfold, analyzing each move as her father had taught her. Then something made her breath catch - her father, who had drilled Saiyan pride and honor into her since birth, threw dirt in Zarbon's eyes. The tactic was beneath a warrior's dignity by every standard he'd instilled in her, yet she couldn't deny its effectiveness. Yet it worked, allowing him to get behind Zarbon and punch through his armor before firing a ki blast that sent him into the lake.

Zarbon emerged, water cascading off his monstrous form. "You'll never kill me in this form, Vegeta!"

"You're wrong!" Her father's voice carried that dangerous edge she knew too well. "I can kill you in any form, Zarbon!"

Bulma stepped back and yelped in fear, almost falling over before Cellera steadied her. "Perhaps next time, you'll take my advice." She couldn't help but tease the woman. Bulma nodded quickly in agreement.

"Vegeta! I was just... following orders." Zarbon's plea echoed Dodoria's final moments. "Please don't kill me! Spare me! We can be a team!"

Cellera watched without pity as her father's response came in the form of a ki blast that sent Zarbon back into the lake. This time, she knew he wouldn't resurface. She'd spent enough missions with him to know the size of that hole through his chest was fatal. Unlike the innocent families he'd terrorized, Zarbon had earned his fate.

"Once I have all the Dragon Balls, I will be the one to defeat Frieza..." Vegeta's eyes fixed on his daughter. "Alone."

Their eyes met in a silent standoff. Never had she challenged him like this - their disagreement over Dodoria had been different, personal. But these Earthlings had shown her another way, and had made her question everything she'd been taught by her father. Even Bulma's defiant personality had affected her more than she'd realized.

Still, she was Rhuba and Vegeta's daughter. She knew when to play her cards right. "Krillin," she said firmly, leaving no room for argument, "we are no match for him. Give him the Dragon Ball."

"W-What?! Cellera?! Who's side are you on?" Krillin asked, shocked.

Cellera turned to face him, holding eye contact before drifting her eyes in the direction of where Gohan had gone to collect the Dragon Ball. Understanding crossed his face before he scowled.

"Hand. It. Over. Now." Her father enunciated each word. "Or the woman beside you will pay for your actions."

"There's no need to bring her into this," Cellera stepped in front of Bulma, chin lifting in unconscious defiance.

Standing between her father and Bulma, Cellera found herself calculating angles of attack out of pure habit - just as he'd taught her. But she wasn't focused on victory. Instead, she was searching his face for any trace of the father who had once watched her train with Mother, who had allowed small moments of pride to show through his stern facade. The father she hoped still existed somewhere beneath Frieza's conditioning.

Something flickered in her father's eyes - a crack in his stern mask she hadn't seen since her early training days with Mother. His gaze held her for a long moment, as if seeing a ghost. Later, she would realize he was seeing her mother's defiance living on through her, the same protective stance Rhuba had taken so many times before her death.

"So," his voice carried forced mockery, "you'll throw away your Saiyan pride for these weaklings? Just like she did?"

Cellera's hand tightened around her mother's pendant. "Mother didn't throw away her pride," she said quietly, meeting his gaze with the same steel he'd once admired in Rhuba. "She showed us there was pride in protecting what matters. That our strength could be used for more than just destruction."

Her father's energy crackled dangerously at the comparison, but she pressed on. "These 'weaklings' proved that on Earth - not through mercy, but by standing together. By fighting for something beyond themselves."

"Spare me your mother's philosophy," Vegeta sneered, though something in his expression wavered. He then narrowed his eyes at the Dragon Ball in his grip, a cruel smile spreading across his face. Her words had struck something, but his ambition burned stronger than any reminder of the past.

"Now all that remains is calling forth the Dragon!" his eyes gleamed with dangerous triumph. "Then I'll make my wish for immortality and become the Supreme Ruler of the Universe! And Frieza will die!" His laughter echoed as he blasted into the sky.

Once her father's energy faded to a distant point, Cellera's legs gave out. She dropped to her knees, unexpected laughter bubbling up from her chest. It wasn't the maniacal laughter of victory her father had just displayed, but something lighter, almost giddy.

"I apologize," she managed between laughs, noting Bulma and Krillin's concerned expressions. "It's just- that's the second time I've managed to outmaneuver him! All those years of perfect obedience, and now I've tricked him twice." She shook her head in disbelief. "Thank you for understanding what I was trying to do, Krillin."

Krillin nodded, though she could see the lingering anger in his eyes as he stared after her father. "Now we just hope Gohan doesn't run into him."

Cellera followed his gaze toward where her father had disappeared - the same direction Gohan had gone. But instead of the worry she expected to feel, she found herself filled with strange certainty. "He'll be alright," she stated firmly, surprising herself with her conviction. "Gohan is resourceful and intelligent. Even if they cross paths, he'll find his way back to us with that Dragon Ball." She smiled slightly. "After all, he managed to survive encounters with both me and my father on Earth."

Bulma's hand squeezed her shoulder gently. "Look at you, having faith in people. We're definitely rubbing off on you."

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Success thrummed through Gohan's veins as he soared through Namek's alien sky, the oversized Dragon Ball secure in his arms. His father would be proud - not just of finding it, but of how he'd applied everything he'd learned. Piccolo's lessons about tracking energy, Cellera's insights about tactical approaches, even his own studying habits had helped him piece together where Vegeta might have hidden the orb.

"Wait until Cellera sees this!" A grin spread across his face as he pictured her analytical expression, thumb pressed to lip while she examined their prize. She'd probably point out at least three ways he could have retrieved it more efficiently, but he knew she'd be impressed he'd managed it alone.

The Dragon Ball's smooth surface caught the light of Namek's three suns, nearly as big as he was. Its size made flying awkward, but Gohan didn't mind. After everything they'd been through - losing their friends on Earth, watching the Namekians suffer, seeing Cellera stand up to her father - finally something was going right.

We're really going to do this, he thought. We'll bring everyone back. Piccolo,Yamcha,Tien, Chiaotzu...

His optimistic planning cut short as a familiar energy signature prickled at the edge of his senses. The same presence that had terrorized Earth, that continued to push his own daughter toward a path of destruction.

Vegeta.

The Namekian Dragon Ball clutched tightly against his chest, Gohan skimmed close to the ground, trying to keep his ki as low as possible just as Piccolo had taught him. The weight of responsibility pressed against him with each passing moment - Krillin and Cellera were counting on him to bring this back safely. He'd already sensed his father's former rival in possession of most of the Dragon Balls; they couldn't afford to lose this one too.

A sudden spike in ki made him freeze mid-flight. The energy signature was unmistakable - Vegeta. And he was heading straight toward him.

Gohan dove behind an outcropping of rocks, suppressing his energy just as Cellera had been practicing during their training sessions. The irony wasn't lost on him - using techniques he'd helped teach the daughter to hide from her father. His heart pounded as Vegeta's presence grew closer, but he forced his breathing to remain steady. Like meditation during study breaks, he told himself. Just stay calm and-

"Prepare to die!" Vegeta yelled, a hand raised with an attack ready.

"Wait!" Gohan found himself yelling out. He quickly set the Dragon Ball beside his hiding place, silently praying Vegeta wouldn't sense it. "Stop. Here I am!" he called, climbing the outcropping of rocks.

"Ah...The son of Kakarot." That same calculating look Cellera often wore crossed Vegeta's features, though his held none of his daughter's analytical curiosity - only cold assessment. "I should've known it was you. We meet again."

"I just met with my daughter and your friends, or should I say...both of your friends." Vegeta's smile held no warmth. "I suspected you might be close by."

Gohan's heart clenched at the mention of Cellera and the others. "A Dragon Ball!" he gasped, finally noticing the orb tucked against Vegeta's side. "Where did you get that from?!"

"Oh this? It was a gift from my dear daughter." Vegeta's mockery made Gohan's fists clench. "She made the bald-headed one and the bratty woman give it up after seeing she would be no match against my power."

"What did you do to them?!" Anger surged through Gohan - not just for his friends, but for Cellera being forced to choose between her father and her newfound path. "Did you hurt them? Answer me!"

"Actually, I never even touched them." Vegeta's casual tone carried dangerous undertones. "But if you want, I could easily be talked into going back!"

"You see, boy, because I now possess all of the Dragon Balls, I was, as my daughter is so fond of, 'merciful.'" The way he twisted Cellera's word - a philosophy inherited from her mother - made Gohan's blood boil.

His eyes shifted slightly toward where he left the Dragon Ball he had just retrieved. "He thinks he has all of them…" he mumbled under his breath, slowly realizing what was going on.

All of a sudden, Vegeta moved. One moment he was hovering above, the next he was standing right in front of Gohan and he gave a frightened whimper.

"Tell me, what's that thing in your hand?" he asked, eyeing the Dragon Radar.

Gohan stared at the Dragon Radar for a moment before understanding clicked into place like one of their study sessions - Cellera had used her father's lack of knowledge, and arrogance against him, letting him believe he had won while ensuring they kept one Dragon Ball in reserve. Even facing her father, she'd found a way to protect both her friends and their mission. He steeled himself, determined not to let her plan go to waste. He wasn't the greatest liar but he had to try.

"It's just a watch!" The lie felt clumsy on his tongue - he was his father's son after all, better at fighting than deception. But he remembered how Cellera had described surviving under Frieza's rule: sometimes protection meant playing along until you found your opening.

Vegeta gave a disbelieving chuckle. "With all the scientific technology on your planet, you're trying to tell me that that huge device is a watch?"

"It's an antique watch!" he insisted. Vegeta seemed to accept it as an answer because he changed the topic.

"Anyway, is your father on this planet as well?"

"No, he's not! I don't know where my dad is. I haven't seen him in a very long time." Gohan felt his voice waver slightly. If only his mother knew he was lying through his teeth right now, she would claim her sweet little boy is a delinquent.

"Such neglect..." Vegeta's hand settled on Gohan's head with false gentleness. "You see, we are the last of the Saiyans. That means we have to look out for one another. Understand?"

The words were an echo of Cellera's earlier conversations about their dwindling race, but where her concern had been genuine, her father's touch held only cruel intent.

"It's like..." Vegeta continued, bending down, "like the four of us are a family."

The mockery of everything Cellera had come to value - protection, chosen bonds, mercy - made Gohan's muscles lock in anticipation. His instincts proved correct as Vegeta's hand drove him forward into a devastating knee strike.

"Not too bright, are you, boy? You're an even bigger fool than your father and Cellera. And that's saying a lot." Vegeta's boot pressed against Gohan's head. "Go home. Go cry in the arms of your mother, little Saiyan. This is no place for a sniveling baby!"

As Vegeta took his boot off his head, he blasted off with one final word. "Bye."

Every cruel word, every twisted manipulation showed Gohan why his young friend had chosen to stand with them instead - her father had become everything her mother had fought against.

He slowly began to push himself up from the ground, a grin coming across his face despite the pain. "The Dragon Ball," he gritted out. "He never found the other Dragon Ball!" His excited attempt to prop himself up met only empty air, sending him tumbling backwards - right next to the very Dragon Ball he'd managed to keep from Vegeta's grasp.

Looking at the orb, Gohan couldn't help but feel proud - not just of hiding it, but of being part of Cellera's larger strategy. Together, they'd managed to outmaneuver someone who'd spent years teaching her tactical warfare.

---

Cellera watched with poorly concealed fascination as Bulma demonstrated the capsule technology again, the entire house vanishing into something smaller than her scouter had been. Despite the tension of waiting for Gohan's return and the lingering unease about deceiving her father, her analytical mind couldn't help but catalogue the possibilities of such innovation.

"Here," Bulma tossed her a handful of capsules, "make yourself useful and help pack these."

"Still no sign of Gohan?" Krillin paced nervously, eyes scanning the horizon.

"He's fine," Cellera said firmly, surprising herself with her own certainty. After sensing her father's energy spike earlier, she should have been worried. Instead, she felt an unfamiliar but unshakeable faith in her young friend's abilities. "There - you can feel his energy approaching now."

As if summoned by her words, Gohan appeared in the distance, Dragon Ball clutched triumphantly in his arms and a broad grin lighting his face despite what looked like fresh bruises.

"You did it!" Krillin exclaimed.

"Just as I knew you would," Cellera added, her own smile matching his - a gesture that still felt foreign but increasingly natural around these Earthlings.

"We need to move quickly," Krillin started, but Gohan cut him off.

"I know - I just had a run-in with Vegeta." His words made everyone freeze.

"What?!" Krillin and Bulma exclaimed in unison.

As Gohan described the encounter, Cellera's expression grew thoughtful. Her father's words about looking out for fellow Saiyans weren't entirely false - he'd always stressed the importance of their heritage, of maintaining their pride as one of the universe's strongest warrior races. But where she'd found strength in protecting others, he saw power as the only path forward.

"Such neglect..." Gohan quoted Vegeta's words, and Cellera remembered similar moments - her father's attempts to guide her toward what he believed was right, even if his methods were harsh. He truly believed he was protecting her, in his own way.

"Cellera?" Gohan's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Are you okay?"

She realized her hand had moved to her mother's pendant. Letting it drop, she met Gohan's concerned gaze.

"You managed to hide the Dragon Ball from him despite everything," she said, letting genuine pride fill her voice. "Not many could maintain such clear thinking under his pressure."

Gohan's cheeks reddened at the praise, but before he could respond, Bulma's voice cut through the moment.

"If you're all done with the mutual admiration society, we need to MOVE!" She was already throwing the last capsules into her case. "Now!"

"She's right," Cellera's expression turned serious. "My father's pride won't allow this deception to go unchallenged once he realizes we've both tricked him. And knowing him..." Her eyes narrowed with that calculating intensity she'd inherited from her father. "That realization will come soon."

"How mad do you think he'll be?" Krillin asked nervously.

Cellera's gaze drifted to where her father's energy signature pulsed in the distance. "Let's not be anywhere near here when we find out."

---

"This is it! The last Dragon Ball is right here." Vegeta gloated to himself as he stared at the green lake. "And all I have to do is swim down there and get it."

He jumped into the lake, swimming towards where he had hidden the Dragon Ball after destroying the Namekian village. A shame really - they had asked for it, refusing to be generous with what he required.

In mere moments immortality would be his, and he would rule the universe. Not even Frieza or his own daughter could stop him. He continued swimming until he reached his destination, scanning the lake floor where the Dragon Ball should have been. His confident smile faltered at the empty space before him.

Understanding hit like a ki blast. That boy's nervous glances, his daughter's too-easy surrender of their Dragon Ball. He'd been so focused on his victory, so certain of his dominance, that he'd missed what was right in front of him.

"Those little..." Energy crackled around him as he remembered Gohan's clumsy lie about the device in his hand. Not a watch - a radar. His daughter had helped them track the Dragon Balls all along. And while he'd been gloating about possessing them all, they'd kept one hidden.

The lake's surface began to ripple from his rising power. His own daughter and Kakarot's brat had outmaneuvered him. Had turned his own tactical teachings against him.

"CELLERA!" His roar sent waves crashing against the shore. Yet beneath his rage, a treacherous thought surfaced - she truly was Rhuba's daughter, finding ways around brute force just as her mother once had. And that half-breed... perhaps he had underestimated them both.

But such thoughts were dangerous. Sentiment was weakness, and weakness couldn't be tolerated. Not when he was so close to his goal.

"When I find you," he yelled, blasting into the air, his rage so pure that all anyone would see were the whites of his eyes. "I'll kill you! You're dead!"

"I swear it! YOU ARE DEAD!" He dragged out the last word, his fury echoing across Namek's sky.

---

Cellera felt a familiar chill run down her spine as she and Gohan looked over the top of the ravine they'd chosen for shelter. She pushed aside the nagging fear, telling herself it was just the wind cutting through the rock formations.

"We're safe now. Vegeta will never find us down here." Gohan turned to reassure Bulma and Krillin, who sat on the rocks below.

"Why would anyone look for us in such a horrible place?!" Bulma's frustration echoed off the ravine walls.

"Well, uh, look on the bright side Bulma. At least this way you're not stuck in the cave anymore." Krillin offered weakly.

"Krillin's right, we just gotta be positive, that's all!" Gohan added with characteristic optimism.

Cellera watched Bulma with growing sympathy. Among their group, the Earth woman was the only one without combat training or survival skills beyond her technological expertise - which, Cellera had to admit, had proven invaluable with those fascinating capsules.

"You want positive? Alright!" Bulma crossed her arms in a gesture that reminded Cellera startlingly of her father. "I am positive that we have no food, or water, or even a bathroom for that matter! How's that for positive?" She fixed Krillin with a sidelong glare. "Well?"

"Hey, I got an idea Bulma!" Krillin brightened. "Why don't you wait here while Gohan, Cellera and I visit Guru and get him to awaken their hidden potential!"

"To... to do what?" Gohan asked from his perch.

"Hidden potential?" Cellera's mind immediately began running through possibilities. After everything she'd seen on Earth, the concept wasn't entirely foreign, but still...

"I will not be left out here all by myself, okay?" Bulma's demand carried an edge of genuine fear.

"You gotta trust me," Krillin pressed. "First of all, we'll be back before you know it! And second, when we do return, Vegeta won't stand a chance against us!"

Seeing Bulma's unconvinced expression, Cellera stepped forward. Her time with these Earthlings had taught her something about trust and promises. "Bulma," she said, meeting the woman's eyes with the same steady gaze she'd given Gohan before confronting Dodoria, "I promise, we'll come back for you."

Bulma studied her for several long moments before finally relenting. "Fine. But you three better hurry!"

Cellera answered with a slight smile and nod - gestures that felt more natural with each passing day. As Krillin and Gohan gathered their belongings, she spared one last glance at the sky where her father's ki signature pulsed in the distance. Whatever these "hidden powers" were, they'd need them soon enough.

Together, the three warriors took to the air, leaving Bulma to watch their forms disappear into Namek's eternal day.

---

The endless green sky stretched before them, Namek's perpetual daylight casting multiple shadows that made distance calculations tricky.

below rippled in patterns that reminded Cellera of ocean waves. Despite their steady pace, Guru's tower remained unseen on the horizon.

"Jeez! At this rate it's gonna take us forever to get to Guru's house!" Krillin's exasperated voice carried over the wind.

"But we can't risk putting out any more power or Vegeta will find us for sure." Gohan stated.

Father keeps getting stronger," Cellera added, falling into that stillness that always preceded her most insightful observations. "I sensed how much his power had increased with his battle with Zarbon earlier - he should have been severely injured, yet when he confronted Zarbon again he was completely healed. That doesn't bode well in our favor."

"You mean because of that power boost you mentioned to us before?" Gohan asked, connecting the pieces together.

Cellera nodded, pleased at his quick understanding. "Exactly."

"Speaking of power," Gohan turned to Krillin, curiosity overtaking concern, "how can you be sure that going to see Guru will even help? I mean you keep talking about our "hidden potential"... Do you really think I have any?" he asked.

"Trust me, I didn't think I had any either." Krillin grinned. "But if anyone's got hidden potential, it's got to be you Saiyans - especially Goku's son!"

"I agree." Cellera chimed in. Her thoughts drifted to the boy beside her. Sure he was soft at heart, but as she has watched multiple times on Namek and back on Earth, it seems there's more power that lies beneath him, but only when anger seems to take over. If this Guru could somehow draw that out of Gohan, he may even put up a good fight against her father enough where the three of them could defeat him.

"So how does Guru unlock these powers?" Cellera asked Krillin.

"Well first he puts his hand on your head and he has you clear your mind, then the next thing you know, an abundance of power just flows from you!" Krillin explained enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, he also mentioned something about a Super Saiyan? Does that ring any bells for you Cellera?"

"He mentioned a Super Saiyan?" Cellera's posture shifted into that same rigid focus her father adopted when discussing Saiyan legends. "It's a legend Father always spoke of with reverence - a form that exceeds one's limits, drastically increasing their speed, strength and power, said to only come to a worthy Saiyan once every thousand years."

"Father believes it's our birthright, our true warrior potential unleashed. But Frieza..." She met Gohan's curious gaze. "Frieza fears it enough that he destroyed our entire planet. The mere possibility of a Super Saiyan emerging was enough to warrant genocide. That, combined with our growing rebellion..." She trailed off, the weight of their lost heritage heavy in her voice.

After a few more hours of flying, Krillin suggested that they take a quick rest on one of the islands below. As they landed, Krillin and Gohan began to unpack some of their snacks and water from their bag.

"Here," Gohan offered, holding out some of his food to Cellera. "Mom always packs way too much anyway."

Cellera hesitated for a moment - the only person she'd ever shared resources with was her father, a rare gesture of affection between training sessions and missions. But these Earthlings had been steadily dismantling everything she thought she knew about survival. "Thank you," she said, accepting the offering.

"You know," Krillin observed as they ate, "your energy sensing has really improved, Cellera. You noticed that Zarbon guy's energy even before I did."

"The headaches are less frequent now," she admitted, meeting Gohan's gaze. "Your way of teaching made more sense than trying to force it. Though I still don't understand how you all make it seem so effortless."

Gohan's cheeks reddened at the unexpected praise before he grinned. "Maybe because you're not overthinking it anymore? Remember our training sessions - you did better when you stopped trying to calculate everything."

"Speaking of calculating, we've been flying for a while now." She turned to Krillin, who stuffed his face with a banana. "How much farther is it?"

"Well, I don't know exactly…But I'd say we still have a ways to go yet." He admits.

Cellera and Gohan both gave a small whine, the sound surprising her - a month ago, such an open display of frustration would have been unthinkable. These Earthlings were changing her in ways she hadn't expected.

"All right." Krillin relents, seeing the two Saiyan children's unhappy faces. "I guess we can risk picking up the pace a bit. We should be far enough away from Vegeta now that he won't be able to sense us."

"Yeah, and not only that, my dad should be getting here any minute now! He'll need our help" Gohan agreed.

"We better hurry then," Cellera said, already calculating distances. "My father most likely hasn't taken the frequent breaks we have, and that just shortens the gap between us."

"Well when you guys put it that way, we've got no time to lose! Let's go!" Krillin launched into the air, Gohan and Cellera right behind him.

As they flew, Cellera found herself hoping Guru's power unlock would be worth all this effort. They'd need every advantage they could get against what was coming - both from her father and whatever else Namek had in store for them.

---

Their increased pace paid off as they finally spotted Guru's dwelling atop a towering plateau. But just as relief began to set in, Cellera felt that familiar ki signature prickling at her senses.

"Oh no! Father!" The words escaped through gritted teeth as all three of them halted mid-flight, turning toward the approaching energy. Gohan and Krillin's expressions mirrored her own tension as they felt the raw fury in her father's energy. "We better hurry! There's only three things in this universe I truly fear - my father's rage, Lord Frieza, and Lord Beerus... and Father's rage is the only one currently heading this way!"

When Gohan opened his mouth to ask about Beerus, she shook her head sharply. Some fears were better left unexplained.

"You two go!" Krillin shrugged off his backpack with determined movements. "I'll stay here and try to hold him off. Head to Guru's house without me."

"But Krillin..." Gohan protested.

"Krillin, let me stay instead." Cellera stepped forward, her analytical mind already calculating chances. "I know his fighting style-"

"No!" Krillin's voice carried an authority she rarely heard from him. "We need both of you to have your powers unlocked if we're going to have any chance. Now go!"

Cellera hesitated, studying the Earth warrior who'd shown her such kindness despite their history. "As you wish," she said finally.

As she and Gohan raced toward Guru's tower, she felt a new respect for these Earthlings' courage. Perhaps that's what her mother had meant about different kinds of strength.

---

The entrance to Guru's dwelling loomed before them, its architecture unlike anything Cellera had seen on their purge missions. The spire of Guru's home pierced the perpetually bright sky, its organic architecture so different from the stark lines of Frieza's ships or the geometric patterns of Earth's buildings. The constant daylight reflected off its white surface, making it seem to glow from within.

A tall Namekian warrior stood guard, his presence radiating both power and serenity.

"Halt," he commanded as they approached. His eyes narrowed at Cellera's armor, clearly recognizing its association with Frieza's forces. "State your purpose."

"Please," Gohan stepped forward, "Krillin sent us. We need to see Guru!"

The warrior - Nail, Cellera remembered from Krillin's description - maintained his stern gaze on her. "And her? Why should we trust one who wears the armor of our enemies?"

Cellera met his gaze steadily, resisting her usual impulse to analyze and calculate. Instead, she did what these Earthlings had taught her - she spoke from truth rather than tactics.

"Because I'm tired of being someone's weapon," she said quietly, her hand moving to her mother's pendant. "I've seen enough worlds destroyed, enough families torn apart. I want to protect something for once, not just destroy it."

Nail studied her for a long moment before Dende emerged from inside, his face lighting up at the sight of Gohan and Cellera.

"It's okay, Nail! They're friends!" Dende assured. "Krillin told us they would be coming."

"Very well," Nail stepped aside, though his watchful gaze never left Cellera. "Enter, but know that I will be observing."

The interior of Guru's dwelling felt ancient, filled with a weight of wisdom that made even Cellera's analytical mind quiet for a moment. There, seated in a massive chair, was the eldest Namekian - so much larger than any they'd encountered that Cellera had to resist the urge to calculate the biological implications.

"Welcome, young ones," Guru's voice carried both power and gentleness. "Step forward, young girl."

Cellera approached, trying to maintain her usual composed demeanor despite her racing thoughts. Guru's massive hand descended toward her head.

"Your mind holds much darkness," Guru observed to Cellera, "but I see much light has begun to shine through. Like your mother before you, you seek balance between tactical necessity and protecting what matters. This has served you well in survival, but true power comes from learning when to think and when to feel."

Something shifted inside her - not just energy, but understanding. Memories flooded through her: her mother's lessons about mercy, training sessions with her father, Gohan showing her how to sense energy without overthinking, Bulma's fierce protectiveness, Krillin staying behind to give them this chance...

"The power was always within you," Guru said as warmth flooded through her body. "You need only to trust yourself to feel it, not just think it. It is not a sin to feel emotion, but a gift."

When his hand lifted, Cellera felt... different. Fuller somehow, as if parts of herself she'd locked away were finally free to emerge. She flexed her fingers, feeling the new power coursing through them. But it was more than just raw strength - her awareness had expanded in ways her previous analytical approach to ki sensing never achieved. Energy signatures that once required intense concentration to detect now flowed naturally into her consciousness, like tributaries joining a river.

The constant headaches that had plagued her attempts at energy sensing were gone, replaced by an almost instinctive understanding. Perhaps this was what Guru had meant about feeling rather than just thinking. She could sense Gohan beside her, his own energy humming with untapped potential, and beyond him, Krillin's steady presence outside. Even her father's distant ki signature registered with a clarity that would have been impossible hours ago.

Gohan then approached with a characteristic mix of respect and curiosity as Guru's hand lowered toward his head.

"And you, young one," Guru's voice carried equal weight addressing Gohan, "your heart holds such light, yet you struggle to believe in your own strength. Like your friend here, you too seek balance - between a scholar's mind and the warrior's spirit. Together, you each hold what the other seeks to learn." Guru gave a cough before he spoke again, making Dende slightly panic. "I can feel that you have truly amazing hidden powers. The strongest I've ever felt in five hundred years!"

Cellera glanced at Gohan in surprise. While she knew the boy was powerful, to hear that this ancient Namekian considered him the strongest potential he'd encountered in five hundred years... It validated every observation she'd made about her young friend's capabilities.

"Please! I have to hurry! It's Vegeta! He's right outside!" Gohan's warning carried genuine fear.

The familiar spike in her father's ki made Cellera's stomach drop. Her thoughts immediately went to Krillin - the Earth warrior who'd stayed behind to give them this chance. Had her father...? No, she couldn't sense any signs of battle. But then why had Krillin failed to delay him?

Relief flooded through her as she sensed Krillin's ki signature outside. He was alive - her father hadn't harmed him.

"Nail, no!" Dende cried out as the warrior strode toward the entrance. "Let me handle this!"

"Stay here," Nail commanded. "I'll deal with our... guests."

Cellera's attention snapped back to Gohan as Guru's power began flowing into him. Her own newly unlocked energy let her sense the change more clearly now - like watching a dam break, power surged through the young half-Saiyan in waves that made her previous assessment of his potential seem laughably conservative.

"Incredible..." she breathed, her analytical mind struggling to quantify the raw power emanating from Gohan.. All those moments she'd seen glimpses of his true strength, and this was what had been lying dormant?

When Guru's hand lifted, Gohan's energy settled into something steadier but no less impressive. The boy blinked, looking at his hands in wonder.

"Come on," Cellera said, moving toward the entrance. "We better get out there before-"

The words died in her throat as a familiar energy signature crashed over her like a wave. Her newly enhanced senses made her father's approach impossible to miss - his ki blazing with such intensity it nearly overwhelmed her. Beside her, Gohan tensed, likely feeling the same overwhelming presence.

"So! You've come to settle the score at last, have you?" Her father's roar echoed through the dwelling. "Here I am, Kakarot!"

She exchanged a look with Gohan. Her father must have sensed their increased power levels and assumed... Well, this would be interesting.

As they emerged into Namek's eternal daylight, she watched her father's expression shift from battle-ready anticipation to shocked recognition, then rapidly darkening anger as he realized who actually stood before him.

"You..." The word carried equal parts fury and disbelief. "But your...Your power levels...What is this place? What have you done?!"

Krillin gave a chuckle as Gohan shifted into a battle stance beside her. Cellera watched her father analyze each person before him, his tactical mind working just as she'd been taught. His smirk turned into a laugh that held more bravado than genuine confidence.

"What? Am I supposed to be scared now, just because you've gotten a little 'power boost?' It changes nothing! You're still nowhere near my level. Not even you, my traitorous daughter, so go ahead if you want and attack me." The taunt didn't quite mask his unease at their increased power.

Anger flared in Cellera, matching Gohan's beside her, but before anyone could move, Nail stepped forward with eerie calm.

"Your move," Vegeta challenged the Namekian.

Cellera dropped into her fighting stance, already calculating how to best use her awakened powers. She noticed Krillin and Gohan moving to flank her - the Earth tactics she'd come to appreciate already becoming instinct.

But before the tension could break, Dende burst from Guru's dwelling. "Hey...Hey! Listen!" he cried. "Guru just told me there's some kind of powerful force headed straight for us!"

"What in the- Who is this Guru?" her father demanded, confusion breaking through his anger.

"Hey! He's right! Something is coming!" Krillin's eyes widened as he searched the sky.

"Yeah, that power level's huge!" Gohan confirmed.

Cellera felt her heart begin to pound as five familiar ki signatures registered. Surely Frieza hadn't called them...

"Wait! I know! It's Goku!" Krillin's face lit with hope. "I knew he'd be here to save us!"

"Kakarot?" Vegeta questioned, looking skyward.

"No..." The word escaped Cellera in a horrified whisper. "Father, it's the Ginyu Force."

"No, not them!" Real fear crept into Vegeta's voice - the same tone she remembered from childhood warnings about Frieza's cruelest warriors.

An involuntary shudder ran through Cellera, though not entirely from fear. "They're still trying to recruit me, aren't they?"

Vegeta's expression darkened further. "Ever since they saw you mimicking their poses when you were two..." He shot her a look that somehow managed to be both accusatory and sympathetic. "I told you those ridiculous dances would come back to haunt us."

"I was a toddler!" Cellera protested, her cheeks reddening. "How was I supposed to know they'd spend the next three years calling me their 'adorable little recruit'?"

Gohan and Krillin exchanged bewildered looks - somehow, the idea of Frieza's elite warriors cooing over a tiny Cellera doing poses made them even more confused than scared.

"If we don't get those Dragon Balls now," Vegeta's grip tightened on her shoulders, "Captain Ginyu will either kill us all or make you their newest member. I'm not sure which is worse."

"We don't have it on us," she admitted, her own eyes wide with panic.

"Tell me where it is!" The command held more desperation than anger. "Tell me and I promise no harm will come to you or your new little Earth friends." His grip tightened, and Cellera recognized this tone - it was how he used to speak before missions, when ensuring she understood the dangers ahead. "You know exactly what will happen if we don't make my wish before they get here. We're all dead!"

Cellera screwed up her face in a grimace. Her father was right, but she'd come too far to just give in! Yet if they didn't act quickly, the Ginyu Force would destroy them all. She searched her father's eyes, seeing not just panic and fear, but that fierce protectiveness she'd almost forgotten he possessed.

"What do you think we are? Stupid? Leave Cellera alone, Vegeta, right now!" Krillin demanded.

"Yeah, you can't control her choices anymore!" Gohan added.

"No! He's right!" Cellera stepped forward. Her years under Frieza's command had taught her the harsh reality of what his elite force represented - their deadly intent lurking beneath every playful pose and familial gesture. These weren't enemies who could be reasoned with or shown mercy; they lived only to serve their master. "The Ginyu Force are Frieza's strongest men in his entire army! All five of them are as strong as Father, if not stronger!"

Her gaze met Krillin's, understanding his hesitation but knowing the truth of their situation. "I wouldn't support this if I saw another way. But I've known these warriors my whole life - they'll kill us all without hesitation." 'Except me', she thought grimly, 'and death would be preferable to joining their force'. "And no amount of mercy will change that."

"And in a few moments, they'll be here with their new scouters, find us and kill us all!" Vegeta pressed, desperation bleeding through.

"No...I-I don't believe you!" But even Krillin couldn't deny the approaching ki signatures.

"Do you feel that power?" Vegeta's voice cracked with frustration. "None of us are strong enough to face that! We only have one chance. We have to use the Dragon Balls to make me immortal!"

"I fear what the Saiyans are saying may be true," Nail confirmed. "This is an evil presence that approaches."

After a moment of tense silence, Krillin turned to Vegeta. "Here's the deal: We use the wish on Cellera."

The suggestion surprised her, though she understood the logic - perhaps her father would be more agreeable to protecting his own daughter.

"My daughter has power, but she's only been fighting for three years!" Pride mixed with protectiveness in his voice. Even now, after her betrayal, after everything - he was still trying to shield her from what was coming. Because they both knew: immortality wouldn't prevent pain, and facing Frieza would bring plenty of that. His grip tightened on her shoulder, an echo of countless missions where he'd positioned himself between her and danger. "I have more than triple the experience, it has to be me!"

"I can't do it! That would mean...our entire search would be in vain!" Krillin's frustration was palpable.

"But you would still have two more wishes," Nail stated calmly. "Didn't you know? The Dragon Balls will grant you three wishes."

Gohan and Krillin's shocked expressions told Cellera that Earth's Dragon Balls must work differently. "Nail, you are positive that your Dragon Balls give three wishes?"

At Nail's confirmation, something shifted in Cellera. Her mother's commanding presence merged with her father's tactical mind as fear gave way to purpose. "Then we need to leave!" Her voice cut through the debate with an authority that made even Vegeta pause - it was Rhuba's tone exactly, that same ability to command attention without raising her voice. "The Ginyu Force will be here any second. We have to use the Dragon Balls now, before it's too late!"

Vegeta found himself nodding before he caught himself, a ghost of pride breaking through his panic. Perhaps his daughter had found her own kind of strength after all.

"Let's go then," Krillin said, turning to fix Vegeta with a hard stare. "But you try anything funny and the deal's off, you got it? Follow me!"

As they blasted into the air toward Bulma and the Dragon Ball, Cellera felt both dread and determination coursing through her. The Ginyu Force was coming, but for the first time, she wasn't facing such dangers alone.

---

The green landscape blurred beneath them as they raced against time. Cellera could sense the Ginyu Force's energy signatures growing stronger - they'd already landed on Namek.

"They're here!" she called out, trying not to think about Captain Ginyu's inevitable 'little recruit' comments awaiting her.

"Move faster!" Vegeta barked, though his voice carried more urgency than anger. "Those new scouters will pick us up any moment!"

They crested a cliff to find Bulma exactly where they'd left her, sitting on a rock and examining her nails with bored disinterest. Her head snapped up at their approach.

"Finally! I was starting to think you'd forgotten about-" Her complaint cut short at the sight of Vegeta. "What's HE doing here?!"

"No time!" Krillin grabbed the Dragon Ball while Gohan helped Bulma to her feet. "We'll explain later!"

"But-"

"Bulma," Cellera's tone carried that same commanding presence she'd found at Guru's, "trust us. We need to move. Now."

Whether it was the urgency in her voice or the rare use of her first name, Bulma nodded. "The capsule house is that way," she pointed.

"Get somewhere safe!" Cellera instructed as they took to the air again, Dragon Ball secured.

As they shot toward their next destination, Cellera tried not to think about how the Ginyu Force would react when they finally caught up to them. Somehow, facing their ridiculous poses seemed almost as daunting as facing their power.

"They're right down there!" Vegeta yelled as he led them toward where he'd hidden the Dragon Balls. Once he landed, he broke into a sprint, Cellera following closely behind. "Come on! They're-"

Her father cut himself off when he noticed Krillin and Gohan hanging back, wariness written across their faces.

"What are you waiting for?!" he demanded, frustration bleeding through his panic. Even Cellera felt her patience wearing thin.

"Y'know, suddenly this doesn't seem like such a good idea. We might be better off taking our chances than letting him have his wish." Krillin clutched the Dragon Ball closer, Gohan nodding in agreement.

"This isn't-" Vegeta began, but Cellera stepped forward, holding out a hand to stop him.

"I understand your concerns," she said, her voice carrying that measured tone she'd inherited from her mother, "but this is not a game. There won't be a chance for any of us or wishing back the others if we don't make that wish now. Nail said there are three wishes - if that's truly the case, then we can use one to make Kakarot immortal as well, if it will ease your doubts."

She heard her father click his tongue behind her but noted he didn't argue. Just as Krillin took a tentative step forward, five shadows fell across the ground before them.

Their shadows stretched long across Namek's blue grass, the eternal daylight creating an intricate dance of light and shadow that only added to the surreal nature of their situation. Wind whipped across the plateau, carrying the metallic scent that seemed unique to this world.

"Well, well! If it isn't Vegeta..." Captain Ginyu's voice boomed as the Force landed in their signature formation. Then his eyes fell on Cellera and his severe expression shifted to something almost... paternal? "And our little prodigy! Still practicing those poses I hope?"

"She better be!" Jeice called out. "Remember how she used to follow me around the training grounds, copying my signature stance?"

"Not just yours," Burter chimed in. "Remember when she tried to match my speed pose and fell over? Cutest thing in Frieza's army!"

"She even got the hair flip right!" Recoome added with disturbing enthusiasm. "No one does Jeice's hair flip!"

Krillin and Gohan stared in bewilderment as Frieza's most elite fighting force devolved into what amounted to proud uncles sharing embarrassing stories. Vegeta's palm met his face with an audible smack.

"I was TWO!" Cellera protested, her cheeks burning. "And I'm not joining your force!"

Gohan found himself caught between fear and confusion. These were supposed to be Frieza's elite warriors? Their poses and banter seemed more suited to his mother's soap operas than deadly combat. But something in Cellera's tense posture beside him, the way her usual analytical calm gave way to visible dread, told him there was more to these theatrical warriors than met the eye. He'd seen that same unease in her stance only when discussing Frieza himself.

"Oh, but you're still our little recruit," Ginyu said with theatrical disappointment. "We've kept your size-appropriate uniform ready for years! Even added some pockets for you!"

When Captain Ginyu began treating Cellera like a favorite niece, Gohan caught himself almost smiling despite their dire situation. Seeing his friend, usually so composed and tactical, reduced to blushing protests over childhood poses... it made these supposedly terrifying warriors seem almost human. But then he saw how Vegeta's hand tightened protectively on his daughter's shoulder, and remembered - these were the same warriors who had helped keep both father and daughter under Frieza's control for years.

Cellera wanted to sink into Namek's core. Even facing imminent death, somehow the Ginyu Force managed to make it more mortifying by treating her like their collective niece. The way they seamlessly blended deadly intent with familial affection made them more unsettling than any serious warrior.

"In any case," Ginyu's tone shifted to business-like, though he still shot Cellera an indulgent smile, "we are here for the Dragon Balls for Lord Frieza. I don't suppose that's one you're holding there, is it?" His eyes fixed on the orbs Vegeta and Krillin clutched.

"Lookie here," Recoome called out, gesturing to the five Dragon Balls partially hidden behind them. "There's five more just like them."

Ginyu chuckled, meeting Vegeta's eyes as the Saiyan prince took an unconscious step back. "Seems we made quite the score. Lord Frieza will be pleased."

Vegeta whirled on Krillin and Gohan, fury and fear warring in his expression."If you only hadn't been wasting time!" he gritted out.

"Father, while I understand your frustration, you can't blame them either." Cellera's voice carried her mother's diplomatic tone again. Vegeta turned away with a snarl, but she caught the slight tension in his shoulders that suggested he knew she was right. His attention shifted to the approaching ki signatures - a far more immediate threat than wounded pride. Her attention shifted to Krillin, noting how the Earth warrior was processing the presence of these five formidable soldiers who somehow managed to be both terrifying and ridiculous.

"What? You think I'm just gonna stand here and hand this over? Forget it!" Vegeta's bravado couldn't quite mask his desperation. Before he could say more, Guldo, the short, stocky green alien with four eyes, moved directly in front of him with a growl.

Cellera tensed. Under normal circumstances, someone like Guldo wouldn't warrant a second thought. But the rumors she'd heard about his abilities made him an unknown variable - and in her tactical mind, unknowns were always dangerous. The fact that someone of his seemingly low power level had earned a place among the Ginyu Force spoke volumes. That, combined with his obvious hatred for her father, made her more uneasy than the rest of the Force's power combined.

"Stay back!" Vegeta warned as Guldo advanced. "I can't handle your stench."

Cellera watched her father's calculated taunt hit its mark, Guldo's face contorted with rage. Just as the small alien prepared to strike, Recoome casually grabbed his head, lifting him slightly off the ground.

"Don't try and get greedy on us, Guldo." Recoome's playful tone barely masked the threat. "I don't think we ever decided this was your kill now, did we?"

"Look Vegeta," Ginyu interjected, his voice carrying that strange mix of deadly intent and affable charm that made him such an effective leader. "Just give us the ball. We're still going to kill you no matter what you do." His eyes shifted to Cellera with almost grandfatherly affection. "Oh but don't worry! We'll leave Cellera alive. So how about it?" He spread his arms as if offering a generous deal. "Be a sport."

Vegeta only looked down at the Dragon Ball he held and gave a single laugh. "Question. These fancy new scouters of yours, they aren't equipped to track Dragon Balls, are they?"

"What if they're not?" Ginyu challenged, matching the smirk that Vegeta gave him.

Cellera recognized that look in her father's eyes - the same one he wore when teaching her about strategical misdirection. The next thing she knew, he spun quickly around and hurled the Dragon Ball with all his might across Namek's horizon.

She was already calculating the trajectory, wondering if perhaps they could- but Burter's form blurred past her before she could complete the thought. Wind whipped across her face as the blue alien moved - even with her enhanced senses after Guru's unlock, she could barely track him.

"Looking for something?" Burter materialized back in formation, casually tossing the retrieved Dragon Ball between his palms. He winked at Cellera. "You know, if you joined us, I could teach you real speed techniques, not just that analytical stuff your father drills into you."

"Excellent work, Burter!" Ginyu praised the blue speedster alien while striking a pose.

"Thank you, Captain!" he responded, striking his own pose that made Cellera want to sink into Namek's core.

"See? This is what you're missing out on!" Ginyu gestured proudly at his men. "You had better form at two than Guldo has after all these years!"

"Hey!" Guldo protested.

Cellera caught Gohan and Krillin's bewildered stares and felt her cheeks burn. Somehow, the Ginyu Force had managed to make their dire situation even more mortifying than she'd imagined. Her father's pained groan beside her suggested he shared the sentiment.

The Ginyu Force began to laugh, whether at their jab at Guldo, or their soon to be demise, Cellera wasn't sure.

"I suppose you thought you were being clever. I guess you forgot, when it comes to raw speed, Burter's the fastest in the universe." Ginyu's smirk widened. "Then again, Rhuba was the real brains between you two, wasn't she? It's obvious that's where Cellera's smarts came from."

Cellera caught her father's growl at the mention of her mother and the disrespect to his parenting, but Ginyu merely eyed the Dragon Ball Krillin held. "Now, the other one."

What happened next shocked Cellera more than any of the Ginyu Force's antics. Her father, instead of responding with his usual pride or threats, chose desperation.

"Destroy it! NOW!" he commanded, whirling toward Krillin.

The raw urgency in his voice stunned her. Her father - who had pursued immortality with single-minded determination, who had killed Nappa for failure, who had fought against Earth's strongest warriors - was willing to sacrifice his own wish just to keep the Dragon Balls from Frieza.

Learning from their earlier hesitation, Krillin immediately raised his fist to strike. But as his arm descended, the Dragon Ball vanished.

"Hey, where'd it go?" Gohan voiced their collective confusion.

They turned to find Guldo holding the Dragon Ball, his smug grin confirming what Cellera had suspected since hearing those whispered rumors in Frieza's ranks. Her eyes tracked each subtle movement with the practiced precision.. Time manipulation - it explained everything about his position in the Force despite his seemingly low power level. But such an ability had to have limits, conditions...

She observed Guldo's heavy breathing, filing away the detail. Every technique had its weakness; she just needed to find it.

"So it seems the rumors are true after all," she said grimly.

"What rumors?" Gohan asked.

"That flat little blob somehow has the power to slow down or stop time at will!" her father spat, glaring at Guldo whose shoulders shook with mocking laughter.

"B-But that's impossible!" Krillin protested.

"Don't be so sure there, buddy," Guldo taunted between labored breaths - another detail Cellera noted for later analysis.

"Now that we've got that business out of the way, I say let's have some fun. Let's show our friends here a good time!" Ginyu's jovial tone made the threat more menacing.

"And by good time he doesn't mean we're gonna play dress up and braid each other's hair, he means we're gonna murder you!" Jeice chimed in.

"Did you really need to explain that?!" Ginyu asked his red lieutenant, exasperation breaking through his theatrical demeanor.

"So what now?" Krillin whispered, eyes darting between the posed warriors before them.

"Well, we can't outrun them." Cellera said, her mind already calculating their odds against each Force member's known abilities.

"It's best that we all stand together." Her father's words surprised her - not just the suggestion of cooperation, but the tactical wisdom behind it. "If we combine our powers, we might hold out long enough to discover some weakness we can exploit."

"I'll take Vegeta," Ginyu declared, prompting immediate protests from his men.

"But Captain!"

"No fair!"

"We want a shot at him too!"

Cellera watched the elite warriors of Frieza's army devolve into what essentially amounted to children squabbling over toys. The absurdity of it might have been funny if their lives weren't at stake.

"Fine," Ginyu relented with theatrical suffering. "In that case, I'll take the Dragon Balls back to Lord Frieza and explain the situation. You boys can figure the rest out on your own." His eyes landed on Cellera with that same grandfatherly affection that made her want to disappear. "Just remember to leave our precious new star recruit alive."

The squad cheered as their captain called out, "Who's the greatest captain in the universe?!"

"You! Ginyu! Rules!" They struck synchronized poses, fists raised to the sky.

"Okay then, the winner will get Vegeta," Guldo started as they turned toward Gohan and Krillin with predatory grins. Her father tensed beside her, likely remembering exactly why these ridiculous poses didn't make the Force any less lethal.

"The rest! Make them a set!" Recoome insisted with disturbing enthusiasm.

As the Ginyu Force began their game of rock-paper-scissors to determine their fate, Cellera and the others stood there partially in fear and partially in disbelief. She couldn't help but note the absurdity - the universe's most elite fighting force deciding their deaths through a children's game.

"Are you sure we shouldn't be trying to get away?" Gohan asked, confusion and exasperation warring in his voice as he watched the four-man game continue.

"If I wasn't sure that would end even the slightest chance of us living through this, I would agree," Cellera responded with equal exasperation.

Eventually there was finally a winner, and Cellera couldn't help but scowl. Out of the whole group, Recoome had to win the right to fight her father. She glanced at her father's tense face before looking back at Recoome. While he might not be the smartest of the group, his raw power made him perhaps the most dangerous after Captain Ginyu himself

"Yeah! I win, I get Vegeta!" Recoome cheered in triumph, both arms raised in the air.

"I get the runts," Guldo said disappointedly.

"Oh well. It's better than nothing though, right?" Ginyu asked in an attempt to cheer the small alien up.

"Tell you what Guldo, once I've had my fun you can finish him off!" Recoome offered, causing Guldo to laugh in glee.

If she had to pick, Cellera knew her father would much rather be killed by anyone but Guldo on the Ginyu Force - the ultimate insult to Saiyan pride.

Seeing that his men had their battles settled, Ginyu used his telekinetic powers to float the Dragon Balls to him. Cellera's stomach dropped - everything they'd fought for, all their careful planning, now floating away in the hands of Frieza's most loyal captain.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Lord Frieza has a date with immortality! I'll see you later for your first pose session, Cellera!" Ginyu called out before flying away laughing.

"No! I won't let you have them!" Gohan's ki flared in his palm.

"Calm down!" Cellera caught his wrist gently but firmly. "We can't waste energy now. Let him go - we have more immediate concerns." Her eyes shifted meaningfully toward the remaining Force members.

"All of you, gather around," Vegeta commanded. Cellera moved to his side automatically, muscle memory from countless mission briefings taking over. Krillin and Gohan followed her lead, and something in her father's expression shifted at their unified response.

"You two will be fighting Guldo," he continued, authority tempered with unexpected practicality. "You'll have to use your heads. Despite how ridiculous he looks, his ability makes him dangerous. Cellera," his eyes met hers with familiar understanding, "I leave the logistics to you."

"What about Recoome?! Father, please let me help-"

"Absolutely not!" The sharpness in his voice carried more concern than anger. For a moment, Cellera saw not the ruthless warrior who had terrorized Earth, but the father who had existed before her mother had passed. His next words came softer, almost like when she was small: "Not only would it be embarrassing, but you're the only one who can help your... friends with Guldo." I've seen you analyzing his movements - you're close to figuring out his weakness."

She caught the slight pause before 'friends', noting how her father was adapting to this strange alliance. Looking between him and Recoome, she understood his real motivation - keeping her from the more lethal opponent. "Alright then."

"Didn't you say earlier that Kakarot was supposed to be coming here to save everybody?" Vegeta's question surprised her almost as much as his earlier suggestion of cooperation.

"Don't know about you," Krillin replied, "but he's coming to save Gohan and me." His eyes flickered to Cellera. "And her."

The casual inclusion made her throat tight. More surprising was the subtle relaxation in her father's shoulders at hearing it - as if knowing someone besides him might protect her eased some ancient tension.

"I'm not trying to win a popularity contest here," Vegeta snapped, but the usual bite in his voice was dulled. His eyes tracked Recoome and Guldo's stretching routine. "All I'm saying is we could use his help right now. As much as I can't stand him, having him with us would help even the odds."

The admission stunned her. Her father - who had spent the past year obsessing over defeating Kakarot - was now openly hoping for his arrival. Combined with his willingness to fight alongside those he'd deemed beneath them... Perhaps Earth had changed more than just her.

Seeing Gohan and Krillin's barely contained fear, Cellera steeled herself. If she was going to lead them against Guldo, she needed to project the confidence her father had taught her.

"Listen you two," she began, her analytical mind - now enhanced by Guru's unlocking - already forming multiple strategies. She paused, realizing that even with the five powerful ki signatures that had approached earlier, her usual headaches hadn't manifested. Perhaps the elder Namekian's words about feeling rather than analyzing had more practical applications than she'd thought.

"A direct assault won't work - he'll just stop time and dodge. But," her expression sharpened with familiar calculation, "that might be exactly what we need." Every technique has conditions, limits. If you attack head-on, I can observe how he responds, figure out what triggers his ability."

The crystalline formations that dotted Namek's landscape provided natural cover, their translucent surfaces refracting the endless daylight. Cellera noted how the terrain could work to their advantage - or against them - in the coming battle.

She outlined her plan, watching energy patterns flow in ways she couldn't quite see before Guru's power unlocked. "Both of you send blasts his way. Use the angle and lighting to mask your real positions. I'll watch for patterns in his time manipulation."

"Once Guldo's dealt with," she added, turning to her father, noticing how much clearer his energy signature felt without the usual strain of a headache, "I'm helping you with Recoome."

"Worry about yourself and your new pets first," Vegeta replied, but his tone held none of its earlier mockery. "Show them what a proper Saiyan tactician can do."

As their impromptu strategy session ended, Cellera watched Recoome and Guldo approach, their laughter echoing across Namek's landscape. The contrast between their jovial attitude and deadly intent made them more unsettling than any serious warrior.

"Ready to play, runts?" Guldo sneered, though his eyes kept darting nervously to Vegeta.

"Don't take too long with them, Guldo!" Recoome called out, cracking his massive knuckles as he focused on her father. "Save some energy for the pose practice with our newest recruit later!"

"Ooh, speaking of our little recruit," Jeice's voice carried that same teasing tone she remembered from her childhood, "did anyone else notice her holding hands with the boy earlier?"

"Our precious Cellera's growing up!" Burter wiped an imaginary tear.

Cellera felt her cheeks burn, remembering how she'd grabbed Gohan's wrist to stop his attack. Leave it to the Ginyu Force to turn even a tactical move into playground teasing.

Pushing down both embarrassment and amusement, Cellera focused on Guldo's breathing patterns, his stance, and any detail that might reveal the secret to his time manipulation. Her father had taught her that every fighter, no matter how powerful, had a weakness. It was simply a matter of observation and analysis.

"Stay sharp," she murmured to Gohan and Krillin. "Remember the plan."

As the two Force members settled into their signature battle stances - somehow managing to make even those look ridiculous - Cellera caught her father's slight nod of approval at her command of the situation. Whatever came next, she would prove worthy of both his tactical training and her mother's strategic mind.

Their battle against the Ginyu Force was about to begin..

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Notes:

I will not lie to yall...out of all the chapters I've wrote thus far...this one was A STRUGGLE

The coordinated attack from Krillin and Gohan pierced through Namek's triple sunlight, their enhanced ki signatures blazing with power that would have been unthinkable just days ago. Their movements showed a precision that spoke of how far they'd come since the Saibamen battles on Earth, executing the strategy exactly as Cellera had calculated.

Cellera's eyes narrowed as details she would have missed before Guru's unlocking revealed themselves. Each time Guldo seemed to vanish, she caught subtle disturbances in the ki flow around him, like ripples in still water, the way time itself seemed to hiccup around him. One moment he stood directly in the blasts' path, the next he materialized several meters right - but the transition held clues her newfound power let her perceive.

While they couldn’t follow up after the ki blast distraction like she’d hoped to, she couldn’t help the flash of pride she felt- so different from her usual mission groupings with Nappa. 

"That's a great shot!" Krillin called out, but Cellera had already noticed the pattern - the way Guldo's chest expanded just before each "dodge," how his movements lacked the usual motion blur of high-speed combat.

"Hey, Vegeta! Your girl's got some real choice mates there!" Jeice called from below, genuine admiration mixing with his usual teasing tone.

Catching her father's subtle nod of approval, Cellera recognized more than just acknowledgment of their increased power from Guru. He'd seen it too - the potential of their coordinated attacks. Even Burter and Recoome had paused their poses to watch with interest, though they quickly resumed their stretching when they noticed her attention.

"Remember what I said!" Cellera called out, her trained eye catching how Guldo's four eyes darted frantically between targets. "Keep him off balance - don't let him focus!"

"Right!" Gohan and Krillin responded in unison. They split apart in perfect synchronization, their enhanced speed creating multiple angles of attack. Cellera noted with satisfaction how Guldo's breathing grew increasingly labored with each "instantaneous" dodge.

"Showing off for your father?" Burter called down. "Or maybe for someone else?" His theatrical wink toward Gohan made Cellera's cheeks burn and roll her eyes, but she refused to let their teasing break her concentration. 

Each detail built a clearer picture - Guldo's sharp inhale before disappearing, the widening of all four eyes in concentration, the growing fatigue that belied his supposed "instant" movement. Her senses, now sharpened by Guru's gift, caught the subtle disturbances in ki that rippled outward with each "teleport".

"Aw look how well they work together!" Jeice called from the sidelines. "Our little recruit's getting so good at leading!" 

Cellera felt that familiar mix of irritation and grudging amusement that only the Ginyu Force seemed capable of provoking. Months ago, such showmanship would have earned nothing but cold disdain. Now, after her time with the Earthlings, she could almost appreciate the absurdity of elite warriors treating combat like a performance piece.

"They grow up so fast," Burter pretended to wipe away tears.

"Shut up and let me concentrate!" Guldo snapped at his teammates, his frustration making his breath come faster - another detail Cellera filed away.

Guldo's chest expanded with a deep breath and Cellera's eyes widened in realization. " Gotcha! " she thought, a smirk playing across her lips. Her theory confirmed itself moments later when Guldo appeared several meters away, flat on his back after barely avoiding another coordinated attack from Gohan and Krillin.

"There he is!" Krillin called out, spotting Guldo struggling to his feet. Without hesitation, he launched an attack, Gohan following suit as the small alien attempted to retreat. Gohan's blast connected, sending Guldo tumbling across the ground.

"I guess four eyes didn't see that one coming!" Krillin said, pride evident in finally landing a hit.

Across the battlefield, Burter and Recoome had started placing bets on whether Guldo could finish the fight within the next minute - a clear sign that even his own team doubted his abilities. Guldo himself was doubled over, clutching his chest and muttering something about needing more Ginyu Force Fitness Club training.

"He can only stop time for as long as he can hold his breath!" Cellera called out as her companions moved to press their advantage. "Keep the pressure on - don't let him recover!"

But even as she shouted the warning, she saw Guldo's chest expand with desperate inhale. Her body was already in motion, but too late - the world seemed to stutter, and suddenly she found herself face-to-face with Krillin and Gohan, all of them converging on empty space where their target had been.

"Where'd he go?" Gohan asked, as they all looked around the field.

"The little coward is hiding," Cellera said, picking up subtle fluctuations in ki. Her eyes narrowed on a distant ridge - there was something different about the energy pattern there, like a disruption in the natural flow. Even her father had taught her to respect an opponent's retreat, but this... this was pure cowardice. "Even Gohan stood his ground against us on Earth despite his fear. This is pathetic for a supposed elite warrior."

Gohan caught Cellera's focused stare, following her line of sight. He picked up the faintest disturbance in ki near a distant ridge. "Behind that ridge!" he yelled, launching a ki blast in sync with Krillin. The attacks collided with their target, sending rocks and debris exploding outward in a massive cloud. Through the settling dust, Krillin's Kamehameha carved a bright blue path through the air, missing Guldo by inches as the small alien desperately rolled clear.

As he began to pick himself up, he yelled “No fair! You can’t add in Cellera! That’s cheating!” 

Cellera rolled her eyes at his accusation. Not only a coward but also a baby. Since when was ‘fair’ a part of one of Frieza’s soldiers' vocabulary? 

“C’mon Guldo, you’re killing me here!” Recoome called from where he hovered in the sky next to Burter and Jeice.

“I dunno, I’m kind of enjoying watching him get his flabby tail whipped by Cellera.” Burter replied.

“Hey, Guldo! Here’s the deal: If you can’t beat them quickly, then we’re replacing you with Cellera!”

“Yeah, and not to mention your spot on the bowling team!” Jeice added.

“But you can’t kick me off the force!” Guldo argued worriedly. “I was just warming up! That’s all! They’re dead! I promise!”

“Yes, warming up.” Cellera spat out, eyes narrowed. “That’s why you were cowering with your tail between your legs. Then again, I don’t expect anything else from the weakest of the Ginyu’s.” she gave a laugh before continuing. “Why, I bet even these two Earthlings could fill your place quite nicely if they wanted.” 

Gohan felt a slight chill run down his spine at the familiar look in her eyes. It was the same one she gave him in their battle when he was pulling his punches due to his mother's words about him hitting girls - a stark contrast to the calm, composed warrior he'd come to know since Earth. In moments like these, her father's influence showed through clearly, transforming her usual demeanor into something pure Vegeta, reminding Gohan that for all her changes, she was still very much her father's daughter

“She’s got a point, mate!” Jeice said, Recoome and Burter nodding in agreement beside him. 

As Guldo became distracted with yelling at his ‘teammates’, Cellera met eyes with Krillin and Gohan, giving them a nod to attack while his guard was down. Unfortunately, Krillin and Gohan had gone in for a direct attack, something she had specifically warned them in the beginning not to do. Before she could alert them, Guldo had turned around just in time to stop them with his mind-bind technique.

"Not good!" Cellera muttered under her breath, clicking her tongue in frustration. She watched helplessly as Krillin and Gohan struggled against their invisible bonds, suspended helplessly in the air. Her thumb pressed to her lip as she tried to formulate a strategy that would free them without falling into the same trap.

The other Ginyu Force members called down their increasingly impatient encouragement, but Guldo seemed determined to savor his moment of superiority. Each piece of debris he telekinetically hurled at her immobilized companions made Cellera's careful composure crack. She'd warned them about direct attacks, had planned for this exact scenario, yet watching them unable to defend themselves...

Her growing anger began to erode years of practiced control - the very flaw her father had always warned her about. Just like Gohan's bursts of power through rage, she felt her own control slipping. The careful strategies, the measured analysis, all of it dissolved as Guldo continued to torment her teammates.

Her power surged as she launched herself forward, fist drawn back in anger - a move so uncharacteristically reckless that she heard her father's sharp intake of breath behind her. Too late, she realized she'd fallen into the same trap she'd warned the others about. Her fist froze inches from Guldo's face as his mental grip seized her.

"Nuh uh, you stay out of this little miss cheater," Guldo scolded with a triumphant smirk.

Shame burned through her as she caught her father's disapproving look. She'd let emotion cloud her judgment - the cardinal sin in her father's training. Yet somewhere in her mind, she heard Guru's words about balance between thinking and feeling. Perhaps this wasn't entirely wrong, just... poorly timed.

The Ginyu Force's jeering increased, their patience with Guldo's showboating clearly wearing thin.

"Get on with it already!"

"Do I have to come down there and kill 'em for you?"

"It's not too late to kick you off the force and replace you with someone competent!"

"Uh, right!" Guldo stuttered, clearly rattled by his teammates' derision. His eyes darted around before landing on a nearby tree. Cellera's stomach dropped as she watched him telekinetically uproot and sharpen it into a deadly spear.

"No, I have to break free!" Gohan gritted out beside her, his determination evident even through the paralysis. "I can't disappoint Piccolo!"

"Now, let's see! Who dies first?" Guldo made a show of considering his options before his four eyes settled on Cellera with unexpected malice. "This will teach you to steal my spot in the Ginyu Force, you little brat!"

The shock of being his first target registered across everyone's faces - even the other Force members seemed taken aback. Cellera squeezed her eyes shut as the makeshift spear hurtled toward her, but suddenly the mental grip holding her vanished. Her eyes snapped open in time to dodge the projectile, only to see Guldo's severed head lying at her father's feet.

Guldo's head lay in the grass, all four eyes wide with disbelief as they stared at Vegeta's boots. "You... you cheater!" he managed to sputter. "Both you and your daughter... always cheating! This isn’t fair!"

"Cheating?" Vegeta's laugh held no humor as he ground his heel into the dirt beside Guldo's head. "There's no such thing as unfair in battle. Something a supposed 'elite warrior' should understand." Without another word, he raised his hand and blasted Guldo's severed head into oblivion.

Released from the mental bind, Cellera dropped to one knee, catching her breath as Krillin and Gohan landed beside her. The shame of letting emotion override her judgement still burned, but beneath it was unmistakable gratitude – both for her father's intervention and for her companions' safety.

"I never thought I'd say this, but... thanks Vegeta," Krillin said, rubbing his neck. "Didn't expect you to help us out like that."

"Yeah, thank you," Gohan added earnestly.

"Don't misunderstand," Vegeta scoffed. "I have my own reasons for killing that freak." He kicked at the scorched ground where Guldo's head had been. "The fate of the Dragon Balls depends on all of you being alive."

Cellera caught the slight emphasis he'd placed on 'all' in his response – her father's way of acknowledging their temporary alliance without directly stating it. 

"Thank you, Father," Cellera said quietly, rising to her feet, already cataloging how close that tree-spear had come, how poorly she'd handled the situation, and how many of her father's lessons she'd disregarded

"Hmph." Vegeta's stern gaze fixed on her. "Your emotions got you caught. I taught you better than that." But there was something else in his tone – not quite concerned, but perhaps understanding. After all, hadn't he just acted to protect her?

"I know," she admitted. "But still... thank you."

"Well, this is awkward," Jeice's voice cut through the moment. "Our whole routine's thrown off now!"

"We'll need to completely redesign the choreography," Burter agreed, striking a pose that now looked notably unbalanced without Guldo's part.

"Hey, what about Cellera?" Recoome brightened. "She's about the same size as Guldo – she'd be perfect!"

"That's right!" Jeice snapped his fingers. "Plus she's already got her uniform waiting!"

"For the last time," Cellera gritted out, her earlier gratitude giving way to exasperation, "I am not joining your force!"

Before she could suffer through more recruitment attempts, Recoome's massive form descended from above, cracking his knuckles as he faced Vegeta. "But first things first – time for the main event!"

The playful atmosphere vanished instantly. Whatever temporary amusement the Force had provided, now came the real threat. Cellera's fingers tightened into fists as she watched Recoome approach her father. This wouldn't be like Guldo – Recoome's raw power made him one of the deadliest members of the Force, second only to Captain Ginyu himself.

"This isn't over yet," she murmured, more to herself than her companions. Her eyes narrowed as she began analyzing their remaining opponent, determined not to let emotion cloud her judgment again. 

"You're right, but you are not fighting this battle," Vegeta's sharp tone made her head snap up.

"But Father-" 

"No." The word carried the full weight of his authority. "Your earlier display of your lack of emotional control nearly got you killed. I won't have that liability in this fight."

Cellera's fists clenched at her sides. While his words stung with truth, she caught the slight tension in his jaw that betrayed his deeper concern. Her father rarely showed such obvious tells - he must be more worried about Recoome than he was letting on.

"I can help," she insisted, stepping forward. "My power's increased significantly since Guru. Together we could-"

"This is not a discussion." Vegeta's eyes flickered briefly to where the tree-spear had nearly impaled her moments ago. "Stay with your... companions. Consider this a lesson in controlling your emotions in battle."

The way he hesitated on 'companions' spoke volumes - acknowledging their alliance while maintaining his pride. Even facing one of Frieza's deadliest warriors, he was teaching her. But beneath the lesson, she recognized the shadow of fear in his expression - the same look he'd worn years ago when Frieza had first shown his interest in molding her abilities to serve his empire.

"Father, please-"

"Enough!" His sharp tone made even Recoome pause in his warm-up stretches. "You will stay back. That's an order."

The command held all the authority of both a commander and a father, but Cellera didn't miss how he'd positioned himself between her and Recoome. She understood his reasoning - she'd be more useful alive to help plan their next move than dead from rushing in recklessly again.

While watching her father face one of Frieza's elite alone, her fingers tightened into fists at her sides. She fell into the familiar comfort of observation - cataloging each of Recoome's movements, his patterns, his tells. It was a habit drilled into her since childhood, one that had kept her alive under Frieza's rule, and now it helped steady her nerves as she watched her father face the giant warrior. She might have to obey his command to stay back, but she could still make herself useful by studying every detail of the coming battle.

The birds scattered from nearby as Vegeta and Recoome faced each other, their impending battle charging the air with tension. Recoome's casual stance, arms folded and wearing a smug smile, contrasted sharply with Vegeta's guarded posture. When Recoome took a step forward, Vegeta's slight step back didn't escape Cellera's notice.

"Your little friends and Cellera can play too. Come at me all at once, I don't care." Recoome's declaration carried none of Guldo's desperation. "Those cheap tricks you used on Guldo aren't gonna work on me."

"Hey there, easy Recoome!" Jeice called out. "Don't go killing them all off yourself. We are supposed get the two runts, remember? Also, we gotta bring Cellera back in one piece."

"Jerks," Krillin muttered.

"I really hate these guys," Gohan added.

"Try being harassed by them for years," Cellera replied, her attempt at dry humor barely masking her concern for the coming battle.

"Now you'll feel the power of RECOOME!" Each word was punctuated with an increasingly elaborate pose until he settled into his final stance - one leg raised like some bizarre flamingo, arms twisted at unnatural angles.

The absurdity of his pose hung in the air for a moment before Vegeta's power exploded outward. Wind and debris whipped across the battlefield, forcing Cellera, Krillin, and Gohan to shield their faces. Through the chaos, her father launched forward, his right hook connecting solidly with Recoome's face. 

The punch sent him flying across the field and Vegeta blasted off to the other side where Recoome was headed just to give him a double axe handle into the ground. Continuing the assault, he gained some distance in the air before soaring down and planting both his feet into Recoome’s gut. Vegeta wasn’t done as he picked up Recoome by the leg, swung him around and threw him into a mountainside before charging a ki blast.

“See you in hell, Recoome!” Vegeta yelled before firing the ki beam.

Cellera quickly grabbed the back of both Krillin and Gohan’s gi pulling them to the ground with her and shouted, “Duck!” as her father’s blast soared past them and into the mountain Recoome was thrown into. The blast caused an even more powerful back draft than earlier, the three held their arms over their heads and kept low to the ground, even Jeice and Burter had to move out of the way. 

As they began to pick themselves off the ground, looking to where Vegeta had fired the blast Krillin spoke in shock. “He…He did it!”

Gohan was struck speechless at the power Vegeta showed. 

“Wow. That wasn’t even a contest.” Krillin continued. “It’s scary how strong Vegeta’s gotten. He totally blew that guy away.

Cellera however, just frowned as she looked to her father who was breathing heavily and then to where Recoome should be. No matter how strong that attack was, she knew it wasn’t enough to take out Recoome. “No.” she said, causing both Krillin and Gohan to turn toward her. “He’s still alive.” she gritted out as she sensed his ki still alive and well.

Her father must sense it too, because his face takes on a slightly panicked expression. 

“She’s right! Do you feel that, Krillin?” Gohan asked as he trembled, feeling Recoome’s ki still in play. “He’s still alive!”

“There’s no way! He couldn’t be!” 

As the smoke began to clear, Recoome was revealed to them all in another ridiculous pose, although not without a his armour piece gone, his unitard torn, and a handful scratches leaving some blood in their wake. “Hi!” He greeted them with a chuckle. 

“This is crazy!” Gohan shouted, looking toward Cellera. “You mean he took all that and it didn’t even phase him?” 

“He may not be the brightest but he’s got plenty of brawn.” Cellera replied as she felt her own body starting to tremble slightly. She glanced over at Burter and Jeice to distract herself, watching the two soldiers wipe the dust off of them, talking about how Recoome is showing off again.

“All right!” Recoome announced as he began to laugh again. “Good warm up! Now it’s my turn! Are you ready to play for real Vegeta?” 

In the blink of an eye, Recoome was shouting ‘Recoome kick’ and his knee collided with Vegeta’s face sending him flying back towards a small ridge that he was able to right himself upward on before soaring back to Recoome and throwing a flurry of punches which Recoome blocked. 

The exchange of blows between Vegeta and Recoome moved almost too fast to follow, ending with her father being thrown into the Namekian sea with explosive force from his ‘Recoome Boom’.

As water rained down around them, Cellera's eyes tracked the subtle disturbances in the water's surface. Most would assume her father had been overwhelmed, but she'd seen this maneuver too many times during their training sessions to be fooled - he was positioning himself, not retreating.

"Your dad's really in for it now!" Burter called down.

"Yeah, no one survives Recoome's opening combo of the Recoome Kick and Recoome Boom!" Jeice added with a laugh.

The water exploded upward as Vegeta burst forth, catching Recoome mid-pose with a devastating gut punch. The impact echoed across the battlefield, but Cellera's attention was drawn to Burter and Jeice's reactions - or rather, their lack of them. Their casual postures and unconcerned expressions sent a chill down her spine.

"Father, something's-" Her warning came too late.

Recoome's massive hand clamped around Vegeta's armor, lifting him overhead with disturbing ease. "Hey Vegeta!" The giant's grin widened. "Know what sounds good right now? A vegetable platter!"

Any other time, Cellera might have appreciated the wordplay - her mother had always said humor helped process fear. But watching Recoome slam her father headfirst into the ground with bone-crushing force before plucking him up again killed any trace of amusement.

The ground cratered beneath her father's skull as Recoome drove him deeper into the dirt. Pain flashed across Cellera's features before she could suppress it - a tell her father would have scolded her for if he wasn't currently being used to reshape Namek's landscape.

"Aww, what's wrong Vegeta?" Recoome taunted, plucking him from the ground like a ragdoll. "No more clever strategies?"

Blood trickled from her father's forehead, but his eyes remained sharp, calculating. Cellera recognized that look - the same one he wore when teaching her that sometimes the best defense was an unexpected offense.

"Actually..." Vegeta's hand shot up, energy gathering in his palm. "I've got one!"

The blast caught Recoome point-blank in the face, the explosion forcing him to release his grip. Vegeta landed into one of the small craters they made earlier, but Cellera's relief was short-lived. Her father's breathing was too labored, his movements too stiff as he stood up. Worse, she caught Jeice and Burter exchanging amused glances  - as if this was all going exactly as expected.

However, Recoome just stood up like nothing happened. "Now that was low, even for a Saiyan. You are ruthless, Vegeta!" Recoome's grin widened as he wiped a trickle of blood from his nose. "No wonder you were always one of Lord Frieza's favorites!"

Cellera's fists clenched at her sides. Her father's ruthlessness had indeed made him Frieza's favorite - a fact that had only intensified after her mother's death. Where Rhuba had shown mercy, Vegeta had embraced cruelty, as if trying to prove himself worthy of the tyrant's attention.

"Y'know," Recoome continued, cracking his neck, "I never understood how someone like Rhuba ended up with you. Total opposites, you two." He laughed, striking another pose. "Now, time to finish this!"

Recoome's chest expanded as energy gathered in his mouth, the purple glow of his Eraser Gun casting ominous shadows across the battlefield. Cellera's mind raced - her father was clearly exhausted, but Recoome was still treating this like a game. They needed to act now.

"Gohan," she whispered, her eyes never leaving Recoome's gathering energy. "When I give the signal, get my father clear. Krillin and I will create an opening."

The boy nodded, already shifting his stance to prepare for a quick rescue. Cellera caught Krillin's eye, tilting her head slightly toward Recoome's exposed left side. A slight nod from the Earth warrior showed he understood - despite their limited time fighting together, the threat before them had forged a quick alliance.

Before they could move, Recoome prepared to fire his attack.

"Now!" 

"Hang on, Vegeta!" Gohan shouted.

While Gohan darted in to pull Vegeta to safety, Cellera and Krillin attacked from opposite sides. Their coordinated assault caught Recoome mid-pose, Krillin's kick connecting solidly with his spine while Cellera's fist collided under his chin, slamming his mouth shut on his own blast.

"What are you doing?" Vegeta demanded once Gohan set him down, blood streaming from his mouth. "Could you be any more stupid? Instead of coming after me, all three of you should've attacked Recoome together! Do you really think he's going to let his guard down like that again?!" His eyes fixed on Cellera. "You of all people should know better. I taught you strategy, not sentiment."

Cellera bit back her response. Her father wasn't wrong about the opportunity for a decisive strike they'd lost, but she couldn't - wouldn't - apologize for protecting the only blood family she had left. Even if he'd scold her for such "unnecessary feelings."

Gohan stared between them, unable to comprehend someone being angry at being saved. The way Vegeta berated his own daughter for trying to help him... it stirred something in Gohan's chest, adding to the growing list of reasons he was beginning to truly dislike the Saiyan man.

Before anyone could say more, Recoome's kick sent Krillin flying and crashing a few meters away.

"Krillin!" Gohan ran to his friend. "Speak to me Krillin! Please!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm pretty sure that kick broke every bone in my body." Krillin said, a loopy smile on his face.

Cellera moved to check on him, her familiar mask cracking as she watched Krillin attempt humor even through his pain. It reminded her of her own attempts to distance herself from emotion during missions, though his came from a place of trying to comfort others rather than suppress feeling. "That was a good hit earlier," she said softly. "Thank you for helping, even knowing the risk."

"They're just too strong…" Krillin managed, his usual optimism fading. "But hey, at least I got in one good shot!"

"You can't give up! Just hang on Krillin!" Gohan pleaded, his ki beginning to spike with anger.

Cellera felt her own rage building - at Recoome's casual brutality, at her father's inability to accept help, at her own powerlessness. But she forced her breathing to steady, remembering how emotion had led to her capture by Guldo. They couldn't afford another mistake like that.

"Gohan," she said, keeping her voice calm despite the fury threatening to break through. "We need to think rationally. If we can hold out until Kakarot arrives..." She glanced at her father, battered but still conscious, then back to Krillin. "We just need to wear him down, create openings where we can. Together."

Defeat radiated off Krillin as he warned them to save themselves, but Cellera knew escape wasn't an option. Not with her father barely able to stand, not with Krillin injured, not with Recoome between them and any hope of survival.

To hell with her father's orders. He could scold her for her sentiment over strategy approach if they survived - when they survived. She'd face those consequences gladly if it meant keeping them all alive until Kakarot arrived.

"Leave this to us now." The words carried an authority Cellera hadn't meant to channel - her father's influence showing through even as she stood against his orders. But there was something else there too, a protective edge.

Recoome's grin widened as Cellera and Gohan took their fighting stances. The training with Piccolo and her father showed in their synchronized movements as they launched their first combination attack - Gohan driving Recoome back while Cellera struck from his blind spot. However, despite their perfect execution, Recoome barely moved.

"Come on, Cellera! I thought you'd give me more of a challenge than that!" Recoome laughed, blocking their attacks with casual ease.

They fell back, regrouping as Cellera's mind raced for another strategy. Beside her, Gohan's determined expression never wavered despite their ineffective assault. "We need to hit harder," he said, his voice steady despite the situation. "Together."

She nodded, recognizing the same thinking she'd seen during their brief training sessions. "On my mark. Remember that combination we were working on?"

A slight smile crossed Gohan's face - the same one he'd worn when they'd finally perfected the move. They'd only had time to practice it a few times, but with their potential being unlocked from Guru….

They moved in almost perfect sync, Gohan's ki blast forcing Recoome to dodge exactly where Cellera had predicted. She appeared behind the giant warrior, her strike perfectly timed with Gohan's follow-up attack. The impact echoed across the battlefield - a direct hit that would have devastated any normal opponent.

Recoome just grinned.

"Not bad! You kids actually made me feel that one!" He cracked his neck, still treating this like some training exercise. "But playtime's over!"

"Watch out!" Cellera warned as she registered Recoome's counterattack a split second before it launched. She knew the blow that was coming would shatter Gohan's spine - she'd seen Recoome use this exact move on countless warriors during his "training demonstrations" under Frieza. The lessons beaten into her screamed to let the attack land - a wounded Gohan would draw Recoome's focus, creating an opening for a decisive counterattack. It was the logical choice, the strategic play that had been drilled into her since she could walk.

But as she watched Recoome's massive form bearing down on the boy who'd shown her that strength can come in different forms, her body moved on its own. As she pushed him clear, she realized her decision wasn't the most optimal one at all. For once, she didn't care. Some things were worth more than perfect strategy.

 

The impact came like thunder, Recoome's massive fist connecting with her back where Gohan's spine would have been. The force drove her into the ground, sending cracks spiderwebbing through Namek's blue soil beneath her. Stars exploded behind her eyes as pain radiated through her body, but she could feel Gohan's ki signature, whole and unharmed - that was all that mattered.

"Aw come on, Recoome!" Jeice called down as Cellera hit the ground. "That's Cellera you just hit! You're supposed to save her!"

"Not my fault!" Recoome protested with a theatrical shrug. "Was aiming for the other kid! She's the one who got in the way!"

"Well, the healing pod should fix her up," Burter reasoned. "Just try not to do any permanent damage. Remember what Captain Ginyu said."

Through the haze of pain, Cellera tried to push herself up, but her legs wouldn't respond. The numbness spreading from where Recoome's fist had connected told her everything - spinal damage, temporary paralysis if she was lucky. But as she lay there, unable to move, a different kind of fear gripped her - not of death or failure, but of being unable to protect those she'd slowly come to care about.

Something snapped in Vegeta as he watched his daughter lie motionless on the ground. The sight stirred memories he'd thought long buried - the day he'd learned of Rhuba's death, the helpless rage he'd felt at being unable to prevent it. Raw fury surged through him as he launched a ki blast at Recoome's exposed back. "You'll regret that!" he snarled, pouring every ounce of his rage into the attack.

Recoome turned at the last second, the blast scorching his shoulder before he deflected the rest of its force skyward. "Don't worry, Vegeta! I'll deal with you after I finish the runt." His massive form loomed over Gohan once more. "Now, where were we?

"Gohan," Cellera managed through gritted teeth, "Fall back! You can't-"

But Gohan's expression silenced her. Gone was the hesitation she'd seen during their first encounter on Earth. In its place was pure determination - the same look she'd seen when he'd fearlessly faced down Dodoria back at the Namekian village. "I won't run," he said, dropping into his fighting stance once more. "I won't let them hurt anyone else!"

Something shifted in Cellera's chest as she watched Gohan charge forward - a complex mixture of pride and unease that she couldn't quite suppress. The hesitant boy from Earth who'd once pulled his punches against her was gone, replaced by a warrior willing to face down one of Frieza's elite. Yet that very courage made her stomach twist - she'd seen too many brave fighters fall to the Ginyu Force's casual brutality.

But it wasn't enough. Recoome's massive fist caught Gohan in the stomach, sending him crashing into the ground. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he pushed himself back up.

"Just stay down, kid!" Recoome laughed. "You're only making this worse for yourself!"

Cellera's throat tightened as she watched Gohan stand his ground. She'd seen countless warriors face hopeless odds under Frieza's rule, but this was different. Gohan wasn't fighting out of pride or fear - he was fighting to protect others, just as she had tried to protect him moments ago.

He wiped blood from his chin, his small frame trembling with determination rather than fear. "Vegeta’s hurt, Krillin's down, Cellera can't even move... I have to hold on until my dad gets here! I have to!" His voice carried the same unwavering resolve she'd seen when he'd first stood up to her on Earth, but now that strength was turned toward protecting others - even her, the one who'd once been his enemy.

The raw conviction in his voice struck something in Cellera. Her father had always said that sentiment led to defeat. But Earth had changed that perspective, and now, watching Gohan face impossible odds not for pride or glory but to protect everyone around him, friend and former foe alike... she understood what her mother might have seen all along. Strength doesn't have to be defined by pure power alone.

"Now! Let Recoome show you your doom!"

"Never!" Gohan's ki flared as he launched himself at Recoome one final time, his power spiking with the same protective fury that had driven Cellera to take Recoome's blow for him. "I'm not gonna let you win!"

"Gohan, don't-!" Cellera's warning came too late.

Recoome's kick caught him in the side of the neck. The crack echoed across the battlefield. The force twisted him as he fell, his head landing at an unnatural angle that left him facing her. Their eyes met for one terrible moment - his usually bright gaze already growing distant - before his body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

Cellera squeezed her eyes shut shame as she felt his ki signature flicker dangerously low. She'd failed - failed to protect her father, failed to help Krillin, and now failed to save the boy who'd shown her where true strength comes from. Not from ruthlessness and cruelty, but from something she suspected her mother had known all along - the courage to protect others even when victory seems impossible.

In the distance, she sensed a familiar ki signature approaching. 'Please' , she thought, no longer caring what her father would think of her hope, ' Please hurry, Kakarot. Your son has more than earned the right to survive this '.

"Oi, Recoome!" Jeice called, annoyance laced in his voice. "Finish up your handiwork so we can report back to Lord Frieza and get Cellera in a healing pod!" 

"Yeah. We don't want to spend all day watching you have fun! Let's get this over with!" Burter chimed in. 

Just as Recoome began to walk over to Gohan, a gleam caught his attention causing him to pause. In a blink of an eye, faster than even Burter, Kakarot stood before them by Gohan, the force of his speed sending Recoome spinning.

"Gohan..." Goku whispered upon seeing his son in such a state.

"Hah. Kakarot. Of course." Vegeta said, clutching his bad arm. "So he finally decided to show up."

"Hold on Krillin, I'll be right there with a senzu bean for ya!" Goku called out to his friend before kneeling by Gohan's side, gently cradling him. "It's okay, son. I'm here now. You're going to be fine, just try to swallow this."

Cellera watched as Kakarot pulled out another of those magical beans from Earth. She remembered their healing properties from the Saiyan battle, but could they really mend something as severe as a broken neck?

"Dad! Is it really you?" Gohan asked, clutching his father's gi. 

Cellera's eyes widened as Gohan sat up, completely healed - his neck injury erased as if it had never happened.

"Dad, wait - Cellera needs one too!" He snatched another bean from his father's hand before rushing over to where she lay paralyzed. "Here, eat this! Quick!" he urgently told her. The same protective instinct that had driven her to take Recoome's blow now reflected in his eyes. "You took that hit for me back there, now let me help you."

"What are you giving my daughter?" Vegeta demanded, taking a step forward despite his injuries. For all his talk of sentiment making one weak, concern bled through his harsh tone.

"It's alright, Father," Cellera assured him, accepting the bean from Gohan. 

Feeling returned to her legs almost instantly as she swallowed. She stood, testing her restored mobility with cautious movements that quickly grew more confident.

"Come on," Gohan said, already heading toward where Krillin lay. "Dad, Krillin needs one too!"

As they approached their fallen friend, Goku's eyes widened at the sight of Vegeta's battered condition. "What happened to him?"

"Recoome," Cellera explained, her voice tight. "My father's strongest attacks barely fazed him. Even a point-blank blast to the face only managed to bloody his nose."

That reminder of her father's defeat made her glance back at him, noting how he still maintained his pride despite his injuries. Some things, at least, never changed. 

While she could feel that Kakarot was a lot stronger than when they last met, Cellera couldn't gauge if it would be enough against the remaining Ginyu Force members, let alone Frieza. Though if his performance on Earth was any indication, he could be masking his true power.

"I've been meaning to ask," Kakarot said, surveying the battlefield and Cellera's Frieza Force uniform. "Why are you two fighting them? Aren't you with them?"

"It's a long story," Cellera replied, Krillin nodding in agreement beside her.

"I got something that will be a lot faster! King Kai taught me this neat trick when I trained with him!"

Cellera's curiosity peaked at the mention of the being she had briefly collaborated with back on Earth, but before she could respond, Kakarot placed a hand on both her and Krillin's heads. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught her father tensing despite his injuries, ready to strike if necessary.

"Just relax. Reading your minds should only take a moment." His face took on an expression of calm concentration. After several seconds, understanding dawned in his eyes. "Oh, so that's it!” he said, removing his hands from their heads. “I saw everything - how Grand Elder Guru gave you three that big power boost, all the way up to these Ginyu guys showing up. I got it all!"

He reached into his bag, retrieving the final senzu bean. "I also saw that Vegeta is still the same as ever, but when it came down to it, he still saved you guys. I guess we owe him one."

"Wow, Goku. You are seriously freaking me out here," Krillin said at his friend's newfound abilities.

"This is the last senzu bean," Kakarot muttered, dropping the now-empty bag aside. He turned toward her father, contemplating for a moment. "Hey Vegeta!" he called before throwing it his way. "That's for you. Eat it!"

Cellera watched as Recoome tried to catch the bean in his mouth, but passed through the gaps of his teeth she had knocked out in her uppercut earlier. As the bean landed safely in her father’s hand she gave him a nod, signaling that it's fine to eat. 

Her father’s eyes widened moments after swallowing, powering up and flexing his muscles to test if they’ve been truly healed and his stamina restored. “M-My body is…!?” he asked himself in shock. 

“What were you thinking?!” Krillen asked, appalled at his friend’s actions. “Even if you heal Vegeta and we can all fight as a team, it won’t do any good!” .

“That’s not what I’m doing. I want to settle the score with him later back on Earth.” Goku replied, shocking all three of them.

"Your rematch back on Earth? Are you serious?!" Krillin asked.

"I have to agree, Kakarot. Might I remind you of the promise I made!" Cellera chimed in, but Kakarot turned to her with a smile that made her pause. There was something in his expression that reminded her of her father when he spotted worthy prey - a glimmer of that primal Saiyan hunger for battle.

"Well sure! You said you promised to leave Earth, and you did. I don't recall anything about you two not coming back at all." he grinned.

Cellera studied him carefully, understanding dawning in her mind. While his words spoke of mercy, she recognized that familiar fire in his eyes - the same one that burned in every Saiyan warrior's blood. For all his Earth-learned compassion, Kakarot was still a Saiyan at his core. The prospect of fighting her father again, especially now that they'd both grown so much stronger, clearly excited him in a way that transcended his adopted world's gentler values.

She should have expected this duality. After all, hadn't she herself been struggling with similar conflicts between her Saiyan nature and newfound perspectives? His mercy might be genuine, but so was that warrior's gleam in his eyes. Kakarot had found a way to balance both aspects of himself - showing compassion while still honoring the battle-hunger that ran through their veins.

She only hoped their inevitable rematch wouldn't end in another life-or-death scenario, though knowing both warriors' pride, she wasn't optimistic.

However, she couldn't deny the slight joy she felt at the possibility of visiting the place that began to change her perspective. Perhaps if they somehow made it out of this, she would take Kakarot up on his offer, but for now they needed to focus on the task at hand.

"Dad, wait! Where are you going?!" Gohan asked as Goku began walking toward Recoome.

"Stay here. I'll take care of these Ginyu guys." Kakarot said, turning to meet their eyes. His gaze held an authority that brooked no argument - something Cellera was used to seeing from her father - but Kakarot's also carried complete confidence and assurance rather than threat.

"But Goku, you don't understand what you're up against!" Krillin protested, genuine fear in his voice. "These guys are monsters!"

Cellera studied Kakarot's relaxed stance as he approached Recoome. Something was fundamentally different about him - beyond just increased power. She glanced at Gohan and saw the same recognition in his eyes. Whatever training Kakarot had undergone since Earth had transformed more than just his strength.

She tried to understand what felt different about his ki signature. There was a controlled quality to it now, a sense of power held carefully in check rather than the raw force he'd displayed on Earth. The contrast between his casual demeanor and Krillin's fear made her wonder if they were sensing only a fraction of what he was capable of.

Beside her, Gohan watched his father with complete faith, none of his earlier fear present. Despite Krillin's valid concerns, both she and Gohan could tell - this wasn't the same warrior who had struggled against her father on Earth. The question was whether this new strength would be enough against the Ginyu Force... and eventually, Frieza.

"You're something else," Recoome said, clearly amused by Kakarot's confidence. "Here I am about to kill you and you’re smiling like an idiot!"

"Listen you can’t beat me," Kakarot replied casually. "I can tell without even fighting you."

Cellera's eyes widened at his tone. She'd never heard such certainty from him before - not even during their battle on Earth. This wasn't mere bravado or Saiyan pride; there was something else behind his words.

"Did... did dad just trash talk?" Gohan whispered, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yeah, that's not like Goku at all," Krillin agreed, equally stunned. "He usually lets his fighting do the talking."

"Impossible," Vegeta muttered, his fists clenching. "He's nothing but a low-class warrior. I am a Saiyan elite, the Prince of all Saiyans! Yet his power..."

The unspoken implications hung heavy in the air. Cellera had grown up hearing tales of the legendary Super Saiyan - a warrior of unimaginable power that appeared only every thousand years. Her father had always assumed he would be the one to achieve it, given his royal bloodline. The idea that Kakarot might reach it first…

Recoome interrupted her thoughts, dropping into another ridiculous pose. "Now feel the power... of... RECOOME!" he shouted, charging forward with all his might.

But Kakarot just stood there, radiating a calm confidence that unsettled her. Something about his control felt different - even her father's most disciplined moments carried an edge of barely contained rage.

Recoome's punch cut through empty air as Kakarot vanished. Cellera's enhanced senses from Guru allowed her to track his movement - barely. Even her father's sharp intake of breath confirmed he'd seen it too. In an instant, Kakarot had appeared behind Burter and Jeice.

Their scouters beeped frantically, registering his presence only after he'd spoken. "You two work for Frieza too, right?"

"How did he-" Jeice spun around, his usual cocky demeanor cracking slightly.

"Even I couldn't track that speed!" Burter added, genuine shock in his voice. Coming from the self-proclaimed fastest being in the universe, that admission carried weight.

She studied Kakarot's movements with growing unease. The speed hadn't been like Guldo's time-stop or even high-speed combat - it was pure, controlled power unlike anything she'd seen before. Her father's tense posture suggested he'd reached the same conclusion.

"I'll give you one chance," Kakarot continued, his voice carrying that same strange mix of authority and mercy that still caught Cellera off guard. "Leave now, peacefully. If I were you, I'd take that offer."

The gesture wasn't lost on Cellera. Here was a warrior clearly capable of destroying them, yet still offering mercy - not from weakness like she'd been taught from her father, but from a position of absolute strength, a teaching from her mother.

"Why you-" Burter and Jeice launched simultaneous attacks, but Kakarot had already vanished again. Their scouters whirred uselessly, trying to track movement too fast for their technology to follow.

He floated back toward Recoome, leaving the other two Ginyu Force members visibly shaken.

"Now you'll see my ultimate attack!" Recoome declared, striking another elaborate pose. His chest expanded as he began gathering energy, the ground creating cracks beneath the amount of power he was exerting.

In a blur of movement too fast for even the scouters to track, Kakarot's elbow connected with Recoome's exposed midsection. The precise, economical motion contradicted everything Cellera knew about combat – there had been no wasted energy, no flashy display, just pure concentrated force delivered exactly at a precise point.

"Sorry, but you did kind of leave yourself wide open there, you know?" Kakarot said with a good-natured laugh. "Bad move."

"Incredible," she whispered, eyes wide as she tried to comprehend what she'd just witnessed. "He channeled that much power into a single strike..." 

Recoome stood frozen for a moment before crumpling face-first to the ground, his torn unitard leaving his rear end pointed skyward in an inglorious final pose. The warrior who had shrugged off her father's strongest attacks, who had nearly killed them all, had been defeated with a single hit.

"I can't believe it," Krillin stammered, staring at Recoome's unconscious form. "The four of us couldn't even scratch him, but Goku just..."

"He's totally different now," Gohan added, his voice filled with awe. "That wasn't even a real fight!"

"No way!" Jeice's shocked voice carried across the battlefield. "He took down Recoome with one hit!"

"Impossible!" Burter added. "No one's ever done that before!"

But Cellera could see the truth of it in Kakarot's stance – this wasn't just about raw power. This was mastery on a level she'd never witnessed before. Her father's earlier words about the legendary Super Saiyan echoed in her mind as she watched Kakarot turn toward the remaining Ginyu Force members.

“What’s it going to be you two? Leave here and go back to wherever it is you came from? Or stay, and wind up like your friend here?” he asked the two remaining Ginyu Force warriors. 

The pair responded by descending closer, launching into yet another series of elaborate poses. Cellera fought the urge to roll her eyes - after watching Recoome go down in one hit, they were still treating this like some performance.

"I am the Red Magma of the Ginyu Force - Jeice!"

"And I am the Blue Hurricane - Burter!"

They spun and twisted through the air, striking poses that would have looked ridiculous even by their usual standards. Cellera caught Krillin and Gohan exchanging bewildered looks - even after everything they'd seen today, the Ginyu Force's antics could still surprise them.

"So I guess you're not leaving," Kakarot stated flatly, his casual tone a sharp contrast to their theatrical display.

Jeice and Burter landed on either side of him - Jeice in front, Burter behind - clearly hoping to trap him between them. A strategy that might have worked against any other opponent, but after what they'd just witnessed with Recoome...

"Now listen here, mate-" Jeice began, but before he could finish his sentence, Kakarot's fist connected with his face, sending him staggering backward.

"Why-why you!" Jeice howled, clutching his face in pain.

"Hm? Now what were you saying?" Kakarot asked innocently. "Sorry, but you guys do really leave yourselves wide open."

Cellera had to bite back a laugh - something that would have shocked her just months ago. But the sheer simplicity of Kakarot's approach compared to the Ginyu Force's theatrics was almost comical. How many times had she watched them leave obvious openings during their poses, thinking any competent warrior would take advantage? Now here was Kakarot, doing exactly that with an almost childlike directness.

"Oi, don't you laugh at us, little miss princess!" Jeice snapped, still rubbing his face. "This isn't funny!"

"Oh, but it kind of is," she replied, unable to completely suppress her amusement. After years of enduring their poses and recruitment attempts, watching someone finally exploit the obvious openings during their poses.

The casual efficiency of his attacks struck everyone watching - no posing, no declaration of attacks, just pure, controlled power delivered with perfect timing. To Cellera and Gohan especially, this was clearly not the same warrior who had struggled on Earth.

"We're done talking!" Jeice snarled. He and Burter attacked simultaneously - Jeice with a high kick, Burter with an elbow strike - but Kakarot blocked both attacks effortlessly.

In one fluid motion, he drove his knee into Jeice's abdomen, sending the red-skinned warrior reeling backward. Without losing momentum, he swept Burter's legs out from under him with a kick that displayed both power and precision.

Cellera's eyes widened as Kakarot executed a windmill-like spin to right himself, the movement more like a dance than combat. As he crossed his arms and then thrust his palms outward, she felt the raw energy surge - no ki blast, just pure concentrated force that sent both Ginyu Force members flying backward a good couple of meters.

The shockwave kicked up a massive dust cloud, forcing everyone to shield their eyes. When the debris finally settled, Jeice and Burter were hovering midair, their expressions rattled at someone they had dismissed as a mere low-class warrior. Even their scouters seemed unable to process the readings they were getting from Kakarot.

"Maybe they're not as strong as we thought," Gohan said hopefully. "They can't even touch my dad."

"No, that's not it," Krillin replied, tension evident in his voice. "I can feel the power they're putting out. They're just as strong as Recoome was."

"He's right," Cellera confirmed, watching Kakarot's relaxed stance. "Jeice and Burter are nearly as powerful as Recoome, but the difference isn't in their strength..." She trailed off, watching Kakarot's relaxed stance. Even facing two elite warriors simultaneously, he showed no sign of strain or concern.

The display left even her father speechless. This wasn't just combat - this was complete mastery of movement and energy control. Every action served a purpose, without any of the wasteful showmanship the Ginyu Force was known for. The efficiency of it all would have been beautiful if it wasn't so terrifying.

The battle's outcome became clear not too much later as Kakarot hoisted Burter above his head - the self-proclaimed fastest being in the universe rendered helpless. With casual strength, he tossed the blue-skinned warrior aside like a discarded training dummy.

"They're both still alive," Kakarot announced to Jeice, nodding toward Burter and Recoome's unconscious forms. "They'll need a doctor though. If you want to help them, pick them up and leave this planet."

"Don't be absurd!" her father's sharp voice cut through the air. "Finish them off now Kakarot, while you still have the chance!"

Cellera's hands clenched at her sides, suppressing the strange mix of emotions these warriors always stirred in her. Despite their theatrical displays and almost familial treatment of her, she knew better than anyone their absolute loyalty to Frieza. Even now, watching them unconscious and defeated, she could hear her father's voice echoing years of harsh lessons - an enemy left alive was an enemy who would return stronger.

"No." Goku’s voice remained firm but calm. "I've already made my point. This fight is over. They’re not a threat to anyone like this."

Watching Jeice's shocked expression, Cellera wondered if the Force members could even comprehend this kind of mercy. The idea that someone could have the power to destroy you but choose not to - it went against everything Frieza's empire stood for.

She was proved right when Jeice suddenly blasted away as quick as he could, if she had to guess he was going to bring Ginyu over, and that’s a whole separate problem all together. ‘ Coward.’ she thought. 

“He’s getting away!” Gohan yelled as they all watched Jeice leave.

“Huh? Are you kidding me?” Goku asked incredulously. “He’s just gonna run off and leave his friends behind?”

“Hey!” Krillin said, looking at Goku as if he’d never met the man standing before him. “Who are you and what have you done with Goku?” 

Before anyone could respond, her father moved with deadly purpose toward Burter's unconscious form. His boot crushed Burter's throat without hesitation. 

"No, stop!" Kakarot protested too late.

Vegeta then turned toward Recoome, energy already gathered in his palm. The blast obliterated the unconscious warrior instantly, leaving nothing but a smoking crater.

She fought to keep her expression neutral, her hands clenched at her sides. She found herself studying Gohan's reaction - his horror at the executions somehow validating her own discomfort. Yet she couldn't deny her father's strategic logic. These were warriors who would never abandon Frieza, never show them the same mercy Kakarot had offered.

"What's wrong with you?" Kakarot demanded. "I told you we didn't have to worry about those guys anymore! They were done, they couldn't even defend themselves."

"They got exactly what they deserve. They're scum, believe me." Her father spat to the side before continuing, anger rising in his voice. "Would they have taken mercy on your son and your friend?! If you'd arrived ten minutes later, they'd be gone right now!"

"It's true." Cellera found herself speaking up, causing everyone to look at her in surprise, even her father. "Kakarot, they would've killed everyone had you shown up any later. The only reason they planned to spare me was to join their force, but honestly, I think I'd rather the alternative.” 

She met Kakarot’s eyes and spoke again with complete sincerity in her voice. “I'm grateful for the mercy you showed me and my father on Earth - you reminded me of something I thought was long forgotten. However, I also think it's important to recognize that not everyone will extend that same mercy nor have a change of heart. In that case, I believe eliminating the threat is the right call."

"Your bleeding heart sentimentality makes me want to wretch!" Vegeta snarled, his gaze shifting from Kakarot to his daughter. "And you, Cellera - if today's mistakes haven't changed your mind about this new' path you've chosen, perhaps you should just stay with these Earthlings. At least then you won't be a liability in real combat."

His words struck with practiced precision, finding vulnerabilities no physical blow could reach. The dismissal shouldn't have surprised her - she'd seen her father's growing disapproval of her changing perspectives since Earth. Yet being called a liability by the warrior who'd trained her, shaped her... Cellera maintained her composed expression through years of ingrained discipline, but beneath that mask, old doubts stirred. Had choosing mercy truly made her weak? Or was her father's definition of strength itself flawed?

Vegeta turned back to Kakarot, his voice thick with derision. "What were you thinking letting the last one get away like that?! With your newfound strength, you could have easily dealt with him without breaking a sweat! It seems you weren't fully able to become a Super Saiyan after all."

"A Super Saiyan...?" Goku mumbled before shaking his head. "Look, I don't want to make it sound like I'm bragging, but I think I've gotten just about as strong as a person can get. And even with that you're still saying this Frieza guy is going to beat me so easily?"

“You might be proud of how overwhelmingly powerful you’ve become, but you’ll never beat Frieza with that compassion you like to show so much, even if you were immortal!  You have absolutely no idea how completely terrifying and ruthless Frieza is capable of being!” 

“Oh come on! You have to be exaggerating just a little bit, right? You saw for yourself how awesome Goku is now!” Krillin tried to argue.

"No, my father is entirely correct. Kakarot, a fight with Frieza means a fight to the death." Cellera said, her usually composed tone carrying a weight that made even her father glance at her. She turned to Krillin and Gohan, but something had changed in her eyes - that sharp tactical gaze growing distant for a moment, as if seeing something beyond the current battlefield. "You've both witnessed the power of Frieza and his ruthlessness for yourself back when we saved Dende at his village, or have you forgotten already?"

Krillin and Gohan's excitement died down at the reminder of the power of said tyrant and the ease at which he commanded his warriors to slaughter innocent villagers and children without remorse.

“At any rate, he’s obtained all seven Dragon Balls, which means he probably already acquired eternal life by now. Any thought’s of defeating him are sheer fantasy at this point. The best we can hope for is simply not to run into him.” 

“I don’t know. I have a feeling he hasn’t had his wish granted yet.” Krillin speculated. 

“What do you mean?” Cellera asked her companion. 

"If the Dragon Balls are anything like the ones on Earth, then the sky will turn black when Shenron appears. The sky has been nothing but bright since we've been here, so he hasn't made his wish yet," Krillin replied.

Cellera glanced at the sky, Krillin was right. Due to the planet's three suns, Namek experiences eternal daylight. "So who or what is this Shenron?"

"He's the eternal dragon that appears whenever the Dragon Balls are summoned. Trust me, you can't miss something like that." Krillin replied.

"That's it! That's why he hasn't made his wish yet!" Kakarot exclaimed, causing everyone to turn to him. "He doesn't know the words to summon the dragon!"

"You mean like a password of sorts?" Cellera questioned.

"Yeah, without it there's no way he'd be able to have his wish granted! He probably just assumed he would have his wish after gathering all seven Dragon Balls!" Goku confirmed.

"We need to try and get the Dragon Balls back!" Gohan asserted. "Before Frieza figures out the password and makes his wish!"

"Vegeta, Cellera, you two know a lot about these guys. Any ideas?" Kakarot asked.

"Hmm?" Her father's smirk carried familiar mockery. "I thought you were going to defeat Frieza."

“I’d like to if I can, but we need to bring back all our friends that you killed back on Earth. Plus King Kai asked me to avoid Frieza at any cost.” Goku retorted.

"I wouldn't wish the others back just yet then, Kakarot." Cellera replied, her eyes narrowing as she considered the implications.. “He would just kill them again and Earth may just follow suit if he felt inclined. Our first priority should be getting back the Dragon Balls and hiding them until we deal with Frieza.”

"Or instead of wasting the wish on those weaklings, we let me have mine for immortality." Her father interjected, his tone carrying that familiar arrogance that had only grown since their arrival on Namek.

Cellera glared lightly at her father. After everything she has been through the past few days since landing on this planet, to their parting of ways, his berating her of wanting to follow her own path, to this moment, her patience was beginning to wear thin. Just as she was about to make a quip back at her father, something she had never dared before, she felt two familiar ki signatures headed their way. Based on the reactions of the others, they must feel them as well.

"It seems that Jeice, the one you let escape , is bringing Captain Ginyu back with him." Vegeta voiced, looking in the direction that the ki are coming from. He paused for a few moments before a look of confusion came across his face. "Hang on, where did Frieza run off to? He should be at his ship after Ginyu delivers the Dragon Balls to him."

Goku stood silently for a moment before he pointed, "I sense an incredibly strong ki way out in that direction. That's probably where Frieza is."

Cellera immediately realized the direction Kakarot was pointing at was where Guru was located. As she looked toward Krillin and Gohan, she saw that they had also realized where Frieza had gone. 

"Uh oh! That's Guru's place!" Gohan said.

"This is not good. Guru's old, he can't defend himself! And if Frieza destroys him, then that means the Dragon Balls are history as well!" Krillin cried out in worry.

"You mean if some old Namek dies, the Dragon Balls will vanish?!" her father asked in surprise.

Cellera's thoughts drifted back to their battle on Earth and she remembered a particular sentence that Gohan had said to Piccolo. 

"If we lose you, then the Dragon Balls will disappear and we won't be able to wish any of our friends back to life!"

Of course, it all started to make sense! Namek's Grand Elder was the only survivor of the catastrophe, making him the only one who could've created the Dragon Balls for their people!

"No, not just some old Namek, but the creator of the Dragon Balls on this planet," she corrected him. "Once the creator of the Dragon Balls dies, the Dragon Balls cease to exist as well." 

Cellera couldn't resist pointing out her father's miscalculation. "If only we had left Earth after realizing that Namekians could create Dragon Balls, instead of wasting time on pointless slaughter. Then the Earthlings wouldn't be here, thwarting your plans for immortality." She gave her father a smirk that everyone noticed resembled his own.

She couldn't help but savor the surprised look that crossed her father's face. The irony was sharp enough to cut - if he had only followed her mother's methods, the very ones he had dismissed as 'weak' and 'improper for a Saiyan warrior', he would already have his wish.

"Cellera you little-" Her father's face contorted with rage. "I swear, the longer you're around these Earthlings, the more you become like her !" he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Right down to that 'I told you so' tone."

Before Cellera could respond, Krillin interjected.  “Hey, your little family banter is cute and all, but can we save it for later?!” 

Just then, the two ki signatures closed in, revealing Jeice and Ginyu as they landed before them. Goku and Ginyu locked eyes, each assessing the other in tense silence.

"Meet the boss, matey!" Jeice announced with renewed confidence. "His name is Captain Ginyu and he'd like to have a few words with you concerning our encounter earlier!"

"What do you think, Goku?" Krillin asked. "Do you think you can beat this guy too?"

"I guess there's only one way for us to find out." He replied, before turning to look at Krillin, Gohan and Cellera. "I'll keep this guy busy. I want you three to get the radar from Bulma and start looking for the Dragon Balls left at the spaceship." 

"Be careful Kakarot." Cellera warned. "Ginyu isn't just the most powerful of his force - he's their captain for a reason. Even Frieza considers him valuable, and that alone should tell you how dangerous he is." She then glanced at her father who began to walk towards Ginyu and Jeice. "Are you fighting as well then, father?" 

Vegeta gave a huff of laughter. "Of course. Now that I've recovered, these two shouldn't be anything I can't handle."

"Oh come now, Cellera!" Jeice called out. "One last chance to join up! With Recoome, Burter and Guldo gone, we've got openings! Think of the poses we could do!"

"For the last time," Cellera gritted out, though there was an odd finality to it now, "I am not joining your force!"

"Alright then, let's hurry out of here!" Krillin said.

Cellera looked between Kakarot and her father, unease growing as she watched her father's stance. The way he held himself, the eager glint in his eyes - she'd seen these tells before, usually right before he sprung some trap. But they didn't have time to figure out what he was planning.

Turning toward Krillin and Gohan, they all gave each other a nod before simultaneously blasting off toward where they'd left Bulma - and Cellera could only hope the woman wouldn't be too angry with them having to leave again.

 

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Notes:

I had so much fun writing for the Namek Arc, especially from here to the end! Hope you guys have all enjoyed the story thus far, and thank you for your support!

 

The journey back to Bulma's cave felt heavier than their previous flights across Namek's landscape. While Krillin and Gohan discussed strategy, Cellera remained uncharacteristically quiet, her usual observations absent. Her father's words about being a liability echoed in her mind, along with her own agreement about eliminating the Ginyu Force. One step forward, two steps back. Perhaps she hadn't changed as much as she'd thought. 

 

She watched Krillin gesture animatedly as he explained something to Gohan, the easy friendship between them evident in their shared laughter. Once, she would have dismissed such bonds as weakness. Now, their trust in her - their willingness to fight alongside her despite everything - made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar warmth 

 

They hadn’t voiced anything at the time, but their shocked expressions at her approval of her father’s handling of the Ginyu force flashed through her mind.What if they still saw her as that girl who came to Earth? The one that stood by and watched as their friends were taken out one by one. The one who-

"Hey, you okay?" Gohan asked, dropping back to fly beside her, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You've been really quiet."

Cellera glanced off to the side awkwardly. "I just..." She hesitated, unused to voicing such doubts. "When I agreed with my father about the Ginyu Force, it felt like any progress I’d made thus far had been erased.” She bit her lip before deciding to voice the root of her uneasiness. "I... don't want either of you to think that I'm…"  she trailed off, finding herself at a loss for words.

The silence stretched between them until Krillin broke it with an incredulous laugh. "Are you kidding?" He spun mid-flight to face her, nearly colliding with a startled Gohan in his enthusiasm. "You've been nothing but helpful since we met up! Heck, without your plan to bounce back the spirit bomb, we may not even be here right now!"

Cellera's eyes widened, her carefully maintained composure cracking. "You-You know about that?"

"Yeah! We heard about it from King Kai!" Gohan's face lit up with that pure, genuine smile she was still getting used to having directed at her. "Even before that, you could've killed me in our fight if you wanted, but you didn't!"

Her hand unconsciously moved to her stomach where her father's punch had landed - punishment for that very mercy. The movement didn't escape Gohan's notice, his expression softening with understanding.

"I also remember something you said to me back on Earth." Krillin's usual lighthearted tone grew serious as he recalled their confrontation over Vegeta's fate.

"How many more people have to die?!"

"If I could have it my way, none!"

"I'd say with all of that, you're fine in our book!" He scratched the back of his head with a grin. "Besides, I never thought I'd see anyone sass Vegeta like that - especially about being wrong!"

"He's right," Gohan added earnestly. "My dad wants to give everyone a chance, like he did with Piccolo! And now look - Piccolo gave his life protecting me. People really can change."

"Oh yeah, don't get me started on that." Krillin rolled his eyes, though his fond smile betrayed his true feelings. He shook his head before meeting Cellera's gaze again. "Sometimes understanding why something needs to be done, even if it's hard, is part of growing and it doesn't erase the good things you've done. So don't worry too much about it."

The sincerity in their voices caught her off guard. She'd spent years learning to read threats and calculate tactics, but this simple acceptance of her struggles felt entirely new. Her vision blurred slightly as she fought to keep her voice steady. "I... thank you," she finally managed. "Both of you."

"Any time," Krillin said with a warm smile. "Y'know, I was actually pretty surprised when your father offered to help Goku with Ginyu."

Her thumb pressed to her lip as her tone grew more cutting. "I was as well. Father suddenly eager to play hero alongside the 'low-class warrior' he despises? Something's wrong."

"You think he's up to something?" Gohan asked, his expression growing concerned.

"Father's been different since Earth. More reckless. More desperate." Her eyes narrowed. "He berates me for showing mercy, for forming alliances, yet here he is making the same supposedly emotional choices. With Frieza having the Dragon Balls..." Her voice trailed off as that gnawing feeling of unease grew stronger.

"Should we go back?" Krillin asked, already slowing his flight.

"No," Cellera shook her head firmly. "We need to reach Bulma and find those Dragon Balls before Frieza returns. Whatever my father's planning..." She pressed her thumb to her lip. "We just have to hope Kakarot can handle it."

"Y'know, speaking of your father - he mentioned being the 'Prince of all Saiyans' back there." Krillin said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, I remember he called himself that back on Earth too." Gohan added.

Cellera gave a dry laugh. "Ah yes, our illustrious royal titles." Her tone dripped with irony. "Though they don't mean much when there's no planet left to rule. Just another thing Frieza took from us."

"So if your planet hadn't been destroyed..." Gohan began, his natural curiosity showing.

"We'd be running an entire warrior race instead of working as Frieza's glorified planet brokers?" She raised an eyebrow. "The universe has a strange sense of humor."

Just before Krillin or Gohan could question her further, they'd arrived at the small ravine where they'd left Bulma. As they approached the cave entrance, they found Bulma napping, her back against the rocky wall and a book in her lap.

"BULMA!" Gohan and Krillin shouted in unison, making Cellera wince at their volume - another Earth custom she was still adjusting to. Bulma floundered awake, nearly dropping her book before registering who had called her. "We need the Dragon Radar!"

Bulma adjusted her red headband, her narrowed eyes and rigid posture telling Cellera all she needed to know about the lecture to come. The young Saiyan found herself unconsciously straightening her stance - a habit from years of her father's similar expressions.

"What have you guys been doing?!" Bulma demanded, throwing her hands up. "First you show up with Vegeta -" She jabbed a finger in their direction, "Then you grab the Dragon Ball and take off to who knows where! Do you guys think you can just keep abandoning me here?!"

“W-We need the Dragon Radar. We might still be able to get our wish if-” Krillin tried to interject but was cut off again by Bulma.

“What? You meant you still haven’t gotten our wish yet?! I saw all seven together on the radar and thought you already called Shenron! What are you fools waiting for?” Bulma finished, breathing heavily as lecturing the three warriors had taken all her breath away. 

“Fooling around?” Krillin deadpanned.

It was then that Bulma noticed their battle-worn appearances. Krillin and Gohan's tattered gi's bore testament to their fights, while Cellera's Saiyan armor - once pristine like her father's - now showed cracks and scorch marks. Her dark hair, usually kept as immaculate as her royal heritage demanded, had come loose from its careful styling, and dirt and scrapes marked all their faces and limbs. They looked less like warriors and more like survivors.

“What happened this time?" she asked instead, concern now replacing her earlier fury.

“Krillin, Cellera! I found the radar and the Dragon Balls are over that way!” Gohan said as he pointed in the direction of Frieza’s ship.

“All right! Let’s go!” Krillin said, already preparing to take off.

"Wait just a moment!" The authority in Cellera's voice echoed off the ravine walls, halting both boys mid-step. Something of her heritage must have shown through - the same commanding presence she'd inherited from her father, though hopefully wielded with more of her mother's wisdom. "We need to inform Bulma of what's happening first."

Her tone left no room for argument, though she noticed Krillin and Gohan exchange surprised glances before nodding. The instinct to command came naturally, but her next thought was pure evolution: she couldn't leave Bulma in the dark again. Something about the woman's fierce protectiveness of her friends reminded Cellera of stories she'd heard about female Saiyans - of her mother.

"Man, if I didn't believe she was a princess before, I sure do now," Krillin whispered to Gohan as they watched Cellera explain the situation to Bulma with surprising patience.

"Yeah," Gohan nodded, remembering similar tones from his own mother when she meant business.

Even disheveled from battle, Cellera's posture unconsciously mirrored her father's - that same straight-backed pride, that lift of the chin that spoke of authority without trying. But where Vegeta's presence demanded submission, hers now invited alliance, a subtle difference that would have pleased her mother.

"Okay, now let's hurry before Frieza gets back!" Cellera said, her voice returning to its normal register as she turned to find both boys still staring. "What?"

"Nothing!" Krillin said quickly, though his grin suggested otherwise. "Let's go!"

The three warriors took to the sky once more, their urgency lending speed to their flight. Cellera found herself falling into the familiar point position she often took during missions, though this time her companions followed by choice rather than fear.

"How far to the ship?" she asked, scanning the horizon.

"Should be just ahead," Krillin replied. "Look - there!"

Frieza's massive spacecraft came into view, its polished surface reflecting Namek's triple suns. Cellera's hand moved to her chin, thumb pressing against her lip as she processed the scene before them.

"Something's wrong," she said as they landed. "There should be guards posted. Frieza never leaves his ship unprotected."

They crept closer, and her unease deepened at the eerie silence. No patrol patterns, no scouter signals, nothing. Just the wind whistling across Namek's plains. The implications made her stomach turn, but she kept her expression neutral. Now wasn't the time to voice her growing suspicions about her father's sudden eagerness to "help" Kakarot.

"Maybe they're all inside?" Krillin suggested hopefully.

"No..." Her eyes narrowed as she spotted dark stains on the ground that looked suspiciously like blood. "Someone's been here. Recently."

Gohan studied the Dragon Radar intently, his brow furrowing. "That's weird... According to this, the Dragon Balls aren't inside the ship at all." He took a few steps forward, following the radar's signal. "They're... this way."

Following Gohan's lead, they came upon a patch of disturbed earth that stood out against the pristine Namekian soil. Recent tool marks scarred the ground, and the dirt appeared freshly turned.

“Looks like they’re right here,” Gohan said, looking to the turned ground and back to the blinking Dragon Radar.

“The only question is, how deep are they buried?” Cellera wondered aloud.

“Well, the only way to find out is to start digging!” Krillin replied as he crouched to the ground, giving her and Gohan a smile. The two returned his smile as they got down on their hands and knees and began to dig up the ground in search of the Dragon Balls.

"Well," Krillin sighed, looking at their muddied hands after several minutes of digging, "at least Frieza didn't take them far."

The seven Dragon Balls gleamed in the Namekian sunlight, their massive size making them look more like golden boulders than mystical artifacts. As they surveyed their work, Cellera noticed a smudge of dirt across Gohan's nose.

"Uh, Gohan," she said, her lips twitching with amusement. "You've got a little something..." She gestured to her nose.

"Huh?" Gohan tried to wipe it off, only managing to spread the dirt further across his face.

The sight broke Cellera's usual composure, a genuine laugh escaping her. Krillin joined in, and soon all three were caught up in the moment, their earlier tension temporarily forgotten.

"Well, you're one to talk," Gohan grinned, pointing at her cheek where she must have accidentally touched while digging. "You've got dirt right there!"

"And Krillin looks like he took a mud bath," Cellera added, surprising herself with how natural it felt to join in their banter.

Gohan watched as Cellera's shoulders shook with laughter, a far cry from the rigid warrior who'd faced him on Earth. Even her usual stiff posture had softened, replaced by something more genuine. It was nice, he thought, seeing her actually act like someone their age for once.

They all attempted to clean their faces, though Cellera kept missing the spot on her cheek despite Krillin's helpful pointing. 

"Here," Gohan said, pulling off one of his red wristbands. "Let me help." He stepped closer, gently wiping the dirt from her cheek just as he'd done with his own face moments ago.

Cellera blinked in surprise at the gesture, but didn't pull away. For someone raised in combat, such casual kindness still felt new.

“Well, they’re all here.” Krillin said, looking down at the Dragon Balls they gathered. “You two ready to summon the Dragon? ‘Cause we’ve got some wishing to do.”

“Yeah!” Gohan said, excited to revive his old mentor back to the land of the living. 

Cellera however was quiet. She found herself scanning their surroundings again, that nagging feeling of being watched growing stronger. Despite their enhanced abilities from Guru, she couldn't sense any nearby power levels - which only made her more uneasy. Her father had always taught her that when something felt wrong, it usually was.

"You two go ahead and summon the dragon," She said, keeping her voice steady despite her growing concern. "I'll keep watch."

"Are you sure?" Gohan asked, his hand unconsciously moving to touch where his wristband had cleaned her cheek. "We could wait-"

"No," She cut him off, her thumb pressing against her lip as she analyzed their surroundings, her eyes lingering on one of the legs of Frieza’s ship. "Something doesn't feel right. The sooner we make our wishes, the better."

"She's right," Krillin nodded, already moving toward the massive Dragon Balls. "Let's do this before Frieza or Vegeta show up."

Gohan joined him near the golden orbs while Cellera maintained her vigilant watch of their surroundings. After a deep breath, Krillin raised his arms.

"Eternal Dragon! By your name, I summon you!" Nothing happened. "Come forth, Shenron!"

The golden spheres remained dormant in the Namekian sunlight, no darkened skies or mystical dragon emerging - just silence.

"I...suppose that's not supposed to happen," Cellera turned to look at the two disheartened warriors.

“Why didn’t Shenron come whooshing out? We have all seven Dragon Balls!” Krillin said as he stared at the Dragon Balls as if willing them to work.

Maybe the words are a little different here?” Gohan suggested.

Understanding dawned as Cellera processed Gohan's suggestion. "Gohan may be correct," she mused, thumb pressing to her lip. "From what I've gathered from you, the Dragon Balls here are not like the ones you have on Earth from size to wishes. It’s likely the password here is completely different and in their own language.” 

"Even their shine is different from Earth's," Gohan noted, studying the golden orbs. His observation was cut short as his head suddenly snapped up, eyes widening. "Wait - I sense two power levels heading this way!"

Cellera immediately began calculating possibilities. "Either it's Kakarot and my father, or..." She trailed off, pieces starting to click into place - the missing guards at the ship, her father's unusual eagerness to stay behind. That cold feeling of dread grew stronger.

"We need to hide. Now."

They quickly concealed themselves behind one of Namek's larger rock formations, suppressing their power levels as two figures appeared on the horizon. Cellera's eyes narrowed as she made out the distinctive red skin of Jeice - but the warrior flying beside him wasn't Captain Ginyu. Her father was nowhere in sight.

"Is that...my dad?" Gohan whispered in disbelief. "Why is he with Jeice?"

Something cold settled in Cellera's stomach as she watched them land near the Dragon Balls. Everything about Kakarot's movements felt wrong - too rigid, too calculated. None of the casual confidence she'd observed in their previous encounters. Her eyes caught the glint of a scouter attached to his face - something Kakarot had never needed nor worn before. Whatever her father had stayed behind to "help" with, she had a sinking feeling they were about to find out.

"The Dragon Balls have been dug up!" Jeice exclaimed, his eyes fixed on the pile of golden orbs that no longer remained underground.

"Now how did that happen?" 'Goku' mused, though the calculating tone sounded alien in that usually cheerful voice. "Someone's been quite busy here."

Cellera's eyes widened as 'Kakarot' spoke. That voice was not Kakarot's, it was Ginyu's! She cursed inwardly - if she'd known Ginyu possessed such an ability, she could have warned them.

She looked over to Gohan, whose face held one of suspicion as he stared at what looked like his father. Their eyes met in silent understanding - they both knew this was not his father. However, Krillin didn't seem to notice like they did.

"Goku!" Krillin called out, already stepping from their hiding place. "You really gave us a scare, I thought you were gonna be that Ginyu guy for sure!" He gave a friendly wave before turning to Jeice. "I didn't realize you beat him and got his partner to join our side!"

"He doesn't even realize that's not Kakarot." Cellera clicked her tongue in frustration. "We have to warn him!"

"Krillin!" Gohan's voice carried desperation. "That's not my dad!"

The warning came too late. The figure wearing his friend's face smiled - a cold, calculated expression that looked wrong on Goku's features - before striking Krillin across the face. The force sent him stumbling backward several steps toward where Cellera and Gohan remained hidden.

"So there's another one of them. There wasn't a reading on my scouter, apparently they can push their power level down to zero," The voice coming from Goku’s mouth carried none of his usual warmth - instead holding the calculated precision of the head honcho of the Ginyu Force.

"What did you do that for, Goku?!" Krillin asked in anger and confusion, holding the side of his face.

"Krillin, that is not Kakarot!" Cellera's mind rapidly processed the evidence - the scouter, the rigid posture, the cruel efficiency of the strike. "It's Ginyu in Kakarot's body! He must possess some kind of body-switching technique."

"Brilliant analysis as always Cellera! You're really a chip off the old block!" Ginyu praised her before he gave his signature pose, Jeice following with his own behind him. "That's right! I am the leader of the Ginyu Force-Captain Ginyu!"

"What have you done with Kakarot and my father?" Cellera demanded.

"No need to glare, dear Cellera," Ginyu said, his borrowed face twisting into a smirk. "I was sure not to leave the warrior without a body of his own. As for your father, he made himself scarce before the real battle began."

The confirmation settled like ice in her stomach. She'd sensed something wrong in her father's eagerness to stay behind, but retrieving the Dragon Balls had taken priority over analyzing his motives. Now, with the unguarded ship and that persistent feeling of being watched, everything aligned with painful clarity. Her father had orchestrated this from the moment he'd volunteered to "help" Kakarot.

Her gaze drifted back to the leg of Frieza's ship she had looked at earlier. Contrary to her father's belief of her, she hadn't discarded everything he taught her or what made her Saiyan. Something she was determined to show to him.

"Now then," Ginyu said, smirking as he dropped into a fighting stance. "Why don't I give this new body a test drive?"

Cellera glanced between her companions and the ship where her father likely waited. "It seems my father has caused another situation that could have been avoided." Annoyance laced her tone as she narrowed her eyes. "Will you two be alright by yourselves for a moment?"

"Yeah, we can handle him until you get back," Krillin said, though uncertainty threaded through his voice.

"Don't worry about us, Cellera." Gohan's confidence surprised her - so different from the hesitant boy she'd met on Earth. "We'll hold him off while you deal with Vegeta."

The corners of her lips turned up slightly at Gohan's understanding. "I'll be back as quickly as I can to assist." Her mind turned to their immediate advantage. "He's likely not yet accustomed to Kakarot's body - use that weakness if you can."

Krillin and Gohan nodded, determination replacing their earlier shock. As Ginyu charged forward, the three warriors separated - her companions engaging the body-switched captain while Cellera moved with calculated precision toward the ship.

Cellera landed silently near Frieza's ship, her eyes fixed on the massive landing strut where she'd sensed her father's energy. As she rounded the metallic column, she found him leaning against it with crossed arms, wearing that familiar smirk that told her he'd been waiting. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she noted his fresh appearance - his battle gear changed to one of the newer models that forwent the shoulder guards, no signs of his earlier fight visible. Further proof he'd made it to the ship long before them.

"I wondered how long it would take you to figure it out," Vegeta said, not bothering to change his relaxed posture. "Your observational skills seem to have dulled since Earth. The Cellera I trained would have seen through this plan immediately."

"The Cellera you trained would have questioned why the Prince of all Saiyans suddenly offered to help a 'low-class warrior,'" She countered, her voice carrying that precise edge she'd inherited from him. "But retrieving the Dragon Balls took priority over analyzing your suspicious behavior."

His smirk widened. "And how did that work out? Your precious new allies are probably being torn apart by Ginyu in Kakarot's body as we speak."

"A situation that wouldn't exist if you hadn't abandoned him to Ginyu." Her voice held a sharpness that made Vegeta pause. "Once again, your methods have led to self-sabotage. If you'd stayed and helped instead of sneaking away like a coward-"

"Watch your tone," Vegeta snapped, though something flickered in his expression as he studied her. "I thought I'd have at least another couple of years  before you developed that insufferable strong will and attitude all Saiyan women seem to possess." His eyes narrowed. "You're even starting to sound like her when she'd call out my errors."

The comparison to her mother caught Cellera off guard. She had few memories of Rhuba, most just impressions and stories, or small snippets of conversations with her, but her father's reaction suggested she'd hit a nerve.

Their argument halted as a new power signature approached - massive but unstable, as if its wielder couldn't properly control it. Both father and daughter turned to see Ginyu's purple form in the sky, its movements lacking the captain's usual precision and control. Each unsteady motion confirmed Cellera's suspicion that Kakarot was struggling with his borrowed body.. The severe wound in Ginyu's chest caught their attention - a calculated move, Cellera realized. Ginyu must have inflicted it before the switch to handicap Kakarot.

"Hey Captain!" Jeice thumbed behind him, alerting his superior. "It looks like that punk has followed us here."

"I...I've found you." Goku, now in Ginyu's body said, struggling to talk with the wound in his chest. He looked up towards Krillin, Gohan, and Ginyu who now possessed his body. "Don't hesitate to beat him up! He's no match for you, give it everything you got!"

"Haha! No match for them, you say?" Ginyu scoffed. "This used to be your body. We're talking a 180,000 power level here! There's no chance of them beating me!"

"I guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?" Goku goaded, despite his injury. "Unless the mind and body are in perfect harmony, you're not going to put out much power."

Ginyu's attempt to demonstrate his new power only proved Goku right - Jeice's scouter reading a mere 23,000 instead of the boasted 180,000.

"It's true!" Krillin exclaimed as he appeared back next to Gohan. "We just might be able to beat him like this!"

"What are you waiting for, Jeice!" Ginyu asked his subordinate in disbelief. "Get in there and help me fight!"

"Y-Yes sir!" Jeice stuttered out.

Cellera and her father exchanged glances, years of training allowing them to read each other's intent without words. Their earlier argument forgotten - for now - as they blasted off from behind the strut, cutting off Jeice's advance.

"Not so fast," Vegeta said from behind him. "You'll have to get through us first."

Father and daughter moved in perfect synchronization - Vegeta's direct assault forcing Jeice to dodge straight into Cellera's precisely timed strike. The red-skinned warrior barely managed to deflect her attack, only to find Vegeta already positioned for a follow-up.

Their coordination was flawless, years of practice evident in how they anticipated each other's movements. Whatever philosophical differences had grown between them, in battle they still spoke the same language of combat their blood demanded.

Jeice backed away, activating his scouter in frustration. "This is impossible! Your power levels weren't anywhere near this high against Recoome!"

"You rely too much on those devices," Cellera said, falling naturally into another attack stance that mirrored her father's. "Surely by now you've realized we can suppress our true power."

"She's right," Vegeta smirked. "Why don't you check that scouter again? Now that we're not holding back."

"You're bluffing!" Jeice scoffed, though his confidence wavered as his scouter began to beep frantically. His red face paled as the numbers climbed far beyond what they'd shown during their earlier encounters. "But... but how?!"

"What's wrong, Jeice?" Vegeta taunted as another combined attack sent their opponent reeling. "No poses to show us?"

Jeice's attempts to create distance proved futile as father and daughter maintained their relentless assault. His growing panic was evident in each increasingly desperate counter-attack.

"This can't be happening!" Jeice's voice cracked as he barely avoided another synchronized strike. "Captain Ginyu!"

"Your captain's a bit preoccupied," Vegeta said, his tone carrying that familiar edge that made Cellera instinctively shift her position. She recognized the signs - her father was done playing with his prey. "And you're finished."

The final blast was devastating in its efficiency, leaving nothing of the Ginyu Force's red magma behind.

"Well," Vegeta observed, a hint of pride breaking through his usual disdain, "it seems your time with the Earthlings hasn't completely erased my training."

"Just because I've changed my way of thinking doesn't mean I've discarded everything you taught me," Cellera replied, her chin lifting slightly. "Nor my pride as a Saiyan warrior." Her thumb pressed to her lip as she added with a touch of irony, “I've merely learned there's more than one way to be strong."

"You didn't need to take it that far," Goku called out, interrupting whatever response her father might have made.

"Super Saiyans tend to be a bit violent," Vegeta replied with a smirk.

Cellera couldn't help but raise a skeptical eyebrow at that. There hadn't been a Super Saiyan in over a thousand years - they had no way of knowing if that was true. Her father's growing obsession with the legend was starting to border on the absurd.

"Besides," Vegeta continued, his tone dripping with disdain as he turned to face Goku, "A sentimental fool like you could never achieve such power. Only I am truly worthy of becoming the legendary Super Saiyan." 

Seeming to finally notice the state of the other warriors' battle, Vegeta gave a scoff. "You fools haven't finished off Ginyu yet? You're holding back because he looks like Kakarot, aren't you?"

Cellera studied Krillin and Gohan - the two boys more battle-worn than when she'd left them moments ago. She couldn't blame them too much considering the circumstances. Plus they needed to somehow get Kakarot back into his own body; it would be fruitless if they beat it to uselessness. Her father, however, didn't see it that way.

"Fine, I'll take care of him then!" Vegeta shouted before rushing toward Ginyu, delivering a solid punch to his gut, followed by a punch to the face sending him flying. Following the path he sent Ginyu flying to, he proceeded to kick him into the air before appearing above him and pummeling him into the ground. 

Gohan and Krillin stood shell-shocked at how easily he went down, while Cellera watched with narrowed eyes. Each uncoordinated movement, every failed defense - it all confirmed her earlier suspicions. Ginyu might possess Kakarot's raw power, but he lacked the years of refined technique behind it. A light went off in her head as she pieced it together: Kakarot's strength wasn't just about power levels. His abilities had been honed through years of dedicated training, each movement perfected through practice rather than just relying on brute force.

"That's enough! Don't kill him, Vegeta!" Goku yelled, causing everyone to turn their eyes from Ginyu's defeat on the ground to Vegeta above, who was preparing his final assault. 

Cellera stared at her father, baffled that he was really about to take out Kakarot, someone who could help them fight against Frieza. Once again, another example of her father self-sabotaging himself and by extension, her and the others. 

"Here we go!" Vegeta shouted, descending toward the body on the ground. "NOW DIE!"

Her attention snapped back to Ginyu as she noticed the calculated gleam in his eyes. Her stomach dropped as she realized what he was planning. Ginyu wasn't finished with just possessing Kakarot's body. No, he had his sights set on an even more powerful vessel - her father.

"CHANGE!" Ginyu shouted.

Before Cellera could shout a warning, Goku intercepted, throwing himself between Ginyu and Vegeta. In a flash of light, Goku was restored to his own body, leaving Ginyu back in his original form.

Laughter erupted from the pummeled body on the ground, one that was unmistakably Goku’s. 

"Heh! Looks like I made it back-ouch!" Goku chuckled, relief evident despite his injuries.

"I can sense it!" Gohan cheered. "My dad is back in his old body again!"

"What did you say?" Vegeta demanded, eyes darting between Ginyu and Goku as he tried to determine which one to attack.

Cellera watched as Ginyu began taunting her father, each word precisely calculated to provoke him. Her jaw clenched - she knew this strategy too well. Ginyu hadn't given up on claiming her father's superior power level; he was just changing tactics.

And predictably, her father was falling for it. Each exchange of blows only served to draw him closer to where Ginyu wanted him. She could see it in the captain's eyes - that same calculating gleam from before, waiting for the perfect moment to attempt another body change.

Her attention darted to movement near Kakarot - a small frog hopping across the battlefield. She clicked through possibilities: if Ginyu's body-change worked by intercepting whatever was in its path...

"CHANGE!" Ginyu shouted once again.

She didn't hesitate. As Ginyu began his body switch technique, she dove down, snatched up the frog, and threw it directly into the beam's trajectory. The flash of light was blinding.

When the light faded, everyone stared in stunned silence as Ginyu's massive purple form began hopping away on all fours like a common frog. The frog itself sat where the captain had been moments before, its bulging eyes somehow managing to convey absolute horror at its new reality. Seeing that her quick thinking had worked, Cellera's shoulders finally relaxed.

Gohan and Krillin quickly descended from the sky and came to Goku's aid, each of them taking one of his arms to help support him.

"Hey, Goku! Are you alright?!" Krillin asked.

"Just hang on, dad!" Gohan tried to assure.

"Y-you sure roughed my body up, eh Vegeta?" Goku questioned as they made their way over to him.

Vegeta stood with his arms crossed as he observed the group's battered state. "Nevermind you , tell me what happened to Ginyu." he demanded.

"Well," Goku managed through a pained chuckle, "That thing hopping away is a frog, and that frog over there is Captain Ginyu." He winced as he nodded toward the trembling amphibian behind Vegeta. "Cellera threw it into Ginyu's trajectory - just in time to stop him from switching bodies with you too."

"What?!" Vegeta spun around, his eyes narrowing as they landed on the trembling amphibian. Each step toward the creature carried lethal intent as his signature smirk spread across his features.

"Leave him be, Vegeta!" Goku protested.

"Father, I agree. Ginyu will be unable to do anything to us in that form." Cellera agreed, exasperation clear in her voice.

"Hmph. Fine, I'll let you go, but only because the life ahead of you will be enough punishment." Vegeta relented.

They watched as the frog-turned-Ginyu fled, its desperate hops carrying it away from its former subordinate's fate. Though she'd never admit it aloud, Cellera found a certain poetic justice in the proud captain's new reality.

Redirecting her attention to Kakarot, she began to survey the extent of his injuries. She quickly assessed their options: no senzu beans remained, the last having been given to her father earlier. That left only one possibility - the healing tanks in Frieza's ship. If they could get him there before Frieza returned...However, her assessment was cut short when she heard her father laugh.

"Well, it seems there's nothing stopping me from wiping you all out is there? It's like shooting fish in a barrel."

Cellera's eyes narrowed, her posture mirroring her father's arrogant stance as she stepped between him and the others. "It seems you forget that you owe me, Father." Her smirk held that same prideful edge she'd inherited from him. "For someone who lectures me about emotional decisions, you fell rather easily into Ginyu's obvious trap."

"Hmph. We're even after I saved you from Guldo," Vegeta countered.

"Oh?" Cellera's eyebrow raised, her tone carrying that familiar Saiyan smugness. "I seem to recall saving you once before on Earth. By my count, that makes the score two to one in my favor." Her father's own pride shone through as she added, "Unless your analytical skills have dulled since then?"

"Why you little-" Vegeta's fists clenched at having his own words turned against him.

"It's alright, he won't do anything," Goku interjected, his voice carrying surprising confidence despite his injuries. "You need us for the Dragon Balls and Frieza, don't you?"

Vegeta took a step back and looked at both Cellera and Kakarot before a smirk crossed his face. "Heh. How astute of the both of you." He gave one last glance at Cellera before turning around, his stiff posture betraying his annoyance at being outmaneuvered by his daughter. "Follow me, we need to treat Kakarot's injuries and get him back to full strength."

Cellera smirked, recognizing that particular stride - the same one her father used when she'd bested him in tactical exercises. She motioned for Krillin and Gohan to follow her.

As they all walked the halls of the ship, Cellera noted the amount of damage and dead bodies of the guards that littered the way. She cringed at her father's handiwork, knowing that not all the guards were under Frieza by choice. Some of these men had families they were protecting by serving, just as her father and mother served to protect her. As they arrived at the medical ward doors, her father punched in the security code, causing the metal doors to open. 

Cellera looked at the healing tanks, confusion came across her features as she looked at her father who was busy at the computer near the tanks. "Why aren't we using the newer healing tank models?" She asked.

"Oh I kind of broke them." He replied nonchalantly.

"You what?!" She cried out, taking a step forward and her foot had kicked a syringe lying on the ground near Gohan and Krillin who were still holding Kakarot. All of a sudden Kakarot began to thrash violently in Gohan's and Krillin's grasp.

"A needle!" Goku cried in terror.

Cellera couldn't believe what she was seeing. Kakarot, the man that didn't seem to show any fear in the face of death battles, was scared of a needle? She watched as he began to break Gohan's and Krillin's hold, slowly making his way to the door as they clutched onto his gi in an attempt to stop him from leaving.

"No! I hate needles! Get me outta here! I'd rather be sick than get a needle!" 

"Would you shut up already?!" Vegeta turned to look at the panicking Saiyan angrily. "I'm not even giving you a needle!" 

"It's true, Kakarot! I promise!" Cellera said with her hands held out, attempting to calm him down. The sight of such a powerful warrior reduced to panic over something so small was almost comical.

 "Oh...Nevermind then." He replied plainly, as if nothing had happened. 

Krillin gave a small grunt of displeasure at his friend's antics as Gohan looked away embarrassed. Cellera found herself fighting back a smile - she'd never seen anyone react to medical treatment the way Kakarot did. A small huff of amusement escaped through her nose before she could stop it. Upon catching Gohan's mortified glance in her direction, she quickly cleared her throat, though her lips still twitched with suppressed laughter.

Suddenly, the tank her father had been working on getting ready beeped, signaling that it was operational for use. "Alright, it's ready to go. Let's get Kakarot in there, quickly!" She said as she hit the button to open the hatch of the tank, the familiar hiss of hydraulics filling the medical bay.

Once they had gotten Goku into the healing tank and attached the breathing apparatus over his nose and mouth, the hatch closed with a pressurized seal. Vegeta hit a few buttons on the computer next to it, the ancient display flickering to life with vital sign readings. Gohan and Krillin watched in fascination as the blue-green healing fluid began to fill the tank, bubbles rising around their friend as the liquid level rose.

"This is an older model but it should get the job done," She stated as they all stared at Kakarot through the glass. Despite his injuries, he seemed to relax as the healing properties of the liquid began to take effect, his expression peaceful as he floated suspended in the tank.

"He's not gonna drown, is he?" Krillin turned to ask her, anxiety evident in his voice as he watched the fluid reach Goku's chest.

"No," Cellera shook her head, instinctively falling into the teaching tone she'd developed while explaining concepts to them. "So long as that breathing apparatus is attached he'll be fine. And as far as I'm aware, no one has ever drowned in these before."

"Now then," Her father said as he turned away from the computer. "We should get you two some battle wear. It'll at least provide you with a little bit of protection." He then looked at Cellera, whose battle armor bore the marks of their recent battles, cracks spider-webbing across the surface. "You need to get a new one as well."

The three warriors followed Vegeta out of the medical ward and into the hall where the armory was located. Cellera left Gohan and Krillin with her father as she made her way to the other side of the armory that had the armor dedicated for more feminine builds. Her fingers trailed over the different designs until she stopped, something about one particular set catching her eye.

The battle top resembled the one her father was already wearing, but with a more feminine design, and with it was a matching white battle skirt with the typical golden accents. Cellera couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about it felt nostalgic, almost comforting - like a half-remembered dream from childhood. 

When she took a look at herself with the new battle armor on, she felt a confident smile spread across her face. The black compression suit under the armor felt right in a way the royal blue never had, as if this too was part of her evolution since Earth.

She finished putting on her new pair of gloves and shoes and started to make her way back to where her father and the others were located. As Cellera turned the corner, she saw Gohan and Krillin fully decked out in their own Saiyan battle armor as well. She had to admit, seeing Krillin in the design he wore reminded her of Nappa, just a shorter and less muscled bound version.

She then looked at Gohan, and something in her chest tightened. In the armor that resembled her father's old style, he looked every inch a Saiyan warrior - if you ignored the peculiar haircut. For a moment, she could almost imagine what things might have been like if their race hadn't been destroyed, if young warriors like them had grown up together on Planet Vegeta.

"I assume you must've told them about the properties of the material," Her father said as she joined them. "They didn't ask many irritating questions like I thought they would."

Cellera gave her father a nod in confirmation. As Krillin and Gohan spoke amongst themselves, she couldn't help but notice her father's lingering gaze on her, or more specifically her armour. "Is something wrong with this armour, father?" She asked. 

"No," He stated before looking away from her and back to Krillin and Gohan, who were still chatting amongst themselves. His voice carried an unfamiliar softness that made her pause. "It's the same one your mother always wore."

The revelation struck something deep within her - that instinctive pull she'd felt toward this particular design suddenly made sense. No wonder it had felt like a half-remembered dream. Her fingers traced the edge of the armor unconsciously, wondering how many times her mother had done the same. It seemed even without memories to guide her, some part of her had recognized her mother's choice.

Her father's quick glance back at her held volumes of unspoken meaning before his usual stern expression returned. For once, Cellera didn't mind the silence that followed.

The silence was broken by Krillin clearing his throat. "So, uh, how long until Goku recovers?"

"Given his height and weight," Cellera said, her thumb pressing to her lip as she calculated, "I'd estimate about two hours in the older model."

"Right." Krillin's expression turned serious. "Look, I'm going to head to Guru's to get the password for summoning Shenron. Frieza might already be there, but we need that password or the Dragon Balls are useless."

"I'll go with you!" Gohan stepped forward, but Krillin shook his head.

"No, you should stay here with Cellera and Vegeta. If Frieza shows up while I'm gone..." Krillin glanced at the two Saiyans. "Well, you'll have better protection here."

"But Krillin-"

"He's right," Cellera interjected. "We need to be ready when Kakarot recovers. And if Frieza returns..." She left the implications unspoken.

"Then it's settled," Vegeta said, crossing his arms. "The boy stays here."

Krillin nodded, though his eyes lingered on Gohan with concern. "I'll be back as fast as I can." He turned toward the exit, then paused. "Just... keep him safe, okay?"

"You have my word," Cellera said, recognizing the weight of trust being placed in her. "Now hurry."

They watched as Krillin took off through the ship's corridors. Gohan's shoulders slumped slightly, clearly unhappy about being left behind.

"I'm going to step outside for a bit," Gohan said quietly, heading toward the exit.

Cellera watched him leave before turning to her father. Even his rigid posture couldn't hide the exhaustion from their earlier battles. "You should rest," She said. "The universe won't fall apart if you take a break for five minutes." The words felt strange in her mouth - Bulma's influence showing through.

"I don't need-" Vegeta began.

"If you're not at full strength when Frieza returns, you'll be useless in battle," She cut him off, using his own logic against him.

Her father's jaw clenched, but she knew she'd won when he turned away with a scoff. "I'm going to check on the Dragon Balls first."

As she watched him leave, Cellera allowed herself a small smile. Two victories over her father in one day - she was getting better at this.

After Cellera finished making sure Kakarot's vitals remained steady, she followed her father outside, only for them both to find Gohan throwing punches and kicks at an imaginary opponent, his new Saiyan armor gleaming in Namek's triple suns.

"Take this!" Gohan exclaimed, launching into another series of strikes. "Get ready to meet the universe's most powerful Saiyan good guy!"

Cellera pressed her fist to her mouth, trying to hide her smile at his enthusiasm. There was something both amusing and endearing about watching him test out his armor with such pure joy - so different from how she'd first learned to wear her own. Seeing him now, she could hardly believe this was the same boy who'd never fought a day in his life until he met them. Something about the armor seemed to bring out a different side of him.

Her father merely rolled his eyes at both of them, though she caught the slight twitch of his lips that suggested he found their antics more tiresome than truly offensive.

"What do you think you're doing?" Vegeta's voice cut through Gohan's practice.

Gohan spun around, his face flushing red when he saw them both standing there - especially when he noticed Cellera deliberately avoiding his eyes, her fist still pressed to her mouth to suppress her amusement.

"What's taking your bald-headed buddy so long to get that password?" Vegeta demanded.

"His name is Krillin, father," Cellera corrected, finally composing herself.

"He’ll show!" Gohan replied confidently, his back turned to them as he gazed across the Namekian lake.

As Vegeta turned to leave, Gohan shot a glare at his back - one that quickly dissolved into panic when Vegeta paused and looked over his shoulder. The Saiyan prince gave a low chuckle.

"Keep your eyes on those Dragon Balls," He commanded, looking between both Gohan and Cellera. "I'm going to take a nap."

"A nap?" Gohan asked incredulously.

"Well, with you wearing that new armor, I feel really safe," Vegeta mocked, his laughter echoing as he walked away.

Once Vegeta was out of earshot, Gohan's shoulders slumped. "Gosh, this is so embarrassing."

"Oh? Is the universe's most powerful Saiyan good guy having second thoughts?" Cellera teased, though her tone held none of the antagonism from their first meeting. "You've certainly grown since Earth. Back then you could barely maintain eye contact, and now here you are, throwing punches in Saiyan armor."

"Well, a lot's happened since then," Gohan replied, his earlier embarrassment fading as he met her gaze. "Fighting you taught me something important - about having things worth protecting." He touched the armor thoughtfully. "I guess now I understand what you meant that day about being lucky to have something to fight for."

Cellera's usual stoic expression softened slightly. "I remember. You saw right through my act, even then. 'You're not evil or cruel,'" She quoted his words back to him, "'No matter how much you want others to believe it.'" Her lips quirked. "Though I'm still amazed - a future scholar who fights like a true Saiyan warrior."

"Mom still wants me to focus on my studies," Gohan admitted with a small laugh. "But maybe I can be both?"

Cellera found herself smiling at his enthusiasm. She moved toward the large Dragon Balls, settling onto one as a seat. "Who's to say you can't be both a scholar and a protector?" She asked, surprising herself with how natural this casual conversation felt.

"My mom." Gohan's deadpan response caught them both off guard, and their shared laughter echoed across the Namekian landscape. He couldn't help but notice how different Cellera seemed in these moments - her usual stoic mask giving way to something more genuine, her laughter holding none of the careful control she usually maintained.

"So your mother doesn't want you to fight like Kakarot?" Cellera asked once their laughter subsided, her head tilting in curiosity. A few stray hairs fell across her face, and she found herself less concerned about maintaining the perfect composure her heritage demanded. "I thought Bulma mentioned that she and Kakarot got married at a martial art tournament?"

"Yeah, they did," Gohan nodded in confirmation. "Mom's probably even the strongest woman on Earth - she used to be a fighter herself." A fond smile crossed his face. "But she always says there's more to life than just fighting. That's why she pushes me so hard with my studies - she doesn't want me following Dad into one dangerous battle after another."

"The strongest woman on Earth is a warrior who chose her own path," Cellera mused, her thumb pressing against her lip thoughtfully. Cellera found it ironic that Gohan’’s mother had chosen a path away from fighting, hoping to protect her son from the dangers of it, yet here he was, willingly putting himself in danger to protect those he cared about. 

"Yeah, though Dad and I still run when she gets angry," Gohan laughed. "You should see how fast he moves when she brings out her frying pan!"

"You know," Cellera said with a small smile, "I think our mothers would have gotten along well. Both understood there was more to being strong than just fighting." She shook her head with fond exasperation. "Though I imagine they both had their hands full dealing with stubborn Saiyan men who didn't always understand their methods."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the three suns cast their light across Namek's surface. The peaceful moment felt strange after all the battles, yet somehow right.

"Hey, Cellera?" Gohan broke the silence. "Earlier, when we were heading to Guru's, you mentioned someone named Beerus.” He glanced at her curiously. "Who's that?"

"Beerus?" Cellera's expression shifted to something almost amused. "Someone I hope we never meet. You think Frieza is terrifying? Even he bows before Lord Beerus - the God of Destruction."

"God of... Destruction?" Gohan's eyes widened.

"Father told me stories about his visits to Planet Vegeta. He had King Vegeta - my grandfather - on his knees just for serving him the wrong type of food." She shook her head, a wry smile touching her lips. "Father made me memorize the proper way to address him, just in case. 'If we ever encounter Lord Beerus,'" She mimicked Vegeta's stern tone, "'you will do exactly as he says without question. No arguments, no pride, complete servitude.'"

"Wow, your dad actually said to put aside pride?" Gohan asked, surprised.

"The only time I've ever heard him suggest it," Cellera confirmed. "Apparently Beerus once destroyed half a planet because their desserts weren't sweet enough."

Gohan gulped. "He... he really destroyed a planet over something like that?"

"I wouldn’t worry much about it," Cellera waved her hand dismissively. "Last I heard, he's still in a long period of rest. We have more immediate concerns."

Gohan's gaze drifted toward the horizon. "Yeah... I hope Krillin's okay out there."

"He'll be alright," Cellera said confidently, noting the familiarity of the conversation. "Krillin worried for you like this when you went to get the Dragon Ball from that village." She turned to Gohan with a rare, soft smile. "And I have full faith he'll return in one piece, just as I did with you."

"You know, you smile a lot more now," Gohan observed innocently. "Like a real smile, not the kind you have when planning attacks."

Cellera's cheeks flushed slightly, her usual composed demeanor slipping as she quickly looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about," She muttered, though her lips still curved upward despite her attempt to maintain her warrior's dignity. "I'm simply... acknowledging the advantages of our alliance."

"Sure," Gohan grinned, enjoying this rare moment of seeing the usually calm Saiyan princess flustered. "Just like how you weren't having fun and laughing with me and Krillin earlier."

Cellera was quiet for a moment, her thumb pressing against her lip in her characteristic thinking pose. Finally, she let out a small sigh, a playful smile tugging at her lips despite her best efforts to suppress it. "I suppose... being around you Earth fighters hasn't been entirely unpleasant," She admitted reluctantly, though they both knew what she really meant.

"Hey, while we wait for Krillin, want to try some image training?" Gohan asked, brightening at his idea. "It's something Krillin taught me before we came to Namek. We could practice some of those combo moves we were working on earlier."

"Image training?" Cellera's head tilted slightly in question. "I don't believe I ever heard of this particular training method."

"It's something Krillin taught me before we came to Namek!" Gohan began to explain excitedly. "It lets you train in your mind and with others! It really comes in handy when you're somewhere you can't really train at, like our spaceship!"

Cellera found herself fighting back another smile as she watched Gohan's enthusiasm. Just moments ago he'd been teasing her about her own changed demeanor, yet here he was, practically bouncing with excitement about teaching her something new. It was hard to believe this was the same boy who'd once cowered before her on Earth.

"First, we have to match our energy levels," Gohan explained, settling into a more comfortable position. "And then we both need to focus on creating a clear mental image of each other - that's probably the most important part."

"Why's that?" Cellera asked, her thumb unconsciously moving to her lip as she processed this new information.

"Well..." Gohan scratched the back of his head with a sheepish grin. "The first time I tried it with Krillin, I accidentally pictured Nappa instead. Their bald heads kind of look alike, you know?"

Cellera's startled laugh echoed across the Namekian landscape. "You didn't," she managed between chuckles, trying to imagine Krillin's reaction to being compared to the brutish Saiyan.

"I did! Krillin was so mad - he said just because they're both bald doesn't mean they look anything alike!" Gohan's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Though now that he's wearing that armor..."

"Don't let him hear you say that," Cellera said, her usual composed demeanor cracking as she pictured Krillin reaction to their comparison. "I would hope that you beat Nappa in this ‘image training’," She continued with a smirk. "Though given how you've grown since Earth, I imagine you had no trouble with him."

"Yeah, it was super easy," Gohan grinned. "I'm much stronger now - if I ever saw Nappa again, I could probably take him on by myself."

"Well, if you're going to call yourself the universe's most powerful Saiyan good guy, you better be," Cellera teased, making Gohan flush red again at the reminder of his earlier enthusiasm. "Now, show me how this training of yours works, scholar."

From his position near the ship's entrance, Vegeta watched his daughter and Kakarot's son. Their laughter carried across the Namekian landscape - a sound he hadn't heard from Cellera since before Rhuba's death. The way she unconsciously mirrored her mother's stance as Gohan explained this "image training" technique...

He turned away, his usual scowl not quite masking the conflict in his expression. The girl who'd once hung on his every lesson now sat learning Earth techniques, wearing her mother's armor style, showing the same gentle strength that had drawn him to Rhuba despite himself.

"Hmph," he muttered, heading inside for his promised rest. "Just like her mother..."

Whether he meant it as criticism or praise, even he wasn't quite sure anymore.

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Notes:

So this was probably my favorite chapter within the whole entire fic that I worked on. I hope all of you have been enjoying and I want to give a shoutout to Chaos_Bunny and KillerBee1988 who made some AMAZING Fanart of Cellera which i will link below. Truly, being able to see fanart of a fic is the best way to start of 2025!

Chaos_Bunny: https://www.deviantart.com/myrve/art/Cellera-Namek-1142280630
KillerBee1988: https://bsky.app/profile/lordkillerbee.bsky.social/post/3lf4prlrmu224

"Again," Cellera demanded, though her usual commanding tone held a hint of playful challenge. Two rounds of image training had left them tied - her tactical precision winning the first bout while Gohan's creative adaptability had secured the second.

Gohan wiped sweat from his brow, grinning despite his fatigue. Even in mental combat, sparring with Cellera was intense. "Best two out of three?"

"Of course. A true warrior never leaves things..." Cellera trailed off suddenly, her expression sharpening. At the same moment, Gohan's head snapped toward the horizon.

"You feel that too?" He asked, already rising from his cross-legged position.

Cellera nodded, sliding gracefully from her perch on one of the massive Dragon Balls. "Two ki." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the distant energies. "One is definitely Krillin, and the other..."

"Wait - that ki feels familiar," Gohan's face lit up with recognition. "It's Dende! He must be coming with Krillin to help us summon the dragon! We might finally be able to wish everyone back!"

"We should meet them halfway," Cellera said, already rising into the air.

"Yeah," Gohan agreed, falling into formation beside her. 

They shared a quick look of understanding before taking to the sky, their earlier competition forgotten in light of this new development. Whatever came next, they were one step closer to undoing the damage that had brought them all to Namek.

It didn't take long for Gohan and Cellera to intercept Krillin and Dende. They met high above one of Namek's many islands, the relief on everyone's faces evident despite their rush.

"Krillin! Dende!" Gohan called out as they drew near. His smile faltered slightly as he processed the timing. "Wait - how'd you make it to Guru's and back so quickly?"

"Actually," Krillin rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish grin, "I didn't have to. Guru had already sent Dende our way with the password. We crossed paths on the way."

"Elder Guru foresaw that you would need a translator," Dende explained, his usually timid voice carrying newfound purpose. "The dragon can only grant wishes if they’re spoken in the Namekian tongue."

"So that's why the Dragon Balls wouldn't respond earlier," Cellera said thoughtfully.. Though she kept her expression neutral, there was a hint of pride in her voice as she added, "I had a feeling the password would be different here."

The four hovered together in the Namekian sky, each processing what this development meant for their chances against Frieza. After everything they'd been through - the battles, the losses, the desperate race for the Dragon Balls - they might finally have a way to make things right.

"By the way, where's Vegeta?" Krillin asked, glancing around nervously. "I kept my power level down so he wouldn't sense me coming."

"Taking a much-needed rest in the ship," Cellera replied, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "I finally convinced him to sleep about an hour ago. Though I suspect it was more exhaustion than actually heeding my advice."

"Really?" Krillin's eyes lit up with sudden possibility. "This might be our perfect chance then. If we move the Dragon Balls away from here while he's sleeping, we can make our wishes without interference. Even if he wakes up when Shenron appears, we'll have bought ourselves some time."

"Another misdirection?" Cellera smirked, remembering how well their last plan had worked - her giving Vegeta one Dragon Ball knowing full well Gohan would return with the one he'd hidden. "I like it. The further we are when we summon the dragon, the more time we'll have before father realizes what's happening."

"You know, I'm still amazed how easily you helped us trick Vegeta earlier," Krillin admitted with a grateful smile. "For a minute there, I was worried you might not want to go against him again."

"Please," Cellera rolled her eyes, though her lips curved upward. "If I was going to start having loyalty conflicts, I would have done it long before helping you hide that Dragon Ball from him. Now," her expression turned more serious, "We should check through one of the ship's windows to make sure he's still asleep before we move anything."

The group of four began to fly back to Frieza’s ship, being sure to keep their energy hidden so as to not wake Vegeta. While Krillin, Gohan, and Dende began carefully gathering the massive Dragon Balls, Cellera crept toward one of the ship's curved windows. She moved with stealthy precision, trying to keep the adrenaline she felt coursing through her at outmaneuvering her father again at bay. Through the glass, she could make out his sleeping form - for once, his stern features relaxed in rest.

Something twisted in her chest as she watched him. Part of her understood his desperation for immortality. Against Frieza, they needed every advantage they could get. But she'd seen the growing darkness in him since her mother's death, the way his methods had grown more extreme with each passing year. Even if immortality could help them defeat Frieza, she couldn't trust what that kind of power would do to him now.

She pushed away from the window, giving the others a quick nod. As they began moving the Dragon Balls, she cast one last glance at the ship. I'm sorry, Father, she thought, but some prices are too high, even for revenge.

"We need to hurry," She said, joining the others in their task. "He never sleeps long, and we've already used up an hour of that time."

Each of them carefully lifted their share of the Dragon Balls - Gohan, Krillin, and Cellera managing two apiece while Dende carried one. Despite their massive size, the golden orbs felt lighter than expected, as if their mystical nature somehow defied normal physics.

They flew low across Namek's surface, keeping their power levels suppressed as much as possible while still maintaining enough speed to put significant distance between themselves and the ship. Finally, they reached a small clearing surrounded by rocky outcroppings - close enough to return quickly if needed, but far enough that Vegeta wouldn't immediately spot them.

As they arranged the Dragon Balls in their traditional circular pattern, Cellera felt a familiar cold dread creep up her spine. At the same moment, both Gohan and Krillin's heads snapped up, their expressions mirroring her own growing alarm.

"That power level..." Gohan whispered, his voice tight with fear.

"Frieza," Cellera confirmed, her usual calm tone carrying an edge of urgency. "We need to summon the dragon now! My father will sense him approaching too - he won't stay asleep through that!"

"Dende, hurry!" Krillin said, turning to the young Namekian. 

The seven Dragon Balls gleamed ominously in the Namekian sunlight, as if they too could sense the approaching danger. Whatever wishes they planned to make, their window of opportunity was rapidly closing.

Dende raised his hands toward the assembled Dragon Balls, his young voice carrying surprising authority as he began to speak in Namekian. The ancient language seemed to resonate with the golden orbs, which began to pulse with an inner light that grew steadily brighter.

Cellera and Gohan exchanged wide-eyed looks as darkness swept across Namek's sky, the planet's three suns seemingly eclipsed by mystical power. Neither of them had ever witnessed anything like this - their shared wonder momentarily overshadowing their fear of Frieza's approach.

"Incredible," Cellera breathed, her usual analytical mask slipping as she watched the Dragon Balls' light show illuminate the darkened landscape. The tactical part of her mind noted how visible this display would be - they'd need to work quickly.

A massive form began to materialize above them, its serpentine body continuing to rise until it seemed to fill the blackened sky. Even Cellera found herself taking an unconscious step back at the sheer scale of the creature.

"Whoa!" Krillin exclaimed, craning his neck to take in the full sight. "He makes Earth's Shenron look like a garden snake!"

"Is... is this Shenron?" Gohan asked, his voice hushed with awe.

"No," Dende replied, his own eyes wide as he gazed up at the being he'd only heard about in legends. "This is Porunga, the God of Dreams. This is my first time ever seeing him too."

"THOU WHO HAST GATHERED THE DRAGON BALLS, SPEAK FORTH THY WISHES," Porunga’s voice boomed across the landscape. “I SHALL GRANT THEE ANY THREE WISHES THAT ARE WITHIN MY CAPACITY."

"Three wishes?" Krillin's face lit up. "Nail was right! This is perfect! We can wish back all our friends and-"

"Focus!" Cellera snapped, her thumb pressing against her lip as she sensed Frieza's energy drawing closer. "We need to make these wishes quickly. I can already feel my father's ki stirring - he won't sleep through this."

"She's right," Dende added urgently. "We must hurry before Frieza arrives!"

The massive dragon loomed above them, waiting for their wishes while the universe's most dangerous tyrant was approaching them. Their time was running out.

"Dende, tell him our first wish is to bring back everyone the Saiyans killed on Earth!" Krillin called out, his voice urgent but hopeful.

Dende nodded and translated the request into Namekian. Porunga's red eyes flashed as he processed the wish, but his response made everyone's hearts sink.

"THIS CANNOT BE DONE," The dragon's voice thundered. "I CAN ONLY RESTORE ONE LIFE AT A TIME."

"What?" Krillin's shoulders slumped. "But then... who do we bring back first?"

Silence fell over the group as they wrestled with the impossible choice. Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip as she analyzed their options, her tactical mind racing. Then it clicked.

"Piccolo," she said suddenly. "Since he is the creator of the Dragon Balls, if we bring him back, the ones on Earth should return as well. That would give us another set of wishes to work with." Though she kept her voice steady, she couldn't help but glance at Gohan, remembering his unwavering determination to restore his mentor.

"That's... that's brilliant!" Krillin exclaimed, turning to her in shock. "Although, technically it's not Piccolo who created the Dragon Balls - it was his other half, Kami. He's Earth's Guardian."

"Other... half?" Cellera's brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's complicated," Krillin said with a small laugh. "I'll explain everything later, after all this is over."

Something warm bloomed in Cellera's chest at those words - the casual assumption that they'd all be around later for such conversations. Before she could dwell on the feeling, though, she noticed Gohan's expression change, as if he was listening to something they couldn't hear.

"Yes, Piccolo," He said suddenly, startling both Krillin and Cellera. "I understand! Dende, we need to wish Piccolo back to life, and then wish him here to Namek!"

"Gohan?" Krillin asked. "Did King Kai...?"

Gohan nodded quickly. "Piccolo says we'll need his help against Frieza. He wants us to bring him here!"

The massive dragon continued to loom above them, waiting for their decision while precious seconds ticked away. At least now they knew exactly what their first wish needed to be.

"Dende, wish for our friend Piccolo to return to life!" Gohan urged, his eyes bright with hope.

Dende nodded, raising his hands toward Porunga as he translated their request. The ancient words seemed to resonate with the massive dragon, his eyes glowing brighter as he processed their wish.

"VERY WELL," Porunga's voice thundered across the darkened landscape. "I SHALL GRANT THY FIRST WISH."

Inside Frieza's ship, Vegeta's eyes snapped open as a familiar, terrifying power level brushed against his consciousness. Frieza. But something else was wrong - the light filtering through the ship's windows seemed... different. Darker.

He bolted upright, confusion giving way to fury as he realized what he was seeing. Namek didn't have a night cycle - which meant the unnatural darkness could only come from one source.

Through the window, he spotted an enormous serpentine form coiling through the blackened sky. The Dragon Balls. His Dragon Balls. Gone.

"Those bastards got the jump on me!" He snarled, already moving toward the exit. "Again!" His power flared with his rage as he shot into the air, heading straight for the massive dragon.

His fury only grew as he recognized exactly who must have orchestrated this deception. "Twice!" He growled. "My own daughter has played me for a fool twice!" Yet even through his anger, he couldn't quite suppress a flicker of pride at her cunning. She'd outmaneuvered him completely - just like her mother used to do during missions or spars. 

"Every day she becomes more like Rhuba," He muttered as he flew, his rage warring with an odd sense of satisfaction. "The same crafty mind, the same infuriating ability to see right through my plans..." His fists clenched as he spotted the group gathered beneath Porunga. "And the same damned habit of choosing moral sentiment over power!"

"Quickly, Dende!" Gohan urged. "Our second wish - we need Piccolo transported to Namek!"

Just as Dende began to translate, Cellera's head snapped toward the horizon, her eyes widening. "Father's approaching - fast." Her thumb pressed against her lip as she calculated their remaining time. "Hurry!"

"I see him!" Krillin confirmed, spotting a rapidly growing dot in the distance.

Dende spoke the wish in rapid Namekian, his young voice carrying an edge of desperation. Porunga's eyes flashed once more as he granted their request, but when they looked around expectantly, Piccolo was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is he?" Gohan asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"The wish was granted," Dende explained quickly, "But we only asked for him to be brought to Namek - not specifically to our location!"

Before they could process this information, a familiar shadow fell over them. Cellera didn't need to turn around to know her father had arrived - his energy radiated fury.

"Did you really think you could pull this deception off twice?" Vegeta's voice cut through the air like a blade. "You've just thrown away our only chance at defeating Frieza!"

"Father-" Cellera began, but his glare silenced her.

"Don't." His power crackled around him dangerously. "I expected this from them, but you... You're becoming more like your mother every day, and not in ways that will keep you alive!"

"We still have one more wish!" Gohan blurted out in panic.

"Gohan, no!" Krillin shouted, but it was too late.

Cellera closed her eyes briefly, suppressing a groan as she felt her father's energy spike with renewed interest. She knew exactly what was coming next.

As Frieza's massive power level drew closer, Vegeta seized Dende by the front of his robes. "What are you waiting for!? Tell him now! Make me immortal at once!"

"Father!" Cellera moved instinctively, her hand closing around his arm. "Let him go!"

"Do you want to be killed?!" Vegeta snarled at Dende, though he released his grip at his daughter's intervention. "Frieza will show no mercy - you've seen what he's done to your people!"

Cellera looked to Gohan and Krillin, seeing the same grim understanding in their expressions. Her father might be cruel, might be dangerous, but Frieza... With her father still mortal, they stood no chance.

"Do it, Dende," She said quietly. "Grant his wish."

"She's right," Krillin added, though the words seemed to pain him. "He may be evil, but he's still better than Frieza. Right now, he's our only option."

“Especially since dad is still healing from his injuries.” Gohan added, just as pained.

Dende nodded reluctantly, raising his hands toward Porunga. But something in her father's expression made Cellera's stomach turn - that dark gleam that had been growing since her mother's death, now mixed with anticipated triumph.

Before Dende could speak the wish, the sky suddenly blazed with light. Porunga's massive form began to fade, the Dragon Balls beneath them turning dull and gray like lifeless stone.

"What... what the hell just happened?!" Vegeta demanded, staring at the now-bright sky. "Why did the dragon disappear? Why are the Dragon Balls stone?!"

"The Grand Elder," Dende's voice cracked with grief. "Guru has passed away."

Cellera felt a wave of sympathy for the young Namekian, even as relief warred with growing dread in her chest. They'd avoided giving her father immortality, but now they had no way to stop Frieza. Their only hope was that Kakarot would be healed before Frieza kills them all. ‘ Though given his pattern of barely-in-time arrivals,’ she thought with grim humor, ‘ We should expect him right as Frieza's about to deliver the killing blow.’

"If you hadn't deceived me," Vegeta rounded on them, his power crackling with rage, "If You hadn't left me behind, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you!" Cellera snapped, her usual composure cracking to reveal the five-year-old beneath. "For your information, this wasn't even my plan! And you want to talk about leaving people behind? You abandoned me with CUI !" Her small fists clenched at her sides. " CUI , Father! The most insufferable warrior in Frieza's army, and you just took off for Namek without me!"

Gohan and Krillin exchanged wide-eyed looks, unconsciously taking a step back from the family dispute. They'd seen Vegeta angry plenty of times, but this was different - this was Cellera finally voicing her hurt, her normal calm and collected attitude temporarily overcome by emotion.

"Watch your tone," Vegeta snarled, though something flickered in his expression at her outburst.

"Or what? You'll punch me again? That worked out so well last time!" Her voice carried a weight of understanding beyond her years. "Ever since mother died, all you care about is power - more power, more destruction, more control! She would have-"

"Don't you dare speak of what she would have wanted!" But his voice held less fury now, something almost vulnerable bleeding through. "You think I don't see her in every decision you make? Every time you choose mercy and sentiments over strength, every time you-"

The words died in his throat as he caught her expression - not anger now, but pure terror. She felt it then - that overwhelming, crushing presence behind them. Their argument was forgotten as they turned to find Frieza hovering above their group, his face twisted with fury.

"No, don't let me stop your little family argument," Frieza's silky voice cut through the tension. His tone remained almost pleasant until the final word: " Continue. "

The drop in his voice on that last word made even Vegeta flinch. Cellera felt her father shift slightly, unconsciously moving to place himself between her and Frieza.

"I must say, I'm rather puzzled," Frieza continued, his tail swaying lazily behind him. "My scouter isn't picking up any readings from the Ginyu Force. I don't suppose any of you would know anything about that?" His red eyes swept over the group, lingering on Vegeta. "Though I must admit, the Dragon Balls turning to stone at the last possible moment is quite... unfortunate. For you especially, Vegeta. Though perhaps, even more so for me."

No one moved. No one spoke. Even breathing seemed dangerous under Frieza's cold scrutiny. He descended slowly, touching down before them with unnatural grace.

"Never before," He said softly, each word precise and measured, "Have I ever been so disrespected." His calm facade cracked, power beginning to radiate from him in waves. "And now you'll pay."

The explosion of rage that followed made his previous fury seem mild. "VILE, FILTH-SUCKING MAGGOTS! I WILL KILL YOU AND SAVOR EVERY SECOND!" Frieza's power continued to build as he screamed, the ground cracking beneath his feet. "NOT A SINGLE ONE OF YOU WILL ESCAPE MY WRATH!"

Cellera had seen Frieza angry before - had witnessed his careful control slip when he was particularly dissatisfied. But this... this was different. This was the fury of a god discovering his subjects had dared to challenge his divinity.

"Well," Vegeta stepped forward, his voice carrying more bravado than wisdom, "You’ve finally shown your true colors. If you think you'll best us that easily, you're gravely mistaken." His lips curved into a challenging smirk. "Go ahead, Frieza. Try it."

"My, my... You seem to have forgotten how terrifying I can be, Vegeta." Frieza's smile held no warmth. "Allow me to refresh your memory."

The air itself seemed to vibrate as Frieza's power began to build. Even Vegeta's confident stance wavered as waves of energy pulsed outward, cracking the ground beneath their feet. Gohan unconsciously moved closer to Cellera, while Krillin's face drained of color.

"I always knew this day would come, Vegeta," Frieza's voice carried an almost disappointed tone. "I just never knew when you'd finally turn against me."

"H-his power level is enormous!" Krillin's voice shook. "We don't stand a chance against something like that!"

"Oh come now," Frieza chuckled darkly. "You're like ants trying to fight a dinosaur. Though I suppose that's giving you too much credit."

"We can take him," Vegeta declared suddenly, drawing shocked stares from everyone - even Cellera. "If we fight together, Frieza will have his work cut out for him."

"You can't be serious," Frieza laughed, genuine amusement coloring his voice. "The mighty Prince Vegeta, suggesting teamwork? How far you've fallen."

"Our power grows with every battle," Vegeta continued, ignoring Frieza's mockery. "The boy especially - he possesses strength beyond even his own comprehension." His eyes narrowed as he met Frieza's gaze. "And I... I am becoming what you fear most: a Super Saiyan."

Cellera couldn't help but marvel at her father's sudden praise of Gohan. She'd recognized his potential back on Earth, seen how his power spiked during moments of emotional intensity. But to hear her father acknowledge it so openly... Though she could have done without yet another mention of the Super Saiyan legend. Her father's growing obsession with that particular myth was becoming almost concerning.

"ENOUGH OF YOUR PATHETIC LIES!" Frieza's composure finally shattered. He launched forward, fist aimed at Vegeta's face with devastating speed.

But Vegeta caught it.

The collision of their powers sent shockwaves across the landscape. Frieza's scouter exploded from the sheer energy output, its pieces scattering as the two warriors strained against each other. Neither moved for several tense seconds before the building pressure finally forced them apart.

"Well," Frieza said, brushing off his armor with exaggerated casualness, "Perhaps there is some truth to your claims after all."

"Then why don't you stop playing around?" Vegeta smirked. "Transform and show us your true form. Let's be done with it."

The challenge sent a ripple of shock through the group. Cellera's eyes widened - she hadn't known this about Frieza, and from the look on her father's face, he'd been keeping this information close.

"How did you..." Frieza's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Zarbon's loose tongue proved quite informative before his death."

"What's he talking about?" Gohan whispered to Cellera, fear and confusion mixing in his voice.

"I... I don't know," She replied, her thumb pressing against her lip as she processed this new information. Why would Father deliberately provoke him into a stronger form? We barely stand a chance against him now!

Vegeta's voice carried dark amusement as he explained. "There are a handful of freaks in the universe who can alter their shape at will. Some use it for camouflage..." His eyes fixed on Frieza. "Others use it to avoid wasting energy."

"Very well," Frieza chuckled softly. "Watch closely - this isn't something you see every day." His tail swished behind him as his smile grew cruel. "You know, when I destroyed Planet Vegeta, I didn't even need to transform to handle your father, the great King. He was absolutely helpless."

Cellera's fists clenched at the casual mention of her grandfather's death and their planet's destruction, but Vegeta just scoffed.

"Don't let it go to your head," He sneered. "I surpassed that fool as a child ."

Cellera trembled, though not entirely from fear now. Her father's words about surpassing the king barely registered through the rage building inside her. This monster had destroyed their home, killed her grandfather, and now stood there gloating about it.

Gohan glanced at his friend, recognizing that particular tremor in her small frame - he'd felt it himself when Nappa had killed Piccolo. Her fists were clenched he could hear her leather gloves creaking, and something dangerous flickered behind her gaze.

"Cellera..." He whispered, but before he could say more, Frieza's power spiked dramatically.

The tyrant’s battle armor clattered to the ground in pieces as his body began to pulse with energy.

"What kind of transformation is that?" Vegeta asked mockingly, though his smirk faltered as Frieza's body began to change.

They watched in horror as Frieza's form expanded, growing taller, more muscular. Horns erupted from his head as his power level skyrocketed beyond anything they'd felt before. The transformation seemed to darken the very air around them.

"We're... we're going to die," Gohan whispered, his earlier bravado evaporating.

"This is a nightmare," Krillin added, taking an unconscious step backward.

Cellera couldn't argue with either assessment. Her mind raced through possibilities, each more hopeless than the last. Hurry, Kakarot, she thought desperately. Or you, Piccolo. Someone...

Though she kept her expression carefully neutral, her thumb pressed hard against her lip - that telling gesture of being deep in thought now serving to hide how badly her hand was shaking.

"I won't be as merciful as I was before," Frieza warned, his eyes lingering on Cellera with dark amusement. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a bit rough. I have so much power right now, it's hard to control."

With a casual flick of his wrist, Frieza unleashed his power. The entire island beneath them erupted in a massive explosion, sending debris flying in all directions.

"Krillin! Dende!" Cellera and Gohan shouted simultaneously as the dust began to clear.

"Krillin, you're bleeding!" Gohan called out, spotting the red stain on his forehead.

"It's nothing," Krillin assured them, still protectively cradling Dende in his arms. "Just caught a rock fragment. I'm okay."

"Impressive reflexes," Frieza mocked, his new form towering over them. His eyes fixed on Vegeta's tense expression. "What's wrong, Vegeta? Perhaps you've underestimated my strength?"

Cellera felt her blood run cold as Frieza's expression shifted. She recognized that look - she'd seen it countless times when he'd cornered particularly defiant victims. Like a predator selecting which prey to devour first.

"Now then," Frieza's voice dropped to a deadly purr, "Who first shall I send off to hell?"

Before anyone could react, Frieza vanished. His next words came from directly behind Krillin: "HOW ABOUT YOU?!"

Krillin barely had time to shove Dende away before Frieza's horn pierced through his stomach. The sickening sound of the impact echoed across the battlefield as their friend's blood stained Frieza's newly transformed body.

"KRILLIN!" Cellera and Gohan cried out in horror.

"Sentimental fool," Vegeta sneered. "That's what he gets for focusing on protecting the Namekian brat."

Cellera shot her father a furious glare, but her attention quickly returned to Frieza as he spoke, still holding Krillin aloft on his horn.

"Oh my, I do apologize," Frieza's false contrition dripped with malice. "I just can't seem to control myself with all this power at my disposal." With a violent motion, he hurled Krillin's limp form into the Namekian sea.

Cellera moved to pursue, but Gohan was faster, already streaking toward where his friend had disappeared beneath the water. Before he could reach Krillin, Frieza materialized in his path.

"Now, now," Frieza chided, as if speaking to a particularly slow child. "Your effort is futile. Why don't you worry about yourself instead?"

The young half-Saiyan's hands clenched into fists as he stared up at the tyrant blocking his path. Cellera recognized the building tension in his small frame - the same precursor to those explosive bursts of power she'd witnessed before.

"Move," Gohan demanded, his voice low with barely contained rage.

Cellera felt it building - that familiar surge of power that always accompanied Gohan's strongest emotions. When Frieza merely smirked in response, she tensed, recognizing what was coming.

"I SAID MOVE!" Gohan's power exploded outward as he launched himself at Frieza, catching the tyrant off guard with a devastating kick to the face. Before Frieza could recover, Gohan followed with a fierce uppercut and a barrage of strikes to his stomach, each hit carrying more force than the last.

Cellera watched in amazement as her friend fought with complete abandon, all traces of his earlier fear gone. His attacks flowed with a raw power she'd only glimpsed before, culminating in a massive Masenko that sent Frieza crashing into a distant island. Even after landing such powerful hits, Gohan continued his assault, pummeling Frieza with ki blasts.

"Incredible," Vegeta muttered, watching the display with growing interest. "The power this boy can draw out when he loses control... Perhaps he's the closest to achieving the legendary Super Saiyan transformation."

Cellera suppressed an eye roll at her father's continued obsession with the legend, but her attention snapped back to the battle as she spotted movement in the impact crater.

"Gohan!" she shouted in warning, but he had already turned away, focused on where Dende was pulling Krillin from the water. "Don't let your guard down!"

"Well, well," Frieza's wicked grin caught the light as he rose from the crater. "There seems to be more to you than meets the eye, boy. That actually hurt... a little." His smile turned cruel. "But you chose the wrong opponent. You've only succeeded in making me angry."

Gohan, Vegeta, and Cellera stared in shock as Frieza's power began to climb even higher, his aura pulsing with controlled intensity.

"He can regulate his power level at will," Vegeta growled through clenched teeth.

Before anyone could react, Frieza materialized directly in front of Gohan.

"Get out of there, idiot!" Vegeta shouted.

"Gohan, move!" Cellera's warning came too late.

Frieza's casual backhand sent Gohan plummeting into the ground below. "Oh dear, don’t get yourself hurt so quickly. I’m just warming up," He said, admiring the crater he'd created.

Vegeta seized the opportunity, launching a powerful ki blast at Frieza's exposed back. "I did it!" he crowed as the explosion lit up the sky. "His overconfidence made him drop his guard! That was a direct hit!"

"Father," Cellera's dry tone cut through his premature celebration, "Did you really think that was all it took?"

The smoke cleared to reveal Frieza completely unharmed, not even a scratch marring his new form. He turned slowly, his eyes holding dark amusement. "Now, now, don't be in such a rush, you two. We'll have plenty of time to play once I'm done with the runt."

"Our fates are sealed," Vegeta muttered, a note of defeat in his voice that Cellera had never heard before.

But as she watched Gohan continue to fight against impossible odds, she found she couldn't accept that surrender. He was still fighting - how could she do any less?

Her anger began to build as Frieza drove his knee into Gohan's stomach, following with a series of brutal kicks that sent him tumbling across the ground. Gohan managed to recover, using a ki blast to propel himself away - the same technique he'd used to win their second round of image training just hours ago. The memory of their friendly sparring made Frieza's cruelty feel even more stark.

But Frieza appeared behind Gohan mid-flight, his tail whipping around to slam the boy back to the ground. Even then, Gohan struggled to his feet, only for Frieza to drive an elbow into his head before pressing his foot down on the boy's skull. Gohan's cry of pain cut through Cellera like a blade.

"What's wrong, you two?" Frieza called up mockingly. "Aren't you going to save him? He won't last much longer at this rate."

Something snapped inside Cellera as she watched her friend writhe in pain. Her fear of Frieza began to burn away, replaced by a rage she'd never felt before. Her own words from Earth echoed in her mind - So discard your hesitation, be a Saiyan, and fight!

Just as she prepared to launch herself forward, Vegeta's hand seized her arm. "Have you forgotten everything I taught you?!"

Cellera turned to face him, and for once, Vegeta found himself startled by his daughter's expression. Gone was Rhuba's gentle gaze - in its place burned something far more familiar. His own fierce pride stared back at him.

"No," She said, her voice carrying that same edge he'd spent years honing in her. "I haven't forgotten a single lesson."

"Then stand down! He's already-"

"Already what, Father? Done for? Like I was supposed to be done for against Dodoria? Against Zarbon? The Ginyus?" Her small fists clenched at her sides. "You taught me that a true Saiyan never stands down!"

"Your emotions will get you killed!"

"Then I'll die with my pride intact!" The look she gave him now held something beyond mere defiance - it held understanding. "You taught me that above all else, a Saiyan keeps their pride. And my pride..." her power flared around her as her voice softened slightly, "Will not let me watch my friends die. I’ll fight to protect them!"

Vegeta stood frozen as she wrenched free of his grip, launching herself toward Frieza. Friends, he thought, watching his five-year-old daughter charge toward certain death. The word should have disgusted him, should have confirmed every fear about her growing soft. Instead, he found himself remembering another day, years ago, when he'd first taught her about Saiyan pride...

"But Father," She’d asked during their training, her small voice trying so hard to be formal like his, "If our pride comes from being the strongest warriors in the universe, why do we serve Frieza?"

He'd looked down at her then - barely tall enough to reach his knee, yet already questioning what ate at his own pride daily.

"Because right now, we're not strong enough to defeat him," He’d replied, his voice hard as he corrected her stance. "But we are still the mightiest race in the universe. Your Saiyan blood carries the potential for victory - that's where our pride comes from. One day, we'll prove it."

"And then we'll win?" Even then, she'd caught the dangerous edge in his voice.

"Always remember this: a true Saiyan's pride demands victory. Nothing else matters." His hands had tightened on her shoulders. "You carry royal blood. One day, you'll understand what that truly means."

Now, watching her rush toward certain defeat, Vegeta realized his daughter had found her own interpretation of victory - one that somehow managed to both defy and honor his teachings. While his pride demanded personal triumph at any cost, she'd found something else worth fighting for.

‘She has more Saiyan spirit than I do right now’, He thought, his hands clenching as his daughter - his pride - flew to face the universe's most dangerous tyrant.

Cellera rushed as fast as she could toward Gohan and Frieza, acknowledging with startling clarity that she'd just called Krillin and Gohan her friends aloud for the first time. They - along with Bulma - had become something worth protecting. Something worth dying for.

As she reached them, Cellera launched into a flurry of punches and kicks aimed at Frieza's head. The tyrant merely swayed around each strike, not even bothering to lift his foot from Gohan's skull. Before she could adjust her strategy, his hand shot out and seized her throat, lifting her small form into the air.

"So much like your mother," Frieza chuckled, his red eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Her death will always hold a special place in my heart. I couldn't stand her talk of mercy and the strength coming from protecting instead of killing. It made me want to vomit." His gaze shifted between her and Vegeta. "Imagine my surprise when she of all people got with your father, the most ruthless of the Saiyans."

Cellera clawed desperately at Frieza's wrist as his grip tightened around her windpipe, her analytical mind still racing even as her vision began to darken at the edges.

"Then they had you ." His grip constricted further. "I tried so often to dispose of you, but they were both just too good at keeping you in their sight. And even when I sent you on those missions with Dodoria and Zarbon without your father, you still refused to die... just like a cockroach."

A single tear rolled down Cellera's cheek, falling through the air to land on Gohan's face below. His eyes widened at the warm drop, and as their gazes met, she saw not the fear and hesitation from Earth, but the same fierce determination she felt burning in her chest. That tear, she would later insist, came purely from the crushing pressure on her throat, not from learning how long Frieza had been trying to kill her, how her parents had spent years protecting her from his schemes.

"I think I will kill you first after all." Frieza's smile widened. "Say hello to your mother for me in hell!"

Just as Frieza's grip began to tighten fatally, something caught his attention. His eyes widened as he released Cellera and leaped back, a razor-sharp disc of energy slicing through the air where he'd been standing - and through half his tail.

"What?" Frieza snarled, staring at his severed appendage.

To everyone's amazement, Krillin hovered in the air, very much alive. Only a hole in his battle jacket remained as evidence of his near-fatal injury.

"Looking for someone?" Krillin called out, already forming another Destructo-Disc above his palm. He launched disc after disc at Frieza, forcing the tyrant to dodge repeatedly.

"Stay still, you insect!" Frieza raged as Krillin led him on a chase through the air, displaying surprising agility as he continued his assault.

As Frieza pursued Krillin, Cellera saw Dende rushing toward where she and Gohan lay. "Let me heal you both," The young Namekian said urgently.

"You can heal?" Cellera managed through her bruised throat, the words coming out as little more than a rasp.

Dende nodded, already reaching toward her, but she shook her head. "Gohan first," she insisted, her voice rough. "He's more wounded."

"Cellera..." Gohan said weakly, "Are you sure? Thank you for trying to help me, but-"

"I'm fine," She assured him, attempting to sound stronger despite her damaged throat. "A true Saiyan warrior can handle far worse than this." She even managed a smirk, though the effect was somewhat ruined by her wince as she tried to swallow.

After Dende finished healing Gohan, the boy immediately turned to her, clearly not buying her act of bravado.

"Your turn," He said firmly, noticing the dark bruises forming on her neck. "No arguments." He gestured for Dende to heal her, his expression leaving no room for debate - even for a prideful Saiyan princess.

After they both thanked Dende for his healing, Gohan and Cellera shared a look, nodding in silent understanding before powering up. They flew upward together to join Krillin and Vegeta, who were watching Frieza recover from Krillin's solar flare.

Cellera immediately noted the change in Gohan's energy - his power had increased significantly from their near-death experience. Her father seemed to notice as well.

"The boy's gotten stronger again," Vegeta said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "Perhaps luck is finally tipping in our favor." His eyes then narrowed as he turned to Cellera. "Why didn't you tell me about the Namekian child's healing abilities?"

"Because I had no idea he possessed them," She replied, unconsciously mirroring her father's crossed-arm stance.

"None of us knew," Krillin added quickly.

"If we did, we would've had him heal my dad right away," Gohan said.

Frieza emerged from the lingering effects of the solar flare, his eyes immediately fixing on Gohan. "Impossible... The runt is back when he should be on the verge of death."

But before he could act on his fury, everyone froze - a massive power level was approaching rapidly. It felt different from Goku's energy, but no less formidable. The sky seemed to darken as a figure appeared on the horizon.

"Is that..." Gohan's face lit up with recognition. "Piccolo!"

Piccolo appeared before them, floating protectively in front of Gohan. "Sorry to have kept you all waiting," He said, his eyes fixed on Frieza. "So this is him. Quite a formidable monster."

Gohan beamed at his mentor's arrival, and Cellera couldn't help but smile at her friend's joy. After everything they'd been through to bring him back, seeing Piccolo standing between them and Frieza felt like the first real hope they'd had since the battle began.

Her moment of relief shattered at her father's scoff. "Tch, if it isn't the bastard we killed back on Earth. I wondered what you wished for. You went and brought back this good-for-nothing piece of garbage?"

"Yes," Cellera shot back, her voice carrying that same dry edge she'd inherited from him, "The one who, had Nappa not killed him, would have helped you achieve immortality by now."

Piccolo's lips curved into a slight smirk at her retort before his expression hardened again. "Remember this, Vegeta," He said, never taking his eyes off Frieza. "Once I've taken care of Frieza, you're next on my list."

"I didn't think Namekians were capable of telling jokes," Vegeta replied with a sneer.

Cellera studied Piccolo carefully, her thumb pressing to her lip in analysis. He felt different - stronger than he'd been on Earth, certainly, but there was something else. It was almost as if two distinct energies were mixing together within him, though she couldn't be entirely sure. Her ki sensing abilities, while improving, were still too new to fully trust such a subtle observation.

"It's time to clean up this cosmic trash," Piccolo announced, his cape billowing in the wind as he took a fighting stance. He turned to address them all, his expression leaving no room for debate. "Stay out of this."

The command shocked them into silence - even her father seemed taken aback by the Namekian's confidence. Without waiting for their response, Piccolo descended to the ground below.

"Dende," He called to the young healer, "Take shelter. You don't want to get caught in the crossfire of what's about to happen."

"He's crazy!" Krillin said, watching Piccolo face off against Frieza. "He has no idea how terrible Frieza really is."

"He'll realize soon enough," Vegeta scoffed.

But Gohan and Cellera exchanged thoughtful looks, both less certain of Piccolo's impending defeat.

"No," Gohan said, his voice carrying quiet confidence. "Piccolo isn't the type to fight unprepared. He always senses his opponent's strength first - if he thinks he can win, he must have a reason."

"He's right," Cellera agreed. "Even during our battle on Earth, every move he made was calculated. He was always the strategist of their group..." She trailed off, remembering how he'd protected Gohan then, just as he positioned himself between them and Frieza now. "If he's choosing to fight, he must have a plan."

The four watched in amazement as Piccolo matched Frieza blow for blow, his movements precise and devastating. Each strike landed with calculated force, while Frieza's attacks met only air or perfectly timed blocks. After several exchanges, Piccolo stood virtually unmarked while Frieza showed signs of actual damage.

"I can't believe it," Krillin breathed, watching another of Piccolo's attacks send Frieza reeling. "He's as good as Frieza!"

"No," Vegeta corrected reluctantly, his fists clenching at his sides. "He's even better."

"I knew he could do it!" Gohan's face split into a wide grin as he watched his mentor dominate the battle.

"If he can maintain this level of combat," Cellera said, her eyes locked onto the battle before her, "We might not even need to wait for Kakarot." Yet something nagged at the back of her mind - an instinct warning her it couldn't be this simple.

"Looks like we're not dead after all!" Krillin laughed, relief evident in his voice.

"Yeah!" Gohan agreed enthusiastically.

Cellera glanced at her father, noting the agitation in his stance. She recognized that look - the same one he wore whenever someone displayed power that threatened his position. The fact that it was Piccolo, someone they'd so easily defeated on Earth, seemed to make it even worse.

Their celebration was cut short as Frieza's chuckle echoed across the battlefield. The tyrant launched into a sudden assault, his attacks carrying new intensity as he sent Piccolo crashing through the broken terrain.

"What's happening?" Krillin asked, his earlier confidence wavering. "He's still not fighting at full power?"

As Piccolo pushed himself up from the rubble, Frieza's smile turned cruel. "Forgive me - I didn't give you enough credit. Now that I see you're capable of holding your own, I thought I should show you more of my power."

Despite the palpable fear from the observers, Piccolo merely spat before reaching for his weighted cape and turban. The training gear crashed to the ground with thunderous force. "I suppose I should do the same then," He said, cracking his neck and wrists. "No more playing around."

"What?" Even Frieza looked taken aback. "You've been holding back until now?"

"He can do it!" Gohan exclaimed, hope filling his voice. "Piccolo can beat him!"

But Frieza's next words froze the blood in their veins. "This form is still only a fraction of my power," He said, spreading his arms wide. "You see, I had already transformed once before you arrived." His smile widened at Piccolo's shocked expression. 

"Transformed…?”

“Yes... And now I'll grant you the same terror I showed Vegeta and the others." Frieza's voice carried dark satisfaction as he continued. "With each transformation, my power increases substantially. And I still have two more forms to show you."

"That's... that's impossible," Krillin whispered, but the growing darkness in Frieza's aura suggested otherwise.

Cellera turned to Gohan, her usual composed expression cracking with genuine worry. "I really hope your father decides to drop his habit of barely-in-time arrivals," She said as Frieza's body began to pulse with transformative energy.

"You should feel honored," Frieza's voice distorted as his form began to change. "You'll be the first to ever witness this transformation."

They watched in horror as Frieza's body contorted and expanded, his skull elongating grotesquely while spikes erupted from his back. His transformation seemed to darken the very air around them, and Cellera found herself questioning why they all stood frozen, allowing him to complete this metamorphosis. But she understood - even she, with all her tactical training, found herself paralyzed by the sheer terror of Frieza's growing power.

When the transformation finished, a creature that barely resembled his previous form stood before them, its elongated head housing cold, calculating eyes. "Thank you for waiting, Piccolo," Frieza's distorted voice carried a new edge of menace. "Shall we begin round two?"

Piccolo's previous confidence had vanished, replaced by visible unease. "You're... you're a monster."

"Wait," Krillin said, his voice trembling as he tried to maintain hope. "He hasn't changed that much has he?"

"No," Cellera's analytical tone carried an edge of dread. "His power is nothing like it was before. And he still has one more transformation left."

"Not only that," Vegeta added grimly, "but it seems he's able to exercise a greater degree of control."

"Look," Gohan pointed out, his voice barely above a whisper. "All the damage he took from Piccolo - it's completely healed."

Piccolo and Frieza clashed again, the Namekian attempting to outmaneuver his opponent. "You may have power," Piccolo declared, his movements a blur, "But I have speed!"

"Well, well..." Frieza's voice came from behind him. "Did you miss me?"

Before Piccolo could react, Frieza unleashed a devastating barrage of attacks, targeting his knee, head, and chest with surgical precision. Each hit landed with crushing force, sending Piccolo reeling.

"Stop it!" Gohan's power exploded with his rage as he shot toward the battle. Just as Cellera and Krillin moved to follow, Vegeta caught them each by the arm.

"What are you doing?" Krillin demanded.

"Again?!" Cellera's exasperation carried memories of her earlier attempt to help Gohan.

"Both of you, quiet," Vegeta ordered before turning to his daughter. "Cellera, I need you to blast me within an inch of my life."

"What?!" Cellera and Krillin stared at him in shock. Her tactical mind raced through possibilities before landing on Dende's healing ability. "Father, that's crazy!" But even as the words left her mouth, she knew this might be their only chance against Frieza's growing power.

Their discussion was interrupted by a massive explosion - Gohan had launched a full-power ki blast at Frieza. The tyrant barely managed to catch and redirect it, but Piccolo moved swiftly to deflect the attack before it could strike his student.

Cellera watched in amazement - this was the second time today Gohan had directly challenged Frieza, and the second time Frieza had underestimated him. The boy she'd met on Earth who could barely maintain eye contact was gone, replaced by a true warrior. From his instinctive defense of Dende against Dodoria, through his unwavering resolve against Recoome, to now facing down the universe's most powerful tyrant - each battle had stripped away another layer of hesitation. The fear that had once paralyzed him had transformed into a fierce determination to protect others, a strength that even Frieza couldn't intimidate.

"I'm proud of you, Gohan," Piccolo said, a rare smile crossing his features despite their dire situation. "You've grown much stronger."

"But still not strong enough," Gohan admitted, his fists clenching. "I hit him with everything I had."

Down below, Frieza rose from the impact crater, barely marked by Gohan's attack. Yet something about the boy's power seemed to intrigue him as his eyes narrowed in speculation.

"Now, who could have spawned such a feisty little half-breed?" He mused, his elongated head tilting as he studied Gohan. "Given the resemblance, I'd wager Raditz. It certainly couldn't have been Nappa or Vegeta." His lipless mouth curved into a cruel smile. "Though I suppose it hardly matters now."

His gaze swept across the three Saiyans - father, daughter, and half-breed child. "I think it's time I rectify my earlier mistake. No more keeping pet monkeys." Despite his mocking tone, something in his expression suggested unease as he studied them. "I don't put much stock in their ridiculous Super Saiyan legend, but there's something... unsettling about the power growing within each of them."

Vegeta grabbed Cellera's shoulders, his fingers digging in with desperate urgency. "Blast me. Now. You're the only one who can do this - powerful enough to bring me to death's edge, but with ki control precise enough not to finish the job." His voice carried that same frantic edge it had before the Ginyu Force arrived, when he'd demanded the Dragon Balls' location.

"Father..." Cellera hesitated. "There's no guarantee Dende will heal you after everything you've done."

Vegeta seized her small hand, pressing it against his abdomen. "I'm entrusting you with making sure it gets done." His eyes held hers with unexpected intensity. "Prove to me your new path isn't wrong."

Her last shred of reluctance vanished as Frieza's voice cut through the air: "Now, witness my final, true form!"

Cellera gritted her teeth, meeting her father's gaze one last time. "I'm sorry," she whispered, before sending a precise ki blast through his abdomen.

As Vegeta plummeted toward the island below, she caught sight of Gohan's shocked expression. "Krillin, explain to him what's happening," She called over her shoulder, already diving after her father's falling form.

When she reached the island, Cellera found her father barely standing, blood soaking through his armor as he faced Dende.

"I can't heal you," Dende said firmly, his small hands clenched at his sides. "You killed so many of my people, showed no mercy..." His voice trembled with barely contained grief and anger.

Vegeta swayed on his feet, blood trickling from his mouth as he tried to respond, but his legs gave out beneath him. As he slipped into unconsciousness, Cellera moved forward.

"Please, Dende," She pleaded, her tone giving way to urgency. "If you don't heal him, we'll all die. None of us stand a chance against Frieza's final form."

Their attention suddenly shifted skyward where Gohan struggled to carry Piccolo's battered form to safety. Dende's expression softened slightly as he watched.

"I'll heal Vegeta," He said finally, "But only after I save Piccolo first."

Cellera felt her jaw clench, frustration warring with understanding. After a moment, she gave a sharp nod. "Agreed." She gathered her father's limp form in her arms, following Dende as they flew to where Gohan was setting Piccolo down beside Krillin. Though her tactical mind screamed at the delay, she couldn't deny Dende's right to prioritize healing someone who hadn't slaughtered his people.

Dende's hands glowed as he healed Piccolo, who sat up with renewed strength. "Do I possess healing abilities as well?" Piccolo asked.

"No," Dende shook his head. "I descend from the healer class. You come from the warrior class."

As Dende turned toward Vegeta, Cellera noticed his hesitation. Her hands tightened unconsciously on her father's armor as she watched precious seconds tick away. Though she maintained her composed expression, her thumb pressed so hard against her lip it nearly drew blood.

Gohan noticed the subtle tremors in her normally steady hands, the way her eyes kept darting between her father's pale face and Dende's reluctant approach. He hadn’t seen her this shaken since they were in the cave hiding from Frieza and his men.

"Please, Dende," Krillin urged. "We need him."

"But he's just like Frieza," Dende protested. "He killed my people in cold blood!"

"I know he's done evil, but-" Cellera's voice caught as she sensed a massive power spike. Her eyes widened as she spotted Frieza in the distance, his body already beginning to transform. Real fear began to creep into her voice. "Please..."

Gohan looked between his friend and her unconscious father, remembering how she'd rushed to help him against Frieza despite her own fear. "Dende, please," He added softly. "We can't let her lose her father too."

"Heal him," Piccolo's command cut through the tension. "I can handle Vegeta. But Frieza..." His eyes narrowed at the growing power in the distance. "We need every warrior we can get."

A massive explosion rocked the island where Frieza was transforming, causing them all to pause.

"Why didn't we mask our energy and hide while we had the chance?" Krillin asked desperately.

"It wouldn't do any good," Piccolo replied grimly. "With the Dragon Balls gone, he'd just destroy the entire planet. He no longer needs to preserve anything."

"Father!" Cellera's sharp cry cut through their discussion, her usual composed demeanor finally cracking as she watched blood continue to pool beneath Vegeta. "Please, he won't last much longer!" The naked fear in her voice - so different from her typical analytical tone - seemed to finally move Dende to action.

The young Namekian knelt beside Vegeta, his hands beginning to glow with healing energy. As the light enveloped her father, Cellera found herself holding her breath, her small hands still clutching his armor.

Vegeta's eyes snapped open as the healing completed. He stood slowly, methodically clenching and unclenching his fists as he tested his newfound strength. Then his gaze fell on Dende, and Cellera recognized the dangerous glint in his eyes.

Cellera moved instinctively, blocking the kick meant for Dende. Her small frame trembled not with fear now, but with anger.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed again?" She demanded, her voice carrying an edge that made even her father pause. "Do you really think attacking the only person who can heal us is tactically sound? It took everything I had to convince him to help you - twice now!"

Her small fists clenched at her sides as years of carefully contained emotion finally broke through. "On Earth, then here - both times I had to save you from death that your own cruelty brought on. Your need to dominate, to prove your strength through others' suffering..." Her voice cracked slightly. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To watch you constantly risk everything just to prove your power?"

"I already lost mother," She continued, softer now but no less intense. "Every time you choose violence when it isn't necessary, every time your ruthlessness puts you in danger..." Her usual mask slipped completely, revealing the frightened child beneath. "I can't lose you too."

Gohan watched the outburst, startled by how different this break in Cellera's composure was from what he'd seen before. He remembered her fear in the cave when Frieza's men had flown past - they'd all been terrified then. But this was different. This wasn't the cold dread of Frieza's power; this was raw emotion, the kind she usually kept locked behind careful and rational thinking. This was the fear of losing another parent.

Vegeta stared at his daughter, seeing perhaps for the first time how much of Rhuba lived in her - not just in her appearance or fighting style, but in that fierce protectiveness that had ultimately led to her mother's death. Before he could respond, darkness fell over them as Frieza's power reached new heights.

"Dende, run," Cellera said quietly, her voice steadying though her hands still shook. "Find somewhere safe to hide. We'll need you again before this is over."

They all turned toward the explosion's epicenter, where Frieza's transformation was completed. Despite his now more slender frame, the sheer power radiating from him made the air itself feel heavy.

"I'm sorry," Piccolo said grimly, "But I don't think I'm going to be much help anymore."

Before anyone could respond, Frieza's hand moved - just a slight gesture. None of them saw more than a flash of light, and for a moment, they thought he'd missed entirely.

Then they heard the impact.

"DENDE!" Gohan, Cellera, and Krillin cried out simultaneously as they spotted their young friend's smoking form on the ground, his small body crumpled where he'd tried to run.

Their shocked grief was cut short by Frieza's silky voice. "Now none of you can be revived, right?"

The casual cruelty of the question hung in the air as they stared at Dende's lifeless body - the child who'd healed them, helped them, who'd overcome his own fear and anger to aid even those who'd hurt his people. Another innocent claimed by Frieza's methodical evil.

The universe's most dangerous tyrant had shown them his true form, and with it, the depths of his cruelty. None would be spared, none shown mercy - not even a child who had moments ago shown mercy to his enemies.

 

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

"H-He killed Dende!" Gohan's voice cracked as they stared at their friend's lifeless form, smoke still rising from his small body.

Cellera's mind tormented her with alternatives, calculating each moment she'd wasted arguing with her father. If she'd simply told Dende to run immediately, given him those precious extra seconds to escape... She clenched her fists, forcing back the useless regret. Her mother had always warned her that dwelling on past mistakes during battle only led to more of them.

Before they could process their grief, Frieza vanished from his position across the battlefield. He materialized beside their group with impossible speed, his transformed features twisting into a cruel smile. "I promise to show you a nightmare beyond the horrors of hell."

Without hesitation, Gohan charged at Frieza, his small fist aimed for the tyrant's face. Cellera followed her friend's lead, coordinating her attack to complement his as Krillin drove in with a kick and Piccolo swiped from above. Despite their synchronized assault, Frieza evaded every strike with fluid grace, barely seeming to move at all.

The assault continued, Krillin and Gohan pressing their attack while Cellera joined Piccolo in the air. They launched coordinated ki blasts downward, forcing Frieza to leap clear - exactly as planned. Gohan and Krillin immediately followed up with their own energy attacks from below, but Frieza slipped between them as if they were moving in slow motion.

"Behind you!" Vegeta's warning rang out.

Cellera's breath caught as she saw Frieza raise his arm - that same casual gesture that had ended Dende's life now aimed at Gohan. Her body moved instinctively even as her mind calculated the impossible distance. She wouldn't reach him in time. She couldn't save him.

Two deadly beams shot from Frieza's fingers, slicing through the air toward Gohan. At the last possible moment, Vegeta's kick sent the boy tumbling clear of their path. "Dodge, you fool!" The blasts struck a distant island instead, the explosion lighting up the Namekian sky with devastating force.

Krillin stared at the explosion's aftermath, his voice shaking. "I couldn't even see that attack..."

"If not for my father, Gohan would be dead," Cellera said, her usual steady tone wavering. Her mind froze as she realized how close she'd come to losing her first real friend. She saw death before, witnessed countless executions at Frieza's command, but this was different. After everything they'd been through - their fight on Earth, their growing trust, those precious moments of laughter during image training - the thought of watching Gohan die like Dende made something deep inside her crack.

The realization steadied her voice as she continued analyzing the advantage they'd gained from her father's power boost, though her hands still trembled slightly at her sides. "It was a gamble, but it seems the power he gained from his near-death experience paid off."

"What do you mean?" Piccolo demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"Every time a Saiyan recovers from near death, their power increases," She explained. "That's why I had to..." She trailed off, glancing at her father.

Gohan turned to Vegeta, gratitude evident in his expression. "Thank you for saving me."

"Don't get the wrong idea," Vegeta scoffed, though his eyes flickered briefly toward Cellera. "I didn't do it for you. I simply wanted to demonstrate my new abilities."

The look that passed between father and daughter wasn't lost on Gohan. Despite Vegeta's harsh words, both children recognized the truth behind his actions.

"You truly believe you can defeat Frieza?" Piccolo demanded.

"You're all in my way," Vegeta smirked. "Step back and watch closely."

Frieza chuckled, his transformed features twisting with mock pity. "My dear Vegeta, your helpless situation must have made you delusional. Has your arrogance finally broken what little sense you possessed?"

"Go ahead - laugh and smirk all you like," Vegeta's confidence never wavered. "But you're looking at what you've always feared most: a Super Saiyan."

There was a moment of absolute silence before Frieza's laughter cut through the air. "I never knew you had such a sense of humor, Vegeta."

The group turned to Cellera, seeking confirmation of her father's claims.

"I can't confirm if he's achieved it," She said, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism. "There hasn't been a Super Saiyan in over a thousand years. I truly hope he's right - we need that power now more than ever - but..." She trailed off, thinking of all the times her father had made this same claim, each time proven wrong.

"KAKAROT WON’T EVEN GET HIS SHOT!" Vegeta roared, launching himself at Frieza with explosive force.

But just as Vegeta's strike should have connected, Frieza vanished. He reappeared at a distance, his laughter echoing across the battlefield. "So I make one little move at full speed and suddenly your head's spinning? And you call yourself a Super Saiyan." The mockery in his voice cut through Vegeta's confidence like a blade.

"I AM A SUPER SAIYAN!" Vegeta's scream tore through the air as his rage exploded outward. "DIE FRIEZA!" He channeled all his power into a massive blast, the energy crackling with enough force to potentially destroy the planet.

"He didn't listen at all," Cellera hissed through clenched teeth, her voice tight with frustration. "His anger and need to prove himself has completely blinded his tactical judgment."

"Are you trying to blow up the entire planet?" Piccolo shouted at Vegeta.

But Frieza simply lifted his leg, deflecting the devastating attack into space with a casual kick. The group stared in stunned silence.

"H-he just..." Piccolo stammered, "H-he deflected that attack with just a single kick."

"Vegeta must have put everything he had into that attack!" Krillin's voice shook with disbelief.

Cellera watched in shock as her father's body trembled with genuine fear - something she had never witnessed before. When their eyes met, she saw tears forming in his own, and her mind immediately flashed back to the only other time she had seen her father cry..

She had been two, clutching the pendant one of Frieza's soldiers had just delivered along with news of her mother's death. Unable to sleep, she had crept from her bed to find her father. Through the crack in their quarters' door, she saw him sitting alone in the darkness, silent tears falling as one hand covered his face. It was the only time she had ever seen the proud Saiyan prince break. She had retreated without a sound, never telling him she witnessed that moment of vulnerability.

Now, seeing that same raw despair in her father's eyes, Cellera's hand unconsciously moved to where her mother's pendant still lay hidden beneath her armor. The gravity of their situation truly set in - this wasn't just fear, this was the complete shattering of everything her father believed about his own power.

Cellera's own body began to tremble as she watched her father's will to fight drain away, leaving only naked fear behind. For the first time in her life, she saw her proud, unstoppable father utterly defeated - not by physical blows, but by the crushing weight of his own powerlessness.

Frieza struck with devastating speed, his head connecting with Vegeta's face before a brutal kick sent the Saiyan prince crashing to the ground before them. The double impact left her father's body battered and broken in the dirt.

Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip so hard she tasted blood, but she barely noticed the pain. She tried to think of different scenarios, trying to find some way to help, but they all turned up useless. Despite her own increased power from their battles, despite everything she'd learned since coming to Namek, she remained helplessly outmatched. All her knowledge, all her careful planning, meant nothing in the face of Frieza's overwhelming strength.

My Saiyan pride won't let me watch my friends die... Her own words from earlier echoed mockingly in her mind. Cellera's fists clenched at her sides as she watched Frieza approach with predatory grace. Does that pride not extend to my own family? My own father? The conflict tore at her - wisdom warring with the desperate need to act as Frieza drew closer to her father's broken form.

As if sensing her intentions, Vegeta's voice cut through her internal struggle. "Stay back," He growled. "Don't you dare-"

His words cut off in a choke as Frieza's tail wrapped around his throat, lifting him into the air. Cellera's mouth opened to protest, but before she could speak, Frieza's fist drove into her father's kidney. Again and again, the tyrant methodically pummeled the same spot while keeping Vegeta suspended and helpless.

Frieza paused in his assault, turning to look at the watching warriors. His eyes fixed on Cellera with cruel amusement. "You're free to come help him at any time," He taunted.

Cellera's body tensed, preparing to launch forward, but a trembling hand caught her wrist. She glanced down to find Gohan holding her back, his grip shaking with what might have been fear or rage - or both. When she tried to pull free, her eyes met her father's gaze. The look he gave her screamed "STAY AWAY" with such intensity it froze her in place.

But there was something else in that moment - a silent exchange between Vegeta and Gohan. Her father's eyes flickered to the boy with something like acknowledgment, and Cellera realized Gohan's intervention hadn't been spontaneous. Even now, being tortured by Frieza, Vegeta had managed to communicate with the half-Saiyan child, ensuring his daughter would be kept from throwing her life away in a futile rescue attempt.

Vegeta's body crashed into the mountain with devastating force, the impact leaving a crater in the rock face. Small fragments of stone crumbled around his limp form as Frieza observed with obvious disappointment.

"How boring," Frieza sighed. "I expected more of a fight from the proud Saiyan prince. Oh well - time to make him suffer properly first."

For the first time in her life, Cellera's rational mind failed her. Her careful calculations, her thought out assessments - none of them mattered as she watched Frieza's cruel gaze turn toward her. She pulled free from Gohan's grip, knowing retreat was futile but refusing to die cowering.

"Cellera, no!" Gohan cried out, reaching for her again. "Don't!"

But she was already moving, her attack precise despite her fear. Even now, she maintained the disciplined form her father had drilled into her, refusing to let emotion compromise her technique.

Frieza caught her punch with casual ease, his grip tightening around her small fist until she felt bones crack. "Such calculated desperation," he mused. "Not quite your mother's foolish sentiment, but close enough." He held her in place, ensuring Vegeta could see everything. "I think I'll kill her first, Vegeta. Let you watch your legacy die before you follow her."

Cellera struggled against his grip, her broken hand screaming in protest. The cold certainty in Frieza's voice terrified her more than the pain - he wasn't just going to kill her, he was going to make her father watch.

Vegeta's heart hammered against his broken ribs as he watched his daughter stand before Frieza. Everything he'd done - every brutal training session, every harsh lesson in survival, every attempt to harden her into the perfect warrior - none of it mattered now. He was going to watch his child die, just as helpless as he'd been when Frieza took Rhuba from them.

"Don't worry, you two," Frieza's silky voice carried across the battlefield. "You'll be reunited as a family soon enough." The tyrant raised his hand for the killing blow.

A streak of orange cut through the air like a meteor, the shockwave of its passage sending debris scattering in all directions. The figure materialized between Frieza and his victims, orange gi bright against Namek's green sky. The very air seemed to vibrate with power as Goku stood before them, his expression uncharacteristically stern.

Frieza's grip on Cellera loosened as he turned to assess this new threat, allowing her to scramble backward. She bit back a cry of pain as her broken hand scraped against the ground in her retreat.

Late as usual, Kakarot, she thought, but relief flooded through her nonetheless. Something was different about him - his energy signature had changed completely from their earlier encounters. It radiated with a calm intensity she'd never felt before, making even Frieza pause to reassess his position.

Goku walked past Piccolo and the others, his usual cheerful demeanor tempered by the gravity of the situation. "So it really was you, Piccolo - that mysterious huge ki I felt." He offered a small smile. "Thanks to you all, I've recovered from the damage I took earlier. Sorry I'm late - let me handle it from here."

Turning to face the tyrant, Goku's expression hardened. "You must be Frieza." His head tilted slightly as he assessed the being before him. "You're a lot smaller than I thought you'd be."

Cellera might have laughed at the casual dismissal if she hadn't experienced Frieza's power firsthand. The memory of how close she'd come to death moments ago - the feeling of her bones cracking in his grip - kept any trace of amusement at bay.

Frieza's eyes narrowed as he studied the newcomer, an odd sense of recognition nagging at him."It seems I overlooked some garbage," he said smoothly.. "If you want your turn at death, you'll have to wait. I have unfinished business with Vegeta first." Yet something about this Saiyan's face troubled him - where had he seen it before?

"Kakarot..." Vegeta's voice rasped from his position against the mountain.

"Kakarot?" Frieza's eyes widened slightly. "A Saiyan name..." His mind flashed to a memory - a defiant Saiyan warrior who had stood against him just before Planet Vegeta's destruction. The resemblance was uncanny.

Cellera caught the look of shock that crossed her father's face. She recognized that expression - it was the same one he wore when measuring up a significantly stronger opponent. He must sense it too, she thought. Whatever happened during his recovery, Kakarot's power has increased dramatically.

"I'm afraid I can't permit a single Saiyan to live," Frieza said, his voice carrying that familiar deadly sweetness. "Why don't you save yourself the trouble and bow before me now? It would be so much easier than resisting."

"I'm sure I can," Goku replied with quiet confidence.

Frieza launched forward, his leg whipping out in a devastating kick - only for Goku to counter with a kick of his own, catching the tyrant squarely in the face. The impact sent Frieza flying backward.

After catching himself and landing gracefully, Frieza's laughter echoed across the battlefield. He raised his hand, fingers glowing with deadly energy. "Insolent pest!" A barrage of death beams shot toward Goku as Gohan and Krillin scattered for cover. "Dodge!"

But Goku didn't move. Instead, he lifted one hand and casually swatted away each beam as if they were nothing more than annoying insects. Cellera stared in disbelief, struggling to process what she was seeing. Even at her father's peak, he couldn't have managed such a feat.

"Impossible..." Frieza's voice carried a note of genuine shock. "He deflected them all... with a single hand?" For the first time since his transformation, uncertainty crept into the tyrant's expression.

Vegeta's laughter cut through the air - a harsh, desperate sound that made Cellera's blood run cold. "Don't underestimate Kakarot, Frieza. He's become what you fear most..." Her father's voice carried a wild edge she'd never heard before. "A Super Saiyan!"

"Father, please," Cellera whispered, recognizing the dangerous glint in Frieza's eyes. "Stop-"

"Finally," Vegeta continued, ignoring her plea, "You’ll get exactly what you deserve!"

Time seemed to slow for Cellera. She saw the subtle shift in Frieza's expression, the casual lift of his finger, the deadly purple light beginning to gather at its tip. Her body moved before her mind could process what was happening, but she knew she wouldn't reach him in time.

The beam pierced straight through Vegeta's heart.

Cellera froze, her world narrowing to the sight of blood spraying from her father's mouth as he slumped backwards. Her own voice seemed to come from far away as she screamed, "FATHER!"

"Oh my," Frieza's silky voice cut through her horror. "Have you already forgotten, Vegeta? I do so despise unfunny jokes."

"That was unnecessary," Goku's voice hardened with rare anger. "He could barely move. There was no reason to-"

"Oh, but there was," Frieza interrupted smoothly. "It serves him right for prattling on about that nonsensical Super Saiyan legend."

Blood trickled from Vegeta's mouth as he fixed Kakarot with a desperate glare. "You... fool. Still preaching mercy..." Each word seemed to cost him tremendous effort. "That proves... you're not... truly a Super Saiyan."

"Stop talking!" Cellera's voice cracked as she knelt beside him, her hands hovering uselessly over the fatal wound. Part of her knew it was pointless, knew there was nothing she could do to save him, but she couldn't stop herself from searching for some way to help. "Please, just... stop talking. Your mouth is what got you here in the first place!"

Her words carried years of frustrated love - all the times she'd watched him challenge those more powerful, all the moments his pride had nearly gotten him killed. But this time was different. This time there would be no recovery, no healing pod, no miraculous rescue. And still he wouldn't stop talking.

"Listen..." Vegeta gasped, "You must... harden your heart, Kakarot. Mercy... will get you nowhere with Frieza."

"I don't care what you say," Goku replied firmly. "I could never act as cold-blooded as you. Besides, I don't really understand this whole Super Saiyan thing anyway."

"Cold-blooded?" Cellera whirled on him, her voice rising with desperate fury. "I'll tell you who's cold-blooded! Frieza! Kakarot, Frieza has destroyed so many planets, so many families! He-" Her voice caught as she looked back at her father, struggling to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. All her life she'd tried to be strong like both her parents, but now... now she was watching her father die, she would lose him just like her mother, and she couldn't maintain that mask anymore.

"Listen to me, Kakarot," Vegeta rasped, blood staining his lips. "Our planet... it wasn't destroyed by a meteor. That was a lie. Frieza... Frieza did it."

Cellera felt her heart stop at her father's words. "Father, please," she begged, "don't waste your strength-"

But Vegeta continued, his voice growing stronger with a desperate need to reveal the truth. "We served him loyally, followed his every command. And still... still he murdered us all. Only a handful survived. He killed them all - your parents, my father the king, my daughter's mother..."

"Hmph. So you say," Frieza's casual dismissal cut through the air.

"Stop talking, please," Cellera pleaded, tears flowing freely now. For the first time since she was two years old, she let herself cry openly. "Father..."

Gohan watched in helpless anguish as his friend's carefully maintained composure shattered completely. Her small frame trembled with barely contained sobs as she clutched at her father's armor, desperate to keep him with her just a little longer. Gone was the warrior who had taught him to fight for what matters, now she was replaced by a terrified child about to lose her only remaining parent.

"He feared us," Vegeta continued, his own tears now mixing with the blood on his face. "Feared a Super Saiyan would rise against him. That's why... that's why he killed Rhuba. Her influence on the remaining Saiyans... her talk of mercy and protection... he couldn't allow it." His voice cracked with emotion he'd never shown before. "She left our daughter at only two years old. I had to... had to make Cellera strong enough... train her to survive... so Frieza couldn't take her too..."

"Kakarot... you must kill him. He has to die... by Saiyan hands..." Vegeta's eyes fixed on Goku with desperate intensity before shifting to Cellera. For the first time in her life, she saw pure love without any mask of pride or duty. "Don't let mine and her mother's hard work at protecting her be for nothing."

With trembling fingers, Vegeta reached up to place his hand on his daughter's head, the gesture so reminiscent of how he used to acknowledge her successes in training. His hand slid to her cheek, thumb brushing away her tears as his lips curved into the smallest, gentlest smile she'd ever seen him wear.

Cellera grabbed his hand, holding it against her face, but she felt the strength leaving his fingers. "Father... please..." she whispered, but his eyes were already closing, his final breath carrying away the last of his strength as his hand went limp in hers.

He's gone. The thought echoed through Cellera's mind as she clutched her father's lifeless hand, tears falling onto his armor. Her carefully constructed world - built on analysis, tactics, and controlled emotion - shattered completely.

Goku and Frieza's standoff continued, but their words became meaningless noise, drowned out by the ringing in her ears. Her small body shook with hyperventilating breaths as she tried desperately to maintain control, to think rather than feel as she'd been trained. But for once, her analytical mind offered no solutions, no tactical advantages, no way to undo what had happened.

Guru's words from their meeting floated through her consciousness: "The power was always within you. You need only to trust yourself to feel it, not just think it. It is not a sin to feel emotion, but a gift."

Something broke inside her. All the pain she'd suppressed since her mother's death, all the fear she'd hidden behind analysis, all the grief she'd denied in the name of survival - it erupted at once. Her scream carried five years of contained emotion as golden light exploded outward from her small form. Her dark hair blazed to life with brilliant gold, her eyes shifting to piercing teal.

But Cellera barely noticed her transformation. Her mind focused on a single, burning truth: Frieza would pay. For her mother. For her father. For everything he'd taken from her. For everything he’s done to a multitude of others within the universe. He would pay for it all.

"My, my," Frieza began, his silky voice carrying that familiar mockery. "Another monkey playing at-"

The tyrant's words cut off as Cellera's good fist connected with his face, the force of her Super Saiyan-enhanced strike actually making him stagger. For the first time since his transformation, genuine surprise crossed his features.

Something primal stirred within her as she pressed her attack - not just the raw power of Super Saiyan, but something deeper, more instinctive. Her usual calculated strikes gave way to fluid movements that seemed to flow from somewhere beyond conscious thought. Each punch, each kick carried not just power but an almost feral grace that made even Frieza work to defend himself.

"No more words," Cellera's voice carried an edge none of them had ever heard before. Gone was the careful analysis, the measured responses. "You took my mother when I was two. You've spent years trying to kill me. And now..." Golden energy crackled around her small form as she met his red eyes without fear. "Now you've taken my father too. I don't need to think anymore - I JUST NEED TO MAKE YOU PAY!"

She launched into a series of attacks that made even Frieza work to defend himself, her usual precise technique amplified by raw emotion and Super Saiyan power.

"Incredible," Piccolo muttered, watching the young warrior hold her own against the being they'd all failed to damage. "Her power..."

"It's different from before," Gohan added, his eyes wide as he watched his friend fight. "She's not just analyzing anymore - she's actually feeling her way through the battle."

"Her fighting spirit is amazing," Goku said, watching her movements with growing respect. "To have this much skill at her age..."

Frieza managed to create distance between them, wiping blood from his lip with an expression of growing fury. "You insignificant little-"

Cellera's golden aura flared brighter as she cut him off again, this time with a Nova Frame that actually forced him to dodge rather than deflect. "I said no more words!"

But even as she pressed her attack, Goku could see what she couldn't - her newfound power, while impressive, wouldn't be enough. She was running purely on rage and grief, and against Frieza's final form, that wouldn't be sustainable.

He had to honor Vegeta's last wish. He had to protect his daughter.

Each successful strike fueled Cellera's confidence. Her Nova Frame had actually made Frieza dodge. Her punch had drawn blood. The power coursing through her felt limitless, and a familiar smirk - one she'd inherited from her father - crossed her features.

"Not so untouchable now, are you?" she taunted, pressing her advantage. "All those years thinking you were invincible, and now you're bleeding from a punch thrown by a five-year-old monkey."

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her mistake. Frieza's expression shifted from fury to cold calculation. His next movement was too fast for even her enhanced senses to track. Pain exploded across her body as he landed a devastating combination of strikes, sending her crashing toward the ground.

Before she could impact, Goku caught her. His eyes held both understanding and determination as he set her down, positioning himself between her and Frieza.

"Let me handle this," he said, glancing toward the fresh mound of earth where he'd buried her father. "I made a promise to Vegeta. I intend to keep it."

Cellera looked at her father's grave, his final words echoing in her mind: Don't let mine and her mother's hard work at protecting her be for nothing. All her life, she'd thought her father's harsh training was only about making her stronger, making her worthy of their Saiyan heritage. But now she understood - every brutal lesson, every demand for perfection, had been his way of keeping her alive. Just as her mother had protected her through gentler methods, her father had shielded her the only way he knew how.

Her golden aura flickered as tears threatened again, but these weren't tears of rage or grief. For the first time, she truly understood the depth of her father's methods - and how staying alive would honor that love more than throwing her life away in vengeance

"We need to get out of here quickly!" Piccolo's voice cut through the tension. "We'll only get in the way of this battle."

Frieza's eyes tracked Cellera's movements, a cruel smile playing across his features. "Run along, little princess. I think I'll save you for last. After all, watching you suffer through everyone else's deaths will be so much more entertaining."

"Your fight's with me now, Frieza," Goku's voice hardened. "Or are you that afraid to face a full-grown Saiyan?"

The taunt had its intended effect - Frieza's attention snapped back to Goku, his earlier amusement replaced with cold fury.

Gohan turned to his father, faith and determination mixing in his expression. "Good luck, Dad. Give Frieza what he deserves!"

As the others began to retreat, Cellera remained for one final moment. Her golden aura still flickered around her small form as she met Goku's eyes. "Kakarot... don't just avenge our race." Her voice carried a new kind of strength - not the analytical precision she usually maintained, nor the raw rage of moments before, but something deeper. "Do this for Namek, for all the lives he's destroyed. For everyone who never had anyone to protect them."

Understanding passed between them before she turned to follow the others. In that moment, she wasn't just Vegeta's daughter seeking revenge - she was her mother's daughter too, carrying on Rhuba's belief that strength came from protecting others. A strength that Kakarot had demonstrated since their first encounter on Earth, and one that Gohan had shown in his own way - power drawn not just from rage at those who threatened his loved ones, but from the deep-seated need to protect them. She understood now why his strength had always fascinated her; he had unconsciously merged both paths to power, just as she was beginning to do.

From their vantage point on a distant ridge, the group watched the battle unfold between Goku and Frieza. Despite the gravity of the situation, Krillin couldn't help but stare at Cellera's transformed appearance.

"Your hair..." He started, "It’s actually golden. And your eyes..."

"They're teal now," Gohan added, studying his friend with wonder. "Is this what a Super Saiyan really looks like?"

Cellera glanced at a lock of her now-golden hair, attempting a weak smile. "I'm not sure if Father would be proud that I'm the first Super Saiyan in a thousand years, or furious that it wasn't him." Her voice softened. "I guess... I'll never find out now."

Their conversation broke off as Frieza suddenly appeared behind Goku, landing a devastating kick that sent him plunging into the Namekian sea.

Krillin leaned forward anxiously when Goku didn't surface. "Why isn't he coming up for air?"

"It's okay," Gohan said, his eyes fixed on the water's surface. "Dad’s energy hasn't dropped at all."

"Kakarot must be staying under deliberately," Cellera agreed, her analytical nature resurfacing even through her grief. "He has something planned."

As if confirming their theory, two ki blasts suddenly erupted from the water toward Frieza. The tyrant dodged both attacks with a smirk, not noticing Goku materialize above him until it was too late. Goku's kick sent Frieza crashing through a nearby island, the impact sending debris flying in all directions.

"Clever move by Kakarot," Cellera observed, her analytical habits resurfacing despite everything. "Using ki blasts to divert Frieza's attention since he can't sense energy like we can."

Their appreciation of the strategy turned to scowls as Frieza emerged from the rubble, casually cracking his neck. The attack hadn't even scratched him.

"Your attack earlier seemed to do more damage," Piccolo noted, watching Frieza dust himself off.

"I can feel how much stronger this transformation makes me," Cellera admitted quietly. "But I got cocky. I'm too unfamiliar with it, and I have years less fighting experience than Father or Kakarot." Her voice softened. "I wish it had been one of them who achieved this power instead."

Then she glanced at Piccolo, a small smirk crossing her features. "Though it's not like I'm the only one who wounded his pride today. Gohan stood against him twice. Krillin outsmarted him, even took his tail. And you..." She raised an eyebrow at the Namekian. "You actually had him on the defensive for a while."

Piccolo's mouth twitched upward slightly at the acknowledgment before he huffed. "Unfortunately, Frieza wasn't even using his full power then. He was just toying with me."

Their attention snapped back to the battle as a massive surge of energy lit up the Namekian sky. The group watched in horror as Frieza trapped Goku in a massive sphere of energy, hurling him into a nearby island. The resulting explosion obliterated the entire landmass, leaving nothing but churning water in its wake.

"He's not even taking this seriously," Krillin said, his voice tight with tension. "He could destroy the whole planet if he wanted to."

"Wh-where's dad?" Gohan leaned forward anxiously, scanning the devastation.

"Don't waste time worrying about him," Piccolo replied sharply. "Frieza isn't the only one holding back."

Cellera crossed her arms in an unconscious mirror of her father's stance at Kakarot’s cheekiness. "He's right. Look behind us."

Krillin and Gohan turned just in time to see Goku touch down before launching himself back toward Frieza.

"How did Goku manage to...?" Krillin gaped in confusion.

"He escaped from his paralysis at super speed the instant it exploded," Piccolo explained.

"He did something that amazing in just an instant?" Gohan's voice carried equal parts awe and pride.

A small, knowing smile crossed Cellera's features as she watched Goku engage Frieza again. "His Saiyan blood is showing through - he's actually enjoying testing his strength against Frieza." Her expression turned more serious. "But the warm-up is over. The real battle is about to begin."

As if confirming her words, Goku and Frieza vanished, their battle carrying them across several islands in the blink of an eye.

The group watched as Goku and Frieza exchanged a fierce series of attacks. When Goku suddenly clamped his teeth down on Frieza's tail, Cellera couldn't suppress a small chuckle - it was exactly the kind of unexpected tactic that seemed to throw the tyrant off balance. Goku followed up with a devastating combination of kicks and punches before Frieza managed to land a solid hit to his face.

"Kakarot's actually making him feel overwhelmed," Cellera observed, noting the growing frustration in Frieza's movements.

The two warriors suddenly stopped, facing each other in absolute stillness.

"What are they doing?" Krillin asked, leaning forward.

"They're waiting for the right moment to attack," Piccolo explained. "The force of their energy alone is almost smothering."

"My dad can still beat him though, right?" Gohan turned to Piccolo, worry creeping into his voice.

"Their abilities are far beyond my comprehension now."

Gohan looked to Cellera, hoping her tactical assessment might offer more clarity. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes in speculation at the two fighters.

"I think Kakarot has a chance," She said slowly, "But something about Frieza is still bothering me. The way he's moving, the way he's responding to attacks..." She shook her head. "I think he's still holding back a substantial amount of power."

Cellera's analysis proved correct as Frieza suddenly launched forward, his movements becoming sharper, more precise. He unleashed a brutal combination - elbow to face, devastating kick, tail wrapping around Goku's neck before driving a punch deep into his stomach that sent him crashing to the ground.

Goku attempted to counter with a kick, but Frieza effortlessly evaded. Even when Goku's body flared red with Kaio-ken power, Frieza simply responded with a kick that sent him flying. When Goku pushed himself back up, his heavy breathing betrayed his growing exhaustion.

"This isn't good," Piccolo's voice carried rare concern. "The gap between Frieza and Goku's hidden power is too much."

They watched helplessly as Frieza continued his assault, forcing Goku to retreat to a nearby mountain peak. Before he could catch his breath, Frieza raised his hand, index and middle fingers extended. The casual gesture belied its devastating effect - a sweeping motion that cleaved not just the mountain, but a massive portion of Namek's surface in half.

"Did... did he just slice through the planet?" Krillin's voice shook as they stared at the devastating display of power. "Please tell me Goku has some kind of plan. This is starting to look pretty one-sided."

"He doesn't," Piccolo said grimly.

"Frieza is stronger than any of us could have prepared for," Cellera added, her brain struggling to calculate just how much power that casual gesture had required.

A familiar red aura suddenly erupted around Goku as he pushed the Kaio-ken technique beyond its normal limits. Cellera felt her stomach twist with worry - she remembered all too clearly what Kakarot had told them about the technique's dangers. The strain on his body at this level...

Her concerns momentarily faded as Goku's enhanced speed allowed him to land a devastating punch, sending Frieza flying. He pursued immediately, blue energy gathering in his hands as he chased the tyrant through the air.

"Ka... me... ha... me... HA!"

The massive beam lit up Namek's sky, but Frieza merely raised one hand to catch it. The collision created a blinding explosion, forcing them all to shield their eyes as debris rained down around their observation point.

When the smoke finally cleared, Cellera's breath caught in her throat. Frieza stood there, bruised but far from defeated. She saw the same shock she felt reflected in Kakarot's face - even his most powerful attack had failed to do significant damage.

"I can't believe it," Krillin said, shaking his head in disbelief. "That Kamehameha should have done some serious damage!"

"Dad's energy level has dropped drastically," Gohan noted, worry creeping into his voice.

"The Kaio-ken technique," Cellera reminded them, her earlier concerns proving justified. "While it multiplies his power, it extracts a heavy toll on his body and energy. Each use drains him further."

Piccolo's fists clenched at his sides. "It's over. King Kai was right - we never should have crossed Frieza."

They watched helplessly as Frieza examined his scratched body, his expression morphing from surprise to pure rage. "FILTHY SAIYAN!" he roared, touching down before Goku. His next words carried a deadly promise: "THAT HURT!"

Before Goku could react, Frieza's head slammed into his with devastating force, sending him flying through the air like a broken doll.

Frieza continued his assault, kicking Goku high into the air before slamming him back to the ground. "Where has all that strength gone?" He taunted, casually sweeping his hand to create a massive crater in Namek's surface.

"I can't watch this anymore!" Gohan started forward. "I have to help-"

"Wait!" Cellera grabbed his arm, her eyes fixed on something above them. "What is Kakarot doing?"

They all looked up to see Goku standing with his hands raised to the sky, his face set in deep concentration.

"The Spirit Bomb," Krillin breathed, recognition lighting his features. "It's the same attack he used to defeat Vegeta on Earth. It's a last resort technique that gathers energy from all living things on a planet and concentrates it into a single powerful sphere."

"But will it work here?" Gohan asked, looking around at Namek's barren landscape. "There's not nearly as much life as Earth had..."

Cellera remembered Dende's stories about how Namek had once been a lush, thriving world before the climate shift. Now its surface was largely empty except for the scattered Ajisa plants and sea life.

"Goku knows that," Krillin said grimly. "But what other choice do we have?"

A massive shadow suddenly caught Cellera's attention. She looked up, her eyes widening. "Everyone, look!"

Above them, an enormous sphere of energy hung in the sky, its size dwarfing anything she'd seen before.

"Would you look at the size of that thing," Krillin gaped, shielding his eyes to stare upward. "And it's still growing!"

"If I had to guess," Cellera said, automatically calculating the scale, "It’s already about fifty meters in diameter."

"So it's not normally this large?" Piccolo asked, turning to the others.

Gohan held his hands about a foot apart. "The one Dad used on Earth was only about this big."

"There's no way Namek has enough life energy left to create something that massive," Krillin said. "Goku must be drawing power from nearby planets too."

Cellera's attention shifted back to the battle below. "Frieza still hasn't figured out what's happening. He looks confused by Kakarot's stance." Her thumb pressed against her lip thoughtfully. "Kakarot must not think he has enough energy yet to defeat him. He's still gathering more."

"Come on Dad, hurry..." Gohan whispered anxiously.

Cellera tensed as Frieza's patience finally snapped. The tyrant's kick caught Goku across the face with devastating force, sending him flying. "Insolent bastard!" The impact broke Goku's concentration, temporarily halting the Spirit Bomb's growth.

"He's figured it out!" Krillin exclaimed in panic.

"No," Piccolo cut in sharply.

"Piccolo's right," Cellera agreed. "Frieza still doesn't understand what Kakarot's doing."

Piccolo turned to Gohan and Krillin. "Give me some of your energy. I'm going to help buy Goku more time."

"I'm going too," Cellera stepped forward, her transformed state still crackling with power.

"Stay back," Piccolo warned. "You've already-"

"We went through too much to wish you back just to watch you die again," Cellera cut him off, her voice carrying that same precise tone she used when explaining battle strategies. "I'll follow your lead, but let me help. This is my fight too."

Piccolo studied her for a moment, seeing the same determination he'd felt when facing the being who'd destroyed his own people. After a moment, he nodded. "Fine. But we move together."

The unspoken understanding passed between them - two warriors united against the monster who had devastated both their races.

Krillin and Gohan quickly transferred some of their energy to Piccolo. "Stay put," he commanded them firmly. "No matter what happens, don't leave this spot."

A movement caught Cellera's attention - Frieza's gaze had finally drifted upward toward the massive Spirit Bomb. She exchanged a quick nod with Piccolo before they launched into action, streaking toward where Goku had just attempted a desperate punch. Frieza caught his fist easily, smirking as he raised a finger point-blank at Goku's face.

Piccolo's kick caught Frieza completely off guard, connecting solidly with the back of his head and sending him flying over the nearby lake. Cellera followed through immediately, bringing both hands down in a brutal hammer strike that drove Frieza deep into the Namekian waters.

"Hurry and finish charging it!" Piccolo shouted to Goku. "We'll buy you time!"

Frieza burst from the water, hovering before them with barely contained rage. His eyes fixed on Cellera as she adopted her father's signature smirk.

"What's wrong, Frieza?" She taunted, channeling Vegeta's familiar arrogance. "Having trouble with children again?"

Frieza's hand rose with deadly intent, but before he could strike, multiple ki blasts struck him from behind. Cellera's eyes widened as she spotted Krillin and Gohan - they'd completely ignored Piccolo's order to stay put.

Frieza's eyes slid toward Krillin and Gohan, his expression darkening with murderous intent. "You won't rest until I've been pushed to the limits of my patience, will you?"

His power suddenly exploded outward as he raised his hand skyward. "THIS ENDS NOW! I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY SHARING YOUR FATE WITH THIS PLANET!" A massive sphere of deadly energy began forming above his palm, growing large enough to destroy all of Namek.

But above them, Goku had finally completed charging the Spirit Bomb. The enormous sphere of energy dwarfed anything they'd seen before, its light casting strange shadows across Namek's surface.

"NOW, KAKAROT!" Cellera screamed.

"THROW IT, DAD!" Gohan shouted simultaneously.

"DO IT, GOKU!" Krillin and Piccolo's voices joined the chorus.

Goku brought his arms down with a mighty roar, launching the Spirit Bomb directly at Frieza. The tyrant turned just in time to see the massive sphere bearing down on him. He raised his hands, attempting to resist its overwhelming force through sheer strength alone.

But the Spirit Bomb's power proved too great. It drove Frieza down to the ground with inexorable force before detonating in a cataclysmic explosion that engulfed a significant portion of Namek's surface, the light momentarily turning night to day.

Cellera stared at the enormous crater the Spirit Bomb had carved into Namek's surface, watching water cascade endlessly into its depths. A small shiver ran through her as she realized what an attack of this magnitude would have done to Earth. For once, she found herself grateful for Kakarot's tendency to hold back.

She spotted Krillin and Gohan pulling themselves onto a nearby rock, both soaked from the massive displacement of water. Flying down to join them, she managed a tired smile - the first genuine one since her father's death. The strain of maintaining her Super Saiyan form while helping fight Frieza was beginning to wear on her, but the relief of potentially being free from the tyrant's shadow made it worth the exhaustion.

"Where's Dad? And Piccolo?" Gohan asked anxiously, unable to sense their energy signatures.

Cellera pointed to a small island across the churning waters. "There." They watched as Piccolo emerged from the waves with Goku's limp form, hauling him onto the rocky surface.

The three made their way over, moving slower than usual with Krillin and Gohan's ki reserves depleted. Despite their exhaustion, the boys couldn't contain their joy, their cheers echoing across the Namekian sea.

Cellera hung back slightly as Gohan threw his arms around his father's neck, Krillin clapping Goku on the back in relief. Even Piccolo wore a rare smile at their victory. Watching their celebration, Cellera felt an unfamiliar warmth in her chest. Mother... Father... you can rest now. The monster who tore our family apart is finally gone.

"Let's go home," Gohan said, still grinning.

"We can take the ship I arrived in," Goku replied. "Should only take about five days."

"Five days?" The others exclaimed in shock.

Cellera shifted uncomfortably] as reality began to set in. While the others discussed their return to Earth, she found herself at a loss. With her father gone and Frieza defeated, she had no clear path forward. Despite everything that had led her here - the battles, the losses, the pain - she'd found something unexpectedly precious in her time with Gohan, Krillin, and Bulma.

Gohan noticed her withdrawal, recognizing the lost look in her eyes. It was the same expression she'd worn when they'd first allied on Namek, before Bulma had started treating her like-

"BULMA!" Cellera's sudden cry made everyone jump. "We need to make sure she's okay!"

"Don't scare me like that!" Krillin clutched his chest before breaking into a grin. "But you're right - we better find her fast. She might be scarier than Frieza when she's angry."

The shared laughter that followed felt like a release of everything they'd been through together. Even Cellera found herself joining in, though her thoughts still drifted to what would come next.

"At least the Grand Elder and the others can rest in peace now that Frieza is gone," Piccolo murmured.

Cellera's eyes snapped to him, her analytical mind racing. How does he know about the Grand Elder? Only we and Nail knew... Suddenly, the dual energy signature she'd sensed in him made perfect sense. What did he do? Did he somehow...

Her thoughts cut short as she noticed Krillin's face drain of color. He was staring upward, pure terror etched across his features.

Following his gaze, Cellera felt her stomach plummet. There, perched on a nearby cliff, stood Frieza. Though battered, with one eye swollen shut, he was very much alive. And his remaining eye blazed with a fury that made his previous anger seem mild in comparison.

"No..." The word slipped from her lips in a terrified whisper.

Before anyone could react, a purple beam pierced through Piccolo's chest. The Namekian warrior's eyes went wide with shock as he collapsed, blood pooling beneath him.

"PICCOLO!" Gohan's anguished scream echoed across the water as Goku's power flared with renewed rage.

The brief moment of peace, of victory, of planning their return home - all of it shattered in an instant. The nightmare wasn't over. It was just beginning.

"I must admit," Frieza's voice carried cruel amusement, "For a moment there, even I thought I might die. But your belief in my defeat was... premature."

"Gohan, Krillin, Cellera - get out of here now!" Goku commanded. "Find Bulma and take my ship. Leave this planet!"

They hesitated, and Cellera stepped forward. "I know you're trying to honor my father's wishes," she said. "But you can't defeat him alone. Let me help. Together, we might have a chance." Mother, Father... forgive me, she thought. I know you spent years keeping me from his reach, but I can't run now.

"Do you think I'll let you go?" Frieza's silky voice cut through her plea. "Not one of you will leave here alive." His hand raised, and suddenly Krillin's body jerked upward, suspended in midair. "Starting with you!"

"No, stop!" Goku's desperate shout held real fear. "FRIEZA!"

But the tyrant just smiled, clenching his fist. Krillin had time for one final cry - "GOKU!" - before his body exploded from within, leaving nothing but scattered atoms in the Namekian air.

"KRILLIN!" Cellera and Gohan screamed in unison, her hand still reaching toward the empty space where their friend had been moments before. Her world seemed to tilt on its axis as reality crashed over her - Frieza had taken everything. Her planet, her race, her family, and now her friend. Soon, he would take the rest of them too.

"Now then..." Frieza's cruel smile widened as his gaze shifted between the two children. "Which brat should be next?" His eyes lingered first on Gohan, then Cellera.

But something was happening to Goku. His power began to rise, anger radiating from him in waves unlike anything Cellera had ever felt from the usually gentle warrior.

"You're not going to get away with this," Goku's voice carried deadly promise. "I won't let you. You're going to pay for what you've done!"

Cellera watched in awe as his fury peaked. His dark hair blazed golden, eyes shifting to the same teal blue as her own transformed state. The golden aura that erupted around him dwarfed her own Super Saiyan power, its intensity making even Frieza take a step back.

This was what a true Super Saiyan looked like - not her accidental transformation born of grief, but pure righteous fury channeled through years of mastered power. Even through her own golden transformation, Cellera found herself trembling not from fear, but from the sheer magnitude of Kakarot's awakened strength.

Cellera could hardly believe this was the same Kakarot who had shown such mercy on Earth. The hatred radiating from him now eclipsed even that battle's intensity. His Super Saiyan power overwhelmed her own transformation completely, and she knew with absolute certainty that this wasn't the same warrior who had spared her father's life. This was a Saiyan pushed beyond his limits, barely containing his fury as he turned to address them.

She could see him struggling to maintain his last threads of control, his voice tight with restrained rage. "Piccolo's still alive, but barely. Take him and find Bulma. Get back to Earth."

"D-dad?" Gohan stuttered, never having seen his father like this.

"GET OUT OF HERE WHILE I STILL HAVE SOME CONTROL OVER MYSELF!" The raw power in Goku's shout made them both flinch.

Even then, Gohan hesitated, shocked by his father's transformation. His feet seemed rooted to the spot until Goku's next words cut through his daze.

"Hurry! If Piccolo dies, Kami dies too. You know what that means."

The words triggered a memory for Cellera - Krillin explaining about Kami being Piccolo's other half, promising to tell her the whole story once they got back to Earth. Her heart clenched painfully. A story I'll never hear him tell…

Cellera turned to Kakarot, her transformed state matching his. "Are you sure you want to face him alone?"

"Don't worry about me," Goku's voice carried absolute certainty despite his barely contained rage. "I'll come back to Earth after I've taken care of this." His eyes met Cellera's. "I'm trusting you to make sure Gohan and the others get back safely."

The weight of his trust hit Cellera hard. She stood straighter, nodding with the same dutiful determination she'd once shown her father. "I promise," She said, the words carrying the same gravity as when she'd sworn to return to Gohan after facing Dodoria, the same conviction as her promise to come back for Bulma.

She took one last look at Kakarot, his golden aura blazing against Namek's green sky. "Give him hell, Kakarot."

With that, she and Gohan launched into the air, Piccolo's unconscious form draped across Gohan's shoulders as they raced toward Goku's ship. Behind them, the power of a true Super Saiyan crackled through the atmosphere - a warrior pushed past his limits by fury, ready to end Frieza's reign of terror once and for all.

Notes:

Please dont roast me for making the 5 year old Super Saiyan and honestly looking at it now i wish i pushed it off for the next arc because at least she'd be older. I promise Cellera will make many MANY mistakes in the future (and I remembered Goku had mentioned he struggled with going Super Saiyan at will. So i had to watch a certain filler for the first time in a HOT while) I know this seemed really Mary Sue but I want to preface I'm still not gonna make the tot curb stomp everything in her path and I hope despite the decision made here, you guys still find enjoyment within the story.

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Notes:

So...I thought it would help to post the continuation with the Frieza Saga, as it's pretty much near the end anyway so why make you guys wait an extra week for the ending.

On top of that, to address Cellera going Super Saiyan, my thought process was we've mainly seen the state achieved through intense emotion and loss (minus Super's backtrack on that and then...S...Cells...),
I figured if I were to do this with Cellera to at least give it a meaningful moment rather than at random, (Looking at you Trunks and Goten. Personally it would've been good for both of them to achieve it during Buu's killing their parents.).

But i totally get why it was off putting to some of you, and i hope despite that you guys will still continue to follow the journey, as Cellera still has a long way to go with controlling it and as a fighter as me and my beta reader are currently putting her through hell with Android/Cell saga planning.

Flashes of golden light illuminated Namek's sky as Gohan and Cellera raced across the planet's surface, Piccolo's unconscious form draped carefully across Gohan's shoulders. The distant explosions marking Goku and Frieza's battle grew fainter with each passing moment, though their light still painted strange shadows across the landscape below.

"I can't believe it," Gohan said, breaking the heavy silence between them. "You and Dad both becoming Super Saiyans in the same day..." His voice carried equal parts awe and lingering shock from everything they'd witnessed.

Cellera gave a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Yes, though I wish it could have been under different circumstances." Her transformed state still radiated golden energy, but the initial rush of power had settled into something  steadier. Her gaze drifted to Gohan as he glanced back toward another distant explosion, the flash briefly illuminating the worry etched across his young features.

"Your father will defeat Frieza," She said with quiet certainty. "Then he'll come back to Earth." The words He has to remained unspoken, but the slight tremor in her voice betrayed her thoughts. One child losing a parent was already enough today.

Gohan nodded, adjusting his grip on Piccolo as they flew. The weight of their mentor seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, a constant reminder of how little time they had. "We need to hurry," Hesaid. "I can feel Piccolo's energy getting weaker."

Another explosion lit up the sky behind them, and this time both children turned to look. Through the golden glow of clashing powers, neither spoke the fear that haunted them both - that these glimpses of their last hope against Frieza might be the final time they saw Goku alive.

"Gohan," Cellera called, pulling slightly ahead of him. "Continue to the ship. I'll get Bulma and meet you there."

Gohan nodded, understanding the urgency in her voice. They couldn't risk Piccolo's condition deteriorating further. As he adjusted course toward their escape route, Cellera veered off toward the ravine where they'd left Bulma.

The sudden explosion that followed made their earlier glimpses of battle seem dim in comparison. A blinding white flash consumed the horizon, its shockwave powerful enough to halt Cellera mid-flight. Her transformed state barely helped her maintain stability as Frieza's power skyrocketed beyond anything she'd felt before.

The planet itself seemed to react to the surge in energy - the ground cracking, waters churning violently as geysers erupted across the landscape. Understanding hit her with sickening clarity: Frieza wasn't just fighting anymore. He was trying to destroy Namek itself.

Cellera pushed herself faster, golden aura blazing against the chaos erupting around her. Please let Gohan have reached the ship. Please let Bulma be alright. The desperate thoughts drove her forward as the planet continued to tear itself apart.

She spotted the ravine just as a massive boulder nearly crushed Bulma, who scrambled backward with a terrified yelp. Another chunk of rock began breaking loose directly above her.

"Bulma!" Cellera shouted. "Raise your hand!"

Without waiting for questions, she dove toward her friend, remembering at the last second to reach with her unbroken hand. Their fingers clasped just as the rock crashed where Bulma had been standing moments before.

"I promised we'd come back," Cellera said, pulling them both to a safer height.

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?" Bulma's relief quickly gave way to panic as she took in Cellera's transformed appearance. "Why is your hair GOLD? WHAT IS HAPPENING? Where's Goku? Is he-"

"I'll explain everything once we reach the ship," Cellera cut her off, already flying them toward their escape route. "Right now, we need to move. I think..." She swallowed hard. "I think Frieza's about to destroy the planet."

"WHAT?!"

Bulma's scream echoed across the fragmenting landscape as Cellera pushed them faster through Namek's increasingly unstable atmosphere. Behind them, another massive explosion lit up the sky, and Cellera could only hope they'd reach the others in time.

As they raced toward the ship, darkness suddenly eclipsed Namek's sky. Cellera looked up, nearly stopping mid-flight at what she saw.

"That's... that's Porunga!" she exclaimed. "But how is that possible? I thought once the creator of the Dragon Balls dies, they cease to work."

"That's exactly how it's supposed to work," Bulma confirmed, clinging tighter to Cellera's hand as another tremor shook the planet.

Before Cellera could consider the implications, multiple energy signatures suddenly sparked to life around them. Among them, one particular presence made her breath catch in her throat.

"Father...?" she whispered, her grip on Bulma's hand loosening for a fraction of a second before she quickly tightened it again.

Then everything changed. An odd weightlessness overtook her body, followed by a tingling sensation that seemed to spread through every cell. She blinked—and suddenly found herself in an entirely different place, surrounded by unfamiliar scenery.

Her Super Saiyan form flickered violently, golden energy sputtering like a dying flame as exhaustion finally overwhelmed her defenses, and her adrenaline lowering. She barely managed to descend and set Bulma down safely before her transformation slipped away completely, her legs nearly giving out beneath her as her power abandoned her.

"Are you okay?" Bulma steadied her with concern. "And... where are we?"

Cellera looked around, taking in their new surroundings. Green grass swayed in a gentle breeze, trees dotted the landscape, and above them stretched a pristine blue sky. *Earth?* she wondered. But that didn't explain the crowds of Namekians gathered around them - the same people she'd watched Frieza systematically murder, save for the village her father had...

"Piccolo!" Gohan's cry cut through her confusion. She turned to see him and Dende hovering over Piccolo's prone form. Dende?

"Dende!" she called out, rushing toward them despite her exhaustion. The young healer had just finished with Piccolo when she reached them.

"Cellera!" Both boys' faces lit up at her approach. "Cellera, you're okay!"

She stared at Dende, questions crowding her mind, but before she could voice any of them, his eyes fixed on her injured hand.

"Let me heal that for you," he said, already reaching toward the broken bones.

As warm healing energy flowed through her hand, she finally found her voice. "How are you here? Frieza killed you..."

"Allow me to explain," a familiar voice interrupted. Cellera's head snapped up to see Grand Elder Guru - who should have been just as dead as Dende.

"You are all on planet Earth," Guru continued, his gentle voice carrying across the gathered crowd. "My time is short, as I will soon return to the afterlife, but I shall explain what has transpired."

Through coordinated effort with King Kai, Guru explained, they had used Earth's Dragon Balls to restore life to Frieza's victims. Then, with the revived Namekian Dragon Balls, they had transported everyone from Namek to Earth's surface.

Father really is alive, Cellera realized, her heart leaping at the thought. But her moment of joy shattered as a Namekian villager stepped forward.

"Grand Elder," he said urgently, "we cannot locate anyone from Elder Tsuno's village."

"That must be the village that I wiped out."

Everyone turned to where Vegeta leaned against a tree, arms crossed and a familiar smirk playing across his features. "The wish was to bring back those killed by Frieza's men, sadly for you I'm not one of his men."

Cellera watched the Namekians' faces darken with anger, but something in her father's tone caught her attention. While his words carried their usual edge, they lacked the cruel satisfaction he typically took in such moments. His expression showed no remorse, his voice held no sympathy, yet he stated it almost like a simple fact rather than the boast it could have been.

Perhaps their moment before his death had changed something. Her eyes met his across the gathering, both of them understanding that neither would acknowledge those final vulnerable moments aloud. Despite everything - their arguments, their different paths, the weight of what they'd witnessed on Namek - he was alive. She offered a small smile, feeling tears of relief sting her eyes.

Vegeta gave her a brief nod - his own subtle acknowledgment - before looking away. What Cellera didn't see was how he averted his gaze to avoid watching her cry again, even if these were tears of joy rather than grief.

A series of heavy thuds drew everyone's attention as the stone Dragon Balls dropped near Guru. The Grand Elder looked down at them with gentle understanding. "It seems the Dragon Balls have followed us to Earth as well." His voice carried the weight of final words as he continued, "My time grows short. From this moment forward, Muri shall serve as your new Elder."

Cellera's eyes widened slightly as she recognized Muri - the Namekian elder from the village where they'd rescued Dende, the one she'd watched Dodoria kill. Another death undone by the Dragon Balls' power.

"Use these Dragon Balls wisely," Guru said, his form beginning to fade. "May Namek forever have its peace." With those words, he vanished completely.

"Rest in peace," Piccolo murmured. Beside him, Dende's eyes lit with sudden comprehension.

"I understand now," the young Namekian said. "You merged with Nail, didn't you?"

Piccolo answered with a knowing smile, confirming what Cellera had suspected since noticing the dual nature of his energy signature during their battle with Frieza. Although, now it seems that they have settled into one energy now.

"Wait a minute," Bulma cut in, looking around the gathered group. "Where are Goku and Krillin?"

"King Kai instructed us to wish everyone except Goku and Frieza to Earth," Dende explained.

"Dad stayed behind," Gohan added quietly. "Krillin was killed by Frieza, and he wanted to avenge him."

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, considering this new information. "But if everyone killed by Frieza and his men was brought back, why isn't Krillin here?"

"The Dragon Balls can't revive the same person twice," Gohan said, his voice carrying the weight of this limitation. "And Krillin was already brought back once before."

Dende tilted his head in confusion. "Is that how the Dragon Balls work on Earth?" When they nodded, his expression brightened. "The Namekian Dragon Balls are different. They can revive anyone as many times as needed, so long as the death wasn't natural."

"Really?" Gohan's face lit up with hope. "Then all we have to do is wait for another wish, and we can bring back Krillin and Chiaotzu and everyone else!"

"What about Goku?" Piccolo's sharp question cut through Gohan's excitement. "Has he completely lost his mind? He should know how superior Frieza's strength is." His eyes narrowed. "Does he have some kind of death wish?"

"You're wrong!" Gohan's voice carried absolute certainty. "Dad will win - he became a Super Saiyan just like Cellera!!"

The words hung in the air as Vegeta's head snapped toward his daughter, shock and disbelief warring in his expression. Cellera met his gaze steadily, though she wished she could show him. The power that had erupted during his death remained frustratingly out of reach now that the moment of crisis had passed.

"Everyone!" Bulma's voice cut through the tension. "I'm talking to Yamcha through King Kai - Goku did it! He defeated Frieza!"

Stunned silence gave way to excited chatter as the news spread through the gathered crowd. 

It's over. It's finally over. The realization hit Cellera with stunning force - years of living under Frieza's boot, of watching her father and the remaining Saiyans serve as his puppets, had finally ended. They were free to choose their own path. She turned to her father with almost childlike excitement, but his expression stopped her cold.

"I don't believe it... Frieza beaten by Kakarot?" Vegeta whispered, his voice tight with too many emotions to name. His eyes never left his daughter as he added, "And you..."

Cellera recognized the complex mix of pride, jealousy, and wounded ego in his stance. Her father had sought the legendary transformation for so long, and now not only had Kakarot achieved it before him, but his five-year-old daughter had as well. She opened her mouth to explain, but before she could-

"Oh no..." Bulma's voice cut through the celebration. "Goku got caught in Namek's explosion. He... he didn't make it. Pretty crazy, isn't it?"

Cellera cringed at Bulma's tactless delivery, her eyes immediately finding Gohan. The boy stood frozen, his earlier joy shattered.

"Dad didn't make it...?" His voice came out small, disbelieving.

"But hey," Bulma rushed on, "the Namekians are here with their Dragon Balls! And they can bring people back no matter how many times they've died before, right?"

The confidence drained from her face so suddenly that Cellera stepped forward. "What's wrong?"

"Krillin and Goku..." Bulma's voice shook. "They can't be wished back."

"W-Why can't dad and Krillin be brought back?" Gohan's question carried desperate hope that there must be some mistake.

"You come back to life wherever you died," Bulma explained gently. "They died on Namek, but Namek doesn't exist anymore. And it's not even in King Kai's jurisdiction..."

Silence fell over the group as they grappled with this seemingly insurmountable problem. Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, mind looking for a solution, when her father's voice cut through the heavy atmosphere.

"Why don't you idiots try using your heads for once?"

Cellera narrowed her eyes at his tone, but Vegeta ignored her look entirely. "Ask for their souls or whatever they are to be brought to this place, and the rest of it is simple..." He gave a dismissive shrug. "Or at least it should be."

Bulma's face lit up with sudden understanding. "Of course!" She spun toward Gohan, practically bouncing with renewed excitement. "That's a great idea!"

Gohan stepped forward, a genuine smile lighting his face as he extended his hand to Vegeta. "Thank you very much!"

Vegeta slapped the offered hand away, causing Gohan to cradle his wrist in confusion. "Don't get carried away," he snapped, causing Cellera to roll her eyes at his childish behavior. 

"Excuse me, my earthling friend," one of the Namekian elders stepped forward, addressing Bulma. "While we wait for the Dragon Balls to regain their power, might there be somewhere we could stay until we find a suitable world to relocate to?"

"Of course!" Bulma replied with characteristic enthusiasm. "You can all stay at my place. It's huge, so there's plenty of room." She glanced at the gathered Namekians. "Plus we'll need to use the Dragon Balls again anyway, and it would cause quite an uproar if people saw you all walking around."

Her next words caught Cellera completely off guard. "Why don't you two come along too?" Bulma turned that warm smile first on her, then her father. "Why don't you drop the arrogant tough-guy act and just relax! You're actually kind of cute!"

"V-Vulgar woman! Keep your voice down!" Vegeta sputtered, his usual composure completely shattered.

Cellera couldn't help but stare in amazement. Bulma truly was an enigma - not only finding her father attractive despite everything he'd done, but speaking to him with such casual disregard for his status or temper. She'd never seen anyone throw the proud Saiyan prince so completely off balance.

Completely ignoring Vegeta's command, Bulma continued cheerfully, "Unwind a little and see what life has to offer you!"

The words struck something in Cellera - echoing Bulma's earlier advice about taking breaks, about there being more to life than constant struggle. Now, with Frieza gone, maybe they could both learn what that meant.

"You'd really let us stay with you? In your home... and here on Earth?" The words tumbled out before Cellera could stop them, her usual composed demeanor cracking with childlike hope. After years on Frieza’s ship, the idea of a real home seemed almost too good to be true.

Bulma planted her hands on her hips with that confident smile that had somehow survived encounters with Saiyans, space tyrants, and the end of worlds. "Of course! I'm sure Goku wouldn't mind either."

No, he wouldn't , Cellera thought, remembering the eager glint in Kakarot's eyes when he'd spoken of sparring with her father when he had first arrived to help them on Namek. 

As Bulma headed off to make her call, Cellera found herself drawn to the stone Dragon Balls. The objects that had started this whole journey in the first place. "So, even though a new Grand Elder has been established, why haven't they returned to their original state?"

Gohan came to stand beside her, their shoulders almost touching - a casual closeness that would have been unthinkable just weeks ago. "Once the Dragon Balls have been used, you have to wait a year before using them again."

"Actually," Dende's voice carried barely contained excitement, "the Namekian Dragon Balls only need 130 days."

Watching Gohan's face light up, Cellera felt something warm unfurl in her chest. "It seems we'll be able to wish your father and the others back sooner than expected." She allowed herself a small smile. "You'll all be reunited as a family once again."

The sudden panic that crossed Gohan's features was so unexpected she almost laughed. "What's wrong?"

"I just remembered," he cringed, looking far more worried than he had facing down Frieza, "mom is going to ask about my homework."

"What do you mean?" Cellera tilted her head, still amazed that amid all they'd faced, Gohan's greatest fear seemed to be his mother's reaction to missed schoolwork. "We finished the majority of it. Surely we can complete the rest before she arrives."

"Yeah, but everything was blown up on Namek."

"Not everything." She pulled out the capsule with perhaps a touch of her father's usual proud tone. The look of sheer relief on Gohan's face made the extra effort of packing it worthwhile.

"When did you...?"

"Bulma gave me a quick lesson before you arrived with the Dragon Ball." She couldn't quite hide her own excitement as she clicked the capsule's top. "Told me to help pack up." The puff of smoke cleared to reveal what looked like half a library's worth of books and papers.

Cellera studied the capsule in her palm with newfound appreciation. She'd seen technology that could destroy planets, but somehow this simple device felt more magical than any scouter or attack pod. Judging by the wide-eyed looks from the Namekians, she wasn't the only one impressed by Earth's unique innovations.

When Bulma returned with news that her father would arrive soon, Cellera found herself oddly reluctant to break the peaceful moment that had settled over their small group. She, Gohan, and Dende had fallen back into their study routine from Namek, the familiar rhythm of turning pages and quiet discussion feeling almost surreal after everything they'd faced. It was strange how something as simple as homework could feel like an anchor in a world that had changed so dramatically.

A shadow passed overhead as a massive yellow airship appeared on the horizon. "Hey, that's them!" Bulma called out, waving her arms to guide the ship's descent. As the rear hatch transformed into a ramp, a blur of motion caught Cellera's attention - a woman in a purple dress and orange scarf practically flying down the ramp with single-minded determination.

"Where is he?" The woman's fierce demand sent several Namekians stepping backward. Her eyes swept the gathering like a tactical scan before landing on their small group beneath the tree. "Gohan, it's you!"

Gohan looked up from his workbook just as his mother reached them. "My son!" she cried, scooping him into an embrace that lifted him clear off the ground. The workbook tumbled from his lap, but Cellera's quick reflexes saved it from hitting the grass.

That's when she felt it - the full intensity of Chichi's gaze turning on her. In that moment, Cellera understood with perfect clarity why her friend had always spoken of his mother with such nervous respect. Like Bulma, Chichi radiated a fierce spirit that needed no ki to make itself felt. Are all Earth women this formidable? she wondered, or just the ones crazy enough to marry a Saiyan?

A new kind of nervousness crept through her as she remembered Bulma mentioning how some fortune teller had shown them the battle on Earth. The way Chichi held Gohan, protective yet fierce, told Cellera everything she needed to know - this woman would face down Frieza himself to protect her child. She could see why Kakarot had chosen her as his mate.

Just when the scrutiny became almost unbearable, Chichi's eyes dropped to the workbook in Cellera's hands. Her grip on Gohan loosened as her expression softened into an unexpected smile. 

Her whole demeanor transformed as she took in the scattered textbooks and neat rows of completed homework. "Well! At least there's one young fighter who understands the importance of a proper education."

"Mom," Gohan piped up, seizing the opportunity to get Cellera into his mother’s good graces, "Cellera helped me study whenever we had downtime in the cave. She even saved all my homework when everything else got destroyed on Namek!"

"Really?" Chichi's eyes sparkled with approval. "Oh, I'm so glad my Gohan finally found such a nice, adorable friend his age!"

Both children's faces flushed red - Gohan from his mother's typical enthusiasm, while Cellera struggled with being called 'adorable' from someone other than the Ginyu’s.

Thankfully, Bulma's voice cut through the moment. "Alright everyone, time to board! We've got quite a crowd to transport!"

As they approached Capsule Corporation, Cellera couldn't help but stare at the massive dome-shaped building sprawling before them. Even her father and Piccolo seemed impressed by the scale of it, though both tried to maintain their usual stoic expressions. The gathered Namekians whispered among themselves at the sight.

"It may not be the Taj Mahal," Bulma announced proudly, "but I think you'll all like it!"

"What's a Taj Mahal?" Cellera whispered to Gohan, her natural curiosity getting the better of her.

"Oh! One of my study books has a picture - I'll show you later," he replied, already falling into their familiar pattern of sharing knowledge.

Before they could even properly take in their surroundings, a blur of blonde hair and endless enthusiasm descended upon them. Bulma's mother practically bounced up to Vegeta, invading his personal space with cheerful disregard for his imposing presence.

"Hi! Are you the one who helped Goku save my beautiful little girl from those horrible men?" She beamed up at him, completely unfazed by his thunderous expression. "You should get a medal! You're a hero!"

Cellera pressed her hand against her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter as she watched her father - the proud Saiyan prince who had faced down the galaxy's most fearsome warriors - completely short-circuit in the face of pure bubbliness.

"I... I uh..." Vegeta stammered, taking an unconscious step backward.

But Mrs. Brief had already spotted Cellera. "Oh my! Aren't you just adorable? Is that man your father? I can obviously see some resemblance between you both! It seems good genes run in the family!"

Now it was Cellera's turn to freeze, her earlier amusement vanishing as she found herself on the receiving end of that overwhelming enthusiasm. Between the Ginyu Force, Gohan's mother, and now Bulma's mother, she might as well accept that 'adorable' was going to follow her across the universe. Though, she supposed, it was better than being like some of Frieza's soldiers - ugly inside and out.

Gohan watched his friend's face cycle through various expressions of shock and resignation, unable to hide his own grin. It was strange seeing Cellera like this - the same girl who had fought so fiercely on Earth, who could maintain perfect composure even facing down Frieza, now completely undone by Mrs. Brief's friendliness. She seemed more like a normal kid now, not the calculated warrior he'd first met. Though she still had that look in her eyes, like she was trying to figure out how to tackle this new challenge just like she did in battle. It made him happy to see this other side of her, even if he wasn't quite sure why.

"A ship?"

Vegeta's voice drew Cellera's attention to where he stood examining a spherical vessel on the Briefs' sprawling lawn, one that looked very similar to the one Kakarot arrived on Namek in. She caught Gohan's eye, gesturing that she was going to investigate with her father.

As she joined him at the ship's base, a man with lavender hair approached - his casual brilliance marking him instantly as Bulma's father. "She's a real beauty!" he declared proudly. "Advanced supertronics, self-generating laser powered reactor, and a stereo system that will bring the house down!"

So that's where Bulma gets it from , Cellera thought, following her father into the ship's interior. While he gravitated toward the control panel, her attention was caught by something else - a machine unlike anything she'd seen in Frieza's fleet. Her eyes widened as she read its specifications: gravity manipulation up to 100 times Earth's normal pull.

This must have been how Kakarot had grown so powerful. Training under that kind of pressure... Her mind raced with the possibilities, already calculating what such conditions could do to Saiyan biology. She recalled how he was able to take down Recoome, Jeice and Burter with such ease and the confidence he held. 

Mrs. Brief's cheerful voice shattered Cellera's calculations. She caught her father's hand freezing over the control panel, clearly contemplating permanent residence in the ship rather than facing that relentless enthusiasm again. She couldn't entirely blame him - while she'd grown used to Gohan's gentle nature and even Bulma's forceful personality, Mrs. Brief's endless cheer was like staring directly into one of Namek's suns.

Their eyes met for the first time since Gohan had revealed her transformation, the unspoken weight of it hanging between them. To break the suffocating tension, Cellera gestured toward the gravity controls. "It seems Kakarot may have had an interesting form of training on his way to Namek. This machine allows the gravity to be magnified up to 100 times that of Earth's."

As her father moved to examine the device, she saw that familiar darkness cross his features - the look he wore when his pride took another blow. Kakarot had surpassed him yet again, not just in achieving the legendary transformation, but even in his method of training. And now his own daughter, his five-year-old child, had somehow reached the power that his royal blood had failed to grant him. Both of them sharing that same "weak" ideology he'd fought so hard against.

"Vegeta! Cellera! Are you two okay in there?" Mrs. Brief's voice carried an edge of genuine concern that somehow made it worse.

"Best we go now or she'll keep at it," Cellera said quickly, already heading for the exit. She didn't quite run from the ship, but her retreat was swift enough to make Nappa's tactical withdrawals look dignified by comparison.

-

-

The evening brought a whirlwind tour of Capsule Corporation, with Bulma proudly showing off amenities that made even Frieza's flagship seem austere by comparison. The Namekians were particularly drawn to the massive greenhouse, while the indoor golf course prompted puzzled but interested discussions about Earth sports. Each guest room seemed larger than the quarters Cellera and her father had shared on their missions.

As the group returned to the building's entrance, a flash of gold caught Cellera's attention. A familiar cloud - the same one that had saved Gohan from Nappa - swooped down at the boy's call.

"What is it?" Cellera asked, reaching toward the strange construct before catching herself.

"Nimbus," Gohan explained. "Master Roshi gave it to my dad. Mom and I use it to travel between cities." He hesitated before adding, "Though only people with pure hearts can ride it."

Cellera let her hand drop, understanding the unspoken message. After everything she'd done under Frieza's command...

"Thank you," Gohan said suddenly, "for everything. The homework, helping us on Namek-"

She shook her head. "I should be thanking you and Kakarot."

Before Gohan could ask why, Chichi's voice cut in. "You're welcome to come study with my little Gohan anytime!" Chichi beamed. "Though he'll be quite busy catching up after all this gallivanting through space. Extra homework, extra study hours..."

Cellera caught Gohan's barely suppressed wince and felt a twinge of sympathy. His mother's enthusiasm for academics clearly wasn't shared by her son, though he bore it with the same quiet determination he showed in battle.

Mother and son climbed aboard the golden cloud, waving as it carried them into the darkening sky. The gathered crowd returned their farewell - all except Vegeta, who leaned against the building's entrance, watching his daughter uncross one arm to wave at the departing half-Saiyan.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the boy who had faced down Frieza without hesitation, who had somehow worked his way past the walls Vegeta had helped his daughter build since Rhuba's death. Twice now he'd witnessed Cellera smile the way she used to when her mother was alive - first during their image training on Namek, that startled laugh he hadn't heard in three years, then again today as she worked alongside Gohan with those endless books. Kakarot's son. Gohan. Yet another reminder of how far the mighty had fallen, another crack in his royal pride.

Two weeks had passed since their arrival on Earth. While the Namekians had begun settling into their temporary home, Vegeta remained a ghost in the halls of Capsule Corporation, emerging from his room only for meals. The gap between father and daughter that Cellera had hoped would heal after their moment on Namek seemed wider than ever. Each time she caught his gaze, she saw the same wounded pride, the same unspoken judgment about her Super Saiyan transformation.

Bulma had noticed Cellera's growing withdrawal - how the young Saiyan spent most of her time in her own room, venturing out only for brief conversations with Dende or moments of fresh air. It wasn't hard to guess the cause. Today, she'd decided enough was enough.

"You can't keep wearing battle armor around town," Bulma declared, steering them through West City's shopping district. She wasn't wrong - Cellera had noticed the strange looks her Saiyan gear drew from passing humans. "If you're going to be staying on Earth, we should get you things that make you feel comfortable. Make it feel more like home."

Home.

The word stopped Cellera mid-step. Such a simple concept, yet one she'd never truly known. Planet Vegeta had been destroyed before she drew her first breath. Frieza's ship, with its cold metal halls and constant tension, had been a prison dressed as a sanctuary. But here...

"Cellera?" Bulma's voice carried gentle concern. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, forcing a small smile. "Just lost in thought."

With each swipe of Bulma's card, Cellera's discomfort grew. "Are you sure all this is alright?" she asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Trust me," Bulma waved off her concern, "my family's technology makes us one of the richest on Earth. This is nothing."

After arranging for their purchases to be delivered to Capsule Corp, Bulma insisted on lunch. Cellera found herself staring at a table piled high with food, acutely aware of the other diners' stunned expressions.

"Go on," Bulma encouraged with a knowing smile. "I figured you'd have Goku's appetite."

Cellera carefully unwrapped something Bulma called a 'burger', taking a tentative bite. Her eyes widened as flavor exploded across her tongue - nothing like the bland nutrition bars from Frieza's ship. She dove into the second bite with considerably less restraint.

Bulma laughed. "I knew it! You should have seen Goku at his first tournament - after making it to the finals, he ate 57 full course meals and still asked for seconds!"

"It's our biology," Cellera explained between her third burger, no longer concerned with the staring humans. "Saiyans need massive calorie intake to maintain our power levels. Our metabolism runs much faster than most species."

After finishing her third burger, no longer concerned with the staring humans, Cellera's curiosity got the better of her. "How long have you known Kakarot?"

"Goku? I've known him since he was twelve," Bulma's eyes lit up with memories. "We've been on tons of adventures together. I'll have to tell you about them sometime."

"I'd like that," Cellera replied with a small smile, surprised to find she meant it.

"You know," Bulma said as they gathered their shopping bags, "it's nice having another girl around. All that testosterone gets old after a while." She winked at Cellera. "We ladies have to stick together."

The words settled warmly in Cellera's chest, another small piece of belonging falling into place.

Back at Capsule Corp, Cellera found herself humming softly as she arranged her new belongings. She lined the freshly assembled bookshelf with her purchases, most bearing titles that made Bulma's eyebrows rise in surprise.

"Geometry? Principles of physics? Calculus?" Bulma peered at the stack. "These seem a bit intense for..."

Cellera busied herself with straightening an already perfectly aligned book. She wasn't about to admit how much she'd enjoyed working through Gohan's math problems, the satisfaction of numbers falling into precise patterns.

Later, heading to join Dende, Cargo and Lians for a poker lesson from Dr. Brief, she passed her father in the hallway. Two weeks ago, the weight of his disapproval might have crushed her newfound lightness. Today, she simply offered a polite nod. "Father," she acknowledged, continuing on her way without breaking stride.

Vegeta watched his daughter's retreating form, noting how she'd traded her battle armor for what the Earthlings called 'jeans'. The sight should have irritated him - another sign of her embracing this weak planet's ways. Yet something in her lighter step, in the quiet confidence she'd shown by acknowledging him without seeking approval, reminded him sharply of Rhuba.

His daughter was changing, finding her own path just as her mother had. And like Rhuba, she was doing it with that same quiet certainty that made his usual tactics useless. The thought twisted something in his chest that he refused to name.

Kakarot. His son. This insufferably cheerful planet. They were all stealing what was his - first his chance at legendary power, and now his own child.

Two months into their stay on Earth, Cellera paused outside her father's room, catching fragments of conversation with Dr. Brief. Her eyes widened at his request for a 'gravity room' for training. The words seemed impossible - her father, who had always insisted his elite status granted him natural superiority, who relied on battle damage and zenkai boosts for power, was actually seeking structured training?

She shook off her surprise, focusing on her own destination. She'd promised Gohan a visit weeks ago, and today she'd finally worked up the nerve.

The flight to Mount Paozu took barely 10 minutes at full speed. She spotted the small cottage by the river exactly where Bulma had described it. As she landed before the door, a flutter of nervousness made her want to laugh at herself. She'd faced down Frieza in his final form, yet here she was, hesitating to knock at a friend's house.

Before her knuckles could touch wood, the door flew open. "Cellera! I knew I sensed you!" 

Gohan couldn't contain his excitement at seeing his friend. The past two months had felt strange without seeing her after being together on Namek. While his mother's intense study schedule kept him busy, he missed having someone who understood both worlds he lived in - the warrior and the student. He noticed she seemed more relaxed in her Earth clothes, though she still carried herself with that familiar Saiyan pride.

Gohan's hair had grown longer since she'd last seen him at Bulma's. His battle armor and Piccolo-inspired gear had been replaced with a striped shirt and overalls that made him look properly Earth-like. She caught him taking in her own transformed appearance with similar interest.

"I have grown to like what you refer to as ‘jeans." she said a bit awkwardly. "They're comfortable, though absolutely useless for combat." That drew a laugh from both of them.

"Gohan?" Chichi's voice carried from inside. "Who are you talking to?" She appeared in the doorway, her stern expression softening at the sight of Cellera. "Oh! Come in, come in. I'll make you both some snacks while you study." 

Chichi ushered them toward Gohan's room with the efficiency of a drill sergeant. Cellera hovered uncertainly in the doorway until Gohan settled naturally at his desk, picking up where he'd left off in his workbook as if their last study session had been yesterday instead of months ago.

"So how's it been at Bulma's?" he asked, pencil moving across paper.

"Different," Cellera replied, gradually relaxing as she found a spot near his desk. "Bulma took me shopping in town. Got things for my room, clothes..." She gestured at her current outfit. "And I've been learning this game called poker with Dende and some of the others."

Her voice took on that familiar edge that Gohan had come to recognize - the same tone she'd used explaining mathematical concepts on Namek or when he'd taught her to sense ki. "It's fascinating actually - all about calculating probabilities, maintaining emotional control, making strategic decisions based on limited information..."

Gohan couldn't help but smile as he listened to her come alive discussing the game's systems and patterns. It reminded him of those moments in the cave when she'd get caught up explaining some complex equation, her usual guardedness falling away in favor of pure enthusiasm for the logic of it all.

"Father and I aren't exactly on speaking terms again," Cellera mentioned, trying to keep her tone casual.

Gohan looked up from his work, brow furrowed. "Because you're a Super Saiyan?"

"It's all I can think of," she sighed. "Not that it matters much - I haven't been able to transform since Namek. I've mostly been training alone in the Capsule Corp courtyard, or image training when I can't sleep. Father's impossible to catch for any real sparring."

"Image training?" Gohan perked up, his face brightening. "You use what I showed you?" He peeked out his bedroom door, checking on his mother who was still busy in the kitchen. "Want to finish our best two out of three from Namek?"

A confident smirk - pure Vegeta - crossed Cellera's face. "Two months of studying hasn't made you rusty, has it?"

"Guess you'll have to whip me back into shape then."

They settled across from each other, legs crossed, eyes closing. In their shared mind's eye, they were suddenly airborne again, their casual Earth clothes replaced by the battle armour they had worn on Namek before their battle against Frieza. The white void around them shifted and warped until they floated above Namek's blue landscapes.

They took their stances mid-air, a heartbeat of stillness passing between them before they launched at each other.

Chichi walked in with the snack tray to find them both cross-legged on the floor, faces set in intense concentration. She recognized the pose immediately from Gohan's stories about Krillin's training methods. With a light roll of her eyes, she set the sandwiches on his desk. Her son had been diligent with his studies these past months - she supposed she could allow him this small break.

May 3, 763

Four months passed in what felt like moments. The day of resurrection arrived with all the ceremony of a festival - Namekians, Earth's warriors, and even Master Roshi gathering for the occasion. Grand Elder Muri had graciously offered the Earthlings first use of the Dragon Balls, insisting the Namekians had plenty of time to find a new home. Though watching her Namekian friends lounge in the Capsule Corp gardens, Cellera suspected they weren't in any particular hurry to leave Earth's comforts.

Once again, Dende's voice rang out in ancient Namekian, and darkness swept across the sky as Porunga materialized above them. The massive dragon seemed even more impressive against Earth's landscape than he had on Namek.

"He's enormous!" Bulma gasped, echoing Krillin's long-ago amazement. She quickly composed herself, turning to Dende. "Ask him to bring the souls of Goku and Krillin who died on Namek to this spot."

Dende translated the wish, but Porunga's response made everyone pause: "I HAVE SUMMONED THE SOUL OF KRILLIN, BUT I CANNOT SUMMON THE SOUL OF THE ONE CALLED GOKU."

Cellera's brow furrowed in confusion. Could Kakarot possibly be...?

"I CANNOT SUMMON THE SOULS OF THE LIVING."

"He's alive?" Gohan's whispered question broke the stunned silence before joy erupted through the gathered crowd.

"We should just summon him here," Cellera suggested, her tactical mind already analyzing possibilities. "His ship might have been damaged, forcing him to land elsewhere. That would explain why he hasn't returned."

"We'll save that for the grand finale," Bulma said with a wink. "Dende, let's bring Krillin back first!"

The wish was barely translated before Krillin materialized before them, still wearing his Namekian battle armor and looking utterly bewildered at his sudden resurrection. The crowd erupted in applause at his return.

"AS A SPECIAL CONSIDERATION," Porunga rumbled, "I HAVE RESTORED HIS DISMEMBERED BODY ALONG WITH HIS CLOTHING."

"Aren't you sweet?" Bulma blew a kiss at the massive dragon. "And here I thought you were just scary-looking!"

Their final wish seemed simple enough - bring Goku back to Earth. But Porunga's response left everyone stunned: "HE REFUSES TO RETURN. HE WILL COME BACK ON HIS OWN."

Cellera couldn't believe it. Kakarot was actually choosing to stay away? She fought back a groan - knowing him, he'd probably show up at the last possible moment of whatever crisis came next.

A quick glance at her father confirmed her fears. That familiar darkness was creeping back into his expression, his chance for a rematch with Kakarot slipping away yet again. She could practically feel his frustration radiating across the gathering.

"I know exactly why Goku hasn't come back," Master Roshi announced with exaggerated wisdom. "He's terrified of his wife! The strongest being in the universe isn't Frieza - it's Chichi!"

The sword appeared in Chichi's hands so quickly even Cellera was impressed. "Care to repeat that?"

"Just joking!" Roshi backpedaled rapidly.

Cellera shot the old master a withering side-eye. She'd already caught him trying to inappropriately touch Bulma during his first visit to Capsule Corp - now this. The man who'd trained Kakarot didn't seem particularly bright, especially when it came to enraging Chichi. After getting caught trying to sneak Gohan out for sparring practice last week, Cellera had learned firsthand why even Saiyans might think twice before crossing Son Gohan's mother.

"Let's focus," Piccolo cut in, his deep voice carrying across the gathering. "If Goku says he'll return in his own time, we trust him. For now, we should use our last wish on someone still at King Kai's." After brief discussion, they settled on Yamcha - Tien and Chiaotzu had insisted on returning together.

The sudden roar of engines made everyone turn. A familiar spherical ship rose above Capsule Corp, its launch shaking the ground beneath them.

"Isn't that your spaceship, darling?" Mrs. Brief asked her husband.

Dr. Brief watched his creation disappear into the atmosphere. "Well... it was."

Cellera's eyes bored into the vanishing ship, fury and hurt warring in her chest. Again. Her father had abandoned her again . Her nails bit crescents into her palms as she clenched her fists, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

She understood, in theory - his wounded pride, four months of watching his daughter adapt to Earth life while he struggled to maintain his Saiyan dignity. But understanding didn't make it hurt any less. She was done making excuses for him, done trying to bridge a gap he seemed determined to widen.

At least this time he hadn't left her with Cui. A bitter laugh nearly escaped at that thought. Instead, she had Bulma's kindness, Gohan's friendship, even Chichi's stern but well-meaning oversight. She wasn't alone this time.

But as she watched the ship become nothing more than a point of light in the sky, that familiar ache of abandonment settled back into her chest. She wasn't alone... but it still hurt.

The bright flash of Porunga's departure startled Cellera from her thoughts. She hadn't even noticed them using the final wish, too caught up in watching that empty sky.

"Hey, did the dragon forget about Yamcha?" Bulma's concerned voice barely registered.

"Actually," a familiar voice called from around the building, "he dropped me in the koi pond." Yamcha emerged, dripping wet but very much alive.

"Yamcha!" Bulma and Puar rushed to embrace him, not caring about his soaked state.

Gohan watched as Cellera went through the motions of celebration, offering quiet applause with the others. But he noticed how her eyes kept drifting back to the sky where her father's ship had vanished. She was trying to hide it - the same way she used to hide her feelings on Namek - but he could tell. After everything they'd been through together, he knew what it looked like when she was hurting.

September 10, 763

After a total of eight months on Earth, and Cellera had found her rhythm. Her father's absence still ached, but Bulma's confident "He'll be back when he runs out of fuel" never failed to draw a small laugh from her.

Life had settled into comfortable patterns. Afternoons playing poker with the Namekian children, visits to Gohan where they'd sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, eyes closed in shared mental combat while textbooks lay open nearby - a pretense that fooled exactly no one, though Chichi seemed content to let their "study sessions" include image training. She'd even attempted golf with the elder Namekians, though that had ended with a bent club and a new appreciation for why her father preferred destroying things to playing games.

As they gathered for Porunga's final summoning on Earth, Krillin sidled up to her. "So, how's Earth treating you?"

"It's... different," she admitted. "Staying in one place, having an actual home. But I like it."

"Has Vegeta..." He winced as soon as the words left his mouth, watching her face fall. She shook her head silently.

The sky darkened as Porunga appeared one last time. Tien and Chiaotzu's resurrection brought fresh tears and embraces, Chiaotzu practically hanging off his tall friend's neck with joy.

"It is time," Muri announced, nodding to Dende. The young Namekian turned to face them all, his expression already wavering.

"I... I have to say goodbye now." Dende's eyes filled with tears as he looked between Cellera and Gohan. "Thank you both, for everything. For helping save my people. I'll never forget you."

"See ya," he managed through his tears before speaking the final wish. As the Namekians began to fade, Gohan's own eyes welled up watching his friend disappear.

As the light from Porunga faded, leaving them under Earth's familiar blue sky, Cellera turned to Piccolo. "You didn't want to go with them? To New Namek?"

"Earth is my home," Piccolo replied simply. His eyes drifted to Gohan, and Cellera caught that look of quiet protectiveness she'd noticed when they first came to Earth. "I'm needed more here."

"Well," she offered, "if you ever need a sparring partner, I'm available. Chichi tolerates our image training, but actual combat is strictly forbidden." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Something about her 'precious baby' getting hurt."

A knowing smirk crossed Piccolo's features. "I'd be glad to. Been wanting to test that Super Saiyan form of yours anyway."

Cellera's shoulders dropped slightly. "About that... I haven't been able to transform again. I've tried, but..." She shrugged, trying to hide her frustration. "Nothing."

"The power's still in you," Piccolo said with that same certainty he used when training Gohan. "It didn't just disappear. You'll find your way back to it - though it might not be through the same path that first triggered it."

Before Cellera could respond, Krillin and Gohan joined them. "We should head inside," Krillin said. "Bulma's getting everything set up for the party."

"Just stay away from the golf clubs," Gohan teased, drawing a mock glare from Cellera that quickly dissolved into a smile.

While the night had ended in joyous celebration of friends returning, none of them would know  that their hard-won peace was about to be tested once again.

Somewhere in the vast emptiness of space, Vegeta's stolen ship cut through the darkness. Another dead end, another planet without a trace of Kakarot. He'd lost count of how many worlds he'd searched, each failure feeding the obsession that drove him forward.

The ship's computer chimed with another potential landing site, and his hands tightened on the controls. Sometimes, in the crushing silence between stars, he'd remember the look on Cellera's face as his ship lifted off - so different from when he'd abandoned her on Planet 79, too caught up in his pursuit of power to notice her reaction then. He'd only learned of her fury later, when she'd thrown those words at him on Namek. This time, he'd seen the hurt directly, and the memory twisted something in his chest that he refused to acknowledge.

But the burning need to find Kakarot, to prove himself against the low-class warrior who'd achieved what he couldn't, overwhelmed everything else. Even if it meant leaving behind the only thing in this universe that truly belonged to him.

When I return , he told himself, I'll return worthy of being called the Prince of all Saiyans again. The thought rang hollow in the empty ship, but he clung to it as he plotted his course to the next world.

 

Chapter 13: Chapter 13 - Hail Garlic Jr.

Notes:

So....I know most may not care for the Garlic Jr Arc and may not want to read 17K WORD. But I'd like to think i attempted to make it matter more in 17k than in 8 episodes. For those who don't want to read that much, there's a TLDR at the end for ya.

Also I have made a tumblr blog for the series if anyone wants to check it out or ask questions. I'll probably occasionally post small little excerpts or one shots or something. I thought creating something where I can interact with you all would be fun!
https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-princess-and-the-scholar

A month had passed since the Namekians' departure to their new home, and despite October's arrival, summer's grip remained firm over Mount Paozu. The afternoon sun beat down on the riverside, its heat barely tempered by the occasional breeze that rustled through the trees. While the calendar insisted on autumn's arrival, the weather seemed determined to prove otherwise.

Cellera sat at the water's edge, her feet submerged in the cool stream as she watched Gohan dive beneath the surface. In the months since Namek, these peaceful moments still felt surreal – no battles to fight, no immediate threats to face. A smile tugged at her lips as three large fish suddenly launched from the water in rapid succession, landing in an ungraceful pile on the riverbank. Those poor fish , she thought, watching them flop helplessly. Gohan's strength had grown considerably, though he now used it more for household chores than combat.

The distant rumble of an engine drew her attention to the hill behind them. A red vehicle came to a stop at the crest, and out stepped Krillin, looking decidedly overdressed in a crisp white suit and matching hat. Cellera's brow furrowed slightly – in all their interactions, she couldn't recall him ever mentioning owning a car. The formal attire seemed particularly out of place in their rural setting.

Krillin made his way down the hill with exaggerated swagger, propping one leg up on the boulder beside her and resting his arm across his knee. He tipped his hat down with dramatic flair, prompting Cellera to eye his ensemble with undisguised curiosity. The formal attire was a far cry from his usual training gear or casual clothes. Something about his demeanor reminded her of the characters in those romance movies Bulma enjoyed watching.

"Hey Krillin! Wow, is that really you under there?" Gohan called out, grinning at his friend's unexpected appearance. The summer heat had driven them to the river regularly, but this was the first time they'd seen Krillin since the Namekians' departure.

Krillin lifted the hat from his eyes with a laugh. "How do I look?" His attempt at sophistication was somewhat undermined by the familiar warmth in his voice.

"I think it looks good on you," Gohan replied enthusiastically.

"What have you been doing?" Cellera asked, noting how different he seemed from the warrior who'd fought alongside them on Namek. Peace had changed them all, but Krillin's transformation seemed particularly dramatic.

"Oh, not much," Krillin said with attempted casualness that didn't quite mask something else in his tone – a mix of excitement and nervousness that piqued Cellera's curiosity.

Gohan began climbing out of the river, dragging two more fish behind him on a rope. As he pulled them past Krillin, the fish thrashed wildly, causing the well-dressed warrior to jump back with a startled yelp. His reaction drew a laugh from Gohan, the sound echoing across the water.

"Looks like we'll be having fish for a while," Gohan said, adding his latest catch to the impressive pile. The size of his haul would have fed a Saiyan army, though between his and Cellera's appetites, it would likely only last a few days.

Cellera turned to Krillin. "Would you like to help us gut and clean the fish?" She'd learned the skill from Chichi, who insisted that anyone eating at her table should know how to prepare their own food.

"No, thanks," Krillin replied, his tone oddly despondent for someone dressed so formally. The contrast between his elegant attire and the mundane task seemed to amuse him.

"Want to go for a swim?" Gohan offered. "The water's nice and cold!" His enthusiasm for simple pleasures remained unchanged, whether facing down galactic tyrants or enjoying a summer afternoon.

Krillin gestured at his pristine white suit. "Can't with these clothes."

"Just take them off like Gohan did," Cellera said matter-of-factly, earning a vigorous nod of agreement from her friend. The practical solution seemed obvious to her, though she'd learned humans had different ideas about such things.

Gohan's attention shifted to the hill behind them. "Hey, that's a really nice car! Is it actually yours?" The vehicle stood out against the rustic landscape, its glossy red paint catching the sunlight.

"Yep," Krillin replied, then added with slight hesitation, "Well, sort of."

Cellera noticed how Krillin's gaze lingered on the water, a touch of longing in his expression. The formal clothes seemed to be restraining more than just his movement – they were holding back the carefree warrior they knew. Finally, he seemed to relent.

"It has been a while since I've done anything like this," he admitted, removing his hat and carefully rolling up his sleeves and pant legs. The gesture reminded Cellera of their time on Namek, when titles and appearances had meant little in the face of survival.

Gohan made an excited dash back toward the stream, but just as Krillin lifted his foot to step in, an unfamiliar female voice rang out across the clearing, shattering the peaceful atmosphere.

"Krillin! What are you doing?!"

Krillin froze mid-step, his relaxed demeanor instantly replaced by tension. Cellera and Gohan turned to see a pretty young woman stepping out of the passenger side of the car. She wore a hot pink tube top dress with a green jacket, her style reminiscent of Bulma's fashion sense, though something about her presence felt less substantial.

"Are you coming, or what?" the woman called down, her voice carrying a hint of petulance.

"I'll be there in a second!" Krillin called back with a nervous laugh, scratching his neck. The confident warrior who'd faced down Frieza's forces had been replaced by someone Cellera barely recognized.

Cellera's brows drew together as she watched the newcomer fold her arms and huff in obvious annoyance. "Who is she?" she asked Krillin, a slight frown forming as she observed the woman's impatient demeanor. After months on Earth, she'd grown accustomed to reading human social dynamics, and something about this interaction felt off.

"Well, she's uh..." Krillin stuttered, but before he could finish, the woman had already started making her way down to them, her heels somehow navigating the uneven ground with practiced ease.

"Krillin. You didn't forget about me, did you?" she called out sweetly, though the sweetness seemed performative compared to the genuine warmth Cellera had come to expect from their other friends.

"Who, me?" Krillin gave another nervous laugh, prompting Cellera and Gohan to exchange questioning looks as the latter climbed out of the water. They'd seen Krillin face death with more composure than he was showing now.

The woman reached them, looking between Cellera and Gohan with open curiosity. "Yeah, you. Who're they?"

Krillin threw an arm around Gohan's shoulders, seeming grateful for the familiar presence. "Oh, these are my martial art partners, Gohan and Cellera." He gestured toward Cellera, who offered a polite nod and wave without removing her feet from the water, while Gohan managed a quiet "Hi." "You two, this is my 'friend' Maron."

The blush that spread across Krillin's cheeks at the word 'friend' told Cellera everything she needed to know about their relationship. She'd seen enough of Bulma's romance movies by now to recognize the signs, though she still found human courtship rituals puzzling.

"So which one's from outer space?" Maron asked, studying them both before pointing at Gohan. "Is it you?"

"Actually, it's Gohan's dad and Cellera," Krillin corrected, his embarrassment evident.

Maron giggled. "Oh right, I forgot!"

Cellera fought the urge to roll her eyes. The woman might share Bulma's looks, but she certainly hadn't inherited her intellect. The contrast between Maron's vapid response and Bulma's sharp mind couldn't have been more striking.

Bending down to Gohan's level, Maron smiled brightly. "You sure are cute! Did you know that?"

"Well, sort of," Gohan replied sheepishly, looking anywhere but at Maron. Despite facing down the galaxy's most fearsome warriors, simple compliments still made him uncomfortable.

She turned her attention to Cellera, flashing another friendly smile. "And you, you're just adorable!"

Cellera let out a small huff, refusing to acknowledge the comment. After eight months on Earth, she'd resigned herself to never escaping that particular descriptor. From the Ginyu Force to Bulma's mother to this stranger, it seemed her warrior's pride was destined to be undermined by that word.

Maron laughed at her reaction, seemingly unfazed. "You both have such beautiful black hair! I know some girls who'd do anything to have hair like yours."

"Hey, what about me!" Krillin protested playfully, a hint of jealousy in his voice. The warrior who'd once faced down Frieza's forces now seemed completely transformed by Maron's presence.

"Oh, Krillin, you're so silly!" Maron giggled, planting a kiss on his cheek that left him in a giggly daze.

Cellera and Gohan exchanged unimpressed looks, their shared thought obvious: Gross . Their bond, forged in battle and strengthened through peaceful days like this, allowed them to communicate volumes in a single glance.

Seemingly remembering his young audience, Krillin turned around and scratched his cheek, quickly changing the subject. "Hey, are you two coming to Master Roshi's party this afternoon? I know Bulma's going," he added, glancing at Cellera.

Despite Bulma's presence, Cellera felt reluctant to attend. While she respected Master Roshi's fighting capabilities – Bulma's stories had made his skill clear – his behavior toward women left much to be desired. She'd witnessed enough of his antics during visits to Kame House to last a lifetime.

Gohan's face lit up at the invitation before reality seemed to catch up with him. "If Mom lets me go," he added with a sigh, his excitement deflating like a punctured balloon.

"Your mother's too strict with all the studying," Krillin said, earning a confirming groan from Gohan.

Though Cellera shared their frustration, she understood Chichi's reasoning. According to Bulma's stories, Kakarot had grown up in the mountains with his grandfather, receiving only basic education after meeting Master Roshi at age twelve. His wife clearly wanted better for their son, and after months of studying alongside Gohan, Cellera had come to appreciate the value of knowledge beyond battle tactics.

"Maybe a miracle will happen and she'll let you go," Krillin shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

"Yeah, maybe," Gohan agreed without much conviction, both of them knowing Chichi's determination when it came to his studies.

Krillin settled his hat back on his head, resuming his earlier attempt at sophistication. "Well, we better get going. See you two later, hopefully!"

Maron offered a cheerful wave as they made their way back to the car. Cellera and Gohan watched the red vehicle disappear over the hill, leaving them alone with their pile of fish and the afternoon heat. The peaceful moment they'd been enjoying earlier seemed altered somehow, as if Krillin's brief visit had reminded them that even in times of peace, change was constant.

Watching the car disappear, Gohan's expression brightened. "I'm really happy for Krillin," he said, excitement coloring his voice. "Dad's going to be so surprised when he gets back!"

With the afternoon wearing on, the two young Saiyans gathered their catch to head back to the Son household. Gohan hefted two massive fish while Cellera carried one plus the string of smaller ones. They had plenty of time to make it back and, if fortune favored them, possibly attend the party at Kame House – assuming they could convince Chichi.

As it turned out, fortune wasn't on their side. Just as Cellera finished washing the last traces of fish from her hands, she glanced over to see Gohan trailing after his mother to the stove, deploying what she'd come to recognize as his ultimate technique: the tearful plea.

"Please, mom?" Gohan's expression was so pitiful that even Cellera had to look away.

"Gohan, you know how important your studies are," Chichi responded, unmoved by her son's technique. "You don't want to fail and blow your chance of getting into college someday, do you?"

"No," Gohan replied with clear reluctance.

Cellera held back a snort. The idea of Gohan failing academics was perhaps the most ridiculous thing she'd heard since arriving on Earth. She'd witnessed firsthand how quickly he grasped complex concepts, often explaining them to her in ways that made more sense than the textbooks.

"Then that's final," Chichi's tone brooked no argument as she shooed both children back toward Gohan's room. "We won't discuss this anymore."

Yet here they were, soaring above the treetops toward Kame House, the afternoon sun at their backs. Gohan had changed into his training gear that mimicked Piccolo's style, while Cellera wore her modified Saiyan armor from the Frieza battle – the shoulderless battle jacket and skirt combination over her black full-body compression suit. 

Cellera still couldn't believe she'd agreed to this. When Gohan had suggested sneaking out his window to attend the party, she'd initially refused outright. But those pleading eyes – the same ones that had failed to move his mother – somehow worked their magic on her. She'd eventually relented, though not without warning him that if Chichi discovered their absence, she'd likely never let him out of her sight again.

Still, she couldn't deny the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins. It was different from battle excitement, yet somehow similar – a hint of danger, the thrill of defying authority. For someone raised in Frieza's iron rule, this small act of rebellion felt strangely liberating.

Their flight was interrupted when the forest below erupted into chaos. Flocks of birds burst from the canopy in scattered patterns, their usual grace abandoned in what appeared to be blind panic. On the forest floor, animals fled in stampeding masses, their fear palpable even from this height.

The cause soon became apparent as an ominous black fog began creeping through the trees, spreading like spilled ink across the landscape. Both children instinctively increased their altitude, watching the strange phenomenon with growing concern.

"Is this normal for Earth?" Cellera asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer. After eight months, she'd grown familiar with most of the planet's natural phenomena.

Gohan shook his head, his expression troubled. "I've never seen anything like this before."

They hovered for a few moments longer, watching the dark mist continue its inexorable spread. Something about it felt wrong – beyond just its unusual appearance. But with the threat of discovery by Chichi looming over them, they exchanged a quick glance before resuming their course toward Kame House, though both kept casting worried looks at the expanding darkness below.

After thirty minutes of flight, Kame House's familiar silhouette appeared on the horizon. "Man, they're gonna be surprised to see me!" Gohan laughed, his excitement barely contained.

Cellera shot him a knowing smirk. "Remember, if your mother shows up, I take no responsibility for your actions." Despite her words, she knew she was just as complicit in this rebellion.

A ripple in the otherwise still ocean caught their attention, prompting them to descend for a closer look. Without warning, Maron burst from the water, one arm locked around Krillin's neck, shouting "Gotcha!"

The couple turned at Gohan's greeting, their faces lighting up at the unexpected arrival. However, Krillin's expression quickly shifted to something more serious. "Hey, uh, you should know... your mom's actually at Kame House."

Cellera and Gohan exchanged alarmed looks, their earlier confidence evaporating instantly.

"Uh oh!" Gohan's voice cracked slightly with panic.

"Perhaps I should retreat to Capsule Corp," Cellera muttered, already calculating the fastest escape route. But Gohan turned those pleading eyes on her again – the same ones that had gotten them into this mess – and she felt her resolve crumbling. How did he manage to do that?

Krillin looked between them, understanding dawning on his face. "Oh man, you two snuck out, didn't you?"

"She's gone completely ballistic!" Maron added helpfully, causing both children to wince. "Hey, I know!" she brightened. "Krillin should take the blame! Tell her it was all his idea!"

Cellera shot the woman a sharp glare. The suggestion to sacrifice Krillin –their friend – to save their own skins felt wrong after everything they’ve been through together.

"Are you kidding?" Krillin's voice jumped an octave. "I don't have a death wish!"

"So you don't respect my ideas?" Maron's mood shifted instantly. "You think I'm dumb!"

"No, no, that's not it at all!" Krillin backpedaled frantically, his composure crumbling in the face of Maron's accusation.

Cellera rolled her eyes as Krillin caved to Maron's manipulation. "I'll take the blame," he announced with forced bravado.

"Thanks, Krillin!" Gohan beamed.

"Are you certain about this?" Cellera asked, though Krillin's immediate dive underwater answered her question more eloquently than words could have.

The journey to Kame House took five minutes – a duration that made Cellera internally cringe. At full speed, they could have covered the distance in one, but Maron's lack of flight capability had forced them to maintain a slower pace.

They stood before the door of Kame House, its familiar frame suddenly seeming as intimidating as Frieza's ship. A sudden surge of ki made the hair on their necks rise, and they turned to find Chichi standing behind them, arms crossed.

Something felt wrong. Cellera studied the woman's face, noting the absence of her usual protective anger. Where there should have been maternal fury, she saw something else entirely – something cold and alien. The others seemed oblivious, too caught up in their own nervousness to notice.

Gohan stepped forward, his voice thick with genuine remorse. "Mom, I'm really sorry—"

Cellera's instincts screamed. Before Chichi's strike could connect, she yanked Gohan backward by his white collar, positioning herself between mother and son. Her hand caught Chichi's wrist mid-swing, stopping what would have been a devastating blow to Gohan's face.

"I knew it," Cellera's eyes narrowed as she maintained her grip. "Something's wrong with your mother, Gohan."

The sadistic smirk that spread across Chichi's face confirmed her suspicions. After months of living alongside the fierce but loving woman, Cellera knew one absolute truth – no amount of anger would ever drive Chichi to physically strike her precious son. This wasn't Chichi – at least, not anymore.

Chichi lunged again, this time targeting Cellera, who leapt onto the roof to avoid the strike. The possessed woman followed, each landing shattering roof tiles with frightening force. Cellera winced at the damage – she'd definitely be hearing about this from Master Roshi later.

As she continued deflecting Chichi's attacks, Cellera felt a twinge of irony. She'd often wondered about sparring with Gohan's mother after learning of her participation in the tournament where she'd married Kakarot, but not under these circumstances. Her thoughts were interrupted as the door below burst open, revealing Yamcha, Bulma, and Master Roshi – all wearing the same unsettling expression as Chichi.

Gohan landed on the roof between them, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Mom, please! I promise I'll be good! I'll study hard and do everything you say!"

But the possessed Chichi continued her advance, that unnatural smile fixed on her face, eyes glowing an eerie pink.

"Gohan, look at her eyes," Cellera directed his attention to the unnatural color. "This isn't your mother right now."

As they backed away from Chichi's relentless approach, Gohan's foot slipped on a loose tile. His mother seized the opening, striking with frightening speed. Cellera blocked the attack, teeth gritted with effort. Whether this was Chichi's natural strength or something enhanced by whatever force possessed her, the power behind each blow was impressive.

"Help Krillin and Maron," Cellera commanded. "I'll handle your mother."

Gohan hesitated, clearly torn between helping their friends and the reluctance to fight his own mother. After a moment's internal struggle, he nodded and jumped down to assist with the others, who were fending off the possessed Bulma, Yamcha, and Roshi.

The exchange of blows continued, neither fighter giving ground. Then Cellera appeared to lose her footing, falling backward. As expected, Chichi pounced on the apparent opening.

"Sorry, Chichi," Cellera muttered, using the woman's momentum against her. With a swift movement, she threw Chichi off the roof and onto the beach below, the sand softening her landing.

Cellera landed beside Chichi's prone form just as Gohan rushed over, concern etched on his face. "She'll be fine," Cellera assured him, knowing the woman's resilience firsthand. "Your mother's stronger than most warriors I've known."

Their attention snapped to Kame House as Krillin crashed through its walls. "Krillin!" they called out in unison, watching their friend struggle to his feet. The possessed group advanced toward them with unnatural synchronization, Chichi rising to join their ranks.

As they backed away, finding themselves increasingly cornered, Cellera's eyes locked onto Bulma. The woman who'd welcomed her into her home, who'd shown her there was more to life than constant battle, now wore an expression that brought back unwanted memories of Frieza's crueler soldiers. The contrast made her stomach turn.

Laughter echoed from above, drawing their attention skyward. Four unfamiliar figures descended through the air, their presence radiating malevolent intent.

"Who are these goons?" Maron asked, clutching Krillin's arm.

For the first time since meeting her, Cellera found herself sharing Maron's sentiment as they watched their possessed friends and family drop to their knees in eerie unison, bowing before the newcomers.

"What did you do to them?" Cellera demanded, her voice carrying the edge she usually reserved for battle. The sight of Bulma and Chichi prostrating themselves like this felt fundamentally wrong – an offense against everything she'd come to value about Earth's independent spirit.

"They've inhaled the black water mist, little girl," the horned, red-haired alien announced with casual cruelty. "They belong to us now."

"Oh no they don't!" Gohan shot back, his voice trembling with rage. "That's my mom and our friends! They belong to us!"

A smaller red alien stepped forward with a mocking grin. "Why don't you ask them?"

Cellera and Gohan moved in unison, taking an aggressive step forward until Krillin's warning voice called out behind them. "Wait, you two!"

"No. I'm not scared," Gohan declared, his fists clenched. "These freaks did something to my mom!"

"And Bulma," Cellera added, her voice carrying the deadly calm that usually preceded violence.

Mustard’s smile widened. "We sure did. So?"

"So, I'll give you one chance right now to change them back." Cellera's growl carried echoes of her Saiyan heritage, a sound she hadn't needed since Namek.

Salt threw his head back with mocking laughter. "We can't, you fools! Only the sacred water kept at Kami's Lookout can do that."

His casual admission only served to fuel their anger, but something in his words caught Cellera's attention. He'd revealed the cure too easily, almost as if he wanted them to know. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the group, searching for the trap hidden beneath their apparent overconfidence.

"Sacred Water?" Gohan's question carried a mix of hope and suspicion.

"I've never heard it mentioned in any of Bulma's stories about your father," Cellera said, her mind already racing through everything she'd learned about Earth's history.

The purple alien in the horned hat stepped forward with exaggerated sympathy. "That's right! But Kami is on an extended leave of absence."

"Too bad, aye?" added the one whose polished appearance reminded Cellera uncomfortably of Zarbon. "But don't worry. Our boss, Garlic Jr. is the guardian now."

Gohan's blood ran cold at the name. Memories flooded back – being kidnapped, watching helplessly as his father and Piccolo nearly died, the terrifying moment when his power had erupted, helping to seal Garlic Jr. in the Dead Zone. He'd been around three years old, but those memories remained crystal clear.

Cellera noticed the shift in Gohan’s energy – not just anger, but recognition as she looked at his clenched fists and gritted teeth. 

Spice’s smirk widened. "Oh, I see you remember him." His voice dripped with false sweetness. "Lord Garlic will be pleased. Give up, you're outnumbered."

Rage overcame caution. Gohan launched himself forward, barely registering Cellera's attempt to stop him. How dare they bring back the nightmare from his earliest battles? But mid-stride, his body froze, caught in an invisible grip that was horrifyingly familiar.

Cellera felt it too a moment later, the same helpless sensation they'd experienced fighting Guldo on Namek. But this was different – no one was holding their breath, no obvious source of the power that held them immobile. Something about this enemy was far more dangerous than they'd initially assumed.

The four men extended their hands, their combined power holding Gohan immobile. "It's useless," one taunted. "The more you struggle, the tighter our hold becomes."

Cellera forced herself to breathe slowly, remembering how anger had trapped her during their battle with Guldo. But standing idle while they threatened her friend wasn't an option either.

"It's hard to believe a small fry like you trapped Garlic Jr. in the Dead Zone," Spice sneered at Gohan. Cellera's brows furrowed at the reference. This was the second mention of Gohan's history with this Garlic Jr., and what exactly was the Dead Zone?

Before she could voice her questions, a ki blast cut through the air, barely missing the pretty alien but forcing him to release his hold on Gohan. The beam struck the ocean, sending up a massive splash and cloud of steam. Cellera sensed the familiar energy before she saw him – a smile tugging at her lips as she looked up at Kame House's roof.

"Piccolo," Spice growled.

The Namekian stood atop the building, arms crossed, his expression promising retribution for those who'd dared attack his student.

"Yes! Piccolo!" Gohan's voice carried equal parts relief and excitement at his mentor's arrival.

One of the men chuckled. "This will be fun."

"Fun?" Piccolo's voice dripped with contempt. "You call making innocent people into your mindless, sadistic puppets fun?"

Salt stepped forward with a smirk. "Garlic Jr. can destroy you at any time."

Cellera rolled her eyes at their arrogance. After just one sparring session with Piccolo, she understood why he'd held his own against Frieza's early forms. These creatures clearly had no idea what they were dealing with.

"He has Kami held captive, you fool," he continued, wiping the confidence from Cellera's expression. She remembered Bulma's explanation of Kami and King Piccolo's connection – how they were once one being, split between good and evil. If either died, both would perish, taking Earth's Dragon Balls with them.

"What? Garlic Jr.'s back?" Piccolo's surprise quickly shifted to resignation as their possessed allies and the four warriors began to advance. "Oh, great."

Spice directed a calculating look at Piccolo. "You've always had a fascination with the dark side. Why not join Garlic Jr. while you still can? He's about to take over the planet."

Piccolo's responding laugh carried genuine amusement. "How can someone stupid enough to get caught in his own trap take over the planet?"

From below, Cellera silently agreed with Piccolo's assessment. The other warriors, however, bristled at the insult, their stances shifting to attack positions.

"Get ready to move in fast," Krillin whispered to Gohan and Cellera.

"But Krillin!" Maron's wail cut through the tension. "You're supposed to protect me from danger!" Her rising voice threatened to give away their position until Krillin quickly covered her mouth.

Cellera fought back a surge of frustration. They needed to get Maron somewhere safe – her presence was becoming a liability they couldn't afford.

"How did your brainless boss escape the Dead Zone anyway?" Piccolo's question made the purple-hatted alien – Vinegar – visibly bristle.

"Settle down," Spice cautioned his companion before pointing skyward with dramatic flair. "It was the power of the Makyo Star."

He continued with growing satisfaction, clearly relishing the explanation. "A precise, rare alignment of planets and stars has powered all creatures of the night. Lord Garlic Jr. used that energy as a springboard to shatter his prison and escape." His laughter echoed across the island. "He's taken over the lookout, seated comfortably on the throne as Earth's new guardian. Kami and Mr. Popo are nothing more than decorations now, watching helplessly from their little glass jars."

The casual cruelty in his tone made Cellera's fists clench. She'd heard similar speeches from Frieza's men – the same smug satisfaction in others' helplessness. Some things, it seemed, were universal.

"With the Black Water Mist, these plebeians worship us as their gods," one of the warriors, Vinegar, gloated. "And soon, they'll stay that way forever!"

"What do you mean, for good?" Cellera demanded, her voice sharp with concern.

Salt's grin widened. "Once twenty-four hours pass, the change becomes permanent! Not even the Sacred Water can save them then!"

"Who are you fighting for, Piccolo?" Spice gestured toward their possessed allies on the roof. "No one wants your help."

Piccolo's only response was a low chuckle as he reached for his turban and cape. Cellera, Gohan, and Krillin tensed in anticipation – they'd seen enough of Piccolo's battles to know what that gesture meant. The real fight was about to begin.

As the warriors took to the air, Piccolo launched the first strike. Vinegar vanished, reappearing with his companions. "If that was your best shot, you're in trouble."

"Gohan, help Piccolo," Cellera directed, noting Yamcha's approach. "I'll assist Krillin down here."

Gohan nodded before rocketing skyward. Below, Master Roshi had Krillin on the defensive, throwing a barrage of punches and kicks that the younger fighter barely dodged. Krillin's reluctance to harm his former teacher was obvious in every movement.

"Some expert fighter you are," Maron complained from the sidelines. "You can't even beat an old man!"

The distraction cost Krillin his focus. As Roshi's kick came sailing toward him, Cellera intervened, catching the old master's leg. Using his own momentum, she sent him crashing through another section of his house's wall. He's really going to be upset about the repairs , she thought fleetingly.

Bulma and Chichi charged at her simultaneously, but Cellera simply lifted into the air. Unable to stop their momentum, the two women collided with each other and crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Sorry, Bulma , she mentally apologized to her friend. You can yell at me about this later .

They regrouped above the ocean's surface, joining Gohan and Piccolo. "What do we need to do?" Gohan asked urgently, ready for his mentor's instructions.

"Take off now," Piccolo commanded. "Get the Sacred Water."

Gohan's expression twisted with obvious reluctance, torn between duty and loyalty. He didn't want to abandon his teacher to face these enemies alone.

"Piccolo knows what he's doing," Cellera assured him, with Krillin nodding in agreement as he held onto Maron. "If we don't get that water," Cellera added, her voice gentle but firm, "your mother and the others are doomed."

Gohan's face set in determination as he gave a firm nod. As they prepared to depart, Piccolo's warning followed them: "Be careful. Garlic Jr. will be guarding the water."

They'd barely covered any distance when Piccolo's yell cut through the air. Turning back, they witnessed a horrifying sight – Spice and Vinegar restraining Piccolo while their possessed friends sank their teeth into his neck. Cellera quickly grabbed Gohan's arm as he instinctively moved to help his mentor.

"He's given us a mission," she reminded him, though the sight disturbed her as well. "He's counting on us."

As they resumed their flight toward the lookout, something nagged at Cellera's tactical sense. The sequence of events felt wrong. Piccolo was too experienced, too powerful to be overtaken so quickly. Their departure, his capture – it had happened in mere moments. A suspicion formed in her mind: had Piccolo deliberately allowed himself to be captured?

She pushed the thought aside for now. Whatever Piccolo's true strategy might be, their priority was clear – reach the lookout and secure the Sacred Water before time ran out.

As they resumed their climb toward Kami's domain, Cellera found herself reflecting on how quickly a simple afternoon had descended into chaos. Just hours ago, she and Gohan had been sneaking out his window to attend Master Roshi's gathering - something she still couldn't believe she'd agreed to. But those pleading eyes of his had worn down her resolve, as they always seemed to do.

 

Now here they were, climbing toward The Lookout with time running out. Their brief stop at Korin Tower had at least provided some answers about the Black Water Mist, though leaving Krillin behind with an increasingly clingy Maron hadn't been part of their original plan. The ancient cat's complaints about his sacred tower becoming a "beach resort" had almost made her laugh, if the situation hadn't been so dire.

 

The massive structure that materialized before them seemed to defy logic at this altitude, its ancient architecture both beautiful and forbidding against the corrupted sky. Despite everything they'd faced already, Cellera couldn't shake the feeling that their real battle was just beginning.

 

"I'm worried about Piccolo," Gohan's voice cut through her thoughts. "The way those guys held him down while everyone..." He trailed off, the memory of their possessed friends swarming their mentor clearly haunting him.

 

"Something about that whole scene felt wrong," Cellera said, pressing her thumb to her lip. The sequence had happened too quickly - Piccolo was too experienced to be caught so easily. Besides, the look in his eyes right before... She kept her suspicions to herself for now. "We'll figure it out once we get the Sacred Water."

 

They flew in silence for a moment, the wind whipping past them. Unlike their usual comfortable quiet during training, this one felt heavy with unspoken concerns. On Namek, at least she'd known their enemies - had understood Frieza's forces, their techniques, their weaknesses. But now they were flying toward a battle against someone she knew nothing about, save for Gohan and Piccolo's obvious unease at his name.

 

"Tell me something," she said, turning to study her friend's face. "You and Piccolo clearly have history with this Garlic Jr. - it would help to know what we're facing."

Gohan's expression grew serious, his brow furrowing in concentration. "I honestly don't remember much. I was barely three when it happened." His hand drifted to where his old hat with the Dragon Ball used to rest. "He kidnapped me for the Dragon Ball I wore... I remember being terrified, and then just getting so angry when he tried to kill Dad." He shook his head, frustration evident in his features. "Everything after that is just... blank."

 

"Do you know if he managed to collect all the Dragon Balls?" Cellera asked. "What he wished for?"

 

"No, sorry," Gohan's shoulders slumped slightly. "I wish I could be more helpful."

 

"Don't apologize," Cellera's voice carried its usual steady confidence, though softened by understanding. "Unlike me, you weren't physically or mentally prepared for combat at that age."

 

Gohan looked at her with surprise. "You remember me telling you that?"

 

A slight smile curved Cellera's lips. "Did you think I'd forgotten?" The genuine warmth in her voice contrasted with their ominous surroundings. "It was the first time I'd ever heard someone with Saiyan blood want to be something other than a warrior." Her smile widened. "A scholar, of all things."

 

Gohan's embarrassed laugh echoed through the thin air, the sound warming something in Cellera's chest, a brief respite from the growing darkness around them.

 

"Though for now," she added with a knowing smirk, "I'm going to need the universe's most powerful Saiyan good guy."

 

The reference to his excited declaration while trying on Saiyan armor on Namek made Gohan's cheeks flush crimson. The memory was still vivid - how he'd struck poses and was practicing his technique, not realizing she'd been watching with barely contained amusement until it was too late. Still, he met her eyes with firm resolve and nodded. "Right!"

 

They touched down on the Lookout's marble tiles, the devastation before them immediately sobering their mood. Broken trees lay scattered across the courtyard, ancient columns split in half, and deep craters scarred the once-pristine flooring. Cellera tried to imagine how serene this place must have been before Garlic Jr.'s arrival - she'd heard stories from Krillin about the sacred sanctuary that floated above the world.

 

A sudden pulse of dark energy radiated from the palace before them, so potent it made her skin crawl. "Be on guard," she warned, falling into a defensive stance.

 

A figure emerged from the shadowed doorway - short in stature with blue skin and pointed ears, but radiating a confidence that set Cellera's combat instincts on high alert. She felt Gohan tense beside her, his earlier warmth replaced by a rigidity she rarely saw in him.

 

"That's him?" she asked, not taking her eyes off their enemy. The slight tremor in Gohan's confirming "Yeah" told her more than any explanation could have.

 

The malevolent energy seemed to coalesce around Garlic Jr.'s form as he studied them, his lips curling into a predatory smile. She couldn't help drawing parallels to how Frieza would regard his victims - that same cruel anticipation before striking. Whatever gaps remained in Gohan's memory of their first encounter, she had a feeling they were about to understand exactly why this enemy had left such an impression on both him and Piccolo.

 

"All this fuss over two children?" Garlic Jr.'s eyes glinted with malicious amusement. "You want the Sacred Water so badly? Come and take it."

 

They didn't need another invitation. Cellera and Gohan launched forward in perfect synchronization, their countless training sessions evident in how they moved as one unit. But before they could reach their target, crackling energy forced them apart. The attack's familiar signature made both children's eyes widen as the smoke cleared to reveal its source.

 

"Piccolo!" 

 

The name had barely left Gohan's lips when Cellera's sharp warning cut through the air: "Wait! The Black Water Mist!"

 

The sight of Piccolo made Cellera's breath catch. Piccolo's usual composed stance had been replaced by something feral, his body twitching with unrestrained aggression as Spice barely maintained his grip on him. But something about his movements caught her attention - they seemed almost... theatrical.

 

"What took you so long?" Spice's casual tone dripped with satisfaction. "We've been expecting you."

 

Cellera's mind sorted through their options. Kakarot and her father were somewhere in the depths of space. Krillin remained at Korin's tower, and even if they could somehow contact him, Maron complicated any possibility of his help. Other potential allies like Tien had likely already succumbed to the Black Water Mist's influence.

 

The odds looked grim, but memories of Namek steeled her resolve. She and Gohan had faced down Frieza himself - a being whose power had terrorized the universe. They'd stared into the face of that impossible challenge and refused to back down. This situation might seem dire, but they'd survived worse.

 

Garlic Jr. strode forward with deliberate steps, his minions parting before him like waves. Despite the oppressive energy rolling off him, neither Gohan nor Cellera yielded ground. They met his confident smirk with unwavering glares.

 

"Where is your father, Gohan?" His voice carried false sweetness. "I need him here to exact my revenge on you both."

 

A feral growl from Piccolo drew Cellera's attention. She studied his thrashing form more carefully now - his behavior seemed markedly different from the other infected victims. Where Bulma and the others had maintained some semblance of controlled aggression, Piccolo's possession appeared almost... exaggerated.

 

"Something amusing?" Garlic Jr.'s eyes narrowed as soft laughter escaped Cellera. 

 

"Just the thought that Kaka-" she caught herself, the unfamiliar name feeling strange on her tongue. "That Goku would cower and hide from someone like you." 

 

The casual dismissal struck its mark. Garlic Jr.'s composed facade cracked slightly as he turned to face her fully. "And who exactly are you?" 

 

"Don't trouble yourself with the details," Cellera's lips curved into a predatory smile that would have made her father proud. "You won't be alive long enough to need that information."

 

A muscle twitched beneath Garlic Jr.'s eye. "We'll see about that, you little brat." He turned back to Gohan, forcing his expression to smooth. "I'll give you one last chance to tell me where your father is. And don't try to be clever about it."

 

"I'll never tell you," Gohan's voice carried none of its usual gentleness as his power surged, the force of his aura making his hair stand on end. "So stop asking!"

 

He launched forward with devastating speed, throwing a punch that most observers would have sworn missed entirely. But Cellera's trained eye caught the truth - Garlic Jr. had barely managed to dodge, and even then, Gohan's strike had grazed him. Pride swelled in her chest at how far Gohan had come since their first battle.

 

Garlic Jr. halted mid-stride, bringing a hand to his face. When he turned back to them, raw fury twisted his features as he glared at Gohan, a thin line of blood marring his blue cheek. Something flickered in his eyes as he studied the boy - recognition, perhaps memory - and whatever he saw only seemed to deepen his hatred.

 

Gohan's power continued to pulse around him as he brought his hands above his head, gathering energy for his signature attack. Cellera shifted her stance beside him, channeling her own ki into a devastating blast. Their combined power made the air crackle with tension.

 

"It's time to finish you off!" Gohan's declaration carried none of his usual hesitation.

 

But before they could unleash their attacks, Garlic Jr. reached into his robes and produced a glass jar. Inside, Kami's diminutive form pressed against the transparent walls of his prison. "Go ahead," the demon sneered, holding the jar before him like a shield. "Take your best shot."

 

Cellera's teeth ground together as she let her gathered energy dissipate, Gohan doing the same beside her. Their enemy's mocking laughter grated against her ears as she studied the jar containing Earth's guardian, rapidly calculating their options. They needed to free Kami, but every strategy that came to mind carried too much risk - one wrong move could give Garlic Jr. the opening to destroy him. If that happened, they'd lose not only Earth's guardian, but Piccolo and the Dragon Balls as well.

 

The familiar weight of tactical advantage had shifted entirely to their opponent's side. For once, Cellera found herself without a clear path forward. She needed time to analyze the situation, to find some weakness in Garlic Jr.'s defense that wouldn't put Kami at risk.

 

The smallest of Garlic Jr.'s warriors stepped forward, his high-pitched laugh joining his master's. "Can we play with our new friends?" Salt asked, practically bouncing with malicious excitement.

 

"Patience," Garlic Jr. commanded. With a wave of his hand, the temple's roof exploded outward as an ornate throne materialized, settling among the debris. He lowered himself onto it with deliberate grace, a satisfied smirk playing across his features. "You may entertain yourselves with them until Goku arrives. But remember - Gohan is mine. Don't damage him too severely."

 

Cellera's lip curled in disgust at how casually he reduced them to mere playthings, but her contempt for his treatment of Gohan was cut short as Salt launched into action. His foot connected with Gohan's chest, the force sending him skidding toward the Lookout's edge.

 

"Gohan!" Her attempt to reach him was halted by Mustard's massive fist driving into her stomach. The impact rivaled Recoome's crushing strength, nearly bringing her to her knees. But instead of showing pain, she lifted her head with a predatory smile.

 

"Is that all?" she taunted, meeting his eyes with pure Saiyan defiance.

 

Mustard's answering chuckle rumbled deep in his chest as he reached for her, but Cellera was already moving. She twisted away from his grasp, her leg whipping around to connect with his temple. The force sent him crashing through one of the few remaining trees, splintering wood exploding in all directions.

 

A series of dull thuds drew her attention back to Gohan. Salt had him pinned, massive boots repeatedly slamming into her friend's body. Rage flared in her chest, but she forced it down. She'd sparred with Gohan enough to know his true strength - he could handle himself. Right now, she had her own opponent to deal with.

 

As if on cue, Mustard emerged from the wreckage, murder in his eyes. He charged forward with surprising speed for his size, and Cellera met his assault head-on. They took to the air, trading blows at a furious pace. Each punch carried enough force to shatter stone, each kick displacing the air around them with thunderous cracks.

 

For every strike Mustard landed, Cellera returned two of her own. Her smaller size gave her maneuverability his bulk couldn't match, letting her weave through his defenses. But any satisfaction at her advantage was tempered by the knowledge that these warriors were merely following their master's command to "play" with them. The real test would come when they stopped holding back.

 

A flash of movement caught her attention - Salt gathering energy for an attack while Gohan remained prone. That split second of distraction cost her as Mustard's boot connected with her ribs, sending her hurtling into Gohan. They crashed together in a tangle of limbs, and Cellera barely managed to grab Gohan's arm and yank them both aside as Salt's attack incinerated a decorative bush where they'd been lying.

 

The acrid smell of burning foliage filled the air as Cellera watched the plant crumble to ash. Her jaw tightened - while these warriors might not possess Frieza's raw power, their techniques were clearly lethal. One wrong move could prove fatal.

 

Mustard landed beside Salt, both warriors cackling at their targets' growing frustration. The sound grated against Cellera's ears, reminding her too much of Frieza's soldiers taking pleasure in others' suffering.

 

"I've had enough of these two," she growled, turning to Gohan. After a year of training together, she didn't need to explain her plan - the look they shared said everything. Their spars between his study sessions had perfected this particular combination.

 

"No more playing around!" Gohan's voice matched her determination.

 

They took their stances, power erupting around them as they released their restrained energy. The force of their combined auras tore tiles from the Lookout's surface, sending debris swirling around them. Salt and Mustard's laughter died as they felt the sudden surge in power, their own hands rising in unison to launch a combined attack.

 

A knowing look passed between Gohan and Cellera as he stepped in front of her, arms raised in a defensive stance. Their countless image training sessions had prepared them for exactly this kind of teamwork.

 

"Are you sure?" she asked, recalling the destructive force of Salt's earlier attack.

 

"I'll be fine," Gohan's voice carried absolute conviction. "Do it."

That was all Cellera needed. She brought her thumbs and index fingers together, forming the familiar square frame before expanding it. Ki gathered within the space .

 

Salt and Mustard unleashed their combined blast, the energy roaring toward them in a crimson wave. Gohan met it head-on, his ki shield flaring to life. The collision bathed the Lookout in hellish red light, smoke billowing around them. Through it all, Gohan's stance remained unshakeable, showing just how far he'd come since their first meeting.

 

Their opponents' triumphant laughter echoed across the courtyard. Cellera allowed herself a small chuckle - they had no idea what she and Gohan were truly capable of..

 

As the smoke began to clear, that laughter died in their throats. Their opponents' confident expressions crumbled into shock and fear at the sight of Gohan standing firm, only light scratches marking his forearms. Before they could react, he leapt behind Cellera with precise timing.

 

"Nova Frame!" The attack burst forth with devastating force, the recoil threatening to knock her off balance. But Gohan's steady presence behind her provided the anchor she needed, their coordination perfect.

 

The blast caught both warriors completely off-guard, too quick to dodge and too powerful to survive. When the light faded, nothing remained of Salt and Mustard.

 

Cellera and Gohan took to the air, hovering before Garlic Jr., Spice, and the possessed Piccolo. Their enemy's composed facade cracked further as he witnessed the destruction of his minions.

 

"You rotten little rugrats!" Garlic Jr.'s growl carried equal parts fury and disbelief. Clearly, he hadn't expected these "children" to dispatch his warriors so efficiently.

 

"Let me at them!" Vinegar snarled, muscles tensing for combat.

 

"Save your energy," Spice's smile carried dark anticipation as he released his grip on Piccolo. "Our new family member seems eager for a turn."

 

The moment he was free, Piccolo charged forward with a feral roar. Gohan's earlier battle fury melted away at the sight of his mentor's apparent madness. "What're you doing, Piccolo?" The soft question carried years of trust and confusion.

 

Piccolo's response was swift and brutal - an uppercut that sent Gohan crashing to the ground below. Cellera's teeth ground together as she watched her friend impact the marble tiles. Before Piccolo could pursue, she interposed herself between them.

 

"Don't do it, Piccolo," she warned, her voice pitched low enough that only he could hear. "You'll regret hurting him." She appealed to what she knew of his protective nature toward Gohan, catching the slight twitch of his antenna before his left hook caught her off-guard.

 

As she sailed through the air, Cellera immediately noticed that the force behind his strike was negligible compared to their recent training matches - she'd felt him hit harder during basic warm-ups. Righting herself mid-flight, she locked eyes with Piccolo as they both assumed fighting stances.

 

The pieces began falling into place: his suspiciously quick capture at the island, the exaggerated savagery that seemed more performance than possession, and now this pulled punch that barely qualified as a love tap by their usual standards. Her eyes narrowed slightly as understanding dawned. Piccolo wasn't infected at all - he was acting, playing a role while presumably pursuing some larger strategy.

 

The question was: what exactly was he planning?

 

Studying Piccolo's stance, Cellera made her decision. Though his exact plan remained unclear, she trusted him enough to follow his lead. She caught Gohan's anguished expression as he watched them, still trying to reason with his mentor. Before resuming combat, she gave Piccolo the barest of nods - a signal that she understood the deception and would play along. Perhaps between them, they could help Gohan see through the act as well.

 

They charged at each other again, exchanging blows that looked devastating but carried little real force behind them. The choreography ended with Piccolo unleashing a ki blast that sent Cellera skidding across the Lookout's floor, coming to rest near Gohan.

 

She remained motionless as Gohan rushed to her side, his voice tight with worry. "Cellera! Are you okay? Please get up!"

 

His concern was cut short as Piccolo's kick sent him crashing into one of the temple's columns. Garlic Jr.'s satisfied chuckle echoed across the courtyard as Gohan slumped onto the steps, his usual fighting spirit seeming to crumble at the sight of his mentor's apparent betrayal.

 

Through barely-focused eyes, Gohan watched helplessly as Piccolo stalked toward Cellera's prone form. The Namekian warrior seized her by the throat, lifting her off the ground as she made a show of struggling against his grip. Gohan tried to rise from the steps, only to stumble. "Piccolo, stop!"

 

His plea went unanswered as Piccolo spun Cellera around, bringing her shoulder close to his mouth. She let out a piercing shriek that made Piccolo's antenna twitch - a reminder of his sensitive hearing that she'd discovered during their sparring sessions. She felt a flicker of guilt for the pain she knew it caused him, but maintaining the illusion was crucial to whatever strategy he was pursuing.

 

Lying motionless on the ground, Cellera replayed Piccolo's whispered instructions in her mind. Their task was clear: feign submission to the Black Water Mist's influence and use that deception to get close enough to free Kami and Mr. Popo. She trusted Piccolo's judgment - he'd clearly been planning this since his "capture" at the island.

 

As she maintained her facade of unconsciousness, her mind worked through potential strategies. Garlic Jr.'s obsession with Gohan was obvious - every taunt, every command to his minions centered around ensuring he would be the one to defeat the boy personally. That kind of fixation could be exploited.

 

If they could maneuver the fight into the palace where their enemy lounged on his throne, the temptation to personally finish off the object of his hatred might prove too strong to resist.

 

The sounds of combat between Piccolo and Gohan circled around her position - the impact of blows, grunts of exertion, and the crash of someone being thrown through another piece of the Lookout's architecture. She felt bad about having to deceive Gohan like this, but if she could somehow help him see through their act... With his own sharp mind, one that could even rival her own, he'd understand what they were attempting. The three of them working in concert could completely blindside Garlic Jr. and his remaining followers.

 

Drawing in a slow breath, Cellera prepared herself to rise and begin the next phase of their deception. She held onto her absolute faith in Gohan's perceptiveness. He'd recognize the truth hidden beneath their performance - he had to.

 

Cellera rose from the ground, letting her face settle into the same mindless aggression she'd seen in the other infected victims. She spotted Gohan struggling to his feet, debris from the collapsed architecture sliding off his small form. Without hesitation, she launched herself at him, each precisely aimed strike designed to drive him closer to the palace wall.

 

"Please stop, Cellera!" Gohan pleaded, blocking another strike. "This isn't you!" 

 

Garlic Jr.'s laughter rang across the Lookout. "Whether they breathe the Black Water Mist or are bitten by one already infected, they serve only me now! The almighty Garlic Jr.!"

 

Gohan felt that familiar anger building in his chest, the same power that always seemed to emerge when his emotions peaked. But even as rage simmered beneath the surface, he couldn't bring himself to do more than defend. He desperately wished his dad was here - he would know exactly what to do, would find some way to save everyone. But his father was gone, and now with both Cellera and Piccolo under Garlic Jr.'s control, everything depended on him.

 

Gohan knew he could be stronger - he'd felt that power burst forth before when his anger took over. But what good was that strength if using it meant hurting the people he cared about? Every time that hidden power had emerged, it had never been enough on its own. Against the Saiyans, his rage-fueled attack had only managed to hurt Nappa before his dad had to save them. On Namek, despite all his power increases, Frieza had still been far beyond him.

 

As he continued blocking Cellera's attacks, that familiar doubt crept in. Even if he did tap into that anger, would it be enough? Or would he just end up failing again, possibly hurting Cellera and Piccolo in the process?

 

Cellera's strike caught his left side - a familiar point of contact that sent him skidding toward the temple's side entrance. The force behind it was identical to their secret sparring sessions they would have when they weren’t under his mother’s watchful eye, when she would exploit that same opening to remind him about his guard. Her consistent critiques of his left side had become almost routine.

 

As Gohan pushed himself up, his eyes met Cellera's, and something clicked. Her eyes remained their natural onyx, as dark as her hair - not the eerie pink that marked the Black Water Mist's influence. His mind raced back to earlier, when she'd specifically drawn his attention to his mother's transformed eyes. Then there was Garlic Jr.'s boast about infection spreading through bites...

 

Piccolo's eyes did show that pink glow, but Gohan suddenly remembered his mentor's unique Namekian abilities. A warrior who could materialize clothing from nothing would hardly find changing eye color challenging. The pieces fell into place with startling clarity - neither Piccolo nor Cellera had truly fallen under Garlic Jr.'s control!

 

He caught the subtle flicker of Cellera's gaze toward the temple entrance beside him. The message was clear - whatever strategy she and Piccolo had devised required moving their battle inside. Now he just had to play his part without giving away his understanding.

Cellera watched with a mix of pride and guilt as Gohan endured their assault. While she and Piccolo had perhaps been unnecessarily rough, they couldn't risk any hesitation that might reveal their deception to Garlic Jr. Their performance had to be flawless.

 

Together, they had used Gohan like a living pinball, driving him steadily closer to their target with each exchange. When their final combined strike sent him crashing through the last wall to land before Garlic Jr.'s throne, she could see the toll their "fight" had taken. His small frame trembled with exhaustion as he struggled to maintain consciousness.

 

Garlic Jr. lounged on his throne, casually taking a bite from an apple as he regarded Gohan's prone form. "Look on the bright side," he taunted between bites. "At least you'll get to see the Sacred Water before I terminate you."

 

"You won't... get away with this," Gohan managed through gritted teeth. Though he pushed himself up on shaking arms, his stance was unsteady. Cellera felt her chest tighten, unsure if his weakness was still part of their shared act or if they'd genuinely pushed him too far. She silently pleaded for him to hold on just a little longer - they were so close to their goal.

 

"Why continue to resist?" Spice's voice carried false sympathy. "You're the only one left. Why not join us?"

 

"Lord Garlic," Vinegar interrupted, practically salivating at the prospect of violence, "allow me the pleasure of disposing of this roach. Unless you'd prefer to do the honors yourself?"

 

The word 'roach' made Cellera's muscles tense involuntarily. Memories of Frieza using the same insult flooded back - his casual cruelty as he'd talked about how he failed repeatedly to eliminate her. She forced her expression to remain blank, though her hands clenched briefly at her sides.

 

Garlic Jr. waved his hand dismissively at his henchman. "Do as you please." Cellera felt her stomach tighten - their performance hadn't been enough to draw out their enemy's obsession with defeating Gohan personally. As Vinegar and Spice moved toward Gohan, she and Piccolo quickly intercepted them, driving their shoulders into the larger warriors to knock them away from their target.

 

The palace's confined space made the ensuing battle more intimate and brutal. Piccolo sent Gohan flying with a roundhouse kick that the boy barely managed to block, the force still sending him crashing into one of the ornate pillars. Before he could fully regain his footing, Cellera was there, her strikes pushing him back toward the center of the room. Each hit was perfectly calculated - enough force to look convincing without causing serious harm, but the cumulative effect was clearly taking its toll.

 

Sweat dripped from Gohan's brow as he struggled to maintain his defense. His movements had grown sluggish and when he tried to counter one of Cellera's strikes, Piccolo caught his extended arm and threw him across the room. He tumbled across the polished floor, barely managing to roll back to his feet.

 

The combination of their earlier battle outside and this confined assault had clearly drained him. His chest heaved with labored breaths, his gi torn and dirty from multiple impacts. Still, that familiar determination burned in his eyes as he raised his guard once more.

 

Seeing the perfect opportunity, Cellera launched forward. Her fist drove into his stomach with carefully controlled force, but his exhausted state made the impact seem far more devastating than it was. The strike sent him sprawling directly before Garlic Jr.'s throne, where he lay struggling to push himself up on trembling arms.

 

Piccolo stalked forward, seizing Gohan by his gi collar and drawing back his fist for what appeared to be a finishing blow. But before he could strike, Garlic Jr.'s hand shot out to grab his arm.

 

"I think I'll finish him myself after all," the demon declared.

 

Triumph surged through Cellera as their plan finally succeeded. Piccolo released Gohan, turning to Garlic Jr. with a knowing smirk. "The pleasure is all yours, my lord." The unexpected deference caught their enemy off guard just long enough for Piccolo to seize Garlic Jr.'s hand and snatch the glass jars containing Kami and Mr. Popo, tossing them to Cellera in one fluid motion.

 

She quickly popped the tops off, releasing a cloud of smoke as Earth's guardian and his assistant emerged from their prisons. Without hesitation, she dropped to check on Gohan, who lay still on the floor - taking what she hoped was just a brief, well-deserved rest after enduring their performance.

 

A growl of fury drew her attention back to Garlic Jr. His fist began to glow with crimson energy before releasing a small blast that forced Piccolo to release his grip. The demon launched himself backward toward his throne, rage twisting his features. "You'll pay dearly for that deception!"

 

Piccolo's smirk widened as he cracked his neck, the fang marks vanishing. "Not going to happen, garlic breath."

 

Still riding the high of their successful deception, Cellera couldn't resist twisting the knife further. "To be fooled so easily...it seems that your stature isn't the only thing that's small." She savored each mocking word. "Though I hear you once fell into your own trap? And here I thought incompetence like that was impossible."

 

A deep flush spread across Garlic Jr.'s blue skin. "Shut up, you little brat! Do you have any idea who you're speaking to?!" His rage only intensified when Cellera dismissed him entirely, turning instead to address Piccolo.

 

"Excellent plan," she said, her earlier mockery replaced with genuine respect. Her gaze dropped to Gohan's battered form. "Though perhaps we were a bit rough with him."

 

"He's trained to withstand worse than that," Piccolo assured her, though something in his tone suggested he shared her concern. Even knowing Gohan's resilience, Cellera couldn't quite shake the guilt at seeing her friend so exhausted. She knelt beside him, gently shaking his shoulders.

 

Gohan's eyes fluttered open, fatigue evident in every movement. "Did it work?" he managed, voice barely above a whisper.

 

"It worked," Piccolo confirmed, rare pride coloring his words. "You did well holding out that long."

 

A tired laugh escaped Gohan, the sound carrying equal parts relief and exhaustion.

 

"Quick thinking," Piccolo turned to Cellera. "Catching on to the plan and bringing Gohan into it."

 

She smiled, meeting the Namekian's eyes. "I may not have known you long, but I know what you're capable of." His answering smirk showed he caught her meaning, a moment of understanding passing between them.

 

Cellera turned back to Gohan, a rare genuine smile softening her features. "Sorry about being so rough back there," she said. "Though I knew you could handle it - you faced worse on Namek." Her smile widened slightly. "I'll make it up to you by helping with your math studies later, though I still don't understand how you find it difficult."

 

Gohan chuckled at her familiar bewilderment over his occasional struggles with arithmetic. "Deal," he said, taking her outstretched hand and pulling himself up.

 

"Though, I admit I'm curious," she said as she helped steady him. "What was it I did that gave it away?"

 

"Well, that strike to my left side was familiar," Gohan replied. "But mainly it was your eyes."

 

Cellera blinked, tilting her head. "My eyes?"

 

He nodded. "They never changed color, not like my mom's when you pointed it out earlier."

 

The observation made Cellera recall those few moments when their gazes had locked, just before she'd noticed the shift in his understanding. Once again, her friend's perception impressed her - he'd caught details she hadn't even considered while formulating their deception.

 

"Thank you, Piccolo," Kami's voice carried across the chamber from where he stood beside Mr. Popo. "And you as well, children."

 

"Don't misunderstand," Piccolo growled back. "I didn't do it because I wanted to. With you captured, I can't fight at full power."

 

Cellera fought back a knowing smile at his gruff response. Given how quickly he'd formulated their rescue plan, she doubted his motivation was purely self-serving. Judging by Kami's dry "Yes, of course," the guardian of Earth shared her skepticism.

 

Garlic Jr. turned with a dramatic flourish of his cape. "Taking over the universe isn't easy," he sighed with theatrical weariness, "but days like this make it all worthwhile."

 

His maniacal laughter echoed through the chamber, but Cellera barely registered it. Her mind conjured unwanted images of Frieza, his sadistic smile and that deadly finger that could erase lives and planets with casual ease. She'd witnessed true universal domination - had lived under it for majority of her life.

 

Garlic Jr.'s voice cut through her memories: "You are about to witness the birth of a new world of darkness and evil! And I will be the ruler of this beautiful new world!"

 

Something inside Cellera snapped. She had escaped one dictator's control - watched her father die by Frieza's hand, endured years of servitude, finally found freedom on Earth. She would not let another tyrant rise. She would not let anyone else suffer that fate. 

 

Raw emotion surged through her as she charged forward. For a brief moment, golden light flickered around her form before vanishing, leaving everyone stunned at the unexpected display. But before she could reach Garlic Jr., Vinegar and Spice intercepted her path.

 

Gohan was right behind her, driving both feet into Spice's abdomen and propelling them toward the floor. The opening let Cellera land a devastating punch that sent Vinegar crashing through one of the remaining columns, stone crumbling under the impact.

 

The brief flash of Super Saiyan power had surprised her as much as everyone else, but there was no time to dwell on it. "Help me deal with these two!" she called to Gohan. "We'll catch up with Piccolo after!"

 

She could see him favoring his right side, still worn from their earlier performance, but his eyes held that same determination she'd come to rely on. Working together, they could handle this - they always did.

 

Cellera wanted to help him directly, but Vinegar demanded her full attention, his attacks becoming more aggressive with each exchange. She ducked under another wild swing, using his momentum against him to send him crashing into the floor. The impact left a crater in the polished stone, but Vinegar emerged with a twisted grin.

 

"Clever brat," he growled, wiping blood from his lip. "But let's see how you handle this!" His muscles bulged grotesquely as he unleashed a barrage of ki blasts.

 

Meanwhile, Gohan found himself caught in Spice's hair, the silver strands wrapping around his throat. Despite his exhaustion, he managed to gather enough ki to create a barrier, forcing the strange appendages away. But the effort left him gasping.

 

"Gohan!" Cellera's concern nearly cost her as Vinegar's fist grazed her cheek. She spun away, calculating their options. They needed to end this quickly - Gohan was running on fumes after their earlier performance.

 

As if reading her thoughts, Gohan caught her eye. Without a word, they switched opponents, Cellera's kick forcing Spice to release his hair's grip while Gohan ducked under Vinegar's guard.

 

The sudden change threw their opponents off balance. Cellera capitalized on Spice's surprise, her combination of strikes driving him steadily backward. Behind her, she heard Vinegar's frustrated roar as Gohan slipped through his defenses again and again.

 

"Now!" Cellera called out, recognizing the perfect moment.

 

Gohan gathered what remained of his strength into one devastating punch, driving it deep into Spice's abdomen. The silver-haired warrior doubled over, leaving him perfectly positioned for Gohan's uppercut that sent him flying upward - directly onto one of the ornate spikes protruding from the palace wall. The impact was sickeningly final.

 

"Kid's got some fight left after all," Vinegar snarled, but his bravado couldn't hide the fear in his eyes as Cellera and Gohan advanced on him together.

 

Cellera felt a familiar smirk cross her face - one that reminded her too much of her father. "Want to test that theory?"

 

Before Vinegar could respond, she and Gohan moved in perfect sync. While his earlier exhaustion still showed in his movements, Gohan provided the perfect distraction, forcing Vinegar to divide his attention. The massive warrior couldn't track them both, his attacks growing wilder as panic set in.

 

"This is for calling Gohan a roach," Cellera muttered, gathering her ki. The blast erupted from her hands with devastating force, vaporizing Vinegar before he could even scream.

 

As the light faded, she turned to find Gohan swaying slightly on his feet. Without hesitation, she moved to support him, letting him lean against her shoulder despite their similar height.

 

"You okay?" she asked, genuine concern replacing her battle focus.

 

"Yeah," Gohan managed a tired smile. "Just need to catch my breath." He glanced at her with weary but warm eyes. "Thanks for having my back."

 

"Of course, always." She replied simply, the word carrying all they'd been through together on Namek. "Come on," she said, adjusting her grip to better support him. "We should catch up to Piccolo before Garlic Jr. tries anything else."

 

They found Piccolo facing off against Garlic Jr., who seemed intent on taunting Earth's former guardian. "Worried about Kami?" the demon sneered. "I would be too if I was linked to a decrepit old prune."

 

"Well, if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black," Cellera's voice cut through their exchange as she and Gohan approached, still supporting her friend's tired frame. She couldn't resist adding a jab at their diminutive enemy - after all, between his small stature and blue, wrinkled skin, he hardly had room to mock anyone's appearance.

 

"You little brat... I've had just about enough of you!" Garlic Jr. growled, his composure cracking further. "Allow me to show you the strength of the almighty Garlic Jr.!"

 

"'Almighty'?" Cellera let out a short laugh that would have made Vegeta proud. "I've served under beings who could destroy solar systems with a gesture." Her voice carried the weight of personal experience, memories of Frieza's casual devastation lending steel to her words. "Next to them, you're nothing but a child playing at power."

 

The taunt struck its mark perfectly. Garlic Jr.'s face contorted with rage, his fixation on Cellera leaving him completely vulnerable to Piccolo's attack. The Namekian warrior drove his shoulder into their opponent with devastating force, propelling him through multiple palace walls. Piccolo controlled his momentum with practiced precision, halting his charge only after the combination had done its work. Debris rained down on Garlic Jr.'s prone form, dust settling around him in the aftermath.

 

"It's over, Garlic Jr.," Piccolo declared.

 

But their opponent merely wiped blood from his mouth, his chuckle carrying an ominous edge that made Cellera's danger instincts scream warnings at Garlic Jr.'s unperturbed demeanor. His confidence despite the beating he'd just taken suggested something far more dangerous lurking beneath the surface.

 

Her suspicions proved correct as he pointed skyward, drawing their attention to a crimson orb hanging in the darkened sky like a malevolent eye.

 

"Behold the Makyo Star! The source of my power!" His voice carried newfound confidence, all traces of his earlier frustration gone. "So long as I have that star, there's nothing you can do to stop me from taking this planet for my own." He raised both hands, and immediately the air around them grew heavy with gathering power.

 

"He's changing." Recognition colored Piccolo's voice, and something in his tone – a hint of genuine concern from the usually stoic warrior – made Cellera's spine stiffen. "Cellera, Gohan! Get out of here!"

 

Before she could question the urgency in his command, the Lookout began to shake violently. Massive beams of crimson light erupted from its surface, shooting in all directions like deadly spears as the ancient structure began to collapse around them. The sacred palace, which had stood for centuries, crumbled under the onslaught of this new power.

 

When the chaos subsided, they pulled themselves from the debris. "Piccolo?" Gohan's voice carried a questioning note, but their mentor's only response was another urgent command to leave.

 

A thunderous crash drew their attention. Cellera turned to find Garlic Jr., but the small figure who'd provoked her mockery was gone. In his place stood a towering form that dwarfed even Piccolo's impressive height. She found herself regretting her earlier comments about his stature.

 

"I've had it with you lot!" Garlic Jr.'s voice had deepened with his transformation, rumbling through the devastated palace. "Now it's my turn to have some fun!" He lunged forward, massive hands reaching for both children.

 

Cellera shoved Gohan aside, but couldn't escape herself. Garlic Jr.'s grip closed around her small frame before slamming her into the ground with enough force to crack the marble tiles. A dark chuckle escaped him as debris rained down around her prone form. "Still think I'm just a child playing at power?"

 

Cellera shoved Gohan aside, but couldn't escape herself. Garlic Jr.'s grip closed around her small frame before slamming her into the ground with enough force to crack the marble tiles. A dark chuckle escaped him as debris rained down around her prone form. "Still think I'm just a child playing at power?"

 

"Cellera!" Gohan's worried cry echoed across The Lookout. She pushed herself up through the rubble, her mind already analyzing their situation. That single strike had carried more force than anything the Ginyu Force had ever managed, and she could tell their enemy was still holding back.

 

Piccolo seized what he thought was an opening while Garlic Jr. gloated, but their opponent's new speed proved overwhelming. He simply stepped aside from the attack - directly into Gohan's path. The boy's rage-fueled kick connected solidly with the demon's stomach, but Garlic Jr. only smirked. His hand closed around Gohan's ankle, using the boy's own momentum to send him spinning through the air.

 

Cellera had already launched herself forward, hoping to capitalize on Gohan's distraction, but Garlic Jr.'s timing proved perfect. He released Gohan at precisely the right moment, sending him crashing into her. The impact drove them both into one of the few remaining pillars, stone crumbling around their tangled forms.

 

As Cellera and Gohan pulled themselves from the debris, a familiar frustration gnawed at her. If only she could transform into a Super Saiyan - truly transform, not just these fleeting flashes of golden aura and hair that had teased her for the past months. Despite all her training, despite knowing she had the power somewhere inside her, it remained just out of reach. And now, facing Garlic Jr.'s overwhelming strength, that limitation might cost them everything.

 

"Are you okay?" Gohan asked, concern evident in his voice.

 

"Yeah," she managed, but her attention had already shifted to where Piccolo had Garlic Jr. pinned against a crumbling stone wall. The Namekian's fists were a blur, each impact sending cracks spider-webbing through the ancient rock. For a moment, it seemed they might have the advantage - until Garlic Jr.'s massive knee drove into Piccolo's stomach. Cellera felt the sudden drop in Piccolo's ki.

 

"This isn't good," she said, tension creeping into her voice. "Piccolo's power just plummeted."

 

Garlic Jr. drew back his fist, clearly intending to finish Piccolo off. Before Cellera could even process what was happening, Gohan had already moved. His small hands caught Garlic Jr.'s massive fist, a golden sphere of energy erupting around him as he screamed. The force sent their towering opponent stumbling backward, rage twisting his features as he glared at the boy.

 

The sight of Gohan standing protectively before Piccolo sent Cellera's mind back to their first battle on Earth - how Piccolo had thrown himself between Gohan and Nappa's attack without hesitation. Now their positions were reversed, the student protecting his mentor. But Gohan didn't wait for Garlic Jr. to recover, launching himself forward with a barrage of punches that drove repeatedly into the demon's stomach.

 

Cellera rushed to Piccolo's side, alarm spreading across her features as his form flickered between solid and transparent. "What's happening to you?"

 

Piccolo managed a weak laugh. "It's Kami... something must have happened." At her questioning look, he explained, "After you left, Kami and Mr. Popo went to deliver the Sacred Water to the Seven Air Vents of the world. It's the only way to counter the Black Water Mist's curse across the Earth."

 

A sudden shout cut through their conversation. "I've had it with you! It's over!"

 

Cellera and Piccolo turned to find Gohan charging at Garlic Jr., his battle cry echoing across the Lookout. She recognized that look immediately - the same fierce expression he'd worn facing down Frieza, Nappa, and Dodoria. This was the warrior that lay beneath his gentle exterior, the protector who emerged when those he cared about were threatened.

 

With devastating force, Gohan crashed into Garlic Jr.'s back, his small form literally tearing through the demon's massive body. Their towering opponent staggered backward before collapsing to the ground. Cellera stared wide-eyed at the display of raw power. Had Gohan actually managed to defeat him?

 

"Gohan, it's still not over!" Piccolo's warning barely finished before Gohan unleashed a massive Masenko, the energy blast engulfing Garlic Jr.'s fallen form and leaving a thick cloud of smoke in its wake.

 

As the smoke cleared, Cellera felt her earlier relief transform into pure horror. Garlic Jr. stood unscathed, as if Gohan's devastating attacks had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

 

"Thanks a lot!" Garlic Jr. chuckled. "I needed to lose a couple of pounds!" His massive form shook with laughter. "You pack a punch for such a little kid. But I think your plan of attack has a few holes in it!"

 

Cellera whirled toward Piccolo. "How is he still alive? Gohan tore straight through him!"

 

"He used the Dragon Balls to make himself immortal," Piccolo replied grimly.

 

Her usual composed demeanor shattered completely. "That would've been crucial information to know earlier!" she found herself shouting, making Piccolo wince at the volume. She pressed her thumb to her lip, mind racing through possible strategies. The only solution that presented itself was somehow tricking him into reopening the Dead Zone. But would he really be foolish enough to make the same mistake twice?

 

The sight of Garlic Jr. casually sealing the hole in his stomach made her stomach turn. "Now it's my turn to have some fun," he growled, lunging toward a shell-shocked Gohan.

 

Piccolo moved with desperate speed, his kick barely deflecting Garlic Jr.'s charge. But when he pressed his advantage, following through for another strike, his body phased harmlessly through their opponent, his form once again becoming ghost-like and translucent.

 

Piccolo sailed through the air, his agonized cry echoing across the Lookout as yellow lightning crackled around his fluctuating form. He hit the ground hard, struggling to rise as his body shifted between solid and ghost-like transparency. Behind him, Garlic Jr.'s laughter rang out, spurring Cellera and Gohan into action.

 

They charged forward in unison but Garlic Jr.'s massive hands seized both their heads. Pain exploded through Cellera's skull as he slammed them together before hurling them in opposite directions.

 

The world spun violently as Cellera hit the ground, her head throbbing from the impact with Gohan's. Through the haze of pain, she heard his distant cry of "Masenko!" followed by a deafening explosion that made her ears ring. She could only assume his attack had found its target.

 

Silence fell for a few precious moments before Garlic Jr.'s groan transformed into an enraged roar. "Nice try! But you'll have to do a lot better than that!" The sound of falling debris made Cellera turn her head - a movement she instantly regretted as her vision swam. Through blurred eyes, she watched Garlic Jr. leap from the rubble to land before Gohan. Her muscles screamed in protest as she tried to force herself up. She had to move!

 

"Say hello to a whole new world of pain!" Garlic Jr. snarled, his massive hand closing around Gohan's throat. The boy's small hands clawed desperately at the iron grip slowly crushing his windpipe.

 

Yellow electricity still crackling around his unstable form, Piccolo forced himself to stand. "Put him down, now!" Their mentor's punch drove into Garlic Jr.'s stomach, but the demon didn't even flinch. Instead, his free hand shot out to seize Piccolo's head.

 

"Two heads are always better than one!" Garlic Jr. cackled, squeezing both his victims with sadistic glee.

 

Cellera's teeth ground together as Gohan and Piccolo's agonized cries pierced through her disorientation. Her fist slammed into the Lookout's marble tiles, creating a spiderweb of cracks. That carefully maintained composure began to crack along with it, giving way to raw frustration.

 

That familiar feeling of helplessness crashed over her – the same paralysis she'd felt watching Guldo torment Gohan and Krillin on Namek, the horror of seeing Gohan's neck snapped by Recoome's kick, the devastating moment of her father's death at Frieza's hands. Her mind began to flicker through images of everyone she now fought to protect: Bulma's welcoming smile, Chichi's fierce devotion, Gohan's quiet strength, Krillin's unwavering friendship, Piccolo's stoic wisdom, Kakarot's determined spirit, even her father's distant presence.

 

She would not watch it happen again!

 

She would not let this demon take another world, another family. She didn't care if Garlic Jr. was immortal. He'd been defeated once by his own arrogance, and she would make him repeat that mistake. She had to. More than that - she needed to.

 

Something shifted inside her at that realization. Not a desire for power or glory, but a pure, burning need to protect. The same battle lust that had been growing within her surged forward, but this time she didn't fight it or try to control it. Instead, she channeled it, let it fuel that desperate need to save those she cared about.

 

In that moment of clarity, she understood. The trigger wasn't rage or desperation alone - it was need. Pure, unselfish need born from the desire to protect others. She committed every detail to memory, knowing this understanding would be crucial for maintaining the transformation in the future.

 

The sensation started at the base of her spine, a familiar warmth that shot upward along her back and concentrated between her shoulder blades before spreading through her entire body like lightning through water. Unlike her uncontrolled burst of rage on Namek, this time she felt every aspect of the transformation, every cell in her body igniting at once as golden light erupted around her. Her hair lifted and spiked, transforming from midnight black to brilliant gold. But unlike those fleeting flashes from before, this time the power stayed, coursing through her in steady waves.

 

Power crackling around her transformed form, she rose to her feet, eyes locked onto Garlic Jr. The battle instincts screaming through her Saiyan blood demanded victory and dominance, but there was one more demand that overrode that; protection. And this time, she would answer that call.

 

Garlic Jr.'s torture of Piccolo and Gohan halted as he turned toward the sudden surge of power. That momentary distraction was all Cellera needed - she materialized before him, her fist connecting with his face with devastating force. The impact sent him flying backward, his grip on Piccolo and Gohan breaking as he crashed through the temple walls.

 

Piccolo and Gohan stared at her transformed state in stunned silence. They hadn't witnessed this golden power since that desperate moment on Namek. While Garlic Jr. remained buried under the temple's debris, Cellera quickly outlined her plan.

 

"You mentioned he caught himself in his own trap - the Dead Zone?" she asked.

 

"Y-Yeah," Gohan managed, still catching his breath.

 

Her transformed eyes held steady resolve. "Then we make him open it again. But I need to know everything about it. I've had enough surprises for one day."

 

"It acts like a black hole," Piccolo explained, his form stabilizing slightly. "Draws everything into eternal darkness." He glanced at Gohan with something approaching pride. "Only person I've ever seen withstand its pull was Gohan."

 

Cellera turned to her friend, who met her gaze with firm determination. "I can do it again."

 

A small smile touched her lips. "I'll be counting on you."

 

"But how do we get him to open it?" Gohan asked. "Would he really make the same mistake twice?"

 

A smirk crossed Cellera's face - one that mirrored her father's with unsettling accuracy. "Leave that to me. I'll wound his pride enough that he won't be able to help himself."

 

Cellera's powered form blurred forward, her fist catching Garlic Jr. by surprise as he emerged from the rubble. The impact sent him skidding backward, and she felt a surge of satisfaction at the way his head snapped to the side. The new power coursing through her was intoxicating, and for a moment she understood why her father seemed to lose himself in battle sometimes. The urge to continue pummeling her opponent, to really test these new limits, was almost overwhelming.

 

But she forced that impulse down, reminding herself of her true purpose. She needed to enrage him, not indulge her own battle lust. Still, she couldn't quite suppress a predatory smile as she launched into her next attack.

 

"Are you always this slow, or am I just special?" she called out, weaving through his counter-strike. Her transformed state made his movements seem almost sluggish, and she could practically see the rage building in his eyes with each missed strike.

 

Despite her calculated plan, part of her thrilled at the exchange of blows. Her newfound power thrummed through her veins, demanding to be unleashed. But she channeled it with her mother's temperance, making each dodge a calculated move, every taunt designed to make his next attack more predictable.

 

Her fist slammed into his jaw with devastating force, and she couldn't help the grin that spread across her face. "What's wrong?" she taunted, deliberately echoing her father's tone. "Having trouble hitting a child?"

 

A part of her she'd never fully acknowledged before reveled in the combat, in the way her new power let her toy with her opponent. Each successful strike sent a thrill through her that was both foreign and familiar - the pure joy of battle that marked her Saiyan heritage.

 

"Stand still, you insufferable brat!" Garlic Jr.'s massive fist cratered the ground where she'd stood moments before.

 

"And miss watching you destroy your own palace?" She danced around another wild swing, landing a kick that sent him crashing through one of the few remaining columns. "I thought you wanted to be Earth's guardian. Though I suppose proper aim isn't a requirement."

 

The demon's transformation seemed to grow even more monstrous as his fury mounted. His attacks carried more power but lost all finesse - exactly as she'd planned. Though if she was honest with herself, she was enjoying this far more than she should.

 

Suddenly, golden clouds began to surround the Lookout. "Kami and Mr. Popo did it," Piccolo called out. "They've delivered the Sacred Water!"

 

Cellera glanced toward the horizon where the sun waited to break. Just before dawn. Perfect timing. She watched with satisfaction as understanding dawned on Garlic Jr.'s face, his features twisting with impotent rage as his plans crumbled around him.

 

"What's this?" she asked, unable to resist twisting the knife. "The almighty Garlic Jr., defeated by mortals?" Her smirk widened. "And mere children, no less."

"You meddling fools have ruined everything!" Garlic Jr. roared. "I'll make you pay for this!" His eyes fixed on Cellera with murderous rage. "Starting with you and your smart mouth!"

 

His form began to glow as he lifted off the ground, encasing himself in a protective bubble. The sky above them seemed to tear apart, revealing a swirling vortex of black and crimson. The force of its pull immediately began drawing debris upward, tiles and rubble flying past them toward the void.

 

Cellera quickly made her way toward Gohan and the others, but the Dead Zone's pull grew stronger with each step. As her feet left the ground, she threw her hand out desperately. Gohan caught her wrist, pulling her into his protective shield. She gave him an approving nod, which he returned as he positioned himself in front of her and Piccolo.

 

"The Dead Zone will swallow you up and keep you for all eternity! There's no escape!" Garlic Jr.'s voice boomed across the devastated Lookout.

 

Cellera rolled her eyes at his declaration, mentally noting the irony of his own previous escape. But his next taunt carried more weight.

 

"You can't keep that up forever!"

 

She scowled, knowing the demon was right. Her gaze shifted between her companions - Gohan's ki was dangerously low after their earlier battle, and Piccolo's form still flickered unstably. Even her newfound Super Saiyan power wouldn't mean much if they couldn't find a way to counter the Dead Zone's pull.

 

"Guys! I'm slipping!" Gohan's voice strained with effort. Cellera's mind raced. They needed to end this quickly or Earth would share their fate.

 

"Hold on, Gohan! Don't give in!"

 

"The Makyo Star..." Piccolo's weak voice drew her attention. "Look! Blow up the Makyo Star! It's the source of his power!" 

 

That was all Cellera needed - her eyes darted to the crimson sphere hanging in the sky behind Garlic Jr. She gave a sharp nod. "I'll do it!"

 

"No!" Gohan's protest was immediate. "If you leave the shield, you'll get pulled into the Dead Zone!"

 

"It's the only way!" she argued back. Her newfound Super Saiyan power surged through her veins, and with it came a deeper understanding. She wasn't just the daughter of Rhuba, she was also the daughter of Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans. That royal blood demanded nothing less than absolute victory. The Galick Gun might be her father's technique, but right now, it was exactly what they needed.

 

Piccolo's voice backed her. "There's a whole world of people down there to consider." She could see the conflict playing across Gohan's features as he weighed their options.

 

"I'll suck the whole sanctuary up if I have to!" Garlic Jr.'s roar punctuated his point as entire chunks of the Lookout began disappearing into the void. "Oh? What's the matter?" he taunted Gohan. "It's a little different this time, isn't it, you brat?!" His attention shifted to Cellera. "And what about you, little girl? Nothing witty to say now?!"

 

"I'm not sure how much longer I can hold this," Gohan gritted out, "but I'll die before I give in!"

 

"Hey, don't talk like that! Go for the win!" Piccolo scolded before wincing in pain. "Destroy the Makyo Star! Hurry!"

 

As Cellera moved to step out from the shield's protection, Gohan's power suddenly surged. The barrier expanded, forcing her to stop. "Gohan, you can't keep up that output forever! We have to do something or everyone's gone, including Chichi!"

 

The mention of his mother made Gohan's expression shift, but before he could respond, a spherical glow interrupted their debate. Kami and Mr. Popo materialized beside them, and Cellera heard Piccolo's voice behind her - strong and steady once more.

 

"Perfect timing." She turned to find him back on his feet, cracking his knuckles with renewed vigor.

 

"So be it! You'll all die!" Garlic Jr.'s roar preceded an increased pull from the Dead Zone. The force caught Kami and Mr. Popo off guard, breaking their grip as they began to drift toward the void.

 

"Piccolo!" Gohan cried out as his mentor leaped from the shield's protection. Beside him, Cellera shifted into a familiar stance - one she'd watched her father take countless times. Though she'd never attempted the Galick Gun herself, the movements came swiftly to her, as she thought back to the countless times she’s watched her father use the technique himself. 

 

Piccolo managed to knock Kami and Mr. Popo back toward the ground, where they frantically grabbed onto a piece of debris. Using the vacuum's pull to his advantage, Piccolo let himself be drawn toward Garlic Jr. - but their enemy was ready. An energy blast erupted from Garlic Jr.'s stomach, giving Piccolo no room to dodge in the Dead Zone's current. All he could do was cross his arms and brace for impact.

 

"Do it! Attack!" Piccolo commanded through gritted teeth.

 

Cellera stepped toward the edge of Gohan's barrier, positioning herself for the Galick Gun, but stopped at the soft sound of her name. When she turned, the look in Gohan's eyes made her chest tighten. His eyes held a pleading gaze – the same look he'd given her countless times during their studies when he wanted her to stay just a little longer.

 

She gave him a small, confident smile - one reserved only for him. "I promise... we'll come back."

 

Gohan studied her face, remembering that same determined expression from Namek when she'd promised to return from confronting Dodoria. She'd kept her word then, just as she had every time since. Without another word, he watched her step out of his shield's protection, trusting in the promise of his friend.

 

"I've got you now!" Garlic Jr.'s voice boomed as the Dead Zone's force pulled at her transformed body. She drew her hands back to her side, gathering her ki in a way she'd seen her father do countless times. Purple energy began to swirl between her palms, growing more intense with each passing second.

 

Garlic Jr.'s laughter at her apparent vulnerability died in his throat as he caught sight of her smirk. His eyes widened as he realized her true target.

 

"GALICK GUN!" The purple beam erupted from her hands, its trajectory carrying it past Garlic Jr. completely.

 

"What?! No! It can't be!" His cry of despair echoed across the Lookout as her attack struck the Makyo Star. The explosion rocked the very fabric of space, brilliant light temporarily drowning out even the Dead Zone's darkness.

 

Garlic Jr.'s scream of defeat accompanied his body's transformation, his massive form shrinking back to its original size as the Dead Zone's pull claimed its creator once again. The eternal void swallowed him whole, his final cry fading into nothingness.

 

Within moments, the chaos subsided. The Lookout's ancient structure settled back into its rightful position, and above them, the corrupted sky cleared to reveal its natural blue brilliance.

 

Gohan stood amid the devastation, his eyes scanning the destroyed Lookout desperately. "Piccolo! Cellera!" His voice cracked as he called out their names. "Where are you guys!"

 

The silence that followed made his throat tighten. First his dad was gone, somewhere in space, and now... He stared at the rubble where he'd last seen his friends, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You promised..."

 

His small hands clenched at his sides as tears threatened to fall. She was the only one who really understood him - not just as a warrior, but as someone who recognized his academic side. The thought of losing his best friend, the one person his age who made him feel less alone...

 

Movement in the debris caught his attention as Kami emerged, and hope surged in his chest. "Kami! And Popo!" He ran toward them, relief evident in his voice. "You guys made it!"

 

"Yes, by a hair," Kami replied, dusting himself off as Mr. Popo lamented the loss of his gardens to the Dead Zone.

 

Gohan's mind raced - if Kami was alive, that meant Piccolo had survived too. And if Piccolo made it, then Cellera... she had to be okay. She'd promised, and she'd never broken a promise to him before.

 

"Hey!" Krillin's voice called out as he landed on the Lookout. His eyes widened as he took in the destruction around them. "Is everyone okay? Where's Cellera and Piccolo?" He glanced around, brow furrowing with concern. "I could've sworn I sensed their ki up here."

 

"About time you showed up," a familiar voice called out. "Though better late than never, I suppose."

 

Gohan spun around to find Cellera sitting tiredly against a piece of rubble, her hair back to its natural black, with Piccolo perched above her, arms crossed and smirking.

 

Before anyone could react, Gohan bounded across the debris, throwing his arms around Cellera. She stiffened at the contact, not having been hugged since before her mother's death nearly four years ago. Her hand drifted unconsciously to the pendant beneath her compression shirt as memories of her mother threatened to surface.

 

"You all made it..." Gohan's whisper brought her back to the present. As he pulled away, she caught his stunned expression at her unusual reaction. She offered one of her rare smiles in return. "Of course," she smirked. "I did promise after all."

 

Gohan's laugh was interrupted by a stray tear rolling down his cheek. Cellera found herself caught off guard by the mix of emotions his concern stirred in her - a strange combination of sadness and warmth at being cared for so deeply.

 

"Hey! Knock off the mushy stuff, you two," Piccolo called down from his perch, prompting both children to laugh.

 

Krillin approached, scratching his head. "So what exactly happened? Things were looking pretty intense from Korin's tower." As they recounted the battle, he folded his arms with a sigh. "Man, I wish I could've helped, but Maron just wouldn't let me leave. Every time I tried, she'd cling tighter."

 

"Don't worry about it," Piccolo said, his gaze falling on the two young warriors below him. "We handled ourselves fine. Thanks to you two, Garlic shriveled up like a raisin. The Earth is safe again, and everyone affected by the Black Water Mist should be back to normal."

 

"Let's hope Garlic Jr. enjoys his permanent residence in the Dead Zone this time," Cellera quipped, drawing chuckles from the group.

 

Piccolo's comment about their impressive teamwork led to Krillin discovering their secret image training sessions - the only form of practice Chichi would tolerate without seeing marks on her "precious little scholar." The nickname made Gohan's cheeks flush pink, and Cellera caught the look in his eyes that promised future retaliation.

 

As they prepared to leave the Lookout, saying their goodbyes to Kami and Mr. Popo, Gohan's curiosity about her Super Saiyan transformation bubbled over. She explained that while mastery was still distant, she'd finally understood how to transform at will.

 

"Be prepared next time I come looking for you to train," she called to Piccolo as he prepared to depart.

 

His answering smirk carried a hint of pride. "Looking forward to it."

 

Cellera felt a deep sense of contentment wash over her as they turned toward Kame House. Earth would return to its peaceful state – the same peace that had somehow become precious to her over these past months. Looking at the group around her, she realized she hadn't just helped save a planet; she'd helped protect her home and the people she'd started to hold dear.

 

Their return to Kame House confirmed the Sacred Water's success - everyone had been freed from the Black Water Mist's influence. When Master Roshi asked what had happened, unable to recall anything, Gohan eagerly launched into the story of their battle against Garlic Jr.

 

"Well, that explains what happened to my house," Roshi sighed, surveying the holes in his roof and walls. He began ushering Oolong and Puar inside to gather repair supplies, muttering about how his house always seemed to suffer during these crises.

 

Chichi immediately rushed forward, wrapping Gohan in her arms and checking him for injuries despite his protests that he was fine. Cellera watched the familiar scene with quiet relief - Chichi's overprotective nature was a welcome sight after facing her possessed form.

 

However, that relief was short-lived. "Don't think I've forgotten what you did, young man," Chichi's stern voice made both children cringe. "From now on, I'm keeping my eye on you more than ever! And Cellera can only come over to study - no image training until I say otherwise!"

 

Gohan started to protest, trying to defend his friend by explaining it wasn't her idea, but his mother's stern look silenced him immediately. Both children responded with a synchronized "Yes, ma'am."

 

As they accepted their punishment, Cellera silently calculated how soon she could start training with Piccolo - though she knew he would be more pleased than bothered by the increased training time.

Her planning was interrupted as she found herself wrapped in Bulma's arms – her second embrace since her mother's death, and both within the same day. She stiffened just as she had with Gohan's hug, years of keeping physical distance making the gesture feel almost alien. Her father had never been one for displays of affection; even a hand on her shoulder had been rare, usually reserved for particularly successful training sessions.

"Let me look at you," Bulma pulled back, her hands moving to inspect Cellera for injuries with the same meticulous care she used in her lab. To anyone else, it might have seemed absurd – treating the daughter of Prince Vegeta, a warrior who'd just helped defeat an immortal enemy, like a child who'd scraped her knee. But Bulma had never been intimidated by Saiyan pride.

"Your hair's a mess," Bulma tutted, fingers working through the tangled strands now dulled with dust and debris. The gesture sent an unexpected pang through Cellera's chest – a faint memory of her mother doing the same after training sessions, before everything changed. "We need to get you cleaned up and properly patched up."

The concern in Bulma's voice carried none of the fear or awe that had colored everyone's interactions with her when she first arrived on Earth. Over these eight months, Bulma had gradually become something Cellera hadn't realized she'd missed – a maternal presence who sat with her in the lab answering endless questions about Earth technology, who never pushed too hard but remained steadily present, who somehow knew how to comfort her after nightmares of Frieza without making her feel weak.

It was a strange dichotomy – mere hours ago she'd been channeling her father's battle pride, unleashing devastating power against their enemies. Now she stood awkwardly accepting Bulma's attention, still learning how to navigate this kind of care. Perhaps this too was part of finding her own path – discovering that she could be both warrior and child, that accepting nurture didn't diminish her strength.

The familiar comfort of her room at Capsule Corp felt surreal after the chaos at the Lookout. Cellera lay in bed, clean and bandaged, though her Saiyan biology meant the minor injuries would be gone by morning. The soft sheets she’d now grow accustomed to were a far cry from the sterile bunks of Frieza's ship or the rough bedrolls used during planetary purges.

She turned to face the window, watching stars glitter in Earth's night sky. Ten months. She'd been on this planet for ten months – longer than any mission she'd ever undertaken with her father. What had started as temporary refuge had somehow become home.

Her hand drifted to her mother's pendant beneath her nightshirt. So much had changed since those first days after Namek. She'd learned to read and write in Earth's languages thanks to Gohan and Chichi, discovered a passion for mathematics that rivaled her love of combat, and found friendship in the most unlikely places.

A gentle knock interrupted her thoughts. "Checking in before I head to bed." Bulma's voice carried through the door. "You need anything?"

"I'm fine," Cellera replied, the words carrying none of the defensive edge they once had.

"Alright. Sleep well, kiddo."

As Bulma's footsteps faded down the hall, Cellera closed her eyes. Tomorrow she'd begin training with Piccolo, working to master her newfound power. But for now, she allowed herself to simply exist in this moment of peace – something the warrior she'd been ten months ago would never have understood or thought she’d truly have.

 

Notes:

TLDR: Gohan and Cellera friendship development showing how close they've gotten since Cellera has been staying on Earth. Piccolo, Gohan and Cellera's dynamic. Cellera as learned to trigger Super Saiyan at will and how much Earth has started to mean to her.

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Summary:

Birthdays and Arrivals

Notes:

Don't forget to follow the tumblr blog so I can interact with you guys outside of the fic. I believe the ask box is open!
https://www.tumgik.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar

The May evening warmth had given way to another bright afternoon at Capsule Corporation. Cellera sat in Bulma's lab, legs crossed beneath her as she focused on the puzzle book in her lap. The position had become familiar over the past months, especially during the hours when Gohan was caught up in his mother's intensive study schedule.

Now, as the hum of various machines filled the lab, she found her thoughts drifting upward, wondering if her father's ship was somewhere among those distant stars. She'd developed a habit of stargazing each night before bed, something she'd unknowingly adopted after staying late at Mount Paozu one evening. She'd found Gohan and Chichi on their front porch, eyes fixed on the heavens, waiting for any sign of Kakarot's return. The shared ritual had given her a strange comfort, knowing she wasn't alone in watching those distant lights for someone who might never come home.

Ten months had passed since he'd stolen Dr. Brief's spacecraft, vanishing into the cosmos in pursuit of Kakarot. The anger that had burned so fiercely in those early days had long since cooled, leaving behind an ache that surfaced in quiet moments like these. She wondered what he would think of her now, of how naturally she'd adapted to life on this planet he'd once dismissed as beneath them. 

She hadn't abandoned her Saiyan heritage; the thrill of combat still sang in her blood, her own Saiyan Pride still drove her to push beyond her limits. But somewhere between those first battles on Earth and now, she'd discovered something her father might never understand – that protecting what you cared about could be an even greater source of strength than conquest.

A wry smile tugged at her lips as she recalled Bulma's advice from months ago. When he eventually returned – and he would return, if only to challenge Kakarot – she wouldn't be the one extending the olive branch this time. Let him be stubborn; she was his daughter after all. As Bulma had pointed out to her before, she'd inherited that particular trait in full measure.

Her attention returned to the Sudoku puzzle before her – another Earth discovery that had captured her interest. Gohan had introduced her to it last month, and she'd found herself oddly captivated by its logical challenges. The current puzzle was part of what humans categorized as "expert level," though she'd already begun seeking out more difficult variations.

The peaceful atmosphere shattered as the lab's phone erupted in a shrill ring. Cellera's grip tightened on her pencil, waiting for the usual three rings before silence. But the ringing continued, persistent and demanding. The pencil snapped between her fingers as she fought the urge to reduce the device to atoms.

Bulma finally snapped, stomping to the pink phone on the wall with the same fury she usually reserved for failed experiments. "Alright! Alright already!" She yanked the receiver off its cradle. "Now what kind of idiot would let it ring 25 times?" Her voice dripped with irritation as she barked into the phone, "Yeah! Me here. What do you want?"

Roshi's voice blasted through the receiver loudly enough for Cellera to hear every word. "Bulma! You need to get over to Kame House right away! It's an emergency! No time to lose!" The line went dead before Bulma could respond.

Bulma stared at the phone in confusion for several seconds before hanging it up. Cellera was already on her feet, setting her puzzle book on the nearest desk. She brushed off her dark teal battle jacket and shorts, layered over usual compression gear. "At least I'm prepared for whatever this emergency might be," she remarked dryly.

When they arrived at Kame House, they found not a crisis but a gathering. The Ox King's massive frame took up most of the doorway as he chatted with Yamcha, while Puar and Oolong argued over something trivial nearby. Chichi stood with her arms crossed, looking as confused as they felt, while Gohan sat cross-legged on the sand, clearly having been pulled from his studies.

The only ones missing were Krillin and Maron – though given how that relationship had been progressing, their absence wasn't surprising.

"So what's this emergency?" Bulma demanded, hands on her hips as she faced Master Roshi.

The old master fidgeted with his beard, sweat beading on his forehead. "Well... you see... I forgot Turtle's birthday!" His voice cracked with panic. "I needed everyone here for an impromptu party!"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Please! Have a little compassion!" Roshi begged, hands raised defensively as Bulma advanced on him.

"You lied to us and said it was an emergency!" Bulma's voice could probably be heard on the mainland.

"Of all the irresponsible things!" Chichi joined in, her tone carrying the same stern disapproval she used when Gohan tried to sneak in extra training time. "Do you have any idea how much studying time my Gohan is losing because of this?"

Cellera adopted her father's signature pose, arms crossed and expression unamused. The gesture was so quintessentially Vegeta that it made Gohan hide a smile despite the situation. She'd faced down immortal tyrants and galactic emperors, yet here she was, summoned for a turtle's birthday party.

"But he's 1,000 years old today!" Roshi's voice carried genuine distress as he tried to justify his actions. "And I totally forgot! When I remembered this morning, I panicked!" He clasped his hands together pleadingly. "You know how sensitive he is, right?"

As if summoned by the conversation, Turtle entered the room. "Master?"

Everyone turned toward the ancient creature, whose eyes widened at the gathering. "I can't believe it! You remembered my birthday!" Turtle's eyes welled with tears as he lifted a flipper to dab at them. "You're all so sweet!"

The sight of Turtle's genuine joy melted even the staunchest objections. Bulma and Chichi exchanged glances, their anger dissolving into soft smiles. Even Cellera dropped her defensive stance, finding it impossible to maintain her annoyance in the face of such sincere appreciation.

Seizing the moment, Roshi wheeled out an enormous cake, its surface dotted with 1,000 unlit candles. The sheer number of them nearly obscured the frosting beneath, making the cake look more like a forest of white wax than a dessert.

As everyone settled in with their drinks – juice for Gohan and Cellera, beer for the adults – they raised their glasses in unison. "Happy Birthday!" The toast rang out, followed by comfortable chatter as people broke into smaller conversations.

Cellera studied the familiar ritual with curiosity. "Are birthdays always celebrated as a special occasion each year?" she asked Gohan quietly.

He turned to her with surprise, juice glass paused halfway to his lips. "Usually, yeah." His expression shifted to one of growing understanding. "Have you never celebrated your birthday before, Cellera?"

She took a thoughtful sip of her juice. "From what father had mentioned before, Saiyans typically don't celebrate each and every year but rather, milestone years." A small shrug accompanied her words as she added, "Even if we did, it's not like Frieza would've allowed such festivities. Especially not for a monkey ." The last word carried all the venom of Frieza's sneering voice, though she rolled her eyes to dismiss its power over her.

"WHAT!" Bulma's shout made everyone jump, drinks sloshing as heads whipped toward their table. "You've never celebrated your birthday?!"

Cellera felt herself sink lower in her seat as every eye in the room fixed on them. She'd faced down Frieza's elite forces with less discomfort than this sudden attention.

"That just won't do!" Bulma's voice carried the same determination she used when tackling impossible engineering problems. "Don't you worry, I'll throw you a great party! Tell me when it is!"

Cellera recognized that tone – it was the one that brooked no argument. "B-By your Earth's calendar, it would be March 20th but—"

"We've already missed it!" Bulma cut her off, already plotting. "But next year, oh just you wait! It'll be the biggest celebration West City has ever seen!"

As Bulma launched into increasingly elaborate party plans, Cellera turned desperately to Gohan. "Have you already celebrated your birthday this year then?"

Gohan, catching her obvious attempt to deflect attention, offered a sympathetic smile. "No, it was a week ago on the 18th, but mom and I decided to wait until dad makes it back home to do any celebrating."

Their attention shifted back to Turtle as Roshi began the monumental task of lighting all thousand candles. Gohan and Cellera exchanged wary glances at the growing inferno before them, their concern only mounting as party poppers exploded nearby, sending streamers dangerously close to the flames.

The familiar melody of "Happy Birthday" filled the room – familiar to everyone except Cellera, who sat in confused silence. As Turtle began the seemingly impossible task of extinguishing his thousand flames, she leaned toward Gohan.

"Is it possible to forgo the singing when Bulma arranges my party?" The words came out stiffer than intended, but her focus was on quelling the strange warmth in her cheeks. Just the thought of everyone singing for her caused an odd sense of embarrassment, and she was unable to understand her own discomfort with the ritual.

Gohan's laugh carried genuine amusement. "You can try to ask Bulma, but good luck!" They shared a knowing look – when Bulma Brief set her mind to something, resistance was futile.

The door creaked open, drawing everyone's attention as Krillin and Maron entered. "Ah, glad you made it!" Roshi called out cheerfully.

The couple offered their greetings, but Cellera's eyes narrowed as Maron made a particular point of addressing Yamcha. Though he and Bulma had chosen to maintain their friendship after his revival, the way he returned Maron's greeting with an easy smile and wave clearly irritated his ex-girlfriend.

"What a flirt!" Bulma growled under her breath.

"Krillin, look! This cake was perfect!" Maron's excited cry drew their attention as she practically bounced toward the towering dessert.

Krillin scratched the back of his neck, a pink blush spreading across the bridge of his nose. "She means perfect for a wedding. We're kind of shoppin' around!" The words came out in a rush as everyone turned to stare at him.

"So... you guys are engaged?" Bulma's question held a note of disbelief.

"Well, no not officially!" Krillin let out an awkward chuckle. "But uh, you know we're talking about it!"

The news sparked immediate celebration, with everyone offering congratulations. "Oh, you're in for a real treat with married life!" Chichi clasped her hands together, clearly already planning ahead.

"Now hold on!" Roshi cut in, adjusting his sunglasses. "He has to clear that with me first." His serious expression lasted only a moment before he added, "As long as I get to kiss the bride first!"

The declaration earned him a swift punch from Bulma that sent him crashing through the nearest wall. Their laughter echoed across the beach as Roshi lay twitching in the sand.

As night descended over the island, everyone began settling into the futons Roshi kept for such occasions. But as Cellera observed their group, she noticed a conspicuous absence – Krillin was nowhere to be seen.

Cellera glanced out the window, the moonlight casting long shadows across the beach as she spotted Krillin sitting on the porch steps with Turtle. Despite the joyous news from earlier, his shoulders slumped with an unseen weight, his expression holding something that seemed distinctly bittersweet. The sight stirred an unsettling feeling in her gut - she had seen that look before, in her own reflection during those first months after her father left.

"What are you looking at?" Gohan's voice came quietly beside her, careful not to disturb the others who were settling into their futons. When she pointed to Krillin below, her brow furrowed in concern.

"I thought he would be happier, considering the news of marriage," she whispered, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty. She had learned enough about Earth customs to know that such announcements typically brought joy, not whatever emotion seemed to be weighing on Krillin now.

Gohan gave a thoughtful hum, his young face showing a wisdom beyond his years - something they both shared from their unusual childhoods. "Maybe he's just nervous? I'm sure he'll be fine," he offered before walking over to his futon by his mother, who was already arranging their bedding with her usual precise care.

Cellera walked away from the window, each step measured as she made her way to her own futon next to Bulma. Perhaps Gohan was right, and she was merely overthinking things. It would not be the first time her analytical nature had led her to see problems where none existed, but something about Krillin's expression just did not feel right. As she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, the gentle sound of waves lapping at the shore outside, she hoped whatever was bothering her friend would be resolved.

Krillin must have made his way inside at some point during the night, because when Cellera woke to the warm morning light streaming through the windows, he was there, though the dark circles under his eyes suggested little rest. As everyone began to make their way downstairs, the smell of breakfast wafting up from the kitchen, Krillin stopped her and Gohan in the hallway, his voice low and urgent as he asked them for help with obtaining a pearl referred to as the 'Mermaid's Tear' - supposedly the largest pearl in the world - to give to Maron.

"Is this some sort of Earth custom related to getting engaged?" Cellera asked, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism. She had watched and learned enough from Bulma's romantic fantasies and Earth shows to know that people here typically obtained rings to signify engagement, not pearls, no matter how rare.

"Sort of," Krillin responded with a nervous smile - that telltale expression Cellera had come to recognize whenever he was not being entirely forthcoming with the truth. His ki flickered slightly, another sign of his unease that she had learned to notice during their time together. She contemplated for a moment before deciding not to press any further. If obtaining the pearl was the only way to lift his spirits, then so be it.

"Where can we find this pearl?" Gohan asked, already showing his eagerness to help, a trait he had inherited from his father.

"Turtle mentioned it's somewhere near here at the bottom of the sea," Krillin explained, some of the tension leaving his shoulders at their willingness to help.

After the trio changed into their swimming outfits - the boys in a pair of trunks and Cellera in a dark blue one piece with her shorts over it - they headed out for the ocean. The morning sun glinted off the water as they adjusted their breathing masks, the salty breeze carrying the promise of adventure, even if it was just a peculiar quest for an oversized pearl.

The ocean floor spread before them in a stunning display that made even Cellera pause in appreciation. Vibrant coral formations created an alien landscape, their colors more vivid than anything she had seen on the many planets she had visited during her time with her father. Schools of fish darted between the coral structures, their scales catching the filtered sunlight that penetrated the depths.

"Hey, look at that fish! I guess he's late for school!" Gohan's voice carried through the water, the joke made slightly distorted by his breathing mask.

Cellera rolled her eyes, though a slight smile tugged at her lips, safely hidden behind her own mask. "Very funny," she replied flatly, her attention already shifting to Krillin's form moving steadily ahead of them. His determination was evident in every movement, focused solely on his self-appointed mission. "We should hurry," she called to Gohan, "I do not believe Krillin will wait for us if we fall behind. His mind appears quite... one-tracked at the moment."

As they continued their search through the vast expanse of blue, Gohan's voice carried a note of concern. "Are you sure about this, Krillin? It's an awfully big ocean."

"Turtle said it was somewhere near here," Krillin replied, his voice carrying that same strange tension from earlier.

Cellera halted her movement, causing the others to pause as well. The water swirled around them as she considered their situation. "Perhaps we should divide the ocean into sections," she suggested, her tactical mind already mapping out the area. "We might have a greater chance of locating it if we search systematically."

"Yeah!" Gohan agreed, "We could just raise our power levels if one of us finds it—"

"Wait!" Krillin suddenly interrupted, pointing toward something in the distance. "Did you see that gleam?"

They followed his gesture, descending deeper toward the source of the light. However, their excitement quickly faded as a peculiar sea creature drifted past them, its naturally bioluminescent body the source of the misleading glimmer.

"Strange looking guy," Gohan observed as the creature meandered by.

"Aw man, bummer," Krillin muttered, his disappointment palpable even through the mask.

After what felt like an eternity of searching - though Cellera's internal clock told her it had only been about an hour - they came across an underwater cave that seemed to emit a faint glow from within. Gohan pointed excitedly toward the entrance, and they made their way inside, Cellera muttering, "I hope this is not another fish."

The cave itself was a marvel of nature, its walls lined with phosphorescent organisms that cast an ethereal light through the water. Their wonderment was briefly interrupted by an aggressive school of fish that took offense to their presence, though they easily broke through the swarm with minimal effort.

When they finally reached the cave's end, there it was - the legendary 'Mermaid's Tear' resting within its massive clam shell. The pearl's surface caught and reflected the bio-luminescent light, creating an almost magical glow that illuminated the entire chamber. Its size alone was remarkable, but its perfect spherical shape and lustrous surface made it truly extraordinary.

"It's incredible!" Gohan's exclamation echoed what they were all thinking, his voice filled with awe at the natural wonder before them.

As they drew closer to the pearl, the chamber seemed to pulse with life. Schools of fish moved in intricate patterns around them, their movements almost choreographed in their precision. Cellera found herself watching in quiet amazement as different species wove between each other in what appeared to be an underwater ballet.

While Krillin moved toward the pearl, something pricked at the edge of Cellera's instincts - that familiar sense of impending danger she had learned to never ignore.

"Krillin! Behind you!" Gohan's warning cry came just as Cellera spun from her upward gaze, catching sight of an enormous eel launching itself toward them.

"Look out!" Cellera's reflexes took over as she grabbed Gohan, pulling him sharply to the side. The motion saved them both from the eel's attack, but Krillin had not been as fortunate. He had somehow ended up latched onto the creature's dorsal fin, being carried through the water until he finally lost his grip, the momentum sending him crashing into a rock wall.

"Uh oh. Here we go again!" Krillin barely managed to dodge the eel's next strike, the massive creature embedding itself in the rock wall where he had been moments before. His relief was visible but short-lived as the eel wrenched itself free, its massive form whipping around for another attack. The collision interrupted Krillin's attempt to form a ki blast, sending him into another wall with enough force that his own energy exploded against him.

The impact destabilized the cave wall, sending massive chunks of rock plummeting toward the pearl. Krillin made a desperate swim for it, but the eel moved faster than any of them expected. Instead of attacking, however, the creature positioned itself above the pearl, using its massive body to hold back the falling rocks. To their astonishment, every fish in the chamber suddenly converged on the spot, joining the eel in its effort to protect the pearl.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Krillin's voice carried pure amazement as they watched a coordinated school of fish carefully maneuver the pearl to safety. Once their treasure was secure, the eel threw off the rocks with surprising strength before positioning itself protectively before the pearl, its massive form a clear warning against any further attempts to claim it.

Cellera observed the gathered sea creatures with growing understanding. Even here, in the depths of Earth's oceans, she found another example of the protective spirit that had so changed her own perspective. "They're protecting it..." she voiced softly, the words slightly distorted by her breathing mask.

"They think the Mermaid's Tear belongs to them!" Gohan added, his young voice carrying that familiar mix of wisdom and innocence.

"But they're just fish. What do they want with a pearl?" Krillin asked, confusion evident in his tone.

"I'm not sure," Cellera replied, watching the coordinated movements of the sea life, "But they seem prepared to fight us for it."

Gohan turned to Krillin, his expression serious behind his mask. "Are you sure you want to take it from them?"

"What do you think?" Krillin asked, his voice carrying an odd note of hope, as if seeking permission to make a difficult choice.

"I think I'd kind of feel like a member of the Ginyu Force if we did."

"That should be reason enough not to take it then," Cellera scoffed, memories of Frieza's elite squad making her lip curl slightly.

"What do you mean?" Krillin asked, turning to Gohan.

"The fish are like the Nameks protecting one of their Dragon Balls and we're the Ginyu Force that's come to take it away from them!"

The comparison struck something deep within Cellera, memories of her own role in planetary raids rising uncomfortably to the surface. Krillin's expression suggested similar thoughts weighing on him as he nodded in agreement.

His gaze fixed on the pearl for several long moments before understanding seemed to dawn. "Oh, man! Maron's like the pearl! I have to let her go!"

Cellera cast him a sidelong glance at the strange declaration, but held her tongue as he placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Let's get out of here and go home you two."

"Are you sure, Krillin?" Cellera asked, studying his expression carefully for any trace of doubt or regret. But he simply nodded, a new certainty in his bearing.

"Yeah, I'm sure." He turned to Gohan with a genuine smile. "And Gohan? Thanks for being you."

Cellera's eyes softened as she watched the exchange. Once again, Gohan had managed to reach someone's heart with simple, honest words - just as he had done with her during their first battle on Earth. He really did have the ability to touch people's souls with truth.

Back at Master Roshi's, now dressed in dry clothes, Gohan and Cellera sat at the table, each working on another piece of Turtle's birthday cake. They both felt the familiar ki signature moments before Krillin landed on the island, his "Hi, everybody! It's me!" accompanied by forced laughter as he walked through the door. Cellera's eyebrow rose at the sight of him wearing Roshi's distinctive red sunglasses.

"Where's Maron?" Bulma asked, voicing what everyone was wondering.

"Well things were getting complicated so I broke up with her! You know how it goes!" Krillin's nervous laughter and hand scratching at his neck drew Cellera's immediate attention. His words echoed what he had said in the cave about letting Maron go, though his delivery now felt rehearsed, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as them.

The room fell silent as everyone stared at him, jaws dropped and eyes wide. The reactions that followed were as varied as the group itself - some expressed sympathy, while Bulma and Chichi made no effort to hide their relief at Maron's departure. Oolong, ever tactless, openly questioned who had actually done the dumping.

"Man, you too?" Krillin's response to Chichi's declaration that Maron was nothing but trouble carried a hint of genuine hurt beneath his attempted lightness.

Cellera found herself feeling strangely protective. While she had never particularly warmed to Maron, the girl had brought Krillin happiness and had not been truly malicious - merely different from what they had expected of a warrior's partner.

As Krillin continued his performance of casual acceptance, Cellera and Gohan exchanged knowing glances. Those sunglasses might hide his eyes, but they could not conceal the truth from those who had witnessed his earlier revelation. When Cellera caught the telltale gleam at the corner of the red frames, her suspicion was confirmed - their friend was hiding more than just his eyes behind those glasses.

The evening air carried salt and memories as Krillin settled onto the familiar porch steps. Gohan and Cellera followed, though Gohan soon broke away to practice his forms by the water's edge, leaving Cellera to address what she had observed throughout the day.

"Tell me what is really going on." Her voice carried the unmistakable tone of Saiyan royalty - the same inflection that made even seasoned warriors think twice about refusing. When Krillin attempted to deflect with a joke about taking advice from a seven-year-old alien kid, one glare that could have come straight from Vegeta's arsenal had him reconsidering.

The story spilled out in fragments - his feelings of inadequacy, fears about being unable to make Maron truly happy, the desperate hope that finding the pearl might reignite whatever spark he worried was fading. His voice cracked slightly as he described watching her jump into a car with another man, driving away mere moments after suggesting she would accept his proposal.

"So, what do you have to say to that?" Krillin asked, trying to inject some levity into his confession.

Cellera sat in silence, her young face serious as she considered his words. While she knew her understanding of romance - particularly Earth's courting customs - was limited, there was one truth she had learned in her time here that seemed relevant.

"It's her loss then," she stated with the same directness she applied to combat strategy. Krillin's shocked expression only prompted her to continue. "I may have only known you for a year and a half, but I can definitively say that you are a good person and more than enough. If she's unable to see that, then it's her loss, not yours." Her tone carried absolute certainty as she added, "And if she was able to go with someone else so quickly after, then she isn't worth the heartache."

Krillin stared at her, struck by the absurdity of receiving relationship advice from a seven-year-old - yet there was no denying the wisdom in her words. Cellera never said anything she didn't mean; he had learned that the day she pleaded for her father's life, and through every interaction since. Whether on Namek or here on Earth, she had proven herself honest to a fault, even when that honesty meant defending Vegeta against his occasional barbs.

Looking at her now, it was sometimes hard to believe she carried Vegeta's blood in her veins. Yet in moments like this, her pride and certainty were pure Saiyan- just tempered by something uniquely her own.

"You'll find your mate one day Krillin," she told him with that same unwavering certainty she brought to everything. His confused look made her pause. "Mate?"

She tilted her head, catching her cultural misstep. "My mistake, I forgot they're referred to as partners and spouses here." A slight frown crossed her features. "I'm still learning the logistics of Earth's courting culture."

Krillin couldn't help but laugh, grateful for the lightening of mood. "I bet there's a big difference between Saiyans and Earthlings' way of doing things."

To his surprise, she shook her head. "They are similar in some ways," she explained, her hand moving to the pendant she always wore. "Here, rings signify commitment. In Saiyan culture, a gift is typically given for the other to wear." Her fingers traced the pendant's edge with unusual gentleness. "Mother told me about the custom. Father gave her this."

The mention of her parents brought a subtle shift to her expression as she continued. "One difference I have learned is that here, one can choose to break the commitment if things do not go well. Saiyans typically mate for life, except for in the case of..." She trailed off, her fingers tightening around the pendant, but Krillin understood. Rhuba's death hung unspoken between them.

Trying to lift the suddenly heavy atmosphere, Krillin chuckled. "I'd love to see Vegeta's reaction to someone trying to court you."

The comment had its intended effect as Cellera folded her arms in a perfect mirror of her father's signature pose, complete with an indignant pout that reminded Krillin sharply of her actual age. "His opinion currently doesn't matter," she declared with all the royal hauteur she could muster. "Besides, the person would have to be stronger than father as he wouldn't allow for anything less." She gave a small shrug, her stance relaxing slightly. "So I more than likely won't be courting, but that's fine. The idea doesn't interest me."

Krillin watched her gaze drift to where Gohan continued his forms by the water, though he suspected she wasn't even aware of the movement. He fought back a knowing smile, wondering if she also realized just how much potential for growth that particular half-Saiyan still had. Maybe someday she'd find that the idea interested her more than she thought - assuming Vegeta didn't blow up the planet first.

As they watched Gohan move through his forms, Cellera's eyes narrowed. "Your opening is too wide," Shecalled out, rising to approach him. After a brief demonstration of the correction, a familiar spark lit her eyes. "Since we're already out here..." She cast a meaningful glance at Krillin. "Would you referee? It would be nice to have an actual spar instead of image training for once."

Krillin settled onto a nearby rock as the two children squared off, falling into their familiar stances. As he watched them trade blows, he found himself noticing things he hadn't fully registered before - like how both young Saiyans seemed most at ease in each other's presence, whether trading punches or working on Gohan’s studies.

His mind drifted to the battle against Garlic Jr., remembering how Cellera - who normally maintained such careful distance from everyone - had allowed Gohan to embrace her. That brief moment when her usual guards had dropped, replaced by a genuine smile that transformed her entire face. Or back on Namek, when she'd taken Recoome's devastating blow meant for Gohan without hesitation, despite the paralysis that followed. Then there was Gohan, who had refused to let Cellera step beyond his protective barrier during the final confrontation with Garlic Jr., choosing instead to expand his shield rather than risk losing her to the Dead Zone - even with the fate of the world hanging on their success.

They were both only seven, of course - dating and relationships couldn't have been further from their minds, which was exactly as it should be. Krillin remembered how Goku had never given romance a single thought until the martial arts tournament where he'd married Chichi, and look at him now - a father whose son showed every sign of matching his incredible power. Even Krillin himself had once believed marriage meant the end of adventure, but maturity had brought understanding of the different kind of fulfillment found in having family to come home to.

A sharp cry of surprise drew his attention back to the spar as Gohan executed a perfectly timed sweep, taking Cellera's legs out from under her. Krillin couldn't suppress a knowing smirk - if these two ever did end up together down the line, he wished Gohan all the luck in the universe in dealing with Vegeta. Though even if romance never entered the equation, Krillin was certain of one thing: the two young Saiyans before him, now laughing as they helped each other up, were meant to be part of each other's lives in some way or another.

September brought the first hints of autumn to West City, the morning air carrying just enough crispness to hint at the changing season. It marked a full year since the Namekian Dragon Balls had revealed Kakarot still lived, and over a year since her father had vanished into space pursuing him. The morning sun cast long shadows across Capsule Corp's patio as Cellera sat at the outdoor table, finally working on a Sudoku puzzle that offered genuine challenge - one she'd found in an advanced mathematics journal rather than the usual puzzle books.

"Cat loves food, yeah yeah yeah yeah!" Yamcha's sudden singing drew her attention from the complex number arrangement before her. The strange melody about a cat's love for food left her brow furrowed in confusion - another Earth custom she had yet to fully understand. Bulma's laughter suggested some shared cultural context she was missing.

"Where did you come up with that?" Bulma asked between giggles, her whole face lighting up.

"It's from an old cat food commercial," Yamcha explained with a grin. "Puar hates it when I sing it."

"Because you never get the tune right!" Puar protested, though there was fondness in the complaint.

Cellera returned to her puzzle, letting their casual banter fade into background noise. These peaceful mornings had become routine - a stark contrast to the rigid schedules of life under Frieza's command. But Bulma's next words cut through her concentration like a ki blast.

"I had a weird dream last night that Vegeta came back!"

Her pencil stilled mid-number as Yamcha's voice rose sharply. "What?! Vegeta? You dreamt about him?"

"You know, actually he was pretty nice to me in the dream, and a good kisser to boot!"

Cellera set her puzzle book down entirely, studying Bulma with new intensity. She couldn't be certain if Bulma had added that last detail purely to needle Yamcha after his obvious flirtations with Maron - the scientist did have a vindictive streak when provoked. Yet something about the idea didn't feel entirely impossible.

Bulma possessed a fierce spirit that might actually complement her father's pride rather than clash with it. She had already demonstrated she could match his sharp tongue without flinching, and Cellera knew she’d be entirely comfortable ordering him about as if he couldn't reduce her to atoms with a gesture. More than that, she had shown genuine interest in Saiyan culture, often asking Cellera questions about their customs and history with real curiosity rather than judgment.

The thought should have felt stranger than it did, yet Cellera found herself considering the possibility with surprising neutrality. After all, she had witnessed stranger things in her time on Earth than the idea of the Prince of all Saiyans finding his match in a brilliant, blue-haired scientist who feared nothing, not even him.

"Speaking of Vegeta, your Dad said he should be running out of fuel soon!" Mrs. Brief's cheerful voice accompanied the clinking of teacups as she set down her tray.

Cellera's gaze drifted skyward, her puzzle forgotten as questions crowded her mind. How much longer until the fuel ran out? Where would the ship land? Would he simply refuel and vanish again into the cosmos? The uncertainty weighed heavier than she wanted to admit.

Bulma watched the young Saiyan's forlorn look toward the heavens, noting how much she resembled her father in that moment - all pride and hidden hurt. Before she could offer any comfort, Cellera suddenly stood, her chair scraping against the patio stones.

"What's wrong?" Bulma asked, recognizing the shift in her posture.

"It's... father. He's back." The words carried a mix of anticipation and apprehension that made her sound every bit her seven years.

"I don't see anything," Yamcha started to say, when an earthshaking crash interrupted him. The stolen spacecraft plowed into Capsule Corp's courtyard, leaving a crater in its wake.

The others rushed toward the landing site, but Cellera remained rooted in place, her earlier declaration about not bridging the gap this time suddenly feeling more daunting in reality than it had in theory. She had faced down Frieza himself with less trepidation than she felt now.

Bulma noticed her hesitation, letting the others go ahead before turning back. "Are you ready?" she asked softly, understanding the weight of Cellera's decision not to be the one reaching out this time, to let her father make the first move in repairing their strained relationship.

Three Months Ago

The lab had grown quiet save for the gentle hum of machinery as Bulma made final adjustments to the gravity room's control panel. She had noticed Cellera watching her work with an almost wistful expression - the same look she'd worn while watching Bulma and her father collaborate on the project's early stages a year ago.

"Want to talk about it?" Bulma finally asked, setting down her tools and turning to face the young Saiyan fully. Her tone carried no pressure, just gentle invitation.

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, weighing her options. She knew Bulma would respect her silence if she chose it - the woman had proven that repeatedly over their months together. But something in those concerned eyes and that maternal warmth broke through defenses even Frieza hadn't managed to breach.

"It's... different from what others might consider a proper familial bond," Cellera began carefully, each word measured as she lowered her walls piece by piece. "But father and I, we had our own way of showing care."

She explained how Vegeta's protection had always come in subtle forms - ensuring her pod launched first during missions, positioning himself between her and potential threats while appearing to simply stand guard. "He was never one for physical affection - that was mother's domain," she continued, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. "But his hand on my shoulder after successful training... it meant everything."

Her expression darkened slightly. "Then came news of the Dragon Balls on Namek. We were standing in the same hallway when he heard about Frieza seeking them." Her hands clenched slightly at the memory. "He left me there with Cui, and departed for Namek without a second glance. That was the first time he had ever truly abandoned me."

She fell silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I thought we had made progress on Namek, between our arguments and his... his death at Frieza's hands. But then he learned about my Super Saiyan transformation - how I achieved what he had sought for so long, and through sentiment for him of all things." Her voice carried a hint of bitterness. "It was as if all our progress meant nothing."

"He left me again ." The words came out harder than intended, Cellera's fingers digging into her knees as she fought to focus on anger rather than the ache beneath it. "I don't know where our relationship stands anymore." She glanced away, unable to maintain her usual composure as genuine hurt filled her eyes. "I don't know if he considers me his daughter anymore, especially once he sees how comfortable I've grown with life on Earth." Her voice caught slightly on the last words, betraying the fear she'd carried since watching his ship disappear into the stars.

Bulma felt something twist in her chest as she watched the young Saiyan before her. Usually, Cellera carried herself with the same confident strength she'd seen in Goku as a child - that perfect blend of warrior pride and tactical thinking that made it easy to forget her age. Her maturity, her vocabulary, her understanding of complex concepts often made Bulma forget she was dealing with a seven-year-old.

But now, arms wrapped tightly around her knees and shoulders hunched inward as if to protect herself from the weight of her own emotions, Cellera finally looked her age. Gone was the calculating fighter who had helped save her on Namek, the proud princess that carried herself with regal dignity even if she didn’t realize it. In her place sat just a child - a child who wanted nothing more than for her relationship with her father to return to what it had been, even if what it had been wasn't perfect.

"Then make him reach out to you," Bulma said firmly, drawing Cellera's surprised gaze upward. "Think about it - you're always the one making the effort, always trying to bridge the gap. Maybe it's time your father did some of the work."

A small smile tugged at Cellera's lips despite herself, no doubt imagining her proud father attempting to navigate emotional territory without her or Rhuba's guidance. The image seemed to lighten something in her expression.

"Besides," Bulma continued, encouraged by that hint of amusement, "Show him that despite your time on Earth, you're definitely his daughter. You both have that stubborn streak a mile wide."

"I am not-" Cellera started to protest, but Bulma cut her off with pointed examples: refusing to eat anything but Saiyan portions despite Mrs. Brief's concerns about 'such a tiny thing eating so much,' insisting on wearing her battle gear everywhere , and that time she'd spent three days straight on a single Sudoku puzzle rather than admit defeat.

Cellera finally relented with a slight huff that reminded Bulma so much of Vegeta it almost made her laugh. "Perhaps I do possess some of father's... stubborn nature." The admission drew warm chuckles from both of them.

"Say... Bulma?" Something vulnerable crept into Cellera's voice, making Bulma pause. Before she could respond, Cellera had crossed the space between them, initiating a brief but fierce hug - the first she'd offered anyone since her mother's death. The gesture carried all the words she couldn't quite voice: gratitude, trust, and something deeper that felt remarkably like love.

Just as quickly, she pulled back, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she mumbled a hurried "Goodnight" before retreating to her room.

Bulma watched her go, a soft smile spreading across her face as she noticed Cellera's posture shifting back to its usual confident stance with each step. That brief moment of vulnerability had shown her something important - beneath all that Saiyan pride and strength lay a heart just as capable of love as any other, even if it took a little longer to show it.

Just like someone else she was beginning to understand better.

As Cellera gave Bulma a firm nod, they made their way to join the others in the courtyard. The ship sat awkwardly in its self-made crater, its once-pristine surface now scarred from space travel. The door opened with a pneumatic hiss, extending its ramp as Vegeta emerged. His battle armor bore the marks of intense combat, the compression suit beneath torn in several places.

Cellera caught Yamcha's arm as he dropped into a fighting stance, shaking her head slightly. Though he reluctantly relaxed his posture, his voice carried clear hostility. "Vegeta! What do you want?"

"I was hoping that Kakarot might have finally returned?"

The words cut more than Cellera wanted to admit - after a year of absence, her father's first concern was still Kakarot. She maintained her composed expression, though her fingers tightened imperceptibly at her sides.

"You never found him in space?" Yamcha pressed.

"Don't remind me." Vegeta's voice carried that dangerous edge she knew well. "I'm angry enough to hurt somebody. And, pounding you might just be the therapy I need."

Cellera felt the familiar urge to mediate rising, but before she could step forward, Bulma's voice cut through the tension.

"Ugh, what is that awful smell?" She strode right up to Vegeta, actually poking his chest with one finger. "Oh, it's you!"

Cellera watched her father's expression shift from murderous intent to complete bewilderment. She silently thanked Bulma, recognizing the intentional intervention for what it was.

"When's the last time you had a bath?" Bulma continued, her tone shifting to something almost playful. "You need one, badly!" She wasn't wrong - Cellera had to admit her father had definitely smelled better.

"Please! This way!" Bulma gestured toward Capsule Corp's interior. When Vegeta remained rooted in place, she turned back with exaggerated impatience. "Well? What? Do you want me to roll out the red carpet?"

Her father's growl and clenched fist were familiar signs of his mounting frustration, but to Cellera's surprise, he actually began following Bulma, though his grumbling followed them into the building.

"Unreal..." Yamcha's disbelief echoed what everyone seemed to be thinking.

"I hope she knows what she's doing!" Puar added nervously.

But Cellera noticed what the others missed - the way her father's eyes had tracked Bulma's movements, how he'd offered no resistance to her casual touches or commanding tone. For someone who normally reacted violently to any perceived disrespect, his restraint was telling.

When Bulma requested help gathering fresh clothes for her father, Cellera couldn't resist the opportunity for some subtle revenge. She pulled out a pink shirt with 'BADMAN' emblazoned across the back, remembering distinctly how her father had mentioned his disdain for the color. Paired with yellow pants and green shoes, the ensemble was practically designed to offend his royal sensibilities.

She carried her selections to the shower room, finding Bulma waving a hand in front of her nose as she dealt with her father's battle-worn armor. The compression suit went straight into the wash, while the boots, jacket, and gloves were set aside in a separate container for specialized cleaning. As she handed the clothes to Bulma, they exchanged conspiratorial winks before Cellera retreated to rejoin the others outside.

"Hey, you! I left you some fresh clothes!" Bulma's voice carried clearly through the building. After receiving no response, she elevated her volume. "Hello?! You alive in there?"

"I heard you! You can leave now!" Her father's irritated response made Cellera's shoulders shake with suppressed laughter. After years of watching him intimidate entire planets into submission, seeing him flustered by one Earth woman felt like karmic justice.

"Why yes, master! Your wish is my command!" Bulma's sarcasm dripped thicker than honey before she stormed out with a frustrated growl.

Steam filled the bathroom as Vegeta stood under the shower's spray, mentally noting the peculiarities of Earth women. These creatures who showed no proper fear or deference, particularly that blue-haired woman who dared order him about as if he weren't capable of destroying their entire planet. His thoughts inevitably drifted to his daughter, the way she had stood slightly apart from the group, watching him with that calculating gaze she'd inherited from her mother.

She had grown taller in his absence - seven years old now, if his calculations were correct. Despite his preoccupation with finding Kakarot, he had tracked the passing of days, aware of each milestone he missed. Her battle jacket still bore Rhuba's influence in its design, though she'd adapted the rest to Earth fashion. At least she hadn't completely abandoned her heritage during his pursuit of Kakarot, though the way she had positioned herself protectively near the scarred warrior suggested she had grown more attached to these Earthlings than he'd like.

Her ki signature had grown stronger, suggesting consistent training - likely with Kakarot's brat, the only one among these Earthlings who could offer any semblance of challenge. The thought carried less bitterness than it might have a year ago. If she had to train with anyone while he was gone, at least it was another Saiyan, even a half-breed.

Outside, Cellera had returned to her interrupted puzzle, though her focus kept drifting to the bathroom where her father was. She half-listened to Yamcha's conversation with Puar and Oolong, her pencil hovering over a particularly challenging sequence of numbers.

Bulma emerged from the connecting hallway, rolling her eyes with an exasperation that somehow managed to seem fond. "He acts like such a spoiled little kid!"

"Like you?" Yamcha's attempt at humor earned him a sharp glare from Cellera, her pencil stopping mid-number. After everything Bulma had done for her during her father’s absence, Cellera found herself increasingly protective of the woman who had become something of a surrogate mother figure.

"Servant woman!" Her father's voice echoed through the open door, carrying that familiar commanding tone that had once made entire planets tremble. "Bring me a drying cloth!"

Bulma and Cellera exchanged knowing looks as silence answered his demand. They had discussed this possibility during their clothes selection - how long it would take before his demands began.

"Woman! Can you hear me?"

"I hear you!" Bulma shouted back, hands on her hips despite him not being able to see her. "But my name is Bulma! And I am not your servant! So say please!"

The corners of Cellera's lips quirked upward. She knew better than anyone that 'please' wasn't part of her father's vocabulary - she couldn't recall him using the word once in her entire life, not even to her mother.

"Forget about the stupid drying cloth then!"

"Have fun drip drying then, jerk!"

Cellera set her puzzle aside, finding their exchange far more entertaining than the numbers before her. During their first months on Earth, her father had barely acknowledged Bulma's existence, directing any necessary communication through Dr. Brief. This new dynamic was... intriguing. She had noticed how he actually listened to Bulma, even if he pretended not to - something he rarely did with anyone.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Vegeta's voice carried fresh indignation.

"What do you mean?" Bulma called back, her innocent tone not fooling anyone who knew her.

"These garments that you left? Are they for a man or a woman? They're pink!"

"That's the style here on Earth!" Bulma replied, throwing Cellera a conspiratorial wink as Yamcha muttered "Nice going." Their laughter filled the patio, though Cellera made sure to hide her own amusement behind her puzzle book. 

If he wanted to act like nothing had changed in the past year, well, two could play at that game.

Cellera quickly buried herself in her puzzle as her father emerged, affecting complete absorption in the numbers before her rather than his ridiculous appearance. "This is ridiculous! I am a warrior! Not a-a variety of flower!"

"Well you smell good," Bulma remarked with another laugh that the others eagerly joined.

Cellera maintained her focus on her puzzle, deliberately ignoring her father's presence. Her calculated indifference didn't escape his notice - he recognized his own tactics being used against him, and strongly suspected she had played a role in his current sartorial humiliation.

"Stop that!" He demanded, his voice carrying the edge that usually preceded violence. "Stop it or I'll blast you all!"

The laughter died immediately, but Cellera's pencil continued its steady movement across the page, not even a flicker of ki betraying any reaction to his threat. The complete dismissal from his own daughter seemed to unsettle him more than any challenge could have.

"Oh, loosen up and relax," Bulma interjected, seemingly immune to his growl of anger. "If you want to find Goku, just stay here. He'll come back eventually - I've known him since he was twelve, trust me on this."

That detail caught Vegeta off guard, his expression shifting slightly. Unlike Cellera, who had spent months hearing tales of young Kakarot's adventures, this was new information to him.

As her father finally took a seat at the table, his reluctance evident in every movement, Bulma began preparing the grill. The sizzle of meat and vegetables hitting the flames filled the awkward silence between father and daughter. Everyone felt the underlying tension as Vegeta's gaze repeatedly drifted to Cellera, who remained absorbed in her puzzle, occasionally pressing her pencil to her lip in deep concentration before recording another number - that familiar gesture she'd done since she was small with her thumb, the same one she'd inherited from Rhuba.

Cellera reached for her glass of juice, her father's grumbling about Earth food fading into background noise, then like the sudden shock of waking into a nightmare, she felt it - that familiar, terrifying ki signature that had still occasionally haunted her dreams for the past year. The glass slipped from her suddenly numb fingers, shattering against the patio tiles in a spray of juice and broken crystal.

Her hand trembled as she stared northward. The pleasant illusion of safety shattered as completely as the glass at her feet. It couldn't be him. Kakarot was supposed to have killed him. But her father's violent reaction - chair clattering backwards as he surged to his feet - confirmed that this was no dream she could simply wake from.

"Kakarot! You imbecile! " The snarl carried equal parts rage and disbelief.

"What's going on?" Yamcha's voice seemed to come from far away.

"Frieza," Cellera managed, her throat tight. "He's on his way here."

"Are you sure it's really him?"

"I wish I could forget that ki." The words came out barely above a whisper. Her mind flashed to Namek, to watching her father's life drain away under that same terrible power. "And he's not alone. His father, King Cold, is with him."

"He must have spared his life!" her father declared, but Cellera couldn't accept that explanation. Not after everything she'd witnessed on Namek. The memory of Kakarot's transformation remained vivid - that moment when Frieza's casual cruelty had finally pushed him over the edge. No, the man who had avenged Krillin's death with such righteous fury would never have shown mercy to Frieza.

She and her father launched into the air without further discussion, their shared instincts already calculating Frieza's probable landing zone. As they flew, she reached out with her senses, finding some comfort in the distant signatures of Gohan and Krillin moving to intercept. Yamcha followed not far behind them, with Piccolo, Tien, and Chiaotzu converging from other directions.

It wasn't much - their small group against beings of nearly unimaginable power. But with Kakarot still absent, they were Earth's only defense. The thought sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the wind rushing past. Her year of peace on Earth now felt like nothing more than a pleasant dream, and she had just awakened to her worst nightmare made flesh.

They landed in the barren badlands, the wind whipping dust across the cracked earth. "They'll probably touch down somewhere around this area," her father assessed, eyes scanning the horizon with the practiced precision of someone who had conducted countless planetary invasions.

"Hey there!" A familiar voice shattered their silence. Cellera whipped around, her heart nearly stopping at the sight of a two-seater aircraft descending, Bulma's blue hair visible in the cockpit. Of all the reckless things she'd witnessed the scientist do, this might be the worst.

"Is she an idiot?" Yamcha muttered. For once, Cellera couldn't summon her usual defense of Bulma. The woman who had taken her in, who had become something of a mother figure over the past year, was now flying directly into the path of the being who had haunted Cellera's nightmares.

As Bulma climbed out of the craft with casual grace, Puar floating over to Yamcha, Cellera rushed forward. "What are you doing here?" The question came out sharper than intended, worry making her voice harsh..

"I came to get a look at Frieza," Bulma replied with that same nonchalance she used when discussing new inventions. "Never got to see him on Namek, you know."

Cellera stared at her in stunned disbelief. After all the nights Cellera had woken up in a cold sweat from memories of his cruelty, after every story she'd shared about what he'd done to her people, to her mother, to her father - Bulma wanted to see him?

Reading her expression, Bulma shrugged. "Look, Frieza could blow up the entire Earth if he felt like it, right? The result would be the same no matter where I am."

Cellera opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. The logic, while perhaps insane, was technically sound. It was exactly the kind of reasoning that made Bulma brilliant and terrifying in equal measure.

Tien and Chiaotzu's arrival broke through her conflicted thoughts, their ki signatures preceding their landing. "So Vegeta's still here," Tien remarked, his tone carrying years of distrust and the memory of their first violent encounter on Earth.

"Sounds like you've got something to say to me." Her father's smirk carried all his usual arrogance, the ridiculous pink shirt somehow not diminishing his capacity for intimidation as the two warriors began trading barbs.

"Now isn't the time," Yamcha cut in, surprising Cellera with his rare display of reason. Perhaps facing planetary destruction had a way of shifting priorities.

"Yamcha's right," she agreed, earning startled looks from several directions. "We need to mask our power levels. Frieza's scouters will detect us otherwise." A smirk touched her lips as she added, "Piccolo doesn't need to be told."

"W-When did he get here?!" Yamcha spun around, finally noticing the Namekian's silent presence. Piccolo had mastered the art of concealing his presence so completely that even Cellera sometimes forgot he was there until he chose to be noticed.

Two familiar ki signatures drew Cellera's attention skyward as Gohan and Krillin approached. The sight of them brought a mix of comfort and concern - comfort in having her closest allies nearby, concern for their safety against what awaited them. Krillin wore his distinctive orange gi while Gohan had chosen the same style of Saiyan battle armor he'd worn on Namek.

Gohan's hair had grown out again, tied back in a style reminiscent of their first encounter two years ago. The observation made Cellera absently run a hand through her own hair. If they survived what was coming, she'd need to ask Bulma for a hair tie - battle with loose hair was tactically unsound.

Just as her friends landed beside her, Piccolo's voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "Here they come!"

The familiar silhouette of Frieza's ship appeared against the sky, its design unchanged from their nightmarish encounters on Namek. It traveled a short distance before settling near a cliffside, the landing creating small tremors through the earth beneath their feet.

"T-There's no doubt about it, that's him alright..." Gohan's voice carried a slight tremor, and Cellera knew he was remembering their last confrontation with the tyrant - how close they'd all come to death.

"And to make things worse, there definitely is someone else in there with him!" Krillin added, his terror understandable given that Frieza had already killed him once. The memory of watching him explode in mid-air still haunted them all.

"The second ki is his father, King Cold," Cellera stated, her voice steady despite the dread pooling in her stomach. "And he's much stronger than Frieza."

Both warriors whipped their heads toward her, eyes wide. "You never mentioned he had a father who was stronger than him!" Krillin's accusation made Cellera bite her lip awkwardly, caught in her oversight. She had grown so accustomed to avoiding discussions of Frieza that she'd failed to warn them about his father. 

"Y-You mean you guys actually fought with a monster like that?" Tien's question carried equal parts awe and horror.

"There's really nothing we can do, is there?" Yamcha's voice had lost all its earlier bravado.

"What do you suggest we do then? Just sit here and rot?" Piccolo's response cut through their despair. "Do what you will, we all know the situation is hopeless."

"Would you like me to spell it out for you?" Her father's voice carried that familiar cruel edge. "This entire planet is done for."

The words struck Cellera hard. Her newfound peace, this home she had carved out for herself - all of it about to be erased. Her fists clenched at her sides as she stared at Frieza's ship in the distance, that familiar silhouette that had once meant safety now promising only destruction. The power of Super Saiyan might come more willingly to her now, but she was far from mastering it despite all her training. If Kakarot, with his superior power, couldn't defeat Frieza... what chance did she have?

Gohan watched the emotions play across Cellera's face, noting how her clenched fists trembled with some mixture of rage and fear. The doubt in her eyes as she stared at the distant ship made something twist in his chest. He had grown so accustomed to her other sides over the past year - the way her eyes lit up solving complex equations, her rare but genuine laughter during their training sessions, how she'd gradually allowed herself to be more open. He hadn't seen this expression since Namek.

Something hardened in Gohan's resolve. He might be afraid - they all were - but he wouldn't let Frieza take anything else from her. He wouldn't watch another person he cared about suffer under that tyrant's cruelty. Despite his own fear gnawing at his nerves, Gohan steeled himself. They had defeated impossible odds before and they could do it again.

They watched as Frieza's forces emerged from the ship one by one, the soldiers falling into practiced formation as their master issued commands. The sight was achingly familiar to Cellera - how many times had she witnessed similar scenes on other worlds?

"Damn it..." Yamcha's voice carried bitter resignation. "What was the point of being wished back to life if I'm just going to die all over again?"

The words had barely left his mouth when an overwhelming ki signature materialized - even larger than Frieza's or King Cold's. Within moments, multiple smaller ki signatures simply vanished, as if snuffed out like candles. Someone had just eliminated a portion of Frieza's forces with devastating efficiency.

Cellera felt the others tense around her and heard their sharp intakes of breath. Whatever had just happened on the other side of that mountain had shaken even her father.

"What happened?" Bulma asked, noting their shocked expressions.

"Well another huge ki appeared, and..." Krillin swallowed hard, "all of a sudden a bunch of other ki vanished without a trace." Their gazes remained locked on the mountain that separated them from Frieza's landing site, waiting for the next move in this deadly game.

Then the mysterious ki shifted, transforming into something hauntingly familiar. Cellera's eyes widened as recognition struck. It couldn't be...

"I-It's dad!" Gohan's shout confirmed her suspicion. "It's the same ki my dad and Cellera have when they turn Super Saiyan!"

The rest of the group marveled at the sheer power radiating from beyond the mountain. But before anyone could process this revelation, a massive ki blast lit up the sky, sending a mushroom cloud of smoke billowing above the rocky peaks.

The situation had just become even more impossible to predict - another Super Saiyan had entered the fray, but it wasn't Kakarot. Cellera's mind raced with the implications. Who else could possibly possess their legendary power?

A figure materialized atop one of the rock formations - a young man in black pants and top beneath a deep purple jacket, a sword strapped to his back. But what caught Cellera's attention was his hair - golden and spiked upward, the unmistakable mark of a Super Saiyan. Not Kakarot, but undeniably one of their kind. Her mind raced with possibilities. Her father had mentioned a brother, Tarble, sent away for his low power level before their planet's destruction. Could there be other survivors they hadn't known about?

The mysterious warrior wove his hands in precise movements before his voice rang out across the battlefield: "Hey Frieza!" His ki blast forced both Frieza and King Cold to dodge. As Frieza leapt skyward to avoid the attack, he gave Cellera and the others a perfect view of what followed.

In one fluid motion, the stranger drew his sword and lunged. The blade moved faster than even Cellera's trained eyes could follow, first bisecting Frieza, then reducing him to fragments with surgical precision. A final ki blast vaporized what remained of the tyrant who had terrorized the galaxy.

Cellera watched in stunned amazement. They had nearly died countless times trying to defeat Frieza on Namek, yet this unknown Super Saiyan had eliminated him in mere seconds.

"He picked Frieza apart in no time at all!" Krillin's voice carried equal parts awe and disbelief.

"T-There's no doubt about it. That was actually Frieza." Her father's shock was evident - she had never heard him sound so rattled. The being who had dominated their lives for so long, gone in an instant.

"What kind of eyes do you guys have?" Bulma shielded her face against the sun's glare as she squinted skyward. "I'm surprised you can even tell who's who up there." She paused thoughtfully. "Goku's gotten incredibly strong since he's been gone."

"That's not Kakarot," Cellera corrected, still studying the warrior's movements. "But he is definitely a Super Saiyan." The implications of that fact alone were staggering - somehow, their small group of survivors had just grown by one.

Vegeta suddenly launched skyward, and Cellera felt the instinctive urge to call out to him. She caught herself, remembering her resolve to make him bridge the gap first - even if that meant maintaining their silence during a potential crisis. Taking a steadying breath, she exchanged glances with Gohan and Krillin. Their answering nods were all she needed before they took off to get a better view of this mysterious warrior who had accomplished in moments what they had struggled for months to achieve.

They came to hover near where her father had paused, the others soon joining them with Yamcha carrying Bulma. From this vantage point, they had a clear view of King Cold facing off against the stranger. Cellera had only encountered Cold once before, but the stories of his cruelty were legendary - even worse than Frieza's, if such a thing were possible. Looking at him now, she could see where Frieza had inherited his capacity for casual malice.

"How would you feel about taking Frieza's place as my son?" King Cold's offer carried a silky menace that made Cellera's skin crawl.

"Not interested." The young Super Saiyan's response was as direct as his earlier attack.

"What a shame." Cold's attention shifted to the warrior's weapon. "That appears to be quite a well-crafted sword. And you wield it remarkably well." His eyes gleamed with predatory interest. "Might I get a closer look?"

The Super Saiyan's answering smirk triggered something in Cellera's memory - an expression she couldn't quite place. He drew his sword and tossed it to Cold with casual confidence.

The moment Cold caught the weapon, he struck - exactly as Cellera would have expected from Frieza's father. But the stranger caught the blade one-handed, his expression unchanged. "Looks like yet another error."

The words sent a jolt of recognition through Cellera - something in his tone, in the way he pointed out his opponent's mistake, echoed her own analytical nature. The efficient brutality of it, the absolute control - whoever this warrior was, he clearly had experience dealing with beings like Cold and Frieza. But more than that, there was something about him that nagged at her consciousness, like trying to recall a face from a dream.

The question wasn't just how he had gained such power, but who he was. And why did he feel like someone she should know?

The stranger delivered one final blast, obliterating both King Cold's body and their ship in a spectacular explosion. As the light faded, he powered down, his golden hair shifting to lavender as he returned his sword to its sheath with practiced ease. A soft breath of relief escaped him before he turned to face them. "I'm off to meet with Goku! Would you guys like to join me?"

The casual mention of Kakarot's name sent a wave of shock through the group. "How do you know about my dad?" Gohan's question carried their collective confusion.

"Who is this guy?" her father growled, voicing the question burning in Cellera's mind. One thing was certain - this warrior carried Saiyan blood. The transformation proved that much, though it raised far more questions than it answered.

"It's not very far," The stranger called again, "Please follow me!" Without waiting for their response, he took off into the sky.

Cellera watched his retreating form, weighing their options. She detected no malice in his ki signature, and he had just saved them from what would have been a devastating confrontation with Frieza and King Cold. More than that, something about him tugged at her curiosity, something she had to satisfy. 

The others launched into heated discussion about whether to follow. "We don't even know who he is," Krillin pointed out, though his tone suggested curiosity rather than genuine objection.

"I doubt he's one of the bad guys," Tien reasoned. "He did just help us eliminate Frieza."

"I want to know how he knows my dad," Gohan added, his young face bright with hope and curiosity.

After weighing the risks against their burning questions, they made their decision. One by one, they took to the sky after the mysterious Super Saiyan, unaware that his arrival marked more than just their salvation from Frieza - it was the beginning of a chain of events that would alter the course of all their lives.

Notes:

I love writing Bulma/Cellera interactions so much guys. Also Trunks has finally entered the fray and has unveiled the terrible future that he currently resides in!

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Notes:

Got up at 5 this morning to upload the chapter before work only to find out that AO3 had maintenance going on and then the site proceeded not to work... But we are back! Enjoy chapter 15 and don't forget to follow the tumblr blog for the series: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-princess-and-the-scholar

I will actually try to post my thoughts that went into each chapter on my tumblr starting with Chapter 15, check out the link here and if you have any questions regarding the chapter, feel free to reach out! https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar/774921398411984896/mind-of-the-writer-chapter-15?source=share

I'm thinking about making some posts regarding my thought process for each chapter or certain scenes I created and what the idea was. As always, thank you for your support!

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.

 

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Summary:

Some slice of life and the start of the search for the androids. I hope you all enjoy, and I thank each and every one of you for your continued support and love for this fanfic!
Tumblr for the fic: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/the-princess-and-the-scholar

September 12th Age: 765

A year into their preparation for the androids, Cellera found herself contemplating the strange developments around her. Most notably, her father's seemingly omniscient ability to thwart her training sessions with Gohan. No matter how carefully she checked for his presence or masked her ki, he invariably appeared just as she attempted to coordinate their schedules. Her visits to Mount Paozu had dwindled from several times a week to mere occasional sparring sessions that she could count on one hand.

But even more intriguing was the peculiar dance developing between her father and Bulma. Their interactions defied simple classification - one moment they'd be engaged in explosive arguments that shook Capsule Corp's foundations, the next Bulma would be tending to Vegeta's injuries with a gentleness that seemed to confound them both. Her father's reaction to Bulma's protective fury over his training methods with Cellera was particularly telling. He would sit with arms crossed, eyes closed in apparent dismissal, but that telltale twitch of his brow betrayed how closely he listened to every word.

Her fingers found their way to her mother's pendant as she considered the two women who had shaped her father's life. 

The more Cellera observed Bulma and remembered her mother, the more parallels she discovered between them. Both possessed brilliant minds, though they wielded their intelligence differently - Bulma's genius manifested in scientific innovation and mechanical mastery, while Rhuba's had shown in precise battle strategies and tactical calculations. They shared that rare ability to face her father's arrogance head-on, though their methods differed dramatically. Where Bulma met his pride with matching fire, challenging him with an intensity that rivaled his own, Rhuba had wielded calm superiority, dismantling his errors with methodical precision - the same approach Cellera had unconsciously adopted, much to her father's previous annoyance on Namek.

But their most significant commonality was perhaps the most puzzling - somehow, both women had seen something in her father that others missed.

Sitting on the patio balcony, Cellera smiled down at the pendant in her hand. She wondered if her mother would be as surprised as she was that another woman - an Earthling, no less - had managed to see past her father's walls of anger and pride to whatever lay beneath.

Her gaze lifted to the blue sky above, its color reminding her of Bulma's hair. Strange how this woman had stepped into a maternal role in her life when she'd needed it most. At five years old, she'd found an unexpected sanctuary with Bulma. Now at eight, she found herself contemplating the possibility of Bulma becoming her second mother officially - though she would always be just "Bulma" to her.

The thought brought warmth to her chest, as if another piece of her shattered heart had found its place. Slowly, fragment by fragment, the wounds Frieza had inflicted were healing. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling that one piece still remained missing, though she couldn't quite identify what it was.

"Cellera!" Bulma's voice carried an unusual edge of urgency. "Chichi wants to know if you want to visit?"

Cellera made her way inside, immediately noticing something odd in Bulma's demeanor - a mix of nervousness and determination she'd never seen before. Her father stood in the corner, arms crossed and scowling deeper than usual. She cast him a knowing smirk, amused that Bulma had managed to reach the phone before he could intercept it - or perhaps he was just irritated at the prospect of her visiting Kakarot's home again. His scowl only deepened at her expression as she gave Bulma an eager nod.

-

The flight to Mount Paozu gave her time to appreciate the freedom of movement, a stark contrast to the rigid training schedule her father had imposed over the past year. As she landed before the Son household, she retightened the royal blue ribbon holding her hair in its practical ponytail - a style she'd adopted after one too many training sessions with loose hair getting in her face.

Chichi's enthusiastic welcome warmed something in her chest. "It's been too long!" The woman ushered her inside where familiar cooking scents filled the air.

Gohan emerged from his room, his whole face lighting up at the sight of her. After a year of such limited contact, seeing her best friend brought an immediate smile to her face. "Your hair looks nice like that," he said, then immediately looked surprised at his own words.

The unexpected compliment brought warmth to her cheeks. While she'd grown used to praise for her fighting skills or tactical thinking, comments about her appearance were rare. "It was a birthday gift from Bulma earlier this year," she explained, fidgeting with the ribbon's end. The soft material reminded her of the careful way Bulma had helped her style it that first time.

"Sorry we didn't get to celebrate it like Bulma was planning," Gohan's expression turned apologetic. She could read the genuine regret in his eyes - they'd barely managed to exchange more than brief conversations over the past year, let alone celebrate properly.

"It's fine. We have more important things than my birthday." She settled at the familiar table, the same spot she'd occupied during countless study sessions before the androids had complicated everything. "Besides, we did somewhat celebrate it. After hours of training with my father, that is."

She missed the way Gohan's expression fell at her casual dismissal of her own birthday. After a year of watching his friend adjust to her father's return and rigid expectations, it pained him to see her minimize moments that should have been special. But that was Cellera - always trying to balance her Saiyan heritage with her new life, never quite allowing herself to fully embrace either.

"Where's Kakarot and Piccolo?" The question had barely left her lips when Chichi's expression transformed, prompting a slight cringe from Gohan. His mother launched into an animated tirade about forcing them to get their licenses after being chased by a boar miles into the city during a simple grocery run.

As Chichi continued her passionate retelling, Cellera leaned closer to Gohan, her smirk reminiscent of her father's. "I understand Kakarot, but why Piccolo?"

"Dad sort of accidentally dragged him into it," Gohan whispered back, drawing a giggle from Cellera as she imagined the stoic Namekian attempting to navigate Earth's traffic laws.

"And to top it all off, they expected me to do their laundry and cook dinner while they had a nice bath!" Chichi concluded with righteous indignation.

Cellera fixed Gohan with a narrow-eyed stare that made the hairs on his neck rise. The look reminded him of how much time she'd spent with her father this past year - that same royal disapproval, though softened by genuine affection.

Boys , she thought, remembering similar scenarios at Capsule Corp. Her father constantly left his training clothes strewn about, expecting royal treatment that inevitably led to explosive arguments with Bulma. Though lately, Cellera had begun to suspect he deliberately provoked these confrontations, finding some perverse enjoyment in Bulma's fiery responses.

"I wouldn't mind assisting with any errands, Chichi," Cellera offered with practiced politeness.

"Oh, Cellera! I couldn't ask you to do that by yourself."

"I'm sure Gohan wouldn't mind helping." She turned that same imperious look on her friend, who quickly nodded - though whether from friendship or self-preservation remained unclear. "Y-yeah mom! We can go together!"

As Chichi praised their thoughtfulness while returning to her cooking, Gohan shot Cellera a betrayed look. "What did you do that for?" he whined.

Cellera folded her arms in a gesture that perfectly mimicked her father's stance, though her eyes danced with mischief rather than judgment. "I think it's only fair for you to help your mother, Gohan. Besides," her smirk widened, "you're her 'sweet little boy', aren't you?"

A thoughtful expression crossed Gohan's features as he observed his friend. The past year had left its mark on Cellera - her father's mannerisms now emerged more naturally in her gestures and way she carried herself. Yet where Vegeta's pride carried harsh edges, Cellera's version held an underlying warmth, especially in moments like these. The way she folded her arms mirrored her father's stance perfectly, but her eyes danced with playful mischief rather than judgment.

"You know," Gohan's voice took on that familiar mischievous tone she usually only heard during their spars. His eyes lit up with that same glint they got when he'd figured out a particularly clever counter to one of her techniques. "If you're going to keep calling me that, I'm gonna give you a nickname too."

Cellera met his challenge with a raised eyebrow and knowing smirk - another unconscious echo of her father that seemed to surface more often lately. She silently dared him to do his worst, falling right into his trap.

"Princess."

The word hit her like a ki blast, bringing immediate heat to her face. It was her rightful title, one she'd carried since birth, yet somehow hearing it from Gohan made it different. Before she could muster a response, the door opened to reveal Goku and Piccolo, both looking somewhat worse for wear.

Their appearance momentarily distracted her from her embarrassment as she took in their unusual attire. She'd grown used to seeing warriors in casual clothes thanks to living at Capsule Corp, but something about these two in particular felt jarring. Piccolo especially seemed transformed - the proud Namekian warrior now sporting a yellow t-shirt with purple long sleeves, jeans, and a backwards cap that made him almost unrecognizable. At least Kakarot's choice of clothing maintained his signature orange, making him appear slightly more natural in the ensemble.

"We failed to get our license," Goku admitted, rubbing the back of his head with that characteristic sheepish smile.

"YOU FAILED?!" Chichi's shriek made everyone but Piccolo flinch, though Cellera noticed even the stoic Namekian's ears twitched slightly at the volume.

"But we saved a school bus full of kids from an avalanche!" Goku quickly explained, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "The instructors even said they'd take flying over cars any day after that!"

Piccolo merely nodded in agreement, his arms folded as he leaned against the doorframe. His silence spoke volumes about his opinion of the whole ordeal - being forced to learn to drive when he could fly seemed to rank somewhere between facing Frieza and attending one of Master Roshi's parties on his list of unpleasant experiences.

Chichi pressed her fingers to her temple, a gesture Cellera had come to recognize as her attempting to maintain composure. "Thank goodness Cellera offered to help with errands."

"Hey Cellera!" Goku's face brightened as he finally noticed her at the table, his earlier nervousness forgotten in that instant shift of mood she'd come to associate with Kakarot. "It's been a while! What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you both again," she replied with a polite nod, noting how even in casual clothes, both warriors maintained their fighting awareness - Kakarot's relaxed stance still ready to move at a moment's notice, Piccolo's position giving him clear views of all exits. Some habits never changed, regardless of circumstances.

"Huh?" Chichi paused in her cooking preparations, genuine confusion crossing her features. "What do you mean? Bulma called me asking if you could come over for a while today. She mentioned Vegeta had been making you miss your other scheduled visits with Gohan because of training."

Cellera's thumb pressed to her lip as she recalled the strange behavior she'd witnessed before leaving - Bulma's unusual nervousness, her father's deeper-than-usual scowl, the way they'd both acted when she'd left. Even the timing felt suspicious now that she thought about it.

Understanding flickered across Chichi's features before she quickly turned back to her cooking, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "Well enough of that! Regardless, we are delighted to have you join us for dinner tonight!"

"Oh yeah, we have plenty of fish to go around," Goku joked as he moved further into the house, his casual reference to their earlier fishing expedition drawing a slight eye roll from Piccolo as he followed, arms still firmly crossed.

Yet even as conversation shifted to other topics, Cellera couldn't shake the feeling that she was missing something important about her hasty departure from Capsule Corp. The way Bulma had practically rushed her out the door, her father's uncharacteristic lack of protest about her visiting Gohan...Though she noticed Chichi shooting her occasional glances, as if waiting to see if she'd piece it together, her own cheeks still slightly pink with what appeared to be secondhand embarrassment.

As they settled around the dinner table, Cellera found her thoughts drifting to the questions that had plagued her mind over the past year. Between her father's rigorous training schedule and their limited contact, she hadn't had a proper chance to discuss these matters with him. The comfortable atmosphere of the Son household provided an ideal opportunity.

"Kakarot," she began, drawing his attention from the impressive pile of food before him. "I've been wondering about something regarding the Super Saiyan transformation."

He paused mid-bite, his usual carefree expression shifting to something more attentive. "What's on your mind?"

Cellera carefully considered her words, remembering her first transformation on Namek. The memory of that overwhelming rage still felt sharp – watching Frieza strike down her father, feeling completely helpless as the tyrant's power dwarfed everything she thought she knew about strength. Her impulsive charge, born of that new and intoxicating power, had nearly cost her life.

"When you transformed against Frieza," she continued, drawing Goku's attention from his meal. "Your entire demeanor changed. The way you carried yourself, even the feel of your ki – it was different from your usual self." She noticed Gohan watching with interest beside her, likely remembering that pivotal moment as clearly as she did.

Goku set down his chopsticks, an unusual gesture that highlighted the seriousness of the topic. "You're wondering about how the transformation affects our minds?"

She nodded, thinking of her second transformation against Garlic Jr. Though more controlled, that familiar surge of pride and battle-lust had coursed through her veins. She'd managed to channel it strategically, using that characteristic Saiyan arrogance to goad their opponent into defeat. Yet the intensity of those emotions had been undeniable.

"I believe that the transformation heightens our Saiyan traits." she states. "The desire for battle, the pride in our strength – they seem more pronounced in that state."

"You noticed that too, huh?" Goku's response carried none of his usual lightness. "When it first happened with Frieza, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. The power was amazing, but it came with all these intense feelings too." He paused, rubbing the back of his head as he searched for words. "It's hard to explain, but everything just feels... more."

Piccolo, who had remained silent until now, spoke up from his position against the wall. "Your personalities definitely shift during the transformation. Even you, Cellera – you become more like Vegeta in those moments."

The observation struck her. While she'd inherited many of her father's traits, she typically tempered them with her mother's measured approach. But in her Super Saiyan state, that careful balance tipped decidedly toward her Saiyan heritage.

"I felt it too," she admitted. "During my first transformation, the rage consumed everything. I made errors I normally wouldn't, became overconfident in ways that nearly proved fatal." Her fists clenched slightly at the memory of Frieza's brutal counter to her reckless attack.

"The second time was different though, wasn't it?" Gohan asked, clearly remembering their battle with Garlic Jr. "You seemed more in control."

"Yes," she agreed, "but the heightened emotions were still there. I just managed to direct them more effectively." A slight smirk crossed her features. "Though I can't deny that even then, part of me reveled in the pure thrill of combat."

"I'm still figuring it out myself," Goku admitted after listening to Cellera's observations. "When I transform, it's like all my normal feelings get super charged. Even basic sparring feels more exciting." He grinned, some of his usual cheerfulness returning. "Though I try not to let it get the better of me anymore. Chi-Chi wouldn't be too happy if I destroyed the house during training!"

Cellera nodded, watching as Kakarot’s words confirmed her own observations. Each transformation had become more natural, more controlled - yet something else had shifted as well. Though she still spent time helping Bulma in the lab, solving her beloved Sudoku puzzles, and reading from her growing collection of books, she increasingly found herself drawn to the gravity chamber. The urge for additional training sessions grew stronger with each passing month, a development that had earned her father's rare looks of approval.

"Alright, that's enough you two." Chichi's voice cut through their discussion as she set down a platter piled high with fish. "No more battle talk during dinner."

"Yes, Chichi," they replied in unison. The group gave thanks for the meal before diving in, while Piccolo maintained his usual position against the wall, sipping water in keeping with his Namekian diet.

As conversations shifted to lighter topics, Cellera found herself appreciating the familiar yet changed dynamic. She had grown accustomed to meals at Capsule Corp - the barely contained chaos of her father's demands, Bulma's sharp retorts, and the general scientific chatter of the Brief family. But there was something special about being back at the Son household, especially with both Goku and Piccolo adding their own distinct energy to the mix.

Later, as she prepared to leave, Gohan followed her outside for a few final moments of conversation. The cool evening air carried the peaceful sounds of Mount Paozu's wilderness. A cicada landed on Gohan's outstretched finger, and he studied it with his usual fascination for living things. Cellera took an instinctive step back, her nose wrinkling slightly before she caught herself and forced her expression neutral. 

 

"Man, tonight sure did feel like old times," he remarked, gently letting the insect fly away before throwing his arms behind his head in a gesture that mirrored his father's habitual pose.

 

"It did," Cellera agreed with a nod. "Kakarot and Piccolo certainly made it interesting as well." Their shared laughter felt natural, comfortable in a way that only came from true friendship.

 

Gohan's expression turned more thoughtful. "I thought Vegeta had achieved Super Saiyan since you haven't been able to visit."

 

A small huff escaped her as she remembered her father's strict training conditions - rules she'd explained to Gohan months ago when their regular visits first became restricted. "No," she replied, unconsciously mimicking her father's crossed-arm stance as she rolled her eyes. "But perhaps he would if he stopped running interference and used that energy towards training instead."

 

"How are you fairing with your own training?" Cellera asked, genuine interest coloring her tone. After months of limited contact, she was eager to hear about his progress.

 

"Oh, it's going great!" Gohan's enthusiasm felt slightly forced. "Dad's gotten so much stronger since Namek - you should see how fast he moves now! And Piccolo's been amazing too. Yesterday they were sparring so quickly I could barely follow them..."

 

Cellera's eyes narrowed slightly as she listened. He spoke at length about his father's improved techniques and Piccolo's strategic brilliance, yet seemed hesitant to mention his own progress. 

 

"And yourself?" she pressed. "How have you improved?"

"Me?" He scratched the back of his head in that nervous gesture he'd inherited from his father. "Oh, I'm just trying to keep up with them. Sometimes I can almost predict where they'll move next, like you taught me about studying patterns..." His voice grew quieter as he spoke and Cellera noticed how his shoulders tensed slightly, the way his eyes dropped to avoid her gaze 

The shift in his demeanor sparked something protective in her. How could he not see what she saw? She thought of all the times his power had emerged to protect others - that devastating kick to Dodoria before he could harm Dende, the hit that sent Nappa crashing through an entire plateau when the Saiyan had threatened his friends. Even more recently, their battle against Garlic Jr., where they'd fought side by side. His power, combined with their teamwork, had been crucial in destroying the Makyo Star and defeating their immortal enemy.

"Spar with me," she said suddenly, taking up her fighting stance. It wasn't a request. While she could point out those achievements or remind him of his capabilities, she knew a more practical demonstration would prove her point better. 

"What? Now?" His eyes widened in surprise. "But Vegeta-"

"Is not here," she cut him off. "And I want to see this strength you're so determined to overlook." Her tone carried that mix of royal command and friendly challenge that she knew he could never resist. "You do remember how we handled Garlic Jr. together, don't you? Or have a few months of training with Kakarot and Piccolo made you forget our own victories?"

A small smile tugged at his lips - their shared triumph against Garlic Jr. was impossible to deny. "That was different though. We worked as a team then."

"Exactly," she smirked, her eyes bright with anticipation. "And every time I've seen your power emerge, it's been to protect someone. That's a strength all your own, Gohan. One that has nothing to do with keeping up with your father or Piccolo."

 

He dropped into his fighting stance, that familiar determined look returning to his eyes. "Alright," he agreed. "But don't blame me if I've picked up some new tricks."

"I should hope so," she replied, her stance mirroring his. "Otherwise all that time with Kakarot and Piccolo would be wasted. Though personally, I'm more interested in seeing that power that's uniquely yours - the one that comes out when you have something worth protecting."

They circled each other slowly, falling into the familiar rhythm of their spars. Gohan watched Cellera's movements carefully - the way she balanced her weight, how her eyes tracked his every shift. She always fought with such precision, such control. Everything about her style was intentional, measured.

His own power felt different. Unlike his father's confident strength or Piccolo's tactical precision, his seemed to come in unpredictable bursts. Even now, he could feel it simmering beneath the surface, responding to his emotions in ways he didn't fully understand.

"Your move," she called, that familiar competitive spark in her eyes. The same look she got when they raced through complex equations or debated battle strategies.

He launched forward, testing her defenses with a series of quick strikes. She blocked each one perfectly, just like she always did. Her response was immediate - a kick aimed at his left side that he barely managed to dodge.

"Better," she smirked. "But you're still thinking too much."

She was right. Even as they exchanged blows, his mind raced with thoughts. Was he matching their speed from training? Would his father or Piccolo approve of his current power? He'd spent so much time watching them, trying to absorb their techniques, that sometimes he forgot his own strengths.

"Focus!" Cellera's sharp command cut through his thoughts as her fist nearly connected with his jaw. He twisted away at the last second, instinct taking over where overthinking had failed him.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt it - that perfect balance between thought and action. No comparing himself to others, no uncertainty. Just him and Cellera, moving through their familiar dance of attacks and counters.

But her words echoed in his mind: "That power that's uniquely yours - the one that comes out when you have something worth protecting."

She made it sound so natural, like it was something to be proud of. Maybe she was right - after all, their teamwork against Garlic Jr. had proven what they could accomplish together. Still, he couldn't help wondering about that raw power that emerged in moments of crisis. Would he ever learn to access it without someone being in danger first?

"Come on," she dropped back into her fighting stance, challenge glinting in her eyes. "Show me what those months of training have really taught you. No comparing yourself to others, no holding back. Just you and me, like we’ve always done."

He mirrored her stance, drawing strength from her unwavering faith in him. Maybe he didn't have his father's natural confidence or Piccolo's perfect control, but he had something else - something that came alive when protecting others. Something that, despite his uncertainty, had never failed them when it truly mattered.

 

From inside the Son household, three figures stood at the window, each watching the sparring children with different expressions. Goku's signature grin grew wider as he observed his son's movements becoming more fluid, less hesitant with each exchange. Beside him, Chichi's initial protest about training after dinner had faded, replaced by a gentle smile at seeing the way Gohan seemed to be enjoying himself. Even Piccolo's stoic expression had softened slightly, though he'd deny it if anyone pointed it out.

 

Neither of the children noticed their audience, too absorbed in their own world of shared understanding.

As Cellera soared through the night sky toward Capsule Corp, the cool wind whipping past her face couldn't diminish the warmth in her chest. The evening had awakened something she hadn't realized she'd been missing during this year of intense training with her father. Sparring with Gohan always brought out different aspects of her strength - not just the raw power her father demanded, but the precise control and strategic thinking her mother had valued.

Yet something about Gohan's earlier hesitation troubled her. His tendency to downplay his own abilities while praising others made no logical sense given what she'd witnessed. That devastating power that emerged when protecting others wasn't just random bursts of energy - it was a strength uniquely his own, different from his father's natural battle instincts or Piccolo's strategic techniques. She suspected both Kakarot and her father had noticed it too, though their methods of drawing it out differed drastically from her own approach.

The familiar dome of Capsule Corp came into view, but something immediately drew her attention about the scene before her. Through the kitchen window, she observed both Bulma and her father, their hair still damp from recent showers. Such a detail might seem insignificant to others, but years of experience had taught her to recognize even the slightest deviation in her father's habits. He never interrupted his evening training regime for something as trivial as bathing - typically training well into the night until either exhaustion claimed him or Bulma's increasingly creative threats finally drove him from the gravity chamber.

Standing in the doorway, she noticed other small anomalies. Her father's ki felt unusually settled for this time of evening, lacking its typical agitated edge from interrupted training. Bulma's cheeks carried a slight flush that couldn't be entirely attributed to the shower's heat, and something about the way they carefully maintained distance from each other while stealing quick glances reminded her of their behavior during particularly heated arguments - except there was no tension in the air, just an odd sort of awareness.

Normally, such deviations from routine would have prompted a thorough investigation. Her father had taught her to analyze every detail that seemed out of place, and her mother had instilled the importance of understanding the patterns behind people's behaviors. But the lingering energy from her spar with Gohan hummed beneath her skin, calling her toward the gravity chamber. She cast one last measuring look at the pair, filing away their strange behavior for later consideration before heading outside.

Not long would pass before all the peculiar elements of that evening finally aligned into a clear picture - her father's unprecedented leniency about her visit to Gohan, Bulma's unusually urgent tone when arranging it, the way she'd called Chichi directly instead of their usual protocol. Even Chichi's knowing expression and quick subject changes began to make sense in retrospect. The oddly timed shower, the careful distance between Bulma and her father while still maintaining that heightened awareness of each other - all of it had been building toward a revelation that would reshape their dynamic in ways none of them could have predicted.

Two months later, in December, Bulma announced news that would shock Cellera to her core - news that, despite her earlier suspicions about the time traveler's true identity, had gotten lost in the intense preparation for the androids' arrival.

-

Cellera had just returned inside from her training session in the gravity chamber when Bulma approached her. The woman's demeanor immediately caught her attention - there was a nervous energy about her that seemed entirely foreign on someone usually so self-assured.

"Bulma? Is something wrong?" Cellera asked, worry creeping into her voice despite her attempts to maintain composure.

"No...maybe?" Bulma shook her head, seeming to struggle with her words - another anomaly for the usually direct scientist. "Look, I think we need to talk..."

An uneasy feeling gnawed at Cellera's stomach as Bulma led her to the living room. Her father stood in his usual corner, arms crossed and affecting disinterest, though Cellera recognized the tension in his stance immediately. Her mind raced through possibilities - had something happened? Had Kakarot fallen ill to the heart virus sooner than they'd expected? The past year of rigorous training had pushed certain possibilities to the back of her mind, possibilities she'd once been certain of after meeting that mysterious youth.

However, the words that left Bulma's mouth suddenly brought all those forgotten suspicions rushing back.

"Well...you may be becoming a big sister!" Bulma said, offering a nervous smile as she carefully gauged Cellera's reaction.

Cellera blinked, her mind taking a moment to process the words. "W-what?"

"She means she's with child," her father scoffed from the corner, drawing a sharp glare from Bulma over her shoulder.

The pieces that she'd assembled a year ago, then set aside in favor of android preparations, suddenly snapped back into focus. Kakarot's parting words after the time traveler's warning: "Have a healthy baby, Bulma!" The mysterious youth with her father's features and Bulma's expressions, who had known her favorite strawberry soda and understood her unconscious gestures. She'd been so certain then of his identity, but the endless training sessions and preparation for the androids had pushed those revelations aside - until now.

A smile spread across Cellera's face as realization washed over her. A sibling. She looked at Bulma, who visibly relaxed at her joyful reaction. Here was proof that she and her father were truly building a home, a family, on Earth - something her younger self, living under Frieza's rule, would have dismissed as an impossible fairy tale.

Her gaze shifted to her father, who maintained his characteristic pose against the wall. Yet she could read the subtle changes in his bearing - the slight loosening of his crossed arms, the barely perceptible softening around his eyes. Though he'd never show it openly, she knew him well enough to recognize the happiness he was carefully containing, along with the tenfold increase in his pride. After all, he wasn't just ensuring the continuation of the Saiyan bloodline - he was creating something entirely new, a family that bridged two worlds.

September 20th, Age 766

In June of that year, Cellera had become an elder sister. Her father hadn't attended the birth - too consumed with his Super Saiyan training now that he'd finally achieved the legendary transformation. His new power meant their own training had intensified considerably, and true to his word, she could no longer train with Gohan. Bulma had taken it upon herself to keep Chichi updated, as Cellera's days were filled with her father's increasingly demanding regimen.

Despite the rigorous training schedule, her father had permitted her to accompany Bulma to the hospital for the birth. Both Bulma and Cellera recognized this concession for what it was - his own awkward way of showing he cared. They'd noticed other subtle changes too, particularly during the final months of Bulma's pregnancy. Her father, usually quick to provoke arguments just to see Bulma's fiery responses, had noticeably restrained himself. Even his usual demands about the gravity room came with less bite, as if he understood the importance of keeping Bulma's stress levels manageable.

Now, sitting on the living room couch while Bulma got some much-needed rest, Cellera studied her baby brother cradled in her arms. Every detail about him confirmed what she'd suspected about the time traveler's identity. The small tuft of lavender hair on his head matched exactly. When he smiled - which he did often - she saw Bulma's expressiveness, especially in those bright blue eyes that seemed to hold the same intelligence. But his features were undeniably her father's, becoming almost comically apparent whenever he got upset. In those moments, his tiny face would scrunch into such a perfect miniature of their father's scowl that Cellera had to bite back laughter.

As Cellera held Trunks, her attention shifted to the television where a news anchor's voice cut through her peaceful moment with her brother. The segment focused on a new viral heart infection spreading through the population, and her chest tightened at the implications. This had to be it - the virus that would take Kakarot from them before the androids even arrived.

Trunks, named entirely by Bulma who had declared that Vegeta lost all naming rights by missing the birth, seemed to sense his sister's distress. His tiny face turned toward her as he began to babble, almost as if trying to reassure her. The sound drew her attention back to him, and she managed a half-hearted smile at his attempt at comfort.

He reached up with his small arms, making determined grasping motions until she offered her finger to him. His grip, when he caught it, was surprisingly strong for a three-month-old. A huff of amusement escaped her as she raised an eyebrow in approval. 

"I shouldn't have expected any less." The words carried a hint of pride - he was, after all, her father's son. Trunks beamed up at her as if he understood exactly what the praise meant, his smile so reminiscent of Bulma's that it made her previous worries momentarily fade.

Looking at him now, she could hardly believe how naturally he had fit into their lives. Despite her father's continued absence during most of Trunks' waking hours, preferring to train rather than engage in what he deemed "pointless infant activities," their brother-sister bond had grown stronger each day. It amazed her how someone so small could command such presence - though perhaps she shouldn't have been surprised, given his parentage.

As much as her father might dismiss these quiet moments as wasteful, Cellera found herself increasingly drawn to spending time with her brother whenever her rigorous training schedule allowed. There was something fascinating about watching him discover the world around him. Though only three months old, he already displayed a keen awareness that reminded her of both their parents - Bulma's insatiable curiosity combined with their father's intense focus.

She noticed how his eyes followed the movement of Dr. Brief's various robotic assistants with remarkable attention for an infant. When experiments in the lab produced colorful reactions, he would reach toward them with determined little fists, that same sparkle of scientific interest she often saw in Bulma's eyes lighting up his own. Yet when frustrated, his entire demeanor would shift into an almost perfect miniature of their father's royal indignation.

The sound of particularly alarming statistics from the television's health report drew Cellera's attention back to the screen. The virus's spread pattern matched exactly what the time traveler had warned them about. Her arms tightened slightly around Trunks, prompting him to look up at her with those startlingly perceptive eyes.

"I won't let anything happen to you," she found herself promising quietly. Trunks responded by grabbing a lock of her hair that had fallen within reach, his grip just as strong as the one he maintained on her finger.

In these quiet moments, she found herself studying her baby brother - this small bridge between two worlds. From the way his bright eyes followed Dr. Brief's inventions with Bulma's scientific curiosity to how his entire demeanor shifted to their father's indignation when frustrated, he seemed to embody the perfect blend of both lineages. The thought brought a smile to her face as she adjusted Trunks in her arms.

A familiar ki signature approached - their father, likely finished with his morning training session. Trunks immediately perked up, his energy shifting in response to Vegeta's presence even though their father rarely acknowledged him directly. Yet another sign of his inherited Saiyan awareness, Cellera noted with approval.

It was a rare day where Cellera was actually free from training, though she had a sneaking suspicion Bulma had something to do with it due to it being her birthday. As she sat in Bulma's personal lab, the familiar hum of machinery providing a soothing backdrop, she watched Trunks playing contentedly in his mobile cradle. At nine months old, he already showed remarkable awareness of his surroundings, his bright eyes following every movement of the various robotic assistants with intense fascination.

Her attention returned to the theoretical physics book laid out before her, fingers trailing through the table of contents until she found the chapter she sought. While it should be a good thing that Kakarot hadn't contracted the heart virus yet, the deviation from future Trunks' warnings left her uneasy. She found the section she was looking for: "The Butterfly Effect and Parallel Universes." The more she read about how small changes could create entirely different timelines, the more her certainty wavered about the future they'd been warned about.

As she closed the book and placed it carefully on a nearby desk, her mind raced with questions. If one prediction could be altered - Kakarot's illness - what else might change? Was this a positive sign, or merely delaying the inevitable?

She made her way back to where Bulma worked, watching as the scientist made final adjustments to what appeared to be a perfect replica of Saiyan battle armor. "I know I have told you before, but truly, you impress me Bulma." The words carried genuine admiration - not just for the technical achievement, but for how Bulma managed to balance her scientific work with motherhood. The armor before them was nearly identical to the ones Cellera remembered, right down to the specific flexibility of the material.

"Well, I'm getting tired of having to wash your father's current gear at least twice a day, plus it's getting pretty damaged with your training," Bulma replied with practiced nonchalance, though Cellera caught the underlying tone of something more significant. "Your annotations about the material composition and flexibility requirements were incredibly helpful in getting the replica just right."

As Trunks began to fuss, Bulma handed over his bottle, adding with an uncharacteristically shy smile, "I also assumed it would be something he'd actually accept from me... like a gift."

A light blush colored Bulma's cheeks at the admission, and Cellera felt her own lips curve into a knowing smile. She had explained to Bulma months ago about Saiyan customs - how gifts to wear carried deep significance, symbolizing a warrior's commitment to their chosen mate. She was pleased to see Bulma had not only remembered but had chosen to incorporate the tradition in her own way.

The scene before her confirmed yet again how well-matched her father and Bulma were - both too proud to voice their feelings directly, yet finding ways to express them through actions. Her father with his subtle protectiveness, shown through decreased training intensity during Bulma's pregnancy, and now Bulma creating armor that perfectly balanced Saiyan customs with her own scientific expertise.

Cellera couldn't help but find amusement in the current situation. Here was Bulma, blushing over gifting battle armor to her father when they had obviously shared far more intimate moments. The thought made her bite back a laugh - for someone usually so bold, Bulma's sudden shyness over following Saiyan customs was oddly endearing.

When Trunks finished his bottle with an exaggerated grunt of satisfaction, Cellera placed it on the desk beside her book. Small grunting noises drew her attention back to her brother, his tiny arms reaching toward her with determined intention. A resigned sigh escaped her - she'd learned early on that resistance was futile when it came to his demands for attention. As she lifted him from his cradle, his delighted laugh rang through the lab, drawing an involuntary smile from her. His joy, so pure and unconditional, had a way of breaking through even her composure.

"Look at you! You really are a natural," Bulma remarked, pausing her work to plant a kiss on her son's cheek. "You love your big sister, don't you Trunks?"

Trunks responded with enthusiastic clapping, his bright eyes fixed on Cellera with obvious adoration. She felt heat rise to her cheeks at such open affection, still adjusting to these casual displays of familial love. Looking down at her baby brother, she found herself acknowledging what she'd known for months now - she loved him too, with an intensity that sometimes startled her.

"Sorry we aren't able to celebrate your birthday today," Bulma said apologetically, but Cellera shook her head. The blue ribbon Bulma had given her for her eighth birthday, now a constant fixture in her daily attire, was celebration enough.

"There will be plenty more to celebrate once the androids are taken care of." The words carried quiet determination. She had to defeat these androids - not just for Earth's sake, but for her family. For this little brother who represented everything she never thought possible under Frieza's rule: hope, love, a future worth protecting.

May 12th, Age 767

In what felt like mere moments, three years had passed, each day of preparation dissolving into the next until they arrived at the date that had loomed over them since the mysterious youth's warning. The morning sun cast long shadows across Mount Paozu as Gohan, Goku, and Piccolo prepared for departure. Chichi emerged from the house, her hands clutching carefully wrapped bento boxes as she watched them with barely contained worry.

"You three all watch yourselves now..." Her voice carried that mixture of concern and resignation that had become familiar over the past three years. Gohan couldn't help but smile, remembering how his mother had gradually adapted to Piccolo's presence in their daily lives. What had once been barely tolerated training sessions had evolved into a strange sort of family dynamic - though Chichi had quickly established firm rules about keeping battle strategies away from the dinner table. 

"You're sure you don't want to take a bento with you?" Chichi held out the boxes, her gesture encompassing all three warriors - including Piccolo, a detail that wouldn't have happened three years ago.

"Thanks, Chichi, we'll be alright." Goku's reassurance came with his characteristic warmth. Gohan nodded in agreement before both father and son bid farewell to Chichi. The three warriors took to the sky, leaving behind the peaceful sanctuary of their mountain home.

As they streaked through the morning air toward their destination southwest of South City, Gohan found himself unconsciously pulling ahead of his father and mentor. His mind raced with doubts that had been building over their years of preparation. Had he trained hard enough? Despite countless hours of practice, would his strength be enough to make a difference against these androids? The fact that his father remained healthy, contrary to the time traveler's warning, only added to his uncertainty. If that prediction turned out to be wrong, what did that mean for the rest of their future? Did they even need him in this fight?

"Hey, Gohan!" His father's voice cut through his spiraling thoughts. "We have plenty of time to get there; you don't have to fly so hard! You're going to use up all your strength before the fight!"

Gohan suddenly realized how far he'd pulled ahead in his distraction. "Right!" he called back, slowing his pace to match theirs. Yet even as he fell into formation beside them, those nagging doubts continued to whisper in the back of his mind.

As Goku and Piccolo fell into familiar discussion behind him, Gohan eased his pace to listen. The way they spoke about the upcoming battle highlighted their contrasting personalities - personalities that had somehow found a way to coexist over these past three years.

"We won't know what we're really dealing with until we see them," Goku said, his characteristic optimism present even now. "I'll let you know once the fight starts."

Piccolo made a sound that might have been amusement, though his expression remained serious. "Still taking everything in stride, I see." He paused, his cape billowing in the wind as they flew. "It's not that I doubt our abilities, but something about this doesn't feel right. I can't shake this sense of foreboding."

Before they could delve deeper into Piccolo's concerns, a familiar ki signature approached. Gohan brightened as he recognized it. "Dad, look! Krillin is here!" He accelerated slightly to draw even with their friend as their flight paths converged. "Hey Krillin!"

"Yo!" Goku called from behind them, his greeting carrying that same warmth it always had.

Krillin returned their greetings, studying Gohan's face. "Man, you've really shot up, haven't you? I can only imagine how much Cellera's grown too - haven't seen her at all these past three years."

Despite Krillin's attempt at casual conversation, something in his tone caught Goku's attention. "What's wrong, Krillin? We haven't seen each other in all this time, but you seem pretty down."

Krillin's expression fell into a deadpan stare. "How am I supposed to be cheery when we're about to tangle with those monsters ?" His voice carried that familiar dry wit as he added, "We're not all Super Saiyans, y'know."

After several more miles of flight, the island materialized through the morning haze. "That's it! That's the island!" Krillin called out, pointing toward their destination. The group paused their approach, hovering high above as they surveyed the sprawling city below.

"It's a pretty huge island, huh?" Goku asked, his eyes scanning the terrain for potential battle locations.

"Yeah, this is bad." Krillin's voice carried genuine concern as he took in the scope of the populated area. "It's got a pretty large city on it, too."

Gohan studied the bustling streets below, watching the oblivious citizens going about their morning routines. "We'll have to find some way to lure the androids away from here, or the people on the island could get caught up in the fight." His young voice carried the weight of experience - he'd seen too many innocent lives endangered during their battles.

"Yeah, you're right," his father agreed, the usual lightness in his tone tempered by the reality of their situation.

Krillin suddenly straightened, his attention drawn to a nearby mountain range. "I'm sensing three huge ki coming from near that mountain..." He squinted toward the distant peaks. "It's probably Yamcha, Tien and-"

"Cellera!" Gohan's excited interruption came with an immediate burst of speed as he shot toward the mountain. Even after eighteen months without seeing her, he would know that ki signature anywhere.

The remaining warriors exchanged glances - Goku's amused, Piccolo's resigned, and Krillin's knowing. "All right, let's go!" Goku called out with a shrug before taking off after his son. Piccolo and Krillin followed, though Krillin couldn't quite suppress his smirk at Gohan's eagerness.

As they descended toward the mountain's base, they found Tien, Yamcha, and Cellera gathered together, with Bulma standing surprisingly among them with a baby in tow. 

Cellera looked up as she sensed the familiar ki of Gohan and the others rounding the corner, lifting a hand up in greeting as they landed. "My, you sure have grown, haven't you Gohan?" Bulma asked as she adjusted Trunks in her arms.

Though it had only been a year and a half since she'd last seen or spoken to Gohan, the changes in him were striking. He'd grown noticeably taller, his tied hair now reaching down to the end of his back. The battle gear he wore still resembled Piccolo's style, but filled out differently now - even at nearly ten years old, slight muscle definition was visible in his exposed arms. More than the physical changes, she could sense how much stronger he'd become since their last sparring session.

Her observation of Gohan's development led her to reflect on her own changes over these past months. Her fighting instincts and drive had intensified dramatically, particularly after Trunks' birth. The shift had been notable enough that she'd questioned her father about it, concerned that the heightened combat instincts weren't limited to her Super Saiyan transformation but appeared even during their regular hand-to-hand training sessions. Her father had merely smirked at her concern, telling her it was a natural stage of growth - she was developing into a proper Saiyan warrior, and she should embrace it.

"What are you doing out here?" Goku asked, his eyes moving from Bulma to the infant in her arms. "It's not going to be safe, Bulma."

"No need to worry," Cellera interjected, her voice carrying that familiar mix of authority and reassurance. "I already had Bulma promise she would leave once the battle is underway." As she spoke, she extended her finger toward Trunks, who had started making his characteristic grabbing motions.

"Don't worry, after I get a look at these androids, I'll be gone," Bulma assured them. "Besides, we have this little guy to look after now." She nodded toward Trunks, who had begun reaching for Cellera with increasing enthusiasm. "Okay, okay! Easy there," Bulma laughed, carefully passing him to his sister's waiting arms.

Gohan found himself transfixed by the scene before him. He'd known Cellera for years now, had witnessed countless facets of her personality - the focused warrior who could calculate battle strategies in seconds, the girl whose eyes lit up at complex mathematical problems, even those rare moments when compliments would crack her composed exterior and bring color to her cheeks. But this was something entirely different.

The way she cradled the child with such natural grace, her usual sharp movements softened to accommodate his small form - it stirred something in Gohan he couldn't quite identify. This was a side of Cellera he'd never seen before, yet somehow it felt like it had always been there, waiting to emerge. Perhaps it's what his mother had always referred to as ‘maternal instinct’. 

"If there's one thing I know," Bulma announced, placing her hands on her hips with characteristic confidence, "It's that he sure does love his big sister!"

The revelation caused a ripple of shock through the gathered warriors. Krillin's eyes widened as they darted between Cellera, Bulma, and the infant. "W-Wait! You mean to tell me that Vegeta is his father?"

"Unless you know of another method for obtaining the title of elder sister, that would be correct." While Cellera's retort carried her usual sharp wit, her tone held more playful teasing than bite. 

"I thought you were just babysitting or something!" Krillin sputtered, still trying to process this dramatic shift in their group's dynamic.

"This is hardly the time to stand around and gossip," Piccolo's stern voice cut through the moment, his practical nature refocusing everyone on their current situation. "Just where is Vegeta, anyway? I don't see him around here."

"Father had left to do some secluded training about a month ago to prepare for today," Cellera explained, wincing slightly as Trunks managed to grab the loose strand of hair that framed her face. The sight of the proud Saiyan princess being bested by her infant brother's grip drew an almost-smile from Gohan, though he quickly tried to suppress it. He knew better than to let Cellera catch him finding amusement in her predicament.

"He'll show up," Goku stated with firm certainty. "He wouldn't miss this for anything."

As Tien explained his decision to leave Chiaotzu behind, considering him unprepared for a battle of this magnitude, Gohan's attention shifted to more immediate concerns. "What time is it, Bulma?"

Bulma checked her watch, the casual gesture at odds with the gravity of what they were waiting for. "Let's see... It's half-past 9. They should show up in about half an hour."

"You really should think about leaving now," Goku pressed, his usual carefree demeanor giving way to genuine concern as his eyes moved to Trunks. "Especially with Trunks."

"I told you before, I'll leave once I get a good look at these androids," Bulma insisted. But then she paused, her sharp mind catching an odd detail. "Wait a second, how did you know his name, Goku?"

The question sent Goku into an immediate panic, his arms flailing as he tried to cover his slip. "Oh, uh... maybe I'm psychic?" The obvious lie came with a nervous laugh that fooled no one.

Cellera would have put a hand to her face if she weren't holding Trunks. While his birth meant Kakarot couldn't accidentally erase him from existence anymore, she could only imagine how differently things might have played out if he'd made this kind of slip three years ago. For someone who could face down galactic tyrants without flinching, Kakarot had a remarkable inability to handle simple deception.

Since they had thirty minutes to spare, Cellera decided to take a seat on the ground with Trunks, Gohan coming to sit in front of her. "You didn't tell me you were going to be a big sister," he said, looking at her with mock accusation though his eyes held no real reproach.

Cellera sighed, offering him a slight apologetic smile. "With so much going on between father's rigorous training and assisting Bulma with both him and her personal project, it made it difficult to find time." Her expression softened. "Believe me, I didn't keep it from you on purpose."

"Yeah, I know." Gohan's smile carried understanding, but then his expression grew more serious. "You mentioned Vegeta leaving off by himself again to train?" The look he gave her carried deeper meaning - they'd been through this before, when her father had vanished into space. She recognized the unspoken question about her wellbeing.

"It's fine," she assured him, appreciating his concern. "He had informed us beforehand this time instead of just taking off on his own."

Seemingly satisfied that she was truly okay, Gohan turned his attention to Trunks. His face broke into a wide grin as he began making exaggerated expressions, drawing delighted laughs and enthusiastic clapping from the baby.

"Wow, Gohan," Bulma remarked, watching the interaction with evident amusement. "Seems like he likes you almost as much as Cellera."

Krillin watched Cellera and Gohan play with Trunks, the two taking to an older sibling role so naturally. As he observed them, his mind drifted back to that evening on Master Roshi's beach three years ago, watching them spar beneath the setting sun. There had always been something special about how at ease they were with each other. He still remembered that moment when Cellera's eyes had drifted to Gohan after her declaration about potential suitors needing to be stronger than her father. Today, Gohan had completely forgotten about the approaching androids the moment he'd sensed her ki.

"He's got quite a grip, doesn't he?" Cellera asked as Gohan stared in surprise at Trunks' hold on his finger.

"He sure does," Gohan replied, tugging gently but unsuccessfully at his captured digit. Trunks only laughed at his attempts, clearly enjoying this new game.

Cellera's own laughter joined her brother's. "As you can see, he has inherited father's stubbornness as well."

"Yeah, no kidding." Gohan's face scrunched with growing worry as he realized he might be truly stuck. Cellera noticed how his expressions always gave away exactly what he was thinking - right now, his wide eyes and slightly panicked look showed he had no idea how to free himself without upsetting the baby.

She laughed again at his obvious predicament. "Here, let me help. This isn't the first time we've had to pry his grip off something." Her mind flashed back to the heart-stopping moment when Trunks had somehow gotten hold of one of Bulma's tools, waving it around with delighted abandon.

As Cellera carefully worked to loosen Trunks' grip one finger at a time, Gohan found himself distracted by the subtle signs he'd come to recognize over the years - the slight furrow of her brow, the way her head tilted just slightly to the right, that same look of concentration she got when tackling particularly challenging number problems. When his finger finally came free, Trunks immediately made another grab for it. Without thinking, Cellera's hand interlocked with Gohan's, pulling it safely out of her brother's reach.

Time seemed to slow as awareness dawned on them both. Through Gohan's perspective, everything narrowed to the simple point where their hands connected, his face growing warmer with each passing heartbeat. Their fingers had interlocked so naturally, so differently from their casual contact during sparring matches.

Cellera jerked her hand back as if burned, her usual composure cracking. "S-Sorry," she stammered, fixing her gaze anywhere but at Gohan's face.  "It's a reflex." The explanation tumbled out as she tried to rationalize her action and her heart raced with an intensity that rivaled her most demanding training sessions, though she couldn't understand why such a simple gesture affected her so strongly.

A few of the others who witnessed the interaction couldn't help but smirk as they watched both young warriors' faces flush and their gazes dart anywhere but at each other. Krillin had to suppress a knowing grin at this new development between the two children.

The pair were so caught up in their shared embarrassment that they missed Piccolo's announcement of an approaching ki. A familiar skycar descended near their group, and Yajirobe emerged, looking as disgruntled as ever. He thrust a small bag toward Goku without ceremony.

"Here. Senzu beans from Korin," he muttered, already turning back toward his vehicle.

"H-hey Yajirobe, you're not fighting?" Goku asked, though he likely knew the answer.

The heavier man shot him a withering glare. "Unlike the rest of you idiots, I'm not suicidal. As if I'm gonna stick around with you guys." Without another word, he climbed back into his skycar and took off into the sky.

The moment shattered any lingering awkwardness between Gohan and Cellera as she narrowed her eyes at Yajirobe's retreating form. "Coward," she muttered, the word carrying all the disdain for the plump samurai.

Gohan glanced between Cellera and Yajirobe's disappearing vehicle. If there was one thing he'd learned about his friend over the years, it was her absolute contempt for cowardice. Combined with Yajirobe's generally unpleasant attitude - something that had always clashed with Cellera's sense of warrior pride - it was no wonder she held such distaste for him.

"There's something not right here..." Tien's voice carried an edge of unease as he surveyed the city below. "It's already well past 10 o'clock and I don't sense the slightest hint of an enemy presence."

"Maybe that time traveling kid was wrong," Yamcha suggested, though his tone lacked conviction.

"He said it'd be around 10 o'clock. It's only 10:17, so I think it's a little too early to say," Bulma defended. 

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, her mind racing through all the theoretical physics texts she'd studied over the past year. The consequences of altering timelines, butterfly effects... perhaps their future was already deviating more than they'd anticipated. "Gohan. How has Kakarot been? Has he still not shown any symptoms of the heart virus appearing?"

Gohan shook his head, recognizing the worried look in her eyes. He'd learned to read her expressions over their years of friendship - the thumb to her lip, the slight furrow in her brow. Something was troubling her. "No. Not that I know of. What's wrong?"

Before Cellera could voice her concerns about the timeline's changes, a thunderous explosion ripped through the morning air. Their heads snapped toward the sound just in time to see Yajirobe's skycar erupting into flames.

"What was that?!" Krillin's shout carried over the echoing blast.

"Look there's something in the air!" Piccolo's sharp command drew their attention upward. "He was attacked from up above!"

Through the settling debris, they caught glimpses of two figures streaking away into the city - their movements carried none of the familiar signatures of ki energy they were accustomed to sensing.

"D-did you see where they went?" Krillin asked worriedly.

"N-No, I couldn't even tell what they looked like!" Goku replied, scanning the cityscape below.

Cellera stood up, carefully passing Trunks back to Bulma. Her brother, though only nine months old, seemed to sense the gravity of the situation from his sister's expression alone. "Not to mention, either I've regressed in sensing ki, or there was no ki to sense at all." 

"They're artificial humans... so they don't have any ki!" Gohan's voice carried the weight of sudden understanding. Beside him, Cellera gritted her teeth - this would complicate their battle strategy significantly.

"If we can't sense their ki, we'll have to look for them directly with our eyes," Piccolo stated firmly, his eyes locked onto the city below.

"Alright, we'll split up and look for them!” Goku's voice took on that rare edge of command. “Don't let your guard down, and if you find them, let the rest of us know right away!" He then turned to his son. "Gohan, you go check on Yajirobe. He should still be alive."

"Right!" Gohan nodded firmly, but before taking off, his eyes met Cellera's. In that brief moment, they exchanged a silent understanding - a wordless promise to stay safe that needed no voice. The simple nod they shared carried the weight of years of friendship and trust.

"LET'S GO!" Piccolo's command spurred them into action.

The warriors took to the air, their paths diverging across the city skyline. Through Gohan's eyes, his friends became rapidly shrinking dots against the morning sky. Each carried the weight of three years' preparation, knowing their future hinged on the next few hours. Cellera's form disappeared behind a towering building, but the silent promise they'd exchanged lingered - a wordless vow between friends to see each other through whatever challenges lay ahead.

But in another timeline, in another reality, there had been no warning, no preparation, and no Son Goku. That world's warriors would face a very different May 12th - one that would set in motion a chain of events leading a young man to risk everything, traveling across time itself in hopes of preventing the nightmare his world had become.

Notes:

Next week is the chapter that some of you have been eagerly waiting for. I just hope I do it justice, as I feel like there's a lot of expectation and it makes me extremely nervous. I'll probably be sitting and revising the doc constantly all week until posting.

ALSO, SHOUTOUT TO MMYRVE AKA CHAOS_BUNNY FOR THE ART! I LOVE IT SO MUCH! PLEASE GO FOLLOW THEIR TUMBLR AND DEVIANT ART!
https://www.tumblr.com/mmyrve/775855778977513472/i-have-an-offering?source=share

Chapter 17: Chapter 17 - The History of Trunks

Summary:

The History of Trunks

Notes:

Its here....

Please be sure to click the tumblr link at the notes in the end to see my thoughts on writing this chapter and explanations of why i went the route I did. That being said, I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

November of Age 766

The November wind rustled through the trees surrounding the Son family's home, matching the uneasy atmosphere among the gathered Z fighters. Trunks's cries pierced the heavy silence as Bulma tried to soothe him, but the infant remained inconsolable. Even at barely a year old, he seemed to sense the gravity of what was happening inside the modest house.

Cellera reached up to touch her half-brother's hand, grateful for the distraction from Kakarot’s rapidly declining ki. Her fingers pulled absently at the sleeves of her dark teal sweater - one of many Earth clothes she'd acquired in the four years since Namek. Though she'd adopted many Earth customs, she'd kept her Saiyan boots, a small reminder of her heritage.

Her gaze drifted to where her father perched on a rock overlooking the stream, his rigid posture betraying his unease. He hadn't moved since Kakarot energy had first begun to fade, his expression stormy as he watched his rival succumb to an enemy no warrior could fight.

A familiar ki signature approaching at high speed drew Cellera's attention skyward. She looked up just as Gohan's form appeared over the treeline, still wearing the purple gi marking him as Piccolo's student, his long hair trailing behind him. The panic in his energy was palpable as he raced toward them, no doubt having felt his father's life force growing weaker with each passing moment.

She noted how strange it was to see such fear on Gohan's face again. In the four years since they'd fought side by side on Namek, she'd seen him face countless dangers with growing confidence. But this enemy - this virus stealing his father's strength - left them all feeling helpless.

Gohan landed hard in front of his house, the impact sending small rocks scattering. For a moment, he seemed frozen in place, as if afraid to confirm what his senses were telling him about his father's fading ki.

His eyes met Cellera's briefly - that same helpless fear she'd seen on Namek when they'd faced enemies too powerful to defeat. But this was different. This time there was no strategy to employ, no combined attack to attempt. They could only watch as Kakarot’s energy continued to slip away.

Without a word, Gohan burst through the front door, leaving it swinging on its hinges as he rushed to his parents' bedroom. The sound of it banging against the wall made Trunks jump in Bulma's arms, his cries momentarily quieting.

Through the open door, Cellera caught a glimpse of Chi-Chi turning toward her son, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Gohan, I'm sorry..." her voice cracked. "I'm so sorry, honey."

The moment Kakarot’s ki flickered and vanished completely, everything seemed to stop. The wind died. The birds fell silent. Even Trunks went still, as if nature itself acknowledged the passing of Earth's greatest defender.

"He's gone..." Krillin's voice broke the terrible silence, his hands trembling at his sides. "Goku's gone!"

The shock rippled through the gathered warriors. Yamcha took a step back, shaking his head in denial. Tien's third eye closed in grief while Chiaotzu floated down to land beside him. Piccolo's stoic expression cracked, his fists clenching at his sides.

From his perch by the stream, Vegeta's whisper carried on the still air: "Kakarot... impossible." The prince's voice held something Cellera had never heard before - not just disbelief, but a hint of fear. Her father, who feared nothing, suddenly seemed lost.

Cellera's hand dropped from Trunks as she processed this new reality. The warrior who had shown her mercy on Earth, who had fulfilled her father's dying wish on Namek before they were wished back, who had helped her see another way to be strong... was gone. Not in glorious battle, but to an enemy none of them could fight.

She glanced at baby Trunks, who had finally quieted in Bulma's arms. Her half-brother would grow up in this peaceful world Kakarot had helped create - so different from the life of servitude she'd known under Frieza. They owed him everything: mercy when they deserved none, freedom from the tyrant who'd destroyed their race, even a new home here on Earth. There had to be a way to save him.

"The Dragon Balls," she said suddenly, the familiar calculation returning to her eyes. "We could wish him back-"

"It's not possible," Piccolo cut in, his voice gentle but firm. "Even if we hadn't already revived him once before, the Dragon Balls can't bring back those who die of natural causes." He paused, adding quietly, "He won't even be able to keep his body in the afterlife this time."

Cellera turned to him sharply. "What do you mean?"

"The only reason Goku kept his body to train with King Kai before was because of special circumstances," Piccolo explained. "Kami had to vouch for him to King Yemma, convince him it was necessary to prepare for your arrival." His eyes met hers without accusation - those days of being enemies felt like a lifetime ago. "This time... his soul will go directly to Heaven."

Cellera's eyes darted to the Son house, where Chi-Chi's sobs were still audible through the open door. "What about the Namekian Dragon Balls?" she pressed, unwilling to give up. "We could contact New Namek through King Kai, or take a ship-"

Piccolo shook his head. "The Namekian Dragon Balls operate under the same fundamental principles. They can't bring back those who die of natural causes either." He continued solemnly, "Besides,we have no idea where New Namek is located and I haven't been able to reach King Kai." He sighed. "He's responsible for overseeing a quarter of the universe. With this being a personal matter rather than a universal threat..." He met her desperate gaze. "I'm sorry Cellera, but there's nothing we can do."

Cellera bit her lip hard, anger and frustration warring with helplessness as she looked down. For all her analytical skills, she couldn't find a single solution to bring back the man who had given her family a second chance at life.

A particularly loud wail from Chi-Chi made Cellera wince, the sound cutting through Master Roshi's gentle murmurs and the Ox King's rumbling attempts at comfort. Even Gohan's quiet voice could be heard trying to soothe his mother.

After a few moments, the front door opened again. Gohan stepped out, closing it softly behind him. The nine-year-old's face was carefully composed, though Cellera could see the slight tremor in his hands as he let go of the doorknob.

No one seemed to know what to say. The silence stretched until Tien finally stepped forward, placing a hand on Gohan's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Gohan. Your father was a great man. I’ll never forget what he’s done for me." One by one, the others followed with their own quiet condolences.

Krillin moved closer to his best friend's son, his eyes bright with unshed tears. "Listen kiddo, I'm here for you, okay? Take all the time you need." He squeezed Gohan's shoulder gently. "You're the man of the house now, but that doesn't mean you have to be strong all the time."

Piccolo approached next, his tall form casting a shadow over his young student. He placed a hand on Gohan's head - the same gesture he'd used during their year of training together. "I'm sorry, Gohan." His gruff voice carried unusual gentleness. "Take the time you need to grieve, but don't stop moving forward. Goku wouldn't want to see you hung up on this forever." He turned to leave, then paused, looking back. "I'll be here whenever you need me, kid."

Bulma stepped forward next, clearly fighting back tears. She had known Kakarot since he was just a little older than Gohan - from that first meeting when she'd found a wild-haired boy in the mountains. But she held herself together, knowing the boy in front of her needed strength right now.

The somber moment lightened unexpectedly as Trunks let out a delighted laugh, reaching his small hands toward Gohan. A ghost of a smile crossed Gohan's face as he grasped the baby's hand, the simple gesture drawing a soft smile from Cellera as she watched from the side.

Even Vegeta approached, offering Gohan a respectful nod which the boy returned. The gesture spoke volumes about how far they'd come since Namek - from enemies to something approaching understanding. Without a word, Vegeta took to the sky, no doubt seeking solitude to process the loss of his rival in his own way before returning to Capsule Corp.

Bulma made her way to her car, carefully securing Trunks in his seat. Before getting in, she glanced questioningly at Cellera, only to find her young ward's attention fixed on Gohan. Catching Bulma's look, Cellera shook her head slightly, her eyes returning to her friend.

Understanding passed across Bulma's face as she looked between the two nine-year-olds. With a knowing nod, she got into her car and headed back toward Capsule Corp.

Silence settled over the yard as the last hover car disappeared from view. Gohan remained frozen, staring at the ground while Cellera watched him carefully.

"I'm fine," he said finally, his voice barely steady. "You can go home too, Cellera. I should help Mom-" His words cut off as a single tear splashed against the grass. Before he could turn away, Cellera was already moving toward him.

Watching him struggle to maintain his composure, she couldn't help but remember her own moment of loss on Namek. The raw pain when Frieza had killed her father, the way grief had torn through her defenses. But she hadn't been allowed to properly mourn - there had been no time between Frieza's attacks and rushing to help Kakarot. And in the end, her father had been wished back.

That wouldn't happen for Gohan. His father was gone forever.

Unable to watch him suffer alone any longer, Cellera wrapped her arms around Gohan. The embrace still felt somewhat awkward—physical comfort had never come naturally to her—but her concern for him outweighed her discomfort. Despite years of studying together, training side by side, and helping him with errands for Chi-Chi, these moments of vulnerability remained unfamiliar territory for the daughter of Vegeta. Yet for Gohan, she would push past her reservations.

Through his grief, Gohan found himself aware of how unusual this was for Cellera. The girl who had once analyzed every movement in battle was now offering comfort, stepping outside her comfort zone for his sake. Something about her willingness to set aside her usual reserve made his heart flutter despite his pain.

"It's okay, Gohan," she whispered, fighting the lump in her own throat. "Crying right now won't make you weak."

The words shattered his remaining control. Gohan clutched onto her, his whole body shaking with sobs as his knees gave out. They sank to the grass together, and Cellera felt her own tears welling up as she rubbed his back. "I know, Gohan. I'll miss Kakarot too. He showed me there was another path beyond what father intended."

As she held her grieving friend, something crystallized in Cellera's mind. Kakarot had given her a second chance at life - shown her a different path than the one had originally been laid out. She would honor that gift by protecting this planet he'd loved so much, this world that had become her home too. And she would protect his son, no matter what came next.

---

May 12th of Age 767

The explosion rocked the island, sending debris flying in every direction. Where moments before had stood a bustling metropolis, now only flames and rubble remained. Through the smoke, two mechanical figures descended, their cold eyes scanning the destruction with eerie satisfaction.

Cellera crouched behind a fallen building, her hand gripping Gohan's arm tightly as they suppressed their ki. Her mind raced as she counted the fading energy signatures of their friends. Yamcha had fallen first, then Tien and Chiaotzu. Krillin's ki flickered weakly somewhere to the east.

"We have to help them," Gohan whispered urgently, but Cellera's grip only tightened. She could feel him trembling - not from fear, but from the effort of holding back. The same helpless rage she'd felt watching her father fall to Frieza now threatened to overwhelm them both.

Piccolo's energy suddenly spiked nearby, followed by her father's - both engaging the androids head-on. A mistake. The mechanical monsters showed no ki for them to sense, no pattern to analyze, and even worse, an unlimited energy. Everything Cellera had learned about combat proved useless against these perfect killing machines.

Another explosion lit up the smoke-filled sky. Piccolo's ki vanished instantly - no gradual fade, just... gone. Beside her, Gohan stiffened, a choked sound catching in his throat.

"Piccolo... no..." he breathed, his whole body shaking.

Before Cellera could stop him, Vegeta's battle cry rang out, followed by a barrage of ki blasts that illuminated the ruins. Her father's energy burned bright and desperate - the proud Saiyan prince unleashing everything he had. For a moment, hope flickered as the assault continued.

Then silence.

"Father!" The word escaped her before she could stop it. Vegeta's ki signature disappeared as suddenly as Piccolo's had.

"Looking for more playmates, Eighteen?" A masculine voice carried through the smoke.

"There were two more, Seventeen. Young ones." The female android's tone held casual amusement. "I sensed them earlier."

Cellera grabbed Gohan's hand, her mind racing through options. No Dragon Balls. No way to contact New Namek. No help coming. Their friends were gone - really gone this time. The crushing reality of it all threatened to paralyze her, but her father's training kicked in. Survival now. Grief later.

"We have to go," she whispered, tugging Gohan toward their only escape route. "We can't avenge them if we're dead. They wouldn't want us to throw our lives away in a hopeless battle—they’d want us to get stronger and come back."

Gohan resisted for a moment, staring in the direction where Piccolo's ki had vanished. Then Krillin's energy, which had been barely detectable, flickered and died. That final loss seemed to snap him back to reality. He nodded sharply, gripping Cellera's hand tighter.

As they moved silently through the rubble, Cellera fought to keep her focus, assessing their surroundings while pushing down the image of her father's ki signature vanishing. Eastern mountains would leave civilians exposed. Southern forest provided cover and multiple escape routes. She considered each option while simultaneously cataloging what she'd observed about the androids - their seamless coordination, their endless energy, their inability to be sensed.

These observations wouldn't bring back her father or their friends, but they might keep her and Gohan alive long enough to find a way to defeat these monsters. She pressed her thumb to her lip briefly, centering herself through the familiar gesture as she continued mapping their escape.

The two moved through the rubble with practiced silence, keeping their power levels suppressed to almost nothing. A flash of blonde hair above made them freeze.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Android Eighteen called, her voice carrying a bored edge that made Cellera's blood run cold.

Another explosion rocked the area as Android Seventeen systematically destroyed building after building, methodically eliminating potential hiding spots. Each blast brought them closer to where Cellera and Gohan crouched.

"This is getting tedious, Seventeen," Eighteen sighed. "Let's make this more interesting." She raised her hand toward a cluster of buildings where civilians were hiding.

Cellera's tactical assessment and emotional response collided as she saw civilians about to die. Their lives versus revealing their position - an impossible calculation with no correct answer. The weight of their fallen friends and these innocent people pressed against her chest, but she forced her mind to stay clear. There would be time for mourning later, if they survived.

"No!" The word burst from Gohan, his ki flaring as he started to rise.

Cellera yanked him back down, clamping her other hand over his mouth. Her heart pounded as she watched Eighteen turn toward their general direction, a cruel smile playing at her lips.

"There you are," Eighteen purred, her head tilting as she pinpointed their location.

Cellera's mind raced through scenarios, each one worse than the last. They couldn't fight - the fallen Z fighters had proven that. They couldn't hide - the androids were too methodical. They could only...

"Solar Flare!" she shouted, throwing her hands up to her face. The technique she'd learned from Krillin filled the area with blinding light. Without waiting to see if it affected the androids, she grabbed Gohan and ran.

"Clever kids," Seventeen's voice echoed behind them. "But not clever enough."

A blast struck the ground at their feet, sending them sprawling. Cellera rolled to her knees, pulling Gohan up with her. Through the settling dust, she saw both androids advancing with casual confidence.

"Masenko-HA!" Gohan's attack erupted toward the mechanical siblings. Eighteen merely batted it aside.

"Now that wasn't very nice," Seventeen chided, raising his hand toward them. "Time to join your friends-"

The building beside them exploded suddenly, showering the area with debris. Through the chaos, Cellera spotted their chance.

"Now!" she hissed, pulling Gohan into a dive through the new escape route. They suppressed their ki completely as they fled, the sounds of destruction following them into the smoke-filled night.

Miles from the devastation, deep in the forested mountains, Cellera and Gohan finally stopped flying. Her legs gave out as the reality of what happened crashed over her. Her father, their friends, all gone. The mask she'd maintained during their escape crumbled.

"Father..." The word came out as a broken whisper. She pressed her fist against her mouth, trying to hold back the sob threatening to escape. But the image of Vegeta's ki signature vanishing replayed in her mind, along with the terrible certainty that this time, there would be no wish to bring him back.

Gohan knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders just as she had done for him months ago when his own father died. The comfort felt different now - both of them carrying a weight no ten-year-old should have to bear.

"I couldn't save him," she choked out, her careful control finally breaking. "I couldn’t save any of them! I just watched while they- while he-" She couldn't finish the sentence as tears began falling freely. "When your father died, I promised myself I would protect this planet he loved so much. That I would honor the second chance he gave us. But I couldn't do anything. I just hid while they killed everyone. What kind of protector am I?"

"You saved us both," Gohan said softly, holding her tighter as she shook with suppressed sobs. "Your quick thinking with the Solar Flare... if you hadn't pulled me back when I almost charged in..." He trailed off, knowing how close they'd come to sharing their friends' fate.

"What do we do now?" Cellera asked, her voice small and lost in a way Gohan had never heard before.

"We keep fighting," he replied, his father's determination mixing with Piccolo's resolve in his voice. "We get stronger. And we protect Earth together! We're all this planet has left now."

Cellera clung to Gohan as grief overwhelmed her, all her usual composure forgotten. Her training had taught her to analyze every situation, to maintain control, but in this moment she could only feel the devastating loss.

Gohan held her closer, suddenly struck by how different this was from their embrace six months ago. Then, she had been the strong one, helping him through his father's death. Now, watching her walls crumble completely, he felt something shift inside him. In all their years of friendship, he'd never seen her this vulnerable - the girl who always had a strategy, always knew what to do next, now broken by loss.

Looking down at her now dark hair, he made a silent promise to himself. He would become strong like his father. He would protect what remained of their world - and he would protect her. The sight of Cellera crying like this made his chest ache in a way he didn't fully understand, but he knew one thing: he never wanted to see her break down like this again. The androids had taken almost everything from them, but they wouldn't take this. They wouldn't break what remained of their found family.

-

The years that followed reshaped both children into warriors. Their training grounds became the remote mountains - far enough from cities to avoid detection, close enough to respond to android attacks when they could. Cellera brought her mother’s tactical precision to their spars, and her father’s strength and pride while Gohan contributed the techniques learned from both his father and Piccolo and the heart of a hero.

"I used to feel guilty," Gohan admitted one day, after a particularly intense training session. They were thirteen now, resting against a boulder as the sun set. "Wanting to fight, I mean. Mom always wanted me to be a scholar, and I did too, but..."

"But part of you always wanted to be as strong as Kakarot," Cellera finished, understanding in her voice.

He nodded. "I think deep down, it was always there."

Their routine developed naturally - training at dawn, helping survivors rebuild during the day, more training at dusk. Between battles, they studied together like they used to, preserving some fragment of the normal childhood they'd lost. Cellera found herself looking forward to these quiet moments as much as their spars.

The first time Gohan transformed into a Super Saiyan, he was thirteen. The androids had just destroyed another shelter they'd helped establish. The memory of Piccolo and Krillin's deaths surged through him - their ki signatures vanishing in an instant, just like these innocent lives. His rage at their casual cruelty, combined with Cellera's careful guidance in channeling his power, finally he had achieved Super Saiyan.

As they grew older, their coordination in battle became instinctive. By sixteen, Chi-Chi finally gave Gohan his father's gi - a silent acknowledgment that her son had found his own path. By nineteen, his powerful frame filled it out completely, and he and Cellera moved like extensions of each other - her precise strikes creating openings for his raw power. The young survivors they protected began whispering about Earth's defenders, the last hope against the mechanical monsters.

But even as their power grew, both knew they were only buying time. The androids were too strong, too tireless. Each encounter left them more battered, healing between battles becoming harder. Still, they fought on - protecting what remained of their world, honoring the legacy of those they'd lost.

---

At fourteen, Trunks had grown up watching Earth's defenders protect what remained of humanity. His earliest memories were filled with Cellera splitting her time between helping his mother gather supplies, fighting the androids, and eventually training him after years of his persistent begging. Despite living under the same roof, there were times when both she and Gohan would be gone for days, tracking the androids or responding to attacks.

Her conservative approach to his training felt increasingly frustrating - he was growing stronger every day, yet she continued holding him back. Each time he saw her return limping from battle, trying unsuccessfully to hide her injuries, or noticed how Gohan's reactions had slowed slightly with each recovery, his determination to join the fight intensified. The more he witnessed their exhaustion growing deeper with each encounter, the more desperate he became to help shoulder their burden. But her answer remained unchanged: "Not yet. You're not ready."

Her protectiveness ran deep - Trunks was both her beloved brother and a living reminder of their father, someone she rarely spoke about. He'd tried countless times to learn more about Vegeta, but each attempt ended the same way - Cellera's expression would close off, that distant look entering her eyes.

"He was formidable," she would say, her voice carefully neutral. "Pride was everything to him."

"But what was he really like?" Trunks had pressed once. "Did he ever laugh? Was he kind?"

"He wasn't kind," she had responded sharply before softening at his flinch. "I'm sorry. It's... difficult to talk about him."

He'd learned not to push further. Whatever memories she carried of their father, they were clearly too painful to share.

During their training sessions, Trunks often caught Cellera gazing toward the mountains where Gohan had chosen to live - a cave system far from populated areas. She'd once offered for him to stay at Capsule Corp, but he'd declined, unwilling to risk leading the androids to their last safe haven. Despite the distance, Gohan appeared regularly for joint training sessions and strategy meetings, his presence instantly shifting something in Cellera's demeanor.

Trunks's earliest memories of them together were images of their returns from battle - battered, exhausted, but always side by side. They moved with perfect synchronization in combat, something he'd studied, hoping to someday match their fluid coordination. He saw the toll each confrontation took, how their healing time grew longer as medical supplies dwindled while the androids remained untouched.

After particularly brutal encounters, Trunks would secretly watch Cellera tend to Gohan's injuries from the archway. Her methodical nature became even more pronounced in these moments - checking his vitals first, then assessing wound severity, finally examining for hidden injuries - always in the same precise order, always maintaining that composed facade. Gohan was equally attentive when she was injured, though less systematic, his concern showing plainly on his face while she tried to assure him she was fine.

During rare peaceful moments, he caught glimpses of something deeper between them - lingering touches when they thought no one was looking, the way Cellera's expression softened when Gohan entered a room, how his hand would find the small of her back as they reviewed battle plans.

Two warriors who fought tirelessly to protect Earth and humanity, yet in each other, they seemed to find something that made the endless battle worth enduring. Trunks could see it in their eyes - beyond their duty as Earth's defenders, they treasured each other above all else.

-

The hover car hummed quietly as they made their way back from another supply run, the back seat loaded with whatever groceries they'd managed to find. Trunks glanced at the medical center where Cellera had split off from them - she always insisted on handling medical supplies herself, applying the same precision to inventory as she did to combat.

The radio crackled with static before a panicked voice cut through: "This just in - Bridgetown is under attack! The androids have been spotted in the shopping district-"

"Damn those two!" His mother slammed the radio off, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. "They're destroying everything! The whole Earth is living in fear, and I can't take it anymore!"

Trunks stared at his hands, clenching them into fists. Every time they heard reports like this, he thought of Gohan and Cellera fighting alone. Of his sister coming home with new scars, of Gohan's increasingly grim expression when another city fell.

"Stop the car," he said suddenly.

"What?"

"Just stop, Mom. Go home without me."

Bulma looked at her son in confusion for a moment before she looked down and saw his knees being gripped so tightly his knuckles were turning white. 

"Trunks, no!" Bulma's voice cracked with familiar fear. "You're too young - Cellera's right about that. If anything happened to you-"

"I can't just keep hiding while they risk their lives!" The words burst out of him. "While my sister and Gohan are out there fighting alone!"

"N-O!" Bulma's voice shook with fear. "I'm not going to lose my only son to those mechanical demons!" But Trunks was already gone, blasting into the sky as his mother's cries of "TRUNKS!" faded behind him.

The devastation hit him first - buildings still smoking, streets cratered and broken. Then he saw the bodies. Men, women, children... scattered like discarded toys across the ruined city. His feet touched down among the wreckage, and something caught his eye - a stuffed rabbit, its pink fur stained with ash. He picked it up gently, imagining the child it must have belonged to.

A familiar ki signature made him turn. Gohan landed nearby, his father's gi marking him clearly against the gray destruction. His mentor's face was grim as he surveyed the carnage.

"Why are they doing this, Gohan?" Trunks's voice cracked as he clutched the stuffed rabbit. "Why do they kill innocent people?"

Gohan didn't answer immediately, his eyes scanning the destruction. The question was one he'd asked himself countless times over the years, one that haunted him and Cellera after every failed attempt to stop the androids.

Back at the partially destroyed Capsule Corp, Trunks couldn't hold back his tears anymore. "Is this what life is supposed to be?" he asked, watching drops fall onto his clenched fists. "Just full of pain?"

Gohan stood by the broken window, dividing his attention between Trunks' grief and the horizon. His ki sense stretched out, searching for Cellera's familiar energy signature. She should have been back from her supply run by now. A muscle twitched in his jaw - he'd lost too many people he cared about to these monsters. He wouldn't lose her too.

---

"I'd rather fight and die than watch this all happen," Trunks declared, his tears still falling freely.

Gohan turned sharply from the window, his expression stern. "Don't say that. You know how your sister gets." The memory of Cellera's face when she’d lost her father was still vivid - he wouldn't let her experience that pain again.

"But I can't just keep hiding while this terror continues! I have Saiyan blood too! Please, Gohan - train me to become as strong as you and Cellera! I need to help fight, not just watch from the sidelines!"

"Isn't Cellera already training you?"

"But I can't just keep hiding while this terror continues!" Trunks declared. "I need to become stronger!"

"Isn't Cellera already training you?"

"Yes, but..." Trunks looked down. "She won't teach me how to become a Super Saiyan yet! You're both already so strong with that power, and I can't sit here and pretend like this isn't happening anymore!" His fists clenched at his sides. "I'm just as Saiyan as you are Gohan. Please. Convince her to let me help! If we all work together I'm sure we can take down the androids." His voice grew quieter, almost breaking. "My lack of training could be the reason that I-...I lose my sister. I don't think I could handle that."

Gohan fell silent, studying the boy's determination. A familiar ki signature brushed against his senses, making him smile - Cellera was finally heading home. He walked over to Trunks, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'll help train you," he said, watching hope light up the boy's face. "But I'm going to talk to Cellera first. I won't go behind her back on this."

Trunks nodded enthusiastically. If anyone could convince his protective sister, it would be Gohan. "Deal!"

"Trunks! Cellera and I are home!" Bulma's voice echoed through the house.

Trunks quickly wiped his face with his sleeve. "Promise you won't tell them I was crying," he whispered urgently to Gohan.

"Right," Gohan chuckled as Trunks dropped into a chair, grabbing a book and trying to look absorbed in study.

Bulma and Cellera appeared in the kitchen entryway, arms full of supplies. They found Trunks seemingly engrossed in his reading while Gohan stood by the broken window, gazing at the horizon.

"Should I start shopping for two instead of three?" Bulma asked dryly, setting down her bags.

Cellera stepped into the light, her outfit a testament to her dual heritage - a black compression top under her signature teal battle jacket that echoed her father's armor, paired with loose black gi pants and white boots. The combination somehow perfectly represented who she'd become: Saiyan warrior and Earth's defender.

"What were you thinking?" she demanded, fixing Trunks with a stern look. "Flying off into a battle zone like that-"

Her scolding trailed off as Gohan turned from the window, offering that warm smile that never failed to soften her expression. He moved to help with the supplies, their hands brushing as he took some bags from her.

"Welcome back," he said softly, and Trunks noticed how his sister's stern demeanor melted just slightly at those two words.

"Good to see you too, Gohan," Bulma said, sorting through supplies. She paused, a playful glint in her eyes. "By the way, you boys aren't planning anything, like fighting the androids together, are you?" When neither responded, she poked her head back around the corner, her voice carrying a warning edge. "Well, I didn't think so. Nobody's that stupid, right? "

"Right!" both boys agreed quickly.

But Cellera's sharp eyes caught the exchange, years of reading body language picking up the subtle tells - Trunks's too-quick response, Gohan's careful neutrality. She raised an eyebrow at the twenty-three-year-old warrior, who met her gaze and mouthed "I'll tell you later." Her small disapproving pout only made his smile widen slightly.

Trunks watched the wordless exchange with fascination. Despite facing death nearly every day for thirteen years, these moments showed glimpses of who they might have been in peacetime. His twenty-three-year-old sister, for all her reserved nature and Gohan's battle-hardened, yet gentle bearing, still had this innocent dance between them that made them seem younger somehow.

-

The kitchen soon filled with the smell of cooking as Bulma and Cellera prepared dinner. They set out the plates before Cellera took her seat across from Gohan with her own portion.

Bulma scooped rice into a bowl, her voice softening with nostalgia. "I hope you can stick around for a while this time, Gohan." She handed him the heaping bowl. "I miss the good ol' days."

She set a heaping bowl of rice in front of Gohan, who accepted it with visible appreciation. "Traveling to Namek together has got to be the all-time greatest adventure!" she continued.

"Even though we left you alone for most of it," Cellera remarked with a light laugh, remembering how isolated Bulma had been during their battles with Frieza's forces.

"Thanks for the food!" Gohan managed before diving in with typical Saiyan enthusiasm, barely pausing between bites. Trunks immediately mimicked his eating style, attacking his own portion with the same vigor.

Cellera's expression softened as she watched her brother unconsciously copy Gohan's mannerisms. These little moments always tugged at her heart - seeing Trunks try to emulate the closest thing to a father figure he'd ever known. He'd never gotten to meet Vegeta, never seen their father's proud stance or experienced his gruff approval. And she couldn’t bring herself to talk about him much to him, the memories being too painful. But in Gohan, he'd found someone to look up to.

Gohan held out his empty bowl. "Seconds, please?"

"Yep, like father like son," Bulma laughed as she refilled it.

"You really think so?" Gohan asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"Of course! The way you eat," Bulma gestured at his already half-empty second helping, "and how you can be so powerful yet stay so gentle - that's pure Goku."

"The first time I saw you in your father's gi," Cellera added softly, her eyes meeting his across the table, "it was like seeing Kakarot again." She didn't add how her heart had skipped when she'd first seen him wearing it, how perfectly the orange fabric had fit his broadened shoulders, or how the sight of him carrying on his father's legacy made her proud in ways she couldn't quite explain. The way he balanced strength and compassion, how he fought not just to grow stronger for the sake of it, but to protect what he held dear. It made him more than just Kakarot's son - he'd become his own kind of warrior.

Gohan rubbed the fabric of his gi thoughtfully. "I've told Cellera this before, but... I always dreamed of being as strong as my dad." His fingers traced over the worn orange material. 

Bulma brought another bowl of rice to the table, her expression warm with pride. "Goku would be so proud to see what a strong man you've become." She turned to Cellera with a gentle smile. "And while I may not have known Vegeta for very long, I know he'd be proud of you too."

The words touched something in Cellera's heart. Even after thirteen years, memories of her father's proud smirk during training, his subtle nods of approval, remained vivid. Bulma's certainty meant more than she could express - this woman who'd given them a home, who'd been one of the ones that helped her understand there was strength in caring for others, just as her mother had believed.

Under the table, Gohan's hand found hers briefly, a gesture of understanding that made her smile softly.

"You know," Bulma said casually, breaking the moment with her usual perfect timing, "it's such a shame. You've both grown up so handsome and beautiful, but you never got to enjoy the dating life or anything because of those androids."

Gohan and Cellera's eyes met automatically before both quickly looked away, twin blushes coloring their cheeks. Trunks hid his grin behind his rice bowl - for two of Earth's strongest warriors, they could be remarkably awkward around each other. His sister could face down androids without flinching, but one comment about dating Gohan and she was suddenly fascinated by her dinner plate.

---

Later that evening, Cellera and Gohan sat together on Capsule Corp's damaged roof, the setting sun painting the ruined cityscape in shades of orange and purple. Gohan told her about Trunks's request, watching her expression carefully as he explained.

"Absolutely not!" Cellera's response was immediate, her protective instinct flaring. "He's not ready to face the androids-"

"I agree," Gohan said softly. "That's exactly why he needs more training."

Cellera turned to him sharply. "My training is perfectly fine-"

"I know it is," he interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. "But there's another reason you're holding back, isn't there? You haven't started his Super Saiyan training yet."

She crossed her arms, looking away. "He's too young."

"Okay, miss ‘youngest Super Saiyan ever’," Gohan teased, drawing a reluctant smile from her. But the expression quickly turned wistful as she gazed toward the horizon, where smoke still rose from the androids' latest attack.

"I've never been able to hide much from you, have I?" Cellera said softly.

"Same goes for me," Gohan replied, bumping her shoulder gently with his.

She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "The other reason I've been holding back on Super Saiyan training... it's probably irrational, but..." She drew in a breath. "I want him to be a kid a little longer. Something we never got to be." A self-deprecating laugh escaped her. "I'm progressing his entire training more slowly than I would have trained myself—more slowly than I would train anyone else. I know every day we wait could mean more lives lost, but..."

"You don't want him to have to face what we did," Gohan finished softly. "To lose his childhood to constant battle."

Cellera nodded, her eyes distant. "In another life, I might have pushed him harder. Made sure he was always ready, always prepared for the next threat. That's what a proper Saiyan would do. It’s how I was brought up." Her thumb traced the edge of her pendant absently. "But after everything we've seen... I just want him to have something we were denied. To not have to wake up every morning wondering if today's the day everything falls apart."

"That's not irrational," Gohan said, his voice warm with understanding. "And you're not crazy. That's you being a good sister, caring about more than just survival." He remembered Trunks's passionate plea earlier, the boy's determination to protect others. "Your influence shows in him, you know. Even with your measured approach, he still wants to fight—not for battle's sake, but to protect people. That balance of compassion and strength... that comes from you."

"And from you," Cellera replied, meeting his gaze. "The way he looks at you when you talk about why we fight—he's absorbed that same spirit you have. That commitment to protecting others rather than just testing limits." Her expression softened. "Sometimes I catch glimpses of my father in him, but his heart... his heart reminds me more of you."

She sighed, looking toward the horizon where smoke still rose from the androids' latest attack. "I know I can't protect him forever. Soon enough, he'll need to face this world as it is. I just wanted to give him a few moments of peace before that day comes. Is that selfish of me?"

"If it is," Gohan said gently, "then it's the kind of selfishness born from love." He bumped her shoulder with his. "And maybe that's exactly what makes us different from the androids—we still care about more than just survival. We still believe in protecting what childhood remains."

"He wants to protect what's important to him," Gohan continued, "just like you taught me all those years ago when you first came to Earth." He paused, his voice growing more serious. "And someday... if something happens to us-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Cellera whirled to face him, her composure cracking. The mere thought of losing him made her chest tighten painfully. They'd lost too many people already - her father, Kakarot, their friends. She couldn't bear to think about...

Her sudden intensity caught them both off guard. They were close now, closer than they'd realized, the dying sunlight casting shadows across their faces. For a moment, neither moved.

Cellera stood abruptly, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. She'd spent years mastering combat techniques and battle strategies, but this... this was territory she had no training for. Smoothing her hands over her clothes, she tried to regain her usual collectedness.

"Fine," she said, her voice slightly rushed. "I’ll allow you to train Trunks. But I'll be there too, unless..." She turned away from his gentle gaze, finding it easier to think when she wasn't looking directly at him. "Unless I'm helping Bulma with supplies. She's been asking for some strange materials lately - specific mechanical parts. I think she's planning something."

The change of subject felt safer, though she could still feel the lingering tension from their near-moment. The logical part of her mind noted how often these almost-moments had been happening lately, while another part wondered if she was just imagining things.

Gohan watched her silently, amused at how Cellera could still become flustered despite her usual calm demeanor. The formidable warrior who confronted androids unflinchingly, who dissected every battle with precise insight, could transform into someone with pink cheeks and hurried speech from a single shared moment. Her fierce determination to defend the planet that had become her home had captivated him since childhood, but these rare glimpses of unguarded emotion she revealed exclusively to him made his heart race in a way no one else ever could.

---

A week later, ocean waves crashed against the cliffs as Trunks stood before Gohan, gathering his power. The young teen's shouts echoed across the water as energy crackled around him, kicking up sand and grit from the rocky shore.

Gohan sat cross-legged, assessing his new student's form. He glanced up at Cellera, who stood watching with arms crossed - a stance so reminiscent of Vegeta it made him smile. "Hey, not bad. I didn't know he was this far along."

"Of course," Cellera smirked, pride evident in her voice. "I am the one who trained him after all."

The sparring match began, strictly hand-to-hand combat. Cellera watched with examining eyes as Trunks engaged Gohan, immediately recognizing their father's influence in her brother's style. The same overconfidence, the same tendency to attack without thinking when he was too eager - pure Vegeta. Trunks launched a flurry of punches, each one dodged effortlessly as Gohan slowly backed toward the cliff's edge.

Cellera let out a knowing sigh. She'd already spotted Gohan's strategy, but Trunks, caught up in his apparent advantage, missed the obvious trap. Just as her brother threw another punch, Gohan vanished, reappearing behind him to deliver a kick that sent Trunks tumbling into the whirlpool below.

She moved to stand beside Gohan at the cliff's edge, watching her brother's undignified splash.

"Gohan, help me!" Trunks called up, flailing in the churning water.

"Okay, make circles with your arms and kick real hard!" Gohan called back with a laugh.

Cellera glanced at him, a knowing smirk playing at her lips. "I assume this is the kind of training you got from Piccolo?"

Gohan's only response was a grin that told her everything. She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress her own smile as she flew down to pull her sputtering brother from the water and back to dry land.

Once on solid ground, Trunks doubled over, coughing up seawater as Gohan approached, offering a towel. "Here you go, Trunks."

"First you stand there and watch while I almost drown, and then you offer me a towel?" Trunks asked incredulously.

"Yep!" Gohan replied with that disarming smile that somehow made it impossible to stay angry with him.

Trunks turned to his sister. "And you just let him do that to me?"

Cellera merely smiled, folding her arms in that familiar stance. "You were the one who wanted to train with Gohan. I did more than I was supposed to by helping you."

"They're perfect for each other," Trunks muttered under his breath, too quietly for either of them to hear. "Both sadistic when it comes to training."

"You fight just like Father." Cellera observed, her voice softening at the comparison. "The same confidence, the same direct approach—and the same tendency to charge in without assessing your opponent first." And the same habit to rush in without thinking , she added silently, though there was fondness in the thought.

"What was he like?" Trunks asked suddenly, looking at Gohan. "My father, I mean."

"Vegeta was..." Gohan considered his words carefully, glancing at Cellera. He noticed how her posture had subtly stiffened at the mention of her father, that familiar guarded look entering her eyes. "Tough. Extremely powerful. Arrogant and very proud."

"That's not too far from what Cellera tells me," Trunks replied, drawing soft chuckles from all three of them.

-

Later that night, moonlight glinted off the churning waves as Trunks stood at the cliff's edge, attempting to transform. "Remember how you felt that day," Gohan called out. "The children, the innocent people that the androids killed."

From their perch on a nearby rock, Cellera and Gohan watched as golden energy began to swirl around Trunks. His hair lifted, power crackled around him - but not quite reaching Super Saiyan. Finally, exhausted, he collapsed to his knees.

"He almost had it," Gohan observed quietly. "He's giving it everything he has."

"Did you expect any less?" Cellera asked, her eyes fixed on her brother.

"No," Gohan smiled, glancing at her. "Especially not after being under your tutelage." The compliment brought a slight flush to her cheeks, visible even in the dim light.

As Trunks caught his breath, he noticed how close Gohan and Cellera sat together on their rocky perch. In the moonlight, his sister's usual analytical expression had softened into something gentler as she and Gohan discussed his progress in quiet tones. They probably thought he was too exhausted to notice how their shoulders touched, or the way Gohan's hand had drifted closer to hers.

It was strange sometimes, watching Earth's two strongest defenders act as if they were teenagers around each other. The same warriors who had protected what remained of humanity for over a decade, still couldn't seem to bridge that final gap between them.

"Again," he called out, pulling himself to his feet. Their moment broke as they turned their attention back to training, but Trunks didn't miss the lingering look they shared.Weeks of training strengthened Trunks considerably, though he knew he was still far from ready to face the androids. But these sessions had shown him something else - the quiet moments between his sister and mentor that they thought no one noticed.

Like when Gohan would call him "little brother" during training, and Cellera would press her thumb to her lip in that thoughtful gesture he had seen so many times growing up. She'd flush slightly before shaking her head, but Trunks caught the soft look in her eyes when she thought no one was watching.

Gohan had started staying at Capsule Corp more frequently, claiming it was more practical for training. But Trunks would sometimes find them in the kitchen late at night, talking in low voices about ordinary things. Cellera asking about Gohan's visits to his mother, Gohan telling stories that made his sister laugh - a sound rare enough that Trunks always noticed it.

It was strange seeing them like this, when most of the world knew them only as their last hope. But in these quiet moments between battles, they were just Gohan and Cellera - two people who'd grown up fighting together, who understood each other in ways no one else could.

Watching these moments between them made Trunks's heart ache. If anyone deserved a chance at peace, at happiness, it was these two. For thirteen years they'd put their lives on the line protecting others, carrying the weight of Earth's defense on their shoulders. When had they ever taken anything for themselves? Every time they seemed to draw closer, another attack would pull them back to their roles as defenders.

---

A week later, the androids struck again. This time their target was an amusement park, the screams of joy turning to terror as mechanical killers descended from the sky.

The morning had started normally enough. Trunks and Gohan were preparing to leave for training when Cellera appeared in the doorway. "Bulma needs me to get more building materials," she announced, adjusting her battle jacket.

"More?" Gohan raised an eyebrow. "These parts she's asking for... they're not exactly common repair materials."

"I know," Cellera replied, doing that thoughtful gesture with her thumb. "She says she'll tell us what she's planning soon." Something in her tone suggested she had her suspicions, but like always, she'd analyze every possibility before voicing them.

"Please refrain from getting into too much trouble while I'm gone," Cellera said before leaving, giving them both a knowing look. But Trunks noticed how her gaze lingered on Gohan, their eyes meeting in what seemed like a silent conversation - the kind of wordless communication that came from years of fighting together.

Their training proceeded as usual until they felt it - multiple ki signatures vanishing in rapid succession. Trunks's heart stopped. "It's the androids!" he cried, turning to Gohan. "Gohan, we have to do something!"

Gohan's jaw clenched tight, Cellera's warning look flashing through his mind. Her words about staying out of trouble had been clear - don't engage the androids, especially not with her brother in tow. But more energy signals were disappearing by the second.

"Gohan!" Trunks called again desperately.

I'm sorry, Cellera, Gohan thought. I promise I won't let anything happen to him.

He turned to Trunks, his expression grave. "Let's go. But you listen to everything I say - including if I tell you to run."

"But-" Trunks started to protest.

"I mean it," Gohan cut him off firmly. "I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." The unspoken truth hung between them - Cellera would never forgive either of them if Trunks got hurt. They both knew the risk Gohan was taking by bringing him along.

They flew toward the amusement park, the sound of explosions growing louder. Trunks's heart raced - this would be his first real confrontation with the androids. All his training with Cellera and Gohan had led to this moment.

The scene that greeted them made his blood run cold. The once-cheerful park had become a graveyard. Bodies lay scattered among the wreckage of rides and game booths, some still clutching prizes or half-eaten snacks. A Ferris wheel groaned and toppled in the distance, its metal frame twisted beyond recognition.

"Stay close," Gohan ordered, his voice carrying none of its usual warmth. This was Earth's defender speaking now, not his friend and mentor. "And remember what I said about running if I tell you to."

Through the smoke, they spotted the androids casually mounting the merry-go-round horses, as if this was just another day of amusement rather than massacre.

"Well, look who's here to ruin our fun again," Android 17 called out, his voice carrying that familiar mix of boredom and cruelty. He tilted his head, studying Gohan. "Hey sis, notice how he's copying me? Black hair this time instead of blonde." His lips curved into a mocking smile. "Where's your Saiyan princess? Don't tell me Earth's two remaining defenders have started taking separate shifts."

"It's always more entertaining when she's here," Android 18 added, examining her nails with artificial disinterest. "Too bad she won't get to see your death. You're becoming quite the nuisance. I think it's time we finally finish this."

Trunks watched as Gohan dropped into his fighting stance, every muscle coiled with tension. "Stay back, Trunks. I'll handle this."

Despite every instinct screaming at him to help, Trunks nodded. He remembered his promise, and more importantly, he remembered the look in his sister's eyes whenever she spoke of losing someone else she cared about.

Gohan's hair blazed golden as he transformed, his power lighting up the ruined park. He launched himself at Android 17, their initial clash sending them crashing through several park structures. Trunks watched in awe as they exchanged a fury of punches and kicks, each movement faster than he could track. Despite everything he'd seen in training, this was different - this was Gohan fighting at his full potential.

For a moment, it seemed like Gohan might have the upper hand. His kick caught 17 squarely, sending the android flying through a carousel. But before he could press his advantage, Android 18 appeared in front of him. Her palm strike sent him crashing through a shop window, glass raining down around his prone form.

"Where did that come from?" 17 asked, brushing debris from his clothes as he rejoined his sister.

18 smirked. "He's dangerous today. Something's got him fired up." Her eyes flickered briefly toward Trunks. "We should work on him together."

Their synchronized assault was brutal. One moment 17's kick connected with Gohan's leg, the next 18's knee drove into his stomach. Her follow-up punch snapped his head back, blood spraying from his mouth.

"GOHAN!" The cry tore from Trunks's throat as he watched his mentor take hit after hit. Before he could think about his promise, before he could remember Cellera's warning, he was already moving.

Android 18 spotted Trunks's charge instantly. Her ki blast caught him mid-rush, but he recovered quickly, landing gracefully on a Ferris wheel cart. She settled onto the opposite cart, casually brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face.

"Get out of here while you still can, kid," she warned, though her tone suggested she hoped he'd ignore the advice.

"So you can gang up on my master again?" Trunks spat, his hands clenched into fists. "I've seen how you operate - you're cruel!" He launched himself at her, throwing every combination Cellera had taught him. But 18 dodged each strike effortlessly, retaliating with precise hits that showed just how far he still had to go.

Yet somehow, through sheer determination or luck, one of his punches connected with her stomach. 18 doubled over slightly, genuine surprise crossing her features before it twisted into rage. Her fist caught him square in the face, the force throwing him from his perch.

Just as he started to fall, her hand shot out, catching him by the front of his shirt. The smirk she gave him as he dangled there made his blood run cold.

Even dangling helplessly, Vegeta's blood ran hot in Trunks's veins. His sister would kill him for this if the android didn't, but he couldn't stop himself. "Go ahead, do it!" he dared as 18 raised her hand, energy gathering in her palm. "YOU BITCH!"

The blast never came. A blur of an orange gi flashed between them as Gohan's kick sent 18 reeling. He caught Trunks mid-fall, immediately turning to shield the boy with his own body as 18's retaliatory blast exploded behind them.

Gohan ran through the devastated park, Trunks clutched against his chest as both androids pursued them. Ki blasts rained down, each explosion closer than the last until Gohan ducked behind a chunk of fallen wall. The barrage continued, debris flying around their makeshift shelter.

Then, suddenly, silence.

"He gave us the slip again," 17's voice carried across the ruined park.

"We said we were going to finish him off this time," 18 replied, irritation clear in her tone. "We're going to look bad. If we say we're going to do something, we need to do it."

"You're really stuck on that, aren't you?"

The androids began firing wildly into the park, treating destruction like a game. One massive blast struck their hiding place, the explosion taking Gohan's left arm and throwing Trunks several yards away. Neither android noticed the devastating hit, too busy with their random assault.

"Would bite if we got him but didn't know it," 17 mused casually.

"Yeah," 18 agreed. "Let's head home." The siblings lifted into the air, their laughter fading as they disappeared into the distance.

-

Gohan's eyes opened to blinding pain, the empty space where his arm had been sending waves of agony through his body. Through blurring vision, he spotted Trunks lying motionless in the distance. Using his remaining arm, he dragged himself toward the boy, each movement pure torture.

Finally reaching his belt, he struggled with the senzu bean pouch, forced to tear it open with his teeth. A single bean rolled out. He stared at it, and a dry joke that would have made Cellera proud, crossed his mind despite the pain. Kind of like my arm. Only one left.

The distance to Trunks seemed endless, but Gohan kept moving. When he finally reached the boy's side, his voice came out raw with pain. "Hey little bro. You were great." His trembling fingers pushed the bean between Trunks's lips. "Swallow it, Trunks. Live! You have to live."

He watched until he was sure Trunks had swallowed, relief flooding through him even as darkness crept into his vision. Forgive me, Cellera, he thought as consciousness slipped away. "I kept him safe. I promise I kept him safe...

-

Trunks's eyes snapped open, his energy restored. But the relief vanished instantly when he saw Gohan lying motionless nearby, blood pooling where his left arm should have been.

"No... no, no, no!" Trunks scrambled to his feet, rushing to his mentor. Carefully lifting Gohan across his shoulders, he took to the sky, flying as fast as he could toward Capsule Corp.

"Just hold on, Gohan," he pleaded, feeling how shallow Gohan's breathing had become. "You have to stay with me. Think about Cellera - she's waiting for us to come back. You can't leave her..." His voice cracked. "You can't leave any of us."

His mother would be furious that he'd gone after the androids. But Cellera... Trunks's heart clenched thinking of his sister. She'd trusted them both, and they'd betrayed that trust. Now Gohan might pay for it with his life.

He burst into his mother's workspace, finding both women at the computer. Bulma's fingers flew across the keyboard while Cellera stood observing the screen, her eyes completely focused on whatever project they were working on.

At their energy signatures, Cellera's head whipped around. Her eyes went wide with horror as she took in the sight - her little brother carrying Gohan's broken body, blood still dripping from where his arm had been torn away. For the first time since her father's death, her carefully maintained persona started to crack.

"What happened?" Bulma demanded, already rushing to clear her medical table.

"To be blunt, we got beat up," Trunks answered, trying for his sister's dry humor but the words fell flat as he watched Cellera. He'd never seen her like this - face drained of color, completely frozen. His sister looked like she might shatter at any moment.

"Get him to the recovery room," Bulma ordered, snapping Cellera out of her daze.

"I'll get the medical supplies," she said, her voice tight as she disappeared down the hall.

Trunks carried Gohan to the small room they'd converted for healing after battles. He'd barely gotten Gohan settled on the bed when Bulma gestured toward the door. "Step out for a moment, Trunks."

Cellera returned with an armful of supplies, her face a mask of tension. Not wanting to risk his mother and sister's wrath any further, Trunks slipped out. Through the closing door, he heard his mother’s voice: "Now, Gohan. This is going to hurt. Hold still."

Cellera gripped Gohan's remaining hand, letting him know she was there. Something he’d done with her many times post battle, but never having such a close call to this extent. The last thing Trunks heard was Gohan's agonized scream echoing down the hallway.

---

In the medical room, Bulma folded Gohan's tattered gi, setting it aside with the empty senzu bag. Trunks stood by the bed, watching his mentor's labored breathing. The silence was heavy, made worse by Cellera's unusual quietness. She hadn't spoken a word since gathering the medical supplies, and her stillness made Trunks more uneasy than any lecture could have.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" The sudden shout made him jump. Cellera's fist connected with his chest before she yanked him into a fierce hug, crushing him against her.

Trunks felt her arms trembling as they held him, heard the frantic beating of her heart and the slight hitch in her breath. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. "Please, Trunks. I can't lose both of you."

"I'm sorry," he managed, his own throat tight at hearing his strong sister sound so broken.

Bulma watched the scene quietly before moving to embrace both her children. The rare moment of vulnerability was interrupted by Gohan's pained grunt, his face contorting in what seemed to be a nightmare.

"I thought you said he'd be out for a week?" Bulma asked, turning to Cellera.

A ghost of a smile touched Cellera's lips. "Gohan has always been unpredictable."

"We should let him rest," Bulma said, placing a gentle hand on Trunks's shoulder. "Come on, you need to tell us exactly what happened."

Trunks hesitated, glancing between his sister and Gohan. Despite her seemingly neutral expression, he could see how Cellera's hand lingered near Gohan's remaining one.

"Cellera?" Bulma asked softly.

"I'll stay with him," she replied, not taking her eyes off Gohan. "In case he wakes up disoriented."

Her tone sounded like it had returned to its usual calm timbre, but Trunks caught the slight tremor beneath it. Bulma seemed to understand too, nodding as she guided Trunks toward the door. Trunks lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching his sister before following their mother out.

-

Cellera pulled a chair to Gohan's bedside, watching the rise and fall of his chest. His face contorted suddenly, caught in some nightmare. "Where are those damn androids!" he called out, his voice rough with phantom pain.

Without thinking, she took his hand. The effect was immediate - his features smoothed, tension leaving his body as if her touch alone could chase away the darkness. She stared at their joined hands, marveling at how natural it felt now. Years ago, she would have scoffed at such displays, her father not being one to show physical affection. But now... now she craved these small contacts. They proved she was alive. Proved Gohan was alive.

The full weight of today's events crashed over her suddenly. She could have lost them both - her little brother and the man who had somehow become essential to her existence. The thought made her chest constrict, tears stinging her eyes as her careful control began to crack.

Her breath came in short gasps as she tried to fight back the sobs threatening to break free. She pressed her free hand against her mouth, but it was useless. For only the third time in her life, Cellera cried. Not the angry tears when Frieza had killed her father on Namek, or even the raw grief when the androids had taken him permanently. This was different - the terrifying realization of how much she had to lose, how close she'd come to losing it all today.

Memories of that day fourteen years ago flooded back - nine years old, watching Kakarot slip away from them. She had promised both him and herself that she would protect Earth and his son. Now here they were, their world in ruins, and Kakarot's son lying before her with one arm gone, having barely escaped death. Some protector she'd turned out to be.

Gohan woke to the sound of familiar sobs. His blurry vision focused on Cellera's form, tears streaming down her face. His heart clenched painfully - worse than the physical agony of his missing arm. He remembered promising himself at ten years old that he'd never let her cry like this again. Yet here she was, broken because of him.

Each tear that rolled down her cheeks made him ache to reach out. Maybe it was the fog in his mind from nearly dying, but he couldn't help thinking how beautiful she looked even now, her careful walls completely down.

Lost in her self-recrimination and quiet sobs, Cellera barely registered the hand in her grip moving. His fingers brushed her cheek, wiping away tears as their hands remained intertwined. The touch made her freeze, looking up to find Gohan awake, watching her with such tenderness it made her breath catch.

In any other moment, she would have straightened up, wiped her face, and insisted she was fine. But this wasn't any other moment. Her lip trembled as she threw herself against his chest, years of held-back emotions finally breaking free as she cried into his neck, still remaining careful not to agitate his bandaged shoulder.

Gohan's arm wrapped around her, his hand stroking her hair as she clung to him. "I'm okay," he whispered softly against her temple. "I'm right here."

Eventually, Cellera pulled back, trying to muster an angry glare despite her tear-stained face. "You almost died! If Trunks had come home any later with you than he did, you..." She stopped herself, unable to voice the terrifying possibility. Her voice sharpened with sudden demand: "Why didn't you eat a senzu bean yourself?"

“There was only one bean left," Gohan said softly. "I decided Trunks was more important to keep alive than me at that moment."

Cellera stiffened at his words, her expression shifting to something fierce and deadly serious. "You, Trunks, and Bulma are the most important people in my life." Her voice carried the same intensity she usually reserved for battle. "Don't you ever think that you're not as important as them. I refuse to lose a single one of you."

The raw emotion in her voice seemed to hang in the air between them. Something shifted in Gohan's expression as he truly looked at her - not Earth's defender or the fierce warrior, but just Cellera, finally letting him see everything she'd kept carefully hidden. Their eyes met, and suddenly they both became acutely aware of their position - Cellera still half-sprawled across his chest, their faces mere inches apart. Heat flooded her cheeks, but for once, she didn't retreat.

Gohan's hand moved from her hair to cup her cheek, and for a split second, Cellera hesitated. Old habits flashed warning signals—attachments were dangerous, emotions complicated things, the future remained uncertain. A lifetime of careful restraint urged her to pull back.

But looking into Gohan's eyes, she recognized the truth she'd been avoiding for years—some chances were worth taking. What were they fighting for if not moments like this? What purpose did survival serve if they denied themselves the very connections that made life meaningful?

With that final thought, Cellera silenced her doubts and did what she'd wanted to do for longer than she cared to admit. They both seemed to decide at the same moment that they were done waiting. Their lips met in a kiss that felt like coming home, years of unspoken feelings finally finding expression.

When they finally parted, neither moved away. Gohan's thumb traced her cheek where tears had dried, while Cellera's mind for once was completely silent - not thinking of their next move, just the warmth of this moment she'd denied herself for so long.

"I've wanted to do that since I was fifteen," Gohan admitted with a soft laugh. "But I was always afraid it would change things between us."

"The great defender of Earth, afraid of a kiss?" Cellera teased, though her voice held none of its usual sharp edge. Then, more softly: "I've been thinking about every possible outcome for years, trying to determine the risks." She pressed her forehead against his. "I'm glad I stopped thinking and just acted."

"The androids are still out there," Gohan said quietly, his arm tightening around her. "Every day we fight could be our last."

"Then we don't waste any more time," Cellera replied with that determined tone he knew so well. "We protect Earth together, like we always have. Just... no more solo heroics with my brother." Her hand squeezed his. "I meant what I said - I refuse to lose either of you."

"No more solo heroics," Gohan agreed, a familiar warmth entering his eyes. "After all, the Queen's wish is my command." The teasing look he gave her made heat rush to Cellera's cheeks - even now, after everything they'd faced together, he could still make her flustered with just a look.

Rather than respond with words, she pulled him into another kiss, silently thanking whatever twist of fate had brought them both to this moment, despite everything they'd lost along the way.

---

In the weeks following Gohan's injury, Trunks noticed subtle changes between his sister and mentor. The careful distance they'd always maintained seemed to dissolve, replaced by casual touches that would have been unthinkable before. Gohan's remaining hand would find Cellera's while they reviewed training plans, or she would absently brush his hair back from his face during meals - each contact bringing a slight flush to her cheeks that made her look more like the teenager she'd never had the chance to be.

What struck Trunks most was how naturally Cellera had adapted to helping Gohan with tasks his missing arm made difficult. She'd appear at his side without being asked, steadying items or offering an extra hand with the same precise efficiency she brought to combat. Her usual observant nature showed in how she anticipated his needs, though the gentle way she'd guide his movements held none of her battlefield intensity.

One morning, as they gathered for breakfast, his mother’s excitement was palpable. She could barely wait for them to settle at the table before launching into her explanation.

I've finally figured it out!" she announced, spreading blueprints across the kitchen table. "This is what all those parts were for - I'm building a time machine! Not just any time machine - one that can actually transport a person!"

Trunks paused mid-bite, watching his sister's thumb press against her lip - her characteristic thinking pose. Beside her, Gohan leaned forward to study the plans, his shoulder brushing against hers.

"The theory is simple," Bulma continued. "We go back in time, warn everyone about the androids and Goku's heart virus. I'm even developing a cure for the virus based on his symptoms. With advance warning and preparation, they could stop this future from happening!"

"But would changing the past really affect our current time?" Cellera asked, already working through possibilities. "If we succeed, it might just create a branching alternate reality while our world remains unchanged."

"The multiverse theory," Gohan nodded, unconsciously reaching for Cellera's hand as they considered the implications. "Each major decision or change creates a new timeline."

"So even if we save another timeline," Trunks said slowly, "our world would still be..."

"Still living under android terror," Cellera finished, but her expression held something beyond her usual assessment. "But somewhere out there would be a world where children can grow up without fear. Where families aren't torn apart." Her fingers tightened around Gohan's. "Where people have a chance at actual lives instead of just survival."

"That's worth fighting for," Gohan said softly. "Even if we can't change our reality, we can give another world a better future."

Trunks watched his sister and Gohan exchange looks that conveyed volumes without words. Through everything - battles, losses, near-death experiences - they'd held onto what mattered most: protecting their home, the people they loved, each other. The chance to give another timeline a better future wasn't just about hope for strangers - it was about honoring everything they'd fought so hard to defend in their own world.

-

Later that day, the three Saiyans headed out to train, finding a spot among large rock formations that overlooked a nearby town. As they settled into position, Trunks began another attempt at reaching Super Saiyan.

"Focus on what the androids will do if we don't stop them," Gohan instructed, watching his student intently.  "They'll destroy everything you care about," he continued, his voice carrying an edge of darkness. "Your mother, your sister, me - to them, everything you hold sacred is worth no more than a pile of trash."

The words hit something deep in Trunks's chest. Power surged through him as his hair began to lift, golden energy crackling more intensely around his form.

"Don't be ashamed of your emotions," Cellera said, her teaching mode engaging as she watched her brother struggle. "It's okay to hurt, to feel angry over the innocent lives they've taken. Use that pain as fuel for your power."

Her words seemed to spark something in him. His hair began to fly upward as he pushed harder, straining to break through that final barrier. For a few moments, he maintained the effort, but ultimately the power slipped away. Exhausted, Trunks dropped to his knees.

As Trunks knelt on the ground, trying to catch his breath, he felt his sister settle beside him. Cellera held out a water bottle with a light smile. "I think that's your closest attempt yet."

Trunks accepted the bottle gratefully, gulping down the cool liquid before speaking. "Man, I can't believe myself. What a joke."

"Enough of that sort of talk," Cellera scolded.

"Cellera's right, don't be so hard on yourself," Gohan added, making his way over to join them. Without hesitation, he lay back, using Cellera's lap as a pillow. She shot him a glare, but the pink dusting her cheeks and the fact she didn't push him away betrayed her true feelings. "Let's forget about becoming a Super Saiyan for a while and relax."

Cellera nodded in agreement, her gaze drifting to the distant mountains that served as a backdrop to the city below. Her fingers absently found their way into Gohan's hair as she lost herself in thought.

A comfortable silence had settled over them until Trunks's frustration bubbled over. "What am I doing wrong? You two are my teachers, you can tell me. Why can't I do it?"

"You can," Gohan stated plainly, not opening his eyes from where he rested in Cellera's lap. "You just need to find the right motivation, that's all."

"What was yours?" Trunks pressed.

Gohan's expression darkened slightly, old pain surfacing in his voice. "The androids killed Piccolo and Krillin right in front of me. The anger, the helplessness I felt that day..." His fist clenched at the memory. "I channel that feeling—that rage at being helpless when people I care about are in danger. It's not just about power; it's about never letting anyone else suffer when I could prevent it."

Trunks turned to his sister. "What about you?"

Cellera's hand moved to the pendant she always wore - the last gift from her mother. Her thumb traced its familiar surface as she gathered her thoughts. "My motivation has always been to protect what's important to me," she said quietly. "The Earth, you, Gohan, Bulma..." Her fingers tightened around the pendant. "Everything my mother believed in - that there was strength in protecting others, not just in raw power. Everytime I transform, it's to honor that legacy, to defend what matters most."

Their peaceful moment shattered as explosions rocked the city below. Two massive energy blasts engulfed different sectors, the shockwaves reaching even their elevated position. All three warriors leapt to their feet, Gohan's face contorting with rage.

"This is ridiculous!" he snarled, his hair blazing golden as he transformed. Cellera followed suit, her own Super Saiyan aura illuminating the rocky outcropping.

"Trunks, no matter what happens, stay here," Cellera commanded, fixing her brother with a stern look that brooked no argument.

But Trunks couldn't just watch them leave again. "Please let me help you both! With the three of us, maybe we can beat them!"

"You haven't even obtained the Super Saiyan transformation yet," Cellera countered sharply. "Do I need to remind you what happened last time? You and Gohan almost died!"

"I'm much stronger now!" Trunks persisted. "Please, let me help - especially with Gohan still recovering from his injuries!"

Cellera fell silent, her thumb pressing against her lip in that characteristic gesture of deep thought. Finally, she spoke: "Alright Trunks, you win." The words surprised both Gohan and her brother. A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "That stubborn pride... pure Father. Though unlike him, you actually have a good reason for it."

"Cellera, are you sure about this?" Gohan asked quietly.

"Of course," she replied, her eyes never leaving her brother. "I can't keep him out of danger forever." She turned to Trunks. "Are you ready?"

Trunks nodded eagerly, turning toward the smoking city below. The last thing he felt was a sharp strike to his neck before darkness claimed him. As consciousness faded, he felt Gohan catch his falling form.

Gohan gently laid Trunks down and turned to Cellera. "That was impressive deception. You even had me convinced."

"The only thing I lied about was letting him fight," Cellera replied, her eyes lingering on her unconscious brother. "His tenacity really is just like Father's. And I won't be able to protect him forever - that's true too." Her expression hardened slightly. "But Father's tenacity also got him into countless predicaments, and today isn't the day I start letting Trunks follow that path."

Another explosion rocked the area. After one final glance at Trunks, they launched themselves toward the burning city.

-

They arrived to find Android 17 methodically destroying buildings, treating destruction like a game. Gohan's kick caught him completely off guard, sending him crashing through several collapsed structures. Android 18 remained perched casually on a chunk of rubble, not even flinching as Gohan landed before her.

17 emerged from the wreckage, his clothing in tatters. 18 burst into laughter at the sight of her brother. "Nice look," she called out mockingly. "I thought you were supposed to be the graceful one?"

"Quite an entrance," 17 growled, brushing debris from his shredded shirt. "I hope you enjoyed it, because it's going to cost you your life. And you destroyed my favorite shirt!"

"He did you a favor," Cellera remarked as she landed beside Gohan. "That shirt never suited you anyway."

"Well, glad you brought your girlfriend this time," 17 smirked, his tone carrying cruel amusement. "It wasn't quite the same without her. Now we can play one final round of our favorite game - Seek and Destroy."

18 stepped forward, her cold eyes assessing them both. "First pair to kill the other wins. After 13 years, we're growing tired of this little game."

For a moment, the air crackled with tension as both pairs faced each other. Then, as if responding to some unspoken signal, they charged simultaneously. The collision of their powers shook the ruined cityscape, debris flying as they engaged in close combat.

Gohan and Cellera moved with practiced synchronization - years of fighting together evident in how they covered each other's blind spots. When 17 aimed a blast at Gohan's injured side, Cellera was already there, deflecting it while Gohan countered with a kick that sent 17 reeling.

18's roundhouse kick caught Cellera's guard, but Gohan was instantly there, his blast forcing the female android back. The androids' limitless stamina began to show as the battle wore on, while Gohan and Cellera's breath came harder with each exchange.

Thunder rumbled overhead as dark clouds gathered. As rain began to fall, Cellera and Gohan moved in perfect sync, their combined ki blasts merging into a single devastating beam. 17 and 18 responded with their own united attack, the energy collision lighting up the darkening sky.

For a moment, Gohan and Cellera's combined power pushed the androids back, scoring hits that left actual marks on their usually pristine forms. But as rain poured down around them, their advantage began to slip.

"Perfect weather for your demise," 17 called out, lightning flashing behind him. "It's almost poetic, don't you think?"

"We won't fall here," Gohan growled, his aura flaring brighter.

"Not to you," Cellera added, her own power surging to match Gohan's as they prepared for another assault.

The androids' synchronized assault was brutal. One moment 17's kick connected with Gohan's leg, the next 18's knee drove into his stomach. Her follow-up punch snapped his head back, blood spraying from his mouth.

Cellera tried to intercept, but 17 caught her mid-movement, his strike sending her crashing through a wall. She rolled back to her feet instantly, years of training kicking in despite her fatigue. Through the rain, she saw Gohan struggling to maintain his Super Saiyan form, his golden aura flickering like a candle in the wind.

Their coordination, perfected over thirteen years of fighting together, began to fail as exhaustion set in. The androids' limitless energy proved devastating - each time Gohan and Cellera managed to land a hit, their opponents simply shrugged it off and struck back harder.

18's blast caught Cellera in the back as she moved to cover Gohan's blind spot. The searing pain nearly made her lose consciousness, but she forced herself to stay focused. She had to protect what mattered - had to keep fighting...

The final exchange was almost too fast to follow. 17 and 18 moved in perfect unison, their combined assault overwhelming Earth's last defenders. A brutal kick from 17 shattered Gohan's remaining arm. 18's energy wave tore through Cellera's side. They both sent one final ki blast their way before everything went dark for Earth’s remaining defenders.

-

Through blurring vision, Cellera saw Gohan lying mere feet away, his remaining arm stretched toward her as rain mixed with blood around them. With the last of her strength, she reached out, her trembling fingers finding his. His hand was still warm - or maybe that was just the rain. She could barely feel the difference anymore.

I'm sorry, Kakarot, she thought as darkness crept in at the edges of her vision again. I promised to protect your son, to defend the Earth you loved so much. In the end, I couldn't save either. Her fingers tightened weakly around Gohan's hand. I couldn't even save him.

The sound of distant explosions told her the androids were still "playing" somewhere in the city. Her mind then drifted to Bulma and Trunks. I won't be making it back this time. A different kind of pain twisted in her chest at the thought of her brother finding them. I'm sorry, Trunks. I tried so hard to protect you from this fate. To make sure you didn’t have to fight these monsters.

Memories flashed through her fading consciousness - Krillin's easy friendship, Piccolo's grudging respect, all the others they'd lost. We couldn't avenge you. We couldn't stop them. Her father's proud smirk appeared in her mind. I wasn't strong enough, Father. Even with everything you taught me...

Rain continued to fall as her vision dimmed further, but she kept her eyes fixed on Gohan's face. Eighteen years of memories washed over her - that first fight on Earth, finding understanding on Namek, all the battles they'd faced together. The boy who'd shown her mercy and kindness had become the man she'd give anything to protect.

Thank you, Gohan, she thought as her grip on his hand weakened. For showing me there was more to strength than what Father taught. For giving me something worth protecting beyond just survival. For loving me. A ghost of a smile touched her lips. I'd live through this hell a thousand times if it meant meeting you again.

With her last moments of consciousness, Cellera's thoughts turned to Trunks and Bulma's time machine. It's up to you now, little brother. Create a world where Earth knows peace, where our family and friends live without fear. Her eyes drifted closed as the rain grew colder. Give them the happy ending we couldn't have.

The rain washed away the last traces of her Super Saiyan aura as Cellera, daughter of Vegeta and Rhuba, protector of Earth, took her final breath still holding the hand of the man she loved.

---

Trunks's eyes snapped open to a dark sky, thunder rumbling overhead. "Cellera? Gohan?" His voice carried across the empty clifftop. Memory flooded back - his sister's deceptive agreement, the sharp pain at his neck. "No... please..."

Lightning illuminated the smoking city below, the devastation looking even more apocalyptic against the stormy backdrop. Anger and fear churned in his chest as he launched himself toward the ruins. "Why did you go without me?!" he shouted into the wind, desperately searching for their ki signatures.

His heart stopped when he finally found them. Two forms lay motionless in a flooded street, face-down in water stained pink with blood. "No..." The whisper escaped him as he descended, each step toward them feeling heavier than the last. "No, no, no..."

The closer he got, the more his world seemed to crumble. Blood mixed freely with rainwater around their bodies, and their golden hair had faded back to black. "Why didn't you let me help?" His voice cracked as he approached. "Why did you both have to leave me?" He couldn't tell if the water running down his face was rain or tears anymore.

Then he saw their hands - still intertwined even in death. His heart twisted painfully. "It's not fair," he choked out hoarsely. The words felt hollow against the thunder and rain, but they were all he had. Nothing about this was fair - not their deaths, not the androids' reign of terror, and certainly not the fact that his sister and Gohan had found love only to have it ripped away like everything else in their world.

As Trunks knelt beside them, a memory surfaced through his grief - Cellera refusing his first attempts to train five years ago when he was only nine. " The world has stolen enough childhoods already," she'd told him, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "I won't let it take yours too." He hadn't understood then, had raged against what felt like unfair restrictions. Only now did he recognize the sacrifice in her eyes that day - how desperately she'd fought to give him some semblance of the childhood neither she nor Gohan had experienced.

His gaze moved to Gohan's face, remembering how the warrior had sat with him after a nightmare last year, not as his mentor but almost like a brother. "Being afraid doesn't make you weak, Trunks," he'd said quietly. "We're all scared. The difference is whether you let that fear control you or use it to protect what matters." The memory of Gohan's hand ruffling his hair, a gesture so casual yet so comforting, made his chest ache with fresh loss.

All those little protective gestures from Cellera that used to irritate him - checking his stance before training, making him recite emergency protocols every time he left Capsule Corp, her thumb pressing to her lip as she assessed every minor injury - he would give anything to experience them again. Those habits he'd rolled his eyes at just yesterday now seemed precious beyond measure.

The crystal clear memory of their conversation from just a week ago flooded back, words he'd overheard late one night as he'd gotten up to get water, pressing his back against the kitchen entryway.

-

A single candle illuminated the kitchen table where Gohan and Cellera sat, its flame casting warm shadows across their faces. They spoke in hushed tones, discussing a world that could have been.

"I'd fulfill my dream of being a scholar," Gohan mused softly, "then come home to my beautiful wife." He gave Cellera a pointed look that made her cheeks flush pink. "And child," he added as if it were the most natural conclusion.

Peeking around the corner, Trunks watched his sister fiddle with their mother's pendant - her tell when she was truly affected by something. She looked away, trying to maintain her composed demeanor. "You seem very confident that we would be together in this hypothetical universe."

Gohan reached across the table, taking the hand that played with her pendant. The gesture made her meet his eyes. "Sure. So long as you're in that universe, I will choose you every time," he replied with quiet conviction.

Even Trunks had to admit - that was smooth. He watched his sister completely lose her composure, bringing her free hand up to cover her reddening face.

"I see you've... evidently thought about this a lot," Cellera managed to stutter out.

Gohan's knowing smirk was visible even in the candlelight. "Of course. Haven't you?"

"More than you could ever know," came her soft reply, barely above a whisper.

"I often catch myself thinking of what if we had a family of our own," Cellera continued, her voice holding a fond, wistful tone Trunks had never heard before. "Training our child between your lectures as a scholar, me helping Bulma at Capsule Corp and fighting the threats that come to Earth with the others." Her usually sharp, fierce eyes had softened in the candlelight, showing a vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

"Oh?" Gohan teased, "So I am a part of your family plans."

"Of course." Cellera threw his own affirmation back at him, "There has never been nor ever will be anyone else I rather be with." Trunks watched his sister's victorious smirk as she finally managed to stump Gohan - the man was blushing all the way to his ears. After a few moments though, his expression settled into one of pure joy, like he was the happiest man in the world.

"We can still make that life happen," he whispered, determination mixed with that radiant smile. "Once the androids are defeated, there's nothing left to stop us."

Cellera nodded, looking at Gohan like he had hung the stars himself. "There's just one other problem." She gave a small laugh as confusion crossed his face. "We need to decide on a name for our child."

"I think if we had a daughter... I've always liked the name Pan," Gohan said softly.

Trunks turned away then, silently padding back down the hallway as the two continued discussing their dreams of a peaceful future. As he made his way to his room that night, he'd made a silent vow - he would make sure the androids' reign of terror ended. He would make Gohan and Cellera's dreams become reality.

-

Now, kneeling in the rain beside their bodies, that memory twisted like a knife in his chest. Their last conversation about the future replayed in his mind - all those quiet hopes, those tender moments they'd finally allowed themselves to share. They'd never get to have that family they'd planned. Never get to name their daughter Pan. Never get to see the peaceful world they'd fought so hard to create.

The rain continued to fall as Trunks looked at their joined hands one last time, his heart shattering at the cruel irony. Even in death, they'd reached for each other - Earth's last defenders, two warriors who'd found love amidst hell, who dared to dream of a future together only to have it ripped away by the same monsters who'd taken everything else. Their intertwined fingers told a story of what could have been - of scholar and warrior, of family and peace, of a love strong enough to survive thirteen years of war but denied the chance to truly live.

Thunder rumbled overhead as if the sky itself mourned their loss. Two souls who deserved so much more than this cold end in rain-soaked ruins, their dreams of happiness dying with them in a flooded street far from home.

The dread settled deeper into Trunks's bones as he stared at his sister and Gohan. The horrible finality hit him - there would be no Dragon Balls to wish them back, no way to contact King Kai, no miracle to undo this loss. They would never get their happy ending.

"What have they done?" The words escaped as barely a whisper before rising to a desperate cry. "You two were everything to me... EVERYTHING!" His hands shook as he grabbed their shoulders, trying to wake them, desperately hoping they were just exhausted. They couldn't be... they couldn't...

As he shook his sister's lifeless form, something glinted in the rain - her mother's pendant, unclasped from her neck. With trembling fingers, Trunks picked it up, clutching it to his chest as grief overwhelmed him. "Cellera! Gohan!" His anguished scream echoed across the ruined city, lost in the thunder overhead.

His sister's final lesson came back to him: "Don't be ashamed of your emotions. It's okay to hurt, to feel angry over the innocent lives they've taken. Use that pain as fuel for your power."

A mournful, rage-filled cry tore from his throat as he clenched his fists - one drawing blood from his palm, the other pressing the pendant deep enough to leave an imprint. All the grief, all the anger, all the loss he'd ever experienced poured out of him. The golden aura erupted around him once more, but this time something was different. His hair stood up, matching the brilliant gold of his surging power.

He'd done it. He'd become a Super Saiyan. But the achievement felt hollow as memories flooded through him - training with Gohan and his sister, quiet moments at home, their shared dreams of peace. The two people he loved most in this world, who had protected him until the very end, lying cold in the rain.

Trunks fell to his knees, power still crackling around him as tears mixed with rainwater on his face. He made a vow then, gripping his sister's pendant tightly. He would stop at nothing until the androids were erased from existence. They would become nothing but a distant nightmare, a memory of a hell that should never have been.

---

3 years later….

Three years later, Trunks stood beside the finished time machine, his hand tracing over the word "HOPE" he'd painted in black letters. The choice had been deliberate - an homage to what Gohan and Cellera had represented to the world. For thirteen years, they had been Earth's last hope against the androids, defending what remained of humanity despite overwhelming odds. Now that responsibility fell to him. He would carry their legacy, their spirit, and their hope to the past - not just to create a better timeline, but to honor the two warriors who had never stopped fighting for a future worth living in.

"I'm so proud of you, Trunks," Bulma said softly, watching her son. "And I know Gohan and Cellera would be too." She gave him a final once-over - the black shirt and pants, the purple Capsule Corp jacket. "You look so handsome." Her voice carried that maternal pride as she pressed a small vial into his hand.

"The antidote for Goku?" Trunks asked, carefully securing it.

"Yes. Do me a favor and don't drop it." The attempt at humor couldn't quite mask the slight warble in her voice. Trunks understood - she was afraid of losing another child, her last one. While Cellera hadn't been hers biologically, Bulma had loved her as her own daughter.

"Stay out of trouble while I'm gone," Trunks told her with a gentle smile.

Bulma managed a laugh. "Of course, you know me."

"Yeah, that's why I'm worried," Trunks replied, drawing a genuine chuckle from his mother before climbing into the machine.

"Trunks!" Bulma called out just before he closed the hatch. "I want you back!" The command carried all her love and fear.

Trunks nodded, giving her a final wave. "Love you!"

"I love you too!" Bulma shouted as the time machine hummed to life, watching it disappear into the stormy sky. "He's in your hands now, Goku," she whispered, almost like a prayer. Despite her anxiety, she knew when her son returned, he would make all their fallen friends and family proud.

Notes:

My goal going into this chapter was to make you all sad and upset. I'm sorry to anyone who was looking for a big redo of the special itself but...DAMN! The OG, despite its plot holes, was so good and tragic. Also I won't lie, I was not confident in my ability to change a lot while keeping that urgent tragic aspect to it. Regardless, I hope it was still an enjoyable read for you all and that you're ready to kick off what is my favorite saga in the entire franchise.

Please feel free to reach out and ask questions on tumblr! Also, any fanart you may have I'd LOVE to see it! You can see where I've reblogged some that Chaos_Bunny on AO3 has made and I even added it into the chapters!
TUMBLR: https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar/776088583121584128/writer-thoughts-chapter-17?source=share

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Notes:

A chapter with a lot of exposition because...android/cell saga.

However, I finally get to introduce some plot and character elements for Cellera that extend and shape her with some ideas I have for the Buu saga later so I'm excited!

Cellera landed silently atop one of the tallest buildings in the northern sector of South City. The concrete beneath her feet offered a perfect vantage point as she scanned the bustling streets below. Nothing seemed amiss—people hurried about their morning routines, completely unaware of the threat that could emerge at any moment.

Movement in her peripheral vision drew her attention to a shopping district several blocks away. A mother guided her young child past a storefront, both laughing at some shared joke. The scene stirred memories of her own recent moments with Trunks, making her jaw clench. These people had no idea their peaceful morning could shatter at any second.

A sudden plummet in ki yanked her from her thoughts. The energy signature was unmistakable—Yamcha's life force was dropping at an alarming rate. Without hesitation, she launched herself from the building, the wind whipping past as she rocketed toward the source.

She arrived just as the others converged on the scene, and the sight before them made her blood freeze. An elderly man with stark white hair and a bushy mustache held Yamcha suspended by his face. The black hat he wore bore the infamous Red Ribbon Army insignia, but it was his other hand that drew her attention—it protruded from Yamcha's chest, blood dripping steadily onto the pavement below.

Cellera's fists clenched as she assessed the situation. Beside the first android stood another, shorter and rotund with porcelain-white skin that seemed to gleam in the morning sun. His hat matched his companion's, the same red bow and RR insignia marking them as partners in this attack.

Her gaze returned to Yamcha's suspended form. Though grievously wounded, she could still sense his ki—faint but present. The precision of the attack struck her as deliberate; the android could have easily killed him outright but had chosen not to. 

The androids showed no reaction to their audience, maintaining their positions with unbothered stillness. It was this unnatural calm, more than anything else, that sent a chill down Cellera's spine. She'd faced countless enemies, from Frieza's elite forces to the tyrant himself, but there had always been ki to sense, emotions to read. These beings didn’t seem to offer anything—no energy signature, no killing intent, not even the satisfaction predators often displayed with their prey.

They were looking at something fundamentally different from any opponent they'd faced before, and that realization made her earlier confidence waver. How do you predict the movements of an enemy you cannot sense?

"Yamcha!" Goku’s shout broke the tense silence as Android 20 suddenly released his grip, letting Yamcha crumple to the ground like discarded waste. "Krillin! Yamcha is still alive! I left the senzu back where we were, so take him there and make him eat one!"

Krillin responded with a sharp nod, scooping up Yamcha's bleeding form before taking off toward their earlier vantage point. Cellera watched them go, noting how the androids made no move to pursue. Another calculated decision—they clearly had bigger targets in mind.

"You two must be the androids." Piccolo's voice carried steel as he assessed their mechanical opponents.

Android 20's expression shifted to one of genuine surprise. "That's curious... how did you discern we were androids? Not only that, you appear to have anticipated our arrival on the island as well. Answer me, how did you know?"

A smirk then crossed Piccolo's face. "If you want to know so badly, why don't you try to force the answers out of us?"

Cellera understood his tactic immediately—drawing the androids' attention away from the civilians and onto themselves. It was the same strategy they'd employed against Garlic Jr., though these opponents seemed far less prone to emotional manipulation.

"If you insist," Android 20 replied, his tone carrying an unsettling eagerness.

"Come on, then," Goku stepped forward, his usually cheerful demeanor hardened by the android's casual brutality. "I don't know about you, but I don't think this is much of a proper battleground."

A knowing smirk crossed the older android’s face as he recognized their attempt at misdirection. "There's no need to go through the trouble of relocating," he replied, his mechanical eyes glinting with an intent that made Cellera's blood run cold.

She'd seen that exact look before—in Frieza's eyes moments before he'd slaughtered entire populations without hesitation. The memory of such senseless destruction made her muscles tense, ready to move.

"I can help with that."

The android's eyes flashed crimson. Before anyone could react, laser beams shot forth, forcing them to dodge as the attack surged past. Behind them, a massive explosion rocked the city block, engulfing buildings in flames and shrouding the area in thick smoke.

Cellera's initial horror transformed into white-hot rage as she watched the destruction unfold. Her Saiyan instincts screamed for immediate retaliation, but she forced herself to remain still. They still had no idea of these androids' full capabilities—rushing in blindly could prove fatal.

Goku showed no such restraint. "STOP THAT!" he roared, launching forward with a punch that sent the android's hat flying. What lay beneath stopped them all cold. Instead of skin or hair, a glass dome crowned his head, housing a clearly visible brain.

The android calmly retrieved his hat, screwing it back in place with an audible click that seemed to echo in the stunned silence. His smirk returned as he faced Goku. "It was my understanding that you wanted a location devoid of human life. It seems my methods displease you."

Goku’s entire frame shook with barely contained fury. "Come with me! I'm gonna smash the both of you!"

Android 19's round face curved into an unsettling smile as he responded with clear satisfaction. "You will be unable to defeat us."

"Very well, we will follow you. You may choose the area where you would like to die, Son Goku." Android 20's voice carried unmistakable pride and anticipation as his gaze shifted to Cellera, a hint of cruel amusement in his mechanical eyes. "Though, Cellera may get to us before you do."

The sound of her name from the android's lips cut through her rage like a blade of ice. Confusion replaced anger as she stared back at him. She'd never encountered these beings before today—how did they know who she was?

"How do you know Goku and Cellera's names?!" Tien's demand echoed her own thoughts.

Android 20's lips curled into a confident smirk. "We know who all of you are. Piccolo and Tienshinhan, correct?" The casual revelation, delivered with obvious satisfaction, sent a ripple of shock through the group.

"We can ask questions later. Let's go!" Goku’s command cut through the tension. He shot into the sky, the androids following with an eagerness that spoke of long-awaited revenge.

As they took flight after them, Cellera caught sight of Bulma below with Trunks, while Gohan tended to Yajirobe nearby. Her jaw clenched at the sight of her brother and Bulma in such proximity to danger. These androids knew their names, their relationships—she could only hope Bulma would keep her promise to leave once the battle began in earnest. At least Gohan was with them; if anything happened, she knew he would protect them.

Their flight ended over a terrain surrounded by towering rocky mountains. Android 20's voice cut through the wind with decisive authority. "That's enough Son Goku. This location is more than suitable for our purposes. The choice is no longer yours. We will stop here."

As they descended, Cellera's gaze swept across their surroundings. The flat terrain before them offered clear lines of sight and solid footing for combat, advantages that would typically work in their favor. However, the rocky mountains encircling them sparked immediate concern. Their jagged formations provided perfect cover for ambush tactics, and hiding themselves. She clenched her jaw, grudgingly acknowledging the strategic merit of their choice. These weren't mindless machines—they could actually think.

"Alright." Kakarot’s voice drew her attention, and something in his tone made her focus sharpen. "Before we start fighting, tell me... How do you know about us?"

The labored breaths between his words sent warning signals through Cellera's mind. She'd witnessed enough spars and battles involving Kakarot to know that this level of exhaustion from mere flight was completely out of character. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him more closely, noting the slight sheen of sweat on his brow despite the cool mountain air.

Even Tien had noticed something was off, his own gaze fixed on him with growing concern. Dread began to mount Cellera's chest as she thought back to the memory of Trunks’ warning about a deadly virus. 

Android 20 began his explanation, pride evident in every word as he described his surveillance of Goku's battles. His mechanical eyes gleamed with satisfaction while detailing how he'd monitored every fight, from the World Martial Arts Tournament against Piccolo through the conflict with Vegeta. "Research conducted to discern how best to defeat you, Son Goku. What type of android it would take to prevail ." The emphasis on the last word carried years of calculated hatred.

"So... this is a personal grudge against me?" Goku asked, his breathing still unnaturally heavy.

The question triggered an immediate shift in Android 20's demeanor. Gone was the clinical precision of his earlier statements, replaced by raw fury. "That's right! Because of you the Red Ribbon's dream of conquest went up in smoke, and Doctor Gero was all that remained!"

Cellera's eyes narrowed as she processed the android's outburst. The sudden emotional display reminded her of stories Bulma had shared about the Red Ribbon Army's defeat—stories that painted a picture of an organization destroyed, and those who remained suffered the humiliation of being defeated by a mere child. The android's tone carried wounded pride, bitter resentment. Almost as if—

"You speak as if you yourself were this Doctor Gero." Piccolo voiced her suspicion aloud. The android's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before his features settled back into neutrality.

"Don't be ridiculous! I am number 20, an android created by Dr. Gero..." His voice took on an odd cadence as he continued, "Dr. Gero himself died long ago, and is no longer among us."

The double meaning in those words wasn't lost on Cellera. The careful phrasing, the momentary lapse in his confident facade when confronted—it all pointed to one conclusion. This wasn't just another android; this was Dr. Gero himself, transformed by his own twisted science into the very weapon he'd designed to exact his revenge.

"I see. Did you spy on the battle on planet Namek as well?" Goku asked, his question drawing a dismissive scoff from Android 20.

"There was no need. By then we had a total grasp of your power and technique leading up to and including Vegeta." The android's voice dripped with condescension. "Any larger scale leaps of strength at your age is an impossibility. Android 19 will be more than enough to handle you."

The laugh that burst from Cellera's throat carried the familiar derision of her father’s. Three years of training under Vegeta had only sharpened her ability to recognize when an opponent's arrogance exceeded their knowledge. Android 20's glare snapped toward her. "And what, pray tell, is so funny?"

She crossed her arms, amusement dancing in her eyes at the android's fundamental misunderstanding. Once a Saiyan reached their prime fighting age, their aging slowed dramatically to maintain their strength. It was basic knowledge to any true warrior of their race, but to someone who resided on Earth….

"While your little insect may have recorded our battles, you know absolutely nothing about the Saiyan race. And that fact will be your demise." The certainty in her voice came not from arrogance, but from knowing just how badly Dr. Gero had miscalculated.

"She's right," Piccolo added, his own smirk suggesting he'd noticed the shift in her demeanor. "Not knowing about the Super Saiyan transformation will prove fatal for you."

The android's mechanical features shifted from contempt to confusion. "Super Saiyan...?"

The confidence in her assessment faltered as Kakarot began to power up. Something wasn't right. The androids watched with clinical interest, but Cellera's attention fixed on the slight tremor in his stance, the momentary struggle that shouldn't have been there.

In her few observations of Kakarot’s transformations, the change had always been immediate and fluid. Like watching light pierce through darkness. This hesitation, this strain... It marked the second deviation from his normal behavior in mere minutes. 

Gohan had assured her there had been no symptoms of the heart virus. If anyone would have noticed, it would have been him—his attention to detail rivaled her own. But her recent studies in theoretical physics kept presenting other possibilities. The butterfly effect, parallel timelines, cascading changes from a single altered moment...

As Goku engaged Android 19 in aerial combat, Cellera's thoughts warred with each other. The practical warrior in her, the part trained since birth to analyze and act, screamed to intervene. To stop this fight before it was too late. Let someone else face these androids while Kakarot recovered.

But another voice kept presenting alternatives. What if the timeline's deviation meant these androids were stronger than predicted? What if their three years of preparation still weren't enough? The time traveler's warning about their defeat echoed in her memory. If events had already shifted this dramatically...

And beneath these logical concerns lurked something deeper, something undeniably Saiyan that had grown stronger in recent months. A part of her that resonated with Kakarot's choice to fight despite the danger. That insistent whisper reminding her that true Saiyans faced their opponents head-on, regardless of the odds. Even as she recognized the foolishness of letting Kakarot continue, this primal instinct made her hesitate. It was the same battle-hungry nature she'd seen in her father, in Kakarot, and increasingly in her own reflection—the irresistible pull toward combat that defined their race.

"Father!" Gohan's cry shattered her spiral of theoretical possibilities and conflicting instincts, yanking her back to the immediate danger before them.

Gohan's eyes tracked Cellera's thumb as it dropped from her lip, a gesture he'd learned to read years ago. The tension in her frame matched exactly how she'd looked when questioning him about his father's health. "Cellera, what's wrong?" The seriousness in his tone matched his growing concern.Gohan followed her line of sight, trying to see what had her so worried. 

That’s when Gohan noticed the odd way his father was fighting. The slight delay in his reactions, the way his strikes lacked their usual accuracy—details that might escape others but stood out clearly to him who had studied every aspect of his father's technique. This wasn't the same man who had spent the last three years preparing him for this day.

Cellera bit her lip as each of Kakarot's attacks came at full force. No buildup, no testing of his opponent's defenses. It struck against everything their Saiyan nature demanded—the gradual escalation of combat, the thrill of discovering an opponent's limits. Even facing Frieza, with the fate of Namek hanging in the balance, he had maintained that battle hungry approach.

"So you've both noticed it too?" Piccolo asked. "Goku is rushing this fight for some reason. The battle has only begun and he's nearly at full power. I've never seen his technique so sloppy."

"What do you mean?" Tien's confusion was evident as he watched the exchange above. "Goku's had the guy completely on guard the entire fight."

Piccolo's expression hardened, his years of combat experience lending weight to his assessment. "He's much better than this. As a Super Saiyan, Goku's strength should be far greater than what we are seeing now."

The confirmation of her fears from both Gohan and Piccolo only intensified Cellera's inner turmoil. She'd waited too long, let hypotheticals cloud her judgment when every instinct had screamed at her to act.

"Yamcha told us earlier that he thinks these androids are able to drain a person's energy. Could that be why?" The question made Cellera and Piccolo's heads snap toward Gohan simultaneously.

"What?" Piccolo's voice carried equal parts shock and dread.

"Yeah!" Yamcha confirmed, one hand unconsciously touching his chest where the hole had been. "When he grabbed my face with his hand, it felt like my ki was being sucked out."

The sound of impact drew their attention skyward as Goku's kick sent Android 19 crashing through a boulder. Fragments of rock scattered across the ground, but the android emerged unscathed, its blank face fixed on its target with unsettling focus.

Cellera's eyes narrowed as she watched Kakarot hover above them, his breathing labored. No—this wasn't from energy drain. The horrible truth hit her: he'd barely had any energy from the start. Her stomach dropped as she saw him begin the familiar stance of the Kamehameha.

"KAKAROT, DON'T!" The warning tore from her throat, but it came too late. The blast of energy surged toward Android 19, who simply extended one hand. They watched in horror as the android absorbed the attack, its high pitched mechanical laughter echoing across the battlefield.

"Goku!" Piccolo's voice carried urgent command. "Don't use any more ki attacks! The androids can absorb ki through the palms of their hands! And whatever you do, don't let them grab you, either! Understand!"

"They take in ki...?" Goku tried to maintain his usual lighthearted tone, but the effect was ruined by his struggle to draw breath. Sweat glistened on his skin despite the cool mountain air. "Oh man, you gotta be kidding me."

"Hey Goku's looking a little out of sorts..." Krillin's worried voice pierced through the tense atmosphere. His hands clenched at his sides as he watched his oldest friend struggle above them.

"Did they take that much ki from him already?" Yamcha asked, unconsciously rubbing the spot where his own wound had been healed.

"No."

The single word from Cellera carried such weight that everyone turned to her. Her face had gone tense, all traces of her earlier confidence vanished as she finally spoke what she already knew.

"It's the heart virus."

The declaration hung in the air like a death sentence. Above them, as if the very mention of the illness strengthened its hold, Goku clutched at his gi near his heart. His attempt at a Kamehameha produced nothing—only empty air.

"A-Are you sure?" Krillin's voice trembled as they watched Goku descend from the sky. The proud Saiyan warrior's teeth were gritted against obvious pain, one hand still pressed against his chest. Whatever doubts they might have harbored about Cellera's diagnosis vanished at the sight.

"Goku! Here's a senzu; Eat one!" The desperation in Krillin's voice was palpable as he threw the healing bean to his friend. They all watched as Goku quickly consumed it, hope briefly flaring in their eyes.

That hope died moments later as Android 19 renewed its assault. The mechanical monster's attacks came in a relentless barrage, and Goku—a warrior who had gone toe to toe with the most powerful beings in the universe—could barely lift his arms in defense.

"The senzu didn't work?!" The disbelief in Yamcha's voice echoed their collective horror. Nothing in their experience had prepared them for a senzu bean failing.

"I don't understand!" Krillin turned to Gohan, desperation clear in his expression. "He took the medicine, didn't he?"

Gohan could only shake his head, his eyes never leaving his father's increasingly desperate battle. "He never got sick! He's been healthy the entire time, so he never took the medicine!" The pain in his voice was raw—watching his father weaken before his eyes while being powerless to help.

"Did that future guy lie or something?" Yamcha's accusation held an edge of anger born from fear. "I thought this was supposed to be taken care of already!"

"He didn't lie!"

The fierce defensiveness in Cellera's voice startled everyone. Her sudden outburst carried none of her usual control, it was more emotional. Gohan especially caught the shift in her demeanor—there was something personal in her reaction, something that went beyond the mere defense of a stranger trying to help.

She cleared her throat, clearly aware of their surprised stares, and when she continued her tone was more measured. "When there was no news of Kakarot contracting the virus, I decided to do some research. It's referred to as the butterfly effect, when one small change creates a bigger consequence over time."

"And because that guy showed up three years ago, everything changed." Gohan said, understanding now beginning to dawn his face as he realized what she was suggesting. 

Cellera nodded, her expression grim. "We've essentially created another timeline, one where I was hoping Kakarot would never contract the virus but..." Her words cut off as Android 19's kick connected with devastating force, sending Kakarot crashing to the ground. The golden aura of his Super Saiyan form flickered and died, leaving him struggling to even raise himself from the dirt.

"He-He's not a Super Saiyan anymore!" The panic in Yamcha's voice mirrored their collective horror as Android 19 descended on Goku’s prone form. The mechanical monster slammed its weight onto his chest, one hand clamping around his throat with crushing force.

They launched forward as one, but Android 20 materialized in their path, his mechanical eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You won't be moving a single inch past this point. But you are welcome to try."

"I think I will!" Piccolo's kick cut through the air, but Android 20 dodged with unnatural speed. Twin beams shot from the android's eyes, catching Piccolo square in the chest and sending him plummeting toward the rocks below.

"Piccolo!" Gohan's cry rang out as he dove after his mentor's falling form.

"What Piccolo displayed just now was not bravery. He was nothing more than a reckless fool." Android 20's voice carried mechanical satisfaction.

Cellera glanced between Android 20's smirking face and Kakarot's desperate struggle. Something didn't add up—she'd seen Piccolo take far worse hits without flinching. The Namekian was too experienced, too strategic to launch such an obvious attack without purpose. He had to be planning something.

But they were running out of time. Every second Android 19 spent crushing Kakarot's throat was another moment the virus could claim him. Her muscles tensed, power building beneath her skin. A familiar heat coursed through her veins—not just concern for Kakarot, but something more primal. She found herself mapping the shortest path to Android 19, calculating exactly where to strike to separate him from Kakarot.

Her eyes darted to Android 20 blocking their path, mentally plotting the quickest way to slip past his guard. Not bothering with elaborate feints or diversions as she might have once preferred—just a direct power surge that would create the opening she needed. Her fingers curled into fists as her focus narrowed, the battle plan forming in her mind more straightforward than her usual precise calculations.

Part of her recognized this shift, this growing desire to simply power through obstacles rather than outmaneuver them, but the impulse was becoming harder to ignore.

Before she could act on this urge, a familiar ki signature brushed against her senses. A quiet sigh of relief escaped her lips. Trust her father to make a dramatic entrance—better late than never.

The blur of movement ended with Android 19 flying backward, her father's boot planted firmly where the android's face had been moments before. Kakarot collapsed to the ground, finally free of the mechanical monster's grip.

"The task of defeating Kakarot is mine alone. You junk yard puppets have no part in it." Her father's declaration carried its usual arrogance, but for once, Cellera felt nothing but relief at his possessive claim over Kakarot's defeat.

His attention shifted to his rival’s prone form, and something in his expression changed. "I saw the whole thing. You ignored the symptoms and turned into a Super Saiyan anyway." The disgust in his voice carried an edge of unexpected insight. " Idiot! Did it ever occur to you that the added stress to your heart could accelerate the disease?"

The observation hit Cellera like a physical blow. All her research into theoretical physics and timeline alterations, yet she'd missed something so obvious, something she normally would’ve caught. The Super Saiyan transformation's strain on the body would naturally intensify any existing condition. Her father's insight made her earlier hesitation feel even more damning.

Her father's gaze shifted to her, carrying that familiar weight of disappointment she hadn't seen since Namek. "And you. I know you had to have noticed the symptoms, yet you did nothing. This whole thing could've been avoided."

His condemnation cut through to her core. Though she knew his reprimand stemmed not from concern for Kakarot's wellbeing, but from irritation that his rival's recovery would now be delayed. Even in this crisis, her father's obsession with surpassing Kakarot remained his driving force. But he wasn't wrong in his rebuke.

She'd had every opportunity to intervene, to trust her initial assessment when she first noticed something wrong with Kakarot. That practical warrior instinct, honed through years of training, had urged her to act immediately. Instead, she'd hesitated, caught between that certainty and the conflicting pull of theoretical possibilities. She'd allowed doubt to cloud her judgment when her first instinct had been right all along.

And worse, beneath her hesitation had lurked that growing Saiyan battle drive—that part of her that understood why Kakarot would fight despite the risk, that resonated with his choice to face an opponent regardless of his condition. That instinct had silently sided against intervention, whispering that true warriors face their battles head-on. Now she could see how both aspects of herself had contributed to this failure.

Her fists clenched at her sides as anger—not at her father, but at herself—rose in her chest. What was the point of these three years of training if she couldn't protect those she cared about? Why prepare to prevent a hellish future if she couldn't even trust her own judgment in the present?

Her gaze dropped to where Gohan knelt beside Piccolo, who now stood perfectly fine—clearly having feigned injury as she'd suspected. The sight of them only twisted the knife deeper. Her hesitation, her doubt, could have cost Gohan his father. The memory of her declaration on Namek echoed back at her with bitter irony. She'd proclaimed her Saiyan pride would never let her stand by while her friends died, yet here she was, having done exactly that through her silence.

Her father's attention returned to Kakarot's prone form, his voice carrying that familiar mix of disdain and possessiveness. "You are mine to deal with Kakarot. Don't you forget that." With a kick, he sent Kakarot's body flying toward Piccolo, who caught him easily by the back of his gi. "Someone drag him home and shove that wonder drug down his throat."

"I'm going to take dad back home!" Gohan moved forward immediately, trying to support his father's weight. The height difference made the task awkward—despite his growth over the past three years, he was still a child attempting to carry a full-grown Saiyan.

Cellera watched Gohan struggle, his face twisted with worry, and fresh guilt surged through her chest. Her earlier paralysis had contributed to this moment, to the fear she now saw in her friend's eyes as he tried to save his father.

"No, let me take him!" Yamcha stepped in, his offer carrying a bitter sort of self-awareness. "As weak as it sounds, I'm the one who can do the least good here." He hoisted Kakarot over his shoulder with practiced ease, the movement suggesting this wasn't the first time he'd carried an injured friend from battle.

As Yamcha took to the sky with his precious cargo, Android 19's head swiveled to track his departure. The mechanical monster tensed, clearly preparing to pursue, but Android 20's voice cut through the air with sharp command.

"19! You need not chase after him."

The older android landed beside his partner, that unsettling smirk playing across his mechanical features once more. "There's something to be said about saving the best for last." His gaze swept across their group, lingering just a moment too long on each face. "We can get started by exterminating these bothersome insects. Now that Vegeta has joined us, things should be somewhat entertaining for a while."

"S-Say, maybe it might be better to fall back for now, eh guys?" Krillin's suggestion drew a sharp sidelong glance from Cellera. "That guy from the future said that all of us, including Goku and Vegeta were killed by these things. The minor details may have changed but isn't that what's happening now?"

"But if we run away, those two will go around doing exactly what they did to that city earlier." The steel in Gohan's voice reflected his father's determination, even as worry for him lingered in his eyes.

"It's like Cellera said earlier," Piccolo added. "Because of that boy's arrival, history has been altered. Events won't play out exactly the way he said they would."

"I-I only meant until Goku gets over his illness." Krillin's voice carried the weight of someone who'd faced death too many times. Cellera understood his hesitation—he'd already died twice, and his second revival had only been possible through the Namekian Dragon Balls, a resource they no longer had access to.

But retreat wasn't an option. Not after what they'd witnessed in the city. Not after her own fatal hesitation had already complicated things. "We can't afford to wait, Krillin." Her voice came out quieter than intended. "Waiting is what got us into this mess...."

Gohan's attention shifted to Cellera, noting how different she seemed from just an hour ago. The change was jarring—where she usually carried herself with her father's confidence, she now seemed diminished. Her crossed arms, typically a gesture of authority she'd inherited from Vegeta, now looked more like she was holding herself together. His father's illness might have been the catalyst, but Vegeta's condemnation seemed to had shaken her confidence. 

"20," Android 19's mechanical voice carried an odd note of deference as he turned to his partner, Vegeta's boot print still marring his porcelain face. "Please permit me to handle Vegeta."

Android 20's eyes flickered toward her father with calculated interest. "So be it. But in exchange, I alone will take the remaining 5."

A familiar laugh echoed across the battlefield as her father watched Android 19 drop into a fighting stance. "Judging by the few moves of yours I've seen already, I can tell that you're nowhere near the threat you've been made out to be." His smirk widened as he added, "The only thing I need to watch out for are your palms, which can apparently suck out energy."

"Heh. It seems you missed the most important part." Android 19's own smirk held manufactured confidence. "I know the full extent of your abilities, Vegeta."

Cellera felt her lips twitch upward at the android's presumption. Once again, their outdated data would prove their undoing.

"You can't ascertain the power we Saiyans possess by mere calculation." Her father's voice dropped to that dangerous tone she knew well—the one that preceded something spectacular or terrible, often both. His ki began to rise as he asked, "I'm curious... are you androids capable of feeling fear?"

The surge of energy that followed stole her breath. Golden light erupted around her father's form as he transformed, the raw power of it forcing everyone back a step. Everyone except Piccolo and Gohan stared in shock as Vegeta achieved what had once been thought impossible.

"Him too?" Android 20 muttered in disbelief, his gaze darting between Vegeta and Cellera as if recalculating odds.

"N-No way! He's a Super Saiyan too?" Krillin's awe gave voice to their collective surprise.

Pride radiated from her father as he began to explain his journey to this moment. The single-minded training, the ruthless drive to surpass Kakarot, the moment he faced his own limitations. "It was then, in my self loathing, that it suddenly awoke the Super Saiyan within me." His voice carried equal parts triumph and bitterness. "I shook with joy. The time for me to surpass Kakarot and reclaim my place as the prince of all Saiyans had finally arrived!"

Cellera watched her father's declaration with mixed emotions. The pride in his achievement warred with concern over his continued obsession with defeating Kakarot. Even now, with artificial beings threatening their world, his focus remained fixed on that singular goal.

Android 19 launched forward, his left hook connecting with Vegeta's face. The impact merely turned the Saiyan's head slightly before he righted himself, a thin trail of blood at the corner of his mouth. A slow smirk spread across his features. "I suppose that's the most I could expect."

Cellera recognized that expression. The battle was already over—Android 19 just didn't know it yet.

What followed was pure devastation. Vegeta's kick pierced straight through the android's midsection, his foot visible from the other side. Before the mechanical monster could process the damage, an elbow strike sent its hat flying, revealing the same metallic casing as its partner. A final kick sent the android skidding across the ground.

The display of raw power shocked everyone except Cellera. Even Android 20's mechanical features betrayed surprise as Vegeta stalked toward his fallen creation. "What's wrong? Did you tin cans screw up your calculations that even my ten year old daughter could accomplish?"

Android 19 charged again in desperation. Vegeta's response was masterful—using his arms as support, he launched both feet into the android, sending it skyward before following. When the android attempted to grab him with its energy-draining palms, Vegeta's positioning was perfect. The mechanical arm slid harmlessly over his shoulder, leaving him perfectly positioned to deliver a devastating right hook.

The battle's conclusion found Vegeta standing over Android 19 in a massive crater of his own making. He held the android's severed arms almost casually while his opponent stared in horror at the exposed wiring where its hands had been. Nearby, Android 20's shocked expression suggested his confidence was finally wavering.

"You drained quite a bit from me, but you're not able to do that anymore now, huh?" Vegeta tossed the mechanical limbs aside with contempt. His laugh held genuine amusement as the android began to retreat. "So you really can feel fear?"

The android's attempt to flee proved futile. Vegeta took to the air, one hand extended as he gathered energy. " Big Bang Attack! " The explosion that followed left nothing but the android's head, which rolled to a stop near their group.

Throughout the display of dominance, Vegeta had noticed something troubling. His daughter's usual sharp analysis of combat was absent, replaced by an uncertainty he hadn't seen since her earliest days of training. The fire that had driven her declaration on Namek—that her Saiyan pride wouldn't let her watch her friends die—seemed dimmed.

What irritated him most wasn't just her failure to act on Kakarot's obvious condition - it was how unlike her the hesitation had been. He'd grown accustomed to her quick interventions when she spotted a problem, her readiness to call out tactical errors even if it meant challenging him. This uncharacteristic silence, this doubt... it was beneath a warrior of royal blood.

Vegeta descended to ground level, purposely powering down despite his depleted energy. His daughter's eyes widened slightly at the apparent show of confidence. "The fact still remains that you have absolutely no possibility of achieving victory," Android 20 declared, though his mechanical voice lacked conviction.

"Is that so?" Vegeta smirked, his gaze sliding briefly to Cellera. "I think you're just being a sore loser."

He moved to stand before his daughter, his voice carrying that familiar mix of pride and challenge. "As for you, stop that! I will not tolerate this kind of weak behavior from a Saiyan. Especially not my child."

Cellera stared at her father, caught off guard by his words. She'd expected his usual cutting remarks about weakness, not this... almost understanding of how her earlier inaction had wounded her own pride.

"If you're that concerned about your damaged Saiyan pride," he continued, a familiar smirk playing at his lips, "then simply rebuild it with the next android."

Her eyes narrowed slightly as she watched him power down from Super Saiyan, maintaining an air of casual confidence despite the energy she knew Android 19 had drained. When he turned to Android 20, she caught the calculated gleam in his eye.

"What's wrong, scared?" Her father's voice carried that dangerous playfulness she recognized from his most strategic moments. "I had quite a bit of energy drained. Now would be your best chance to attack." His smirk widened. "Unless you're afraid of facing a Saiyan prince and his child?"

Cellera felt her lips curve upward as she caught onto his play. Without hesitation, she transformed, golden light erupting around her form. Android 20's mechanical eyes widened slightly as he glanced between them - a father and daughter, both Super Saiyans, both wearing a smirk and looking ready for combat.

The android's gaze lingered for one calculating moment before he turned and fled.

"He's running away! He plans on hiding in the rocks!" Krillin's shout broke through the moment of triumph.

"Krillin, give my father a senzu, now! Before the android gets away!" The command rang out with renewed confidence as Cellera's mind snapped back into focus. Krillin didn't hesitate, tossing the healing bean to Vegeta who quickly consumed it.

Golden light erupted around her father as he immediately transformed back to Super Saiyan. He turned to face their group, his gaze settling on Cellera. "I expect you to reclaim your pride." The words carried none of his usual mockery—only the weight of expectation. She met his eyes with a firm nod, understanding the deeper meaning behind his challenge.

His attention shifted to the others, trademark smirk returning. "Why don't the rest of you just run home and stay out of our way." Without another word, he shot after the fleeing android.

"He really did lose quite a bit of strength." Piccolo's observation made Cellera pause mid-takeoff. "He drew the fight out to confirm that they really do drain energy through their palms. If Android 20 called his bluff, Vegeta definitely would've lost." The Namekian turned to her with newfound appreciation. "I had always assumed that your knowledge of battle strategies and tactics came from your mother, but Vegeta truly is a genius when it comes to the battlefield."

"He is," Cellera agreed, a note of respect entering her voice. "Especially when his pride and arrogance don't blind him into making simple mistakes."

"Either way, I'm going to follow him," Tien declared. "I need to see the end of those androids for myself!"

"Me too!" The determination in Gohan's voice matched his father's. "I didn't do all of that training just to do nothing!"

"Count me in!" Krillin added, his earlier hesitation replaced by resolve.

Piccolo's stern gaze fell on Gohan and Krillin. "Don't try to fight him by yourselves. Stay alert."

"And the android will likely try to use the rocky terrain for cover," Cellera added, mind fully engaged once more, the weight of  her earlier mistake seemingly gone. "We need to be careful and alert each other immediately if we spot him. Without being able to sense his energy, we're fighting blind out there."

The group scattered across the rocky terrain, each taking different directions to cover more ground. Cellera found herself partnering with Gohan, understanding Piccolo's earlier warning had been primarily for his safety. Her father's voice echoed in the distance, taunting the android with accusations of cowardice.

From their vantage point atop a cliff, they scanned the jagged landscape below. The rocky formations provided countless hiding places for their mechanical opponent. As Gohan studied one particularly shadowed crevice, Cellera's attention shifted to her friend. Despite everything that had happened with his father, she saw no trace of blame in his expression. The realization only deepened her need to address what had happened.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. The words felt small against the weight of her actions.

Gohan turned to her, genuine confusion crossing his features. "What do you have to be sorry about?"

Cellera's gaze dropped to the rocks below, her pride warring with the shame that had been eating at her since her father's rebuke. "I'm responsible for Kakarot's condition. I saw the signs and did nothing to stop it! Instead I let theories and possibilities cloud my judgment." Her voice caught slightly. "I ignored my first instinct to intervene—the very instinct that's kept us alive through countless battles. I knew something was wrong, and I still hesitated."

The pain in her voice made Gohan's chest tighten. Seeing his best friend—usually so confident and sure—looking this lost felt fundamentally wrong. "It's not your fault," he said gently. "If anything, it's mine. I didn't notice a single thing."

"How can you say that?" she began, but Gohan shook his head.

"I'm with him every day. If anyone should have seen the symptoms..." That familiar self-doubt crept into his voice. "I was right there beside him these past three years. I should have noticed something was wrong, but I didn't. I still missed something this important."

He looked down at his hands, clenching them slightly. "Dad's always been there for me, for all of us, and when he needed me to notice something was wrong, I failed him."

"That's not your fault," Cellera insisted, seeing his confidence slipping away again. 

"But even if you had said something," Gohan continued, his voice steadying as he found a truth he could hold onto, "you know my dad. He probably would have transformed anyway. That's just who he is."

His lips curved into that gentle smile she'd seen so often on Kakarot's face. "Besides, it's weird seeing you doubt yourself like this... Princess."

The unexpected nickname caught her completely off guard. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she stepped backward, forgetting how close they were to the cliff's edge.

Gohan's hand shot out instantly, catching hers and pulling her back from the edge. Unlike their awkward moment with Trunks earlier, there wasn't time for either of them to be flustered - the instinctive rescue was over in seconds.

"I... thanks," she managed, more surprised by her own carelessness than his touch this time.

"Anytime," he replied with a quick grin, letting go of her hand.

Before either could step further apart, a sudden drop in ki made them both freeze. Their eyes met in shared horror as they recognized the fading signature.

"Piccolo!" Their shouts merged into one as they launched themselves from the cliff, racing toward their mentor's location, hoping they weren't too late.

Trunks soared through the air, making his way toward the island nine miles southwest of South City. As he flew, hope warred with anxiety in his chest. If everything had gone according to plan, Goku and the others would have already dealt with the androids. This timeline's inhabitants might actually have a chance at the peace his world had lost.

His recent return to the future had confirmed what his sister and Gohan had theorized—changing the past couldn't alter their own timeline. The revelation had been bitter, but not surprising. They'd suspected as much that night, when the three of them had discussed the implications of time travel.

The memory surfaced with painful clarity: Cellera's hand clasped in Gohan's as she spoke with quiet determination. "But somewhere out there would be a world where children can grow up without fear. Where families aren't torn apart. Where people have a chance at actual lives instead of just survival."

"That's worth fighting for," Gohan had added softly. "Even if we can't change our reality, we can give another world a better future."

Trunks' thoughts shifted to their younger counterparts in this timeline. A smile tugged at his lips as he recalled their protective instincts toward each other, even during his first visit. Cellera had subtly maneuvered Gohan behind her while questioning him about the future. Later, when his father had called him out for staring at him and Cellera too long, Gohan had positioned himself to block Trunks' view of her.

Some bonds, it seemed, transcended time itself.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he saw this island, pausing in midair as he surveyed the damage. "Looks like I arrived late after all. There's no sign of Goku, the others, or the androids." He gritted his teeth, wishing he could go further back in time, but the machine barely had enough fuel to get him home. Even if he tried, the imperfect technology might land him in the wrong moment entirely.

A sudden spike in ki pulled his attention northward. They must have moved the fight to a new location! As he blasted toward the energy signature, passing a red skycar, he spotted a massive crater scarring the earth below. Landing to investigate, he found something that sent a chill down his spine—an android's head, but not one he'd ever seen before. The porcelain-white face and mechanical components were completely foreign to him. Just what in the world was everyone fighting against?

An explosion rocked the rocky hills in the distance, accompanied by familiar ki signatures. Trunks shot into the air immediately, his mind racing. ' What does this mean? Are there three of them?! ' 

He felt his blood turn to ice. How much had his warning changed this timeline?

Cellera and Gohan arrived to find Piccolo trapped in Android 20's energy-draining grip. Without hesitation, Cellera caught Gohan's eye and signaled toward the android. Understanding flashed between them—a wordless battle plan formed from their years of training together. 

Gohan launched forward, his fists connecting with Android 20's back before the mechanical monster could react. In the same moment, Cellera appeared below, her power surging as she drove her own attack upward. The combined assault sent the android crashing to the ground.

"H-How?" Android 20 pushed himself up, genuine shock in his voice. "There's no way they could have found me so quickly!"

Their battle had the intended effect—the flare of ki drew the others to their location. As the group converged around them, Gohan called out, "Krillin! Give Piccolo one of the senzu!"

Krillin tossed the healing bean their way, and Piccolo quickly consumed it, his strength returning immediately.

"If you wouldn't mind, Piccolo," Cellera stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Android 20, "I would like to take this one." Something hardened in her expression as she faced their mechanical opponent. "I have a mistake I need to rectify."

Piccolo studied her for a moment. The android had failed to drain much of his energy—he'd been prepared for the attack after watching Goku's battle. But he could see the determination in Cellera's stance, the need to prove something to herself more than anyone else. While the others might not blame her for Goku's condition, her own guilt was evident.

He nodded, folding his arms. "Fine. He's all yours, Cellera."

Cellera caught her father's approving look before turning back to Android 20. The mechanical being showed none of the fear he'd displayed against her father—likely emboldened by whatever energy he'd managed to drain from Piccolo. His confidence made her smirk inwardly. Overconfidence was always exploitable.

As she faced Android 20, Cellera felt that familiar battle excitement rising within her. The challenge of a worthy opponent made her blood sing with the simple joy of combat - a feeling far stronger than she'd experienced in their recent spars.

 

"It doesn't matter if you're a Super Saiyan or not now," Android 20 laughed. "The energy I stole from Piccolo should more than suffice to take out a child."

 

The android's laughter cut short as Cellera's kick connected with his chin, sending him flying backward. He caught himself mid-air, genuine surprise crossing his mechanical features.

 

"Was that sufficient enough for you?" she asked, feeling a rush of satisfaction at his shock.

The android charged again, both palms extended to drain her energy. Cellera sidestepped the first grab with practiced precision, but rather than ending the fight quickly, she found herself testing his movements, gauging his reactions to different feints and attacks. Each successful evasion sent a thrill through her veins, each near-miss making her heart beat faster with excitement rather than fear.

From his position beside Piccolo, Gohan watched the battle with growing surprise. There was something different about how Cellera fought now—not the methodical, efficient style he'd seen in their countless spars, but something wilder. Her usual precision remained, but now her eyes gleamed with an intensity he'd only seen glimpses of before, usually in the heat of their most challenging battles.

"She's drawing this out," Piccolo's voice carried a note of concern. "That’s not like her at all. Normally she'd have ended this by now."

Gohan nodded, his eyes never leaving the fight. Cellera always emphasized efficiency in combat, the importance of finishing battles quickly to minimize risk. Yet here she was, almost playing with her opponent. He'd never seen this side of her before.

The battle continued as Cellera found herself savoring every moment. Part of her recognized she should finish him quickly, but the thrum of energy beneath her skin, the satisfaction of each perfectly executed counter made her want to prolong the experience. After years of sparring matches and simulations, the challenge of a real battle against an opponent with unknown capabilities sharpened her senses in a way that felt surprisingly satisfying.

Android 20 grew more erratic with each failed attempt to grab her. His attacks became wilder, more desperate, exactly as she'd planned. "Stand still, you insolent child!"

"Why?" Cellera deflected another grab, twisting his arm away from her. "Are your calculations failing you? Perhaps you should have studied more than just our power levels."

The android's frustration peaked. He charged forward with both hands, leaving himself completely open. In one fluid motion, Cellera ducked under his guard, her ki-charged hand slicing upward through his right wrist. Sparks and wires erupted from the severed limb as it fell to the ground.

"She's won!" Gohan's excited shout carried over the battlefield. Android 20 stared in horror at his severed hand, while Cellera's stance remained perfect, ready for whatever came next.

"Perhaps we've become too strong for you." Cellera let the taunt roll off her tongue, savoring the android's growing desperation. "It seems your calculations failed you."

"Cellera, hurry and finish him off." Her father's voice cut through her focus from above. "Unless you want me to step in and do it for you?"

The words snapped her back to reality. She'd let herself get swept up in the rhythm and flow of combat, the pure satisfaction of testing her skills against a worthy opponent. Though she knew her father's impatience stemmed more from wanting another challenge for his newfound strength than any real criticism of her tactics.

As she readied herself for the finishing blow, a familiar ki signature approached. Her eyes widened at its unmistakable presence.

"T-That's!" Gohan's voice carried the same recognition.

Cellera looked skyward to find not her infant brother, but his future self hovering above them. "Trunks?" The name escaped her before she could stop it.

She caught her father's startled expression next to her at her outburst, watching as understanding dawned in his eyes. The pieces of the mysterious time traveler's identity were finally falling into place.

"W-Who is this guy? The one you're fighting? And the one back there?" Trunks asked, nodding his head toward where Android 19's remains lay in the distance.

"What do you mean who?!" Her father's anger crackled through the air. "He's one of those things you warned us about!"

Trunks stared at Android 20, his face draining of color. "That's not the android..."

"Y-You mean he isn't one of the..." The words died in Cellera's throat as they all exchanged shocked looks. If these weren't the androids that had killed them in Trunks' future, then the true threats still existed. Despite her earlier identification of Android 20 as Dr. Gero himself, this revelation changed everything. The reality crashed over her like a wave—they'd been fighting the creator, not the creations that had devastated Trunks' world.

"Not the androids you say?!" Her father's voice carried both fury and disbelief as he pointed at Android 20. "What the hell do you call that, then?!"

"It's not that big of a deal, is it?" Krillin ventured, uncertainty clear in his tone. "I mean history has already changed quite a bit from what he first told us. So maybe these androids changed as well?"

But Cellera's mind raced ahead to the obvious conclusion—if these weren't the androids from Trunks' warning, then the true threats still existed. The ones that had actually destroyed their future counterparts were still out there, waiting to be awakened by Dr. Gero himself. Her muscles tensed as she turned back toward Android 20, determined to at least eliminate this immediate threat before he could unleash whatever horrors he had hidden in his laboratory.

The familiar hum of an approaching skycar shattered her focus. Through the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Bulma's vehicle descending toward them. Cellera's fist clenched in frustration—too many variables, too many potential disasters unfolding at once.

"Hey! Stay away from here! It's not safe! Stay back!" Trunks' desperate shout echoed her own internal alarm.

"I WAS SPEAKING THE TRUTH WHEN I SAID YOU HAD NO CHANCE OF VICTORY! ANDROIDS 17 & 18 WILL BE HERE TO KILL YOU SOON!" Android 20's shout carried triumphant malice. Cellera spun around just in time to see him preparing an attack aimed directly at Bulma's approaching vehicle.

Without hesitation she bolted toward the skycar, even as it became engulfed in explosion and smoke. Through the chaos, she caught glimpse of the older Trunks moving to assist. Working in tandem, they reached Bulma and the baby simultaneously—Trunks securing his mother while Cellera cradled her infant brother in her arms as they descended to safety.

"Phew! That was a close one!" Bulma's breathless relief was interrupted by baby Trunks' frightened fussing. Cellera quickly checked him for injuries, her heart rate only settling once she confirmed he was unharmed. She passed him back to Bulma, who clutched him tightly to her chest. "Trunks! Thank goodness!"

Gohan and Krillin landed beside them, concern evident on their faces. "Are you all okay?"

Cellera nodded before fixing Bulma with a stern glare that would have made her father proud. Bulma responded with a nervous laugh and apologetic smile that made her seem more like the child than the acclaimed scientist she was.

"Sorry?" Bulma offered weakly, holding Trunks closer.

"DAMN IT ALL! I REFUSE TO LET HIM RUN AWAY!" Vegeta's rage echoed across the battlefield as he scanned for any sign of the escaped android. Cellera watched as Trunks' eyes narrowed at their father's outburst before flying up to confront him. She couldn't help but sigh—Trunks was about to experience their father's personality firsthand. Though she knew, even if he'd never admit it, that her father had anticipated her choice to save Bulma rather than pursue the android.

"Was that weird old geezer an android?" Bulma's question drew Cellera's attention back to the group.

"Yeah, why d'you ask?" Krillin turned to her with curiosity.

"I think that was Doctor Gero himself. I've seen his photo before in a scientific journal." Bulma's revelation confirmed what Cellera had already suspected based on the android's personal vendetta against Kakarot. "That's strange. I wonder if he converted himself?"

"Hey!" Krillin's shout stopped Vegeta just as he prepared to take off. "She says that the android just now was Doctor Gero!"

Everyone gathered around Bulma, Vegeta stalking forward with barely contained rage, though not at Bulma. "You mean the android that ran off was the Doctor Gero? How can that even be possible?!"

"Like I said, I've seen the picture. Doctor Gero was a well known genius, but not a very agreeable one." Bulma shifted baby Trunks in her arms as she spoke.

"Just as I suspected," Cellera remarked, her earlier assessment validated. "His speech about defeating Kakarot carried far too much personal resentment to be mere programming."

"So everything you told us has been a total crock!" Vegeta rounded on the older Trunks, his fury finding a new target. "First you told us that the androids killed their creator and now you're saying they're not even the same ones!" 

Trunks looked toward the ground, but before he could respond, Cellera stepped in. "Father, it's not his fault." The protectiveness in her voice matched her earlier defense when he'd been accused of lying. "The timeline was altered the moment he came to warn us three years ago. It's why Kakarot only just now contracted the heart virus. No event may play out exactly the same."

"Time has been thrown off by that much?" The disbelief in Trunks' voice was palpable.

"He mentioned Androids 17 & 18," Piccolo cut in. "Those are probably the ones you warned us about. Tell us what they look like. We can't afford to make the same mistake again."

"Right." Trunks nodded. "Number 17 is a young man with long black hair and a scarf around his neck. Number 18 is a pretty girl with clothing similar to my own."

"Are they able to drain energy through their hands as well?" Cellera asked.

"No, their energy is infinite."

Cellera's eyes widened at Trunks' response. These androids weren't just different—they were in another league entirely.

"Bulma!" Her father strode toward them, his focus razor-sharp. "Doctor Gero is sure to head back to his laboratory. Do you have any idea where it could be?"

Bulma's hand rose to her chin in thought. "I recall it was in the mountains near North City. There were rumors he converted a cave into a lab, though it's possible he could have relocated since then."

"I see." Piccolo's voice carried the weight of decision. "We should get there ahead of Doctor Gero and destroy 17 & 18 before he can awaken them."

"I'd never dream of doing something so cowardly." Her father's response dripped with disdain as he turned to Piccolo. "I just want to be the first one in line to deal with them. That other android barely even put up a fight."

Cellera's earlier pride in her father's strategic battle with Android 19 faded as she watched his judgment cloud with battle lust. After an unfulfilling fight and watching her own battle, he was clearly eager for a real challenge. Before she could speak up, Trunks had already begun.

"Piccolo is right! We should try to destroy them before they're activated! If we can't make it in time to do that, we should avoid any fighting until Goku gets over his illness!"

Cellera winced at the unintended blow to their father's pride. Though she couldn't blame Trunks—he'd never truly known their father in his timeline. Still, she had to agree with his assessment about destroying the androids before activation.

"There's no need to wait on Kakarot." Her father's voice carried that dangerous edge she knew too well. "Can't you see that I have become a Super Saiyan as well? Now that the three of us are Super Saiyans, there is no way his strength exceeds my own—the strength of a prince!"

The mere comparison to Kakarot had shattered his earlier composure. Gone was the battle genius Piccolo had praised, replaced by raw determination to prove his superiority through combat.

"Now keep out of my way!" Vegeta shot northward toward the mountains, ignoring Tien's shout about where he was going.

"It's true," Piccolo stated, watching Vegeta's retreating form. "Vegeta's strength has surpassed even Goku's. We may be able to handle the androids like he says."

"That may be," Cellera's brows furrowed with concern. "But father's choice to fight the androids rather than destroy them before they can be activated doesn't sit well with me." Her mind flashed back to Namek, where her father's pride had nearly gotten them all killed multiple times. His self-sabotage, his reckless decisions—they'd barely escaped alive.

"We need to find the lab before father," she continued, her voice firm with resolve. "The fact that these androids have infinite energy is reason enough to warrant caution. We need to destroy them before they have a chance to be freed."

"Don't forget, I'm a Super Saiyan as well, but I was in no way a match for the two of them..." The horror in Trunks' eyes spoke of memories too painful to voice. "Their strength is unimaginable. I'm going after him. He may be a jerk, but I'm not going to let my father die all over again!"

"Trunks, wait!" Cellera grabbed his arm before he could take off. Despite growing up without their father, it seemed her brother had inherited the same tendency to rush headfirst into danger

The others, besides Piccolo, stared at them in shock. Cellera cringed at her slip, though Trunks had already revealed himself by calling Vegeta father.

"D-Did you say father?" Bulma's eyes darted between the older Trunks and the baby in her arms. "I-Is that really true?"

"That explains why you were so defensive of him earlier today." Gohan looked at Cellera, who appeared caught between embarrassment at her mistake and exasperation at the situation.

"We can discuss this more later. For now, we need to get back to the situation at hand." Cellera's attempt to redirect them was backed by Piccolo's firm nod.

"We all need to search for Doctor Gero's lab and destroy those things before they can be activated."

The group voiced their agreement, but Bulma's voice cut through the tension with unexpected warmth. "Trunks! You're going to grow up into a fine young man aren't you? That's terrific! That naughty look in your eye had your mother worried!"

Cellera glanced at her brother's future self, noting the slight blush that colored his cheeks at their mother's praise.

“Someone should inform Kakarot about all of this in case he recovers in time to join us," Cellera said, looking toward Bulma.

"I would, but my skycar is busted, remember?" Bulma gestured to the smoking wreckage behind them.

Cellera's gaze moved between the ruined aircraft and Bulma cradling her little brother. Getting them home safely needed to be a priority—they couldn't risk either of them being caught in another android attack.

"Gohan, you go and take them back home," Piccolo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Getting rid of a few unconscious androids is something we can do alone."

"O-Okay then." The quiet acceptance in Gohan's voice couldn't mask his disappointment.

The others launched into the sky, leaving only Trunks behind. Cellera knew he was waiting for her, but her attention remained on Gohan. She'd seen this before—the way his confidence had started slipping since her visit to their household eighteen months ago. Their earlier conversation on the cliff had only confirmed what she'd feared. Despite all his growth, he still seemed to doubt himself.

"Gohan!" She moved to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder. The contact made him look up, surprise evident in his expression. "You are the only one who can do this."

She meant every word, and she needed him to understand that. This wasn't just about getting Bulma and Trunks to safety—it was about trusting him with her family. Only Gohan had both the strength to protect them and the gentleness to keep them calm through the crisis. It was a combination unique to him.

Gohan stared at her words, finally understanding the full weight of what Cellera was entrusting to him. Not just a simple escort mission—she was placing her entire family in his care. The same hands that had failed to notice his father's illness were now being trusted with Bulma, someone who’s become a second mother to her, and her baby brother's safety. The faith she showed in him, despite everything, made his chest feel warm. A determined smile spread across his face as he gave her a firm nod. "Right. Be careful out there."

Cellera felt her own smile form as she watched the change overtake him. That familiar fire sparked in his eyes—the same determination she'd seen when he'd faced down Dodoria to protect Dende, when they'd worked together to destroy the Makyo Star. Gone was the self-doubt from their cliff-side conversation, replaced by the protective warrior she knew lived within him. "Of course. I promise." Those last two words carried their own special weight between them—an unbreakable vow that had never once been broken since Namek.

Trunks observed their exchange with a mix of wonder and nostalgia. In his timeline, he'd grown up seeing their partnership as adults, but seeing it in its early stages was something else entirely. Even now, barely ten years old and faced with androids that threatened their world, they maintained that unwavering faith in each other that would one day help them survive the android apocalypse in his timeline. When Cellera turned to him, her nod signalling she was ready, they shot into the sky after their father.

Gohan watched their forms disappear into the distance before turning to face his assigned task. The trust Cellera had shown in him straightened his spine, steadied his resolve. "Thanks, Gohan! We've got to hurry too. And I know you want to get to your dad," Bulma said as he moved into position behind her.

Just as he prepared for takeoff, a familiar voice shattered the moment.

"Wait a sec! Don't forget about me!"

Gohan turned to find Yajirobe hauling himself onto the rocky plateau, panting from the climb. The young warrior suppressed a sigh—this mission to protect Cellera's family had just become significantly more complicated.

Notes:

And here is the tumblr post regarding my thoughts and notes for the chapter:
https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar/776725087431917568/chapter-18-writer-thoughts?source=share

Be sure to check out the tumblr, as I've reposted some crazy good fanart from you guys! Truly you guys are the best for reading my brain rot and entertaining my hyperfixation.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

Notes:

Hello! Apologies for the late upload, as I had traveled out of state last night for a family reunion and didn't get to my destination until 2am and I just now woke up!

The landscape below shifted as Cellera and Trunks flew northward, barren rocky plateaus giving way to dense forests that cloaked the mountainsides. Pine trees swayed in their wake, their father's passage moments before having already disturbed the canopy. The air grew noticeably cooler as they climbed higher into the mountain range, thin clouds occasionally obscuring their view of the rugged terrain. These mountains would provide Dr. Gero with countless places to hide - every shadow-filled valley and tree-covered ridge could potentially conceal his laboratory.

The wind whistled past Cellera's ears as she searched the jagged landscape below, her keen eyes scanning for any sign of unnatural structures among the wilderness. The scent of pine and mountain air filled her lungs, a stark contrast to the acrid smoke they'd left behind at the battlefield. Her muscles remained tense, ready to change course at the slightest indication of their quarry.

"So, when did you figure it out?"

Trunks' question pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to him, brow furrowed in confusion as they navigated between two snow-capped peaks. His lavender hair, so like their mother's, whipped wildly in the mountain currents.

"When did you figure out who I really was?" he clarified, referencing her earlier slip when she'd called him by name.

A knowing smirk crossed Cellera's face. "I had my suspicions moments after you left our timeline, thanks to Kakarot's parting comment before we began our training." She couldn't help but laugh at how Trunks' eyes widened. "Thankfully, I was the only one to piece it together. My suspicions were confirmed after you were born - there's no denying how much you resemble father and Bulma."

The memory of cradling infant Trunks flashed through her mind, his tiny features already showing hints of the warrior he would become. Strange how the baby's future self now flew beside her, a young man of seventeen while she remained only ten. The paradox of time travel still felt profoundly unsettling, no matter how much she'd considered the theoretical consequences.

The corners of Trunks' mouth curved upward. "I knew you'd be the first to figure it out."

"Technically, Piccolo knew before I did," Cellera admitted, veering around a jutting cliff face. Loose stones tumbled down the mountainside as her passage disturbed the fragile equilibrium. "Though he has his Namekian hearing to thank for that."

"You mentioned timelines earlier." Trunks matched her path as they wove through the increasingly dense mountain range, the forest below growing thicker with each passing mile. A hawk cried out somewhere beneath them, its call echoing against the stone walls.

Cellera nodded, her expression growing more serious. "After Kakarot showed no signs of the heart virus, I researched some theories. Everything pointed to multiverse theory being in play."

She remembered the long nights spent in Bulma's library, poring over theoretical physics texts and quantum mechanics journals, seeking answers to the paradox Trunks' arrival had created. While the others had been focused solely on training, she'd needed to understand the implications of what his warnings meant for their reality. The absence of Kakarot's illness had been the first concrete proof that Trunks' appearance had already altered their timeline irrevocably.

"Yeah," Trunks agreed, his voice taking on a distant quality. "When I returned to the future, nothing had changed." His eyes softened, a fond smile playing at his lips. "Although, you and Gohan had predicted that would be the case."

Cellera's breath caught at the mention of her future self and Gohan working together. Trunks' casual reference stirred questions she hadn't considered before. What kind of relationship had they developed in that ravaged future? How had they survived together? Before she could inquire about her future counterpart, they finally caught sight of their father's form ahead, his silhouette stark against the forested mountainside.

Trunks' expression suddenly darkened, his face, which typically mirrored Bulma's gentler expressions, twisted into a scowl that made him the spitting image of their father. The transformation was so stark that Cellera nearly faltered in her flight.

"He didn't even attempt to save mother, or his infant son, me! How could she say he has good points?" Trunks muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind.

Cellera studied her brother's profile, remembering how he'd dismissed their father as a "jerk" earlier. While she couldn't deny that Vegeta could be difficult - his pride and temper often making him nearly impossible to deal with - something about Trunks' perception bothered her. He spoke as if he had no real knowledge of who their father was, as if the subtle signs of Vegeta's care were completely foreign to him.

The thought struck her suddenly - had her future self never shared stories of their father with him? Never taught him to read the meaning behind Vegeta's actions rather than his words? A deep sadness welled within her at the realization. She knew the complex language of their father's behavior, how his gruff comments often masked genuine concern, how his strategic advice during training sessions was his way of showing care. If Trunks had never learned to decipher these signs, he'd have entirely missed the depth beneath Vegeta's harsh exterior.

"It seems you two have finally caught up!" Vegeta called over his shoulder, sparing a brief glance at his children. The morning sun glinted off his armor as he maintained his lead, muscles tense with anticipation. "Are you planning to tag along the whole way and try to stop me? We'll just see about that!"

Their father's battle cry echoed across the mountainside as he surged forward, his power climbing higher. The air around him distorted with golden energy, his transformation sending ripples of force that disturbed the snow on nearby peaks. Trunks immediately transformed into Super Saiyan, golden light exploding around him as he matched Vegeta's pace. Cellera followed suit, though she couldn't help rolling her eyes at their display as her own hair rose with the familiar rush of energy through her body.

The irony wasn't lost on her - for all Trunks' criticism of their father, he'd just responded to Vegeta's challenge exactly as Vegeta himself would have. The same pride, the same competitive spirit, the same instinctive need to prove himself. In that moment, despite his lavender hair and Bulma's facial features, Trunks had never looked more like their father.

As they streaked through the mountain passes in pursuit of Dr. Gero, Cellera's thoughts drifted to those they'd left behind. She pictured Gohan carrying her infant brother, protecting both him and Bulma. His quiet strength and unwavering reliability had always been a stabilizing presence in her life. A small smile tugged at her lips - at least she knew they were in capable hands. She could only hope they were having an easier time of it than she was, stuck between her prideful father and a brother who was more like him than he realized.

---

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the landscape as Gohan navigated his unusual cargo through the air. With Yajirobe's arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind and Bulma cradled carefully in front, holding baby Trunks, he had to maintain a slower pace than he would have liked. The weight of three passengers strained his arms, though his recent training made it manageable. He adjusted his flight path to avoid turbulence, hyper-aware of the infant's safety.

While he didn't mind helping Cellera by taking her family to safety, he was beginning to understand her usual exasperation with certain companions. Yajirobe had complained about their speed, the altitude, and his growling stomach for the past twenty minutes without pause.

"Could you hurry up, Gohan? My arms are getting tired," Yajirobe complained from his perch on Gohan's back, shifting his weight in a way that nearly threw off their balance.

"Would you stop your belly aching already?!" Bulma snapped, twisting her head to glare up at him. Her blue hair whipped across her face in the wind, and she blew it away with an irritated huff. "It's poor Gohan who's doing all the work!"

Gohan sent a silent thank you to Bulma. Though she could be just as demanding as Yajirobe at times, at least she recognized when someone else was making an effort. He felt baby Trunks squirm in his mother's arms, tiny fists waving in response to her raised voice.

"It's okay, Bulma," Gohan said, trying to maintain his role as peacekeeper. The last thing he needed was for his passengers to start moving around while they were several hundred feet above the ground.

"I'm just sick of Yajirobe's whining!" She shifted her attention to the baby in her arms, her voice softening instantly as she stroked his lavender hair. "Trunks, when you grow up, I hope you turn out to be just like Gohan!"

Baby Trunks responded with a delighted gurgle that brought a genuine smile to Gohan's face. Despite the weight of their current situation, the infant's innocent joy was infectious. The sound reminded him of Cellera's earlier interaction with her baby brother—how her usual stern demeanor had completely melted as she cradled him. That memory warmed him in a way that had nothing to do with the afternoon sun beating down on them.

"Well, you don't have to worry about him!" Gohan offered cheerfully, adjusting his grip to better support Bulma. "From what I've seen, I'd say the grown-up Trunks is pretty cool!"

"He's not that cool..." Yajirobe muttered from above, drawing an exasperated sigh from Gohan. The man seemed determined to complain about everything, including their allies.

"What did you say?!" Bulma's eyes narrowed dangerously before a calculating smirk crossed her face. She looked down at baby Trunks again, her voice taking on a sing-song quality. "Well, we'll just tell Daddy about him!"

"No, don't! Not Vegeta!" The panic in Yajirobe's voice was immediate. His arms tightened around Gohan's shoulders, almost cutting off his air supply.

Gohan couldn't help but chuckle at the man's sudden change in attitude. Though he understood Yajirobe's fear—Vegeta's temper was legendary, especially when it came to matters involving his family. The temptation to join in the teasing was too strong to resist. "Yeah. I don't think Cellera would like to hear that you badmouthed her brother like that."

Yajirobe suddenly leaned forward, appearing in front of Gohan's face with his hands clasped together in panic. The sudden movement nearly sent them plummeting, and Gohan had to quickly recover their stability, his heart hammering as he tightened his grip on Bulma and baby Trunks.

"Please, no! Don't tell your little girlfriend what I said! I'll do anything!" Yajirobe pleaded, his eyes wide with genuine terror.

The word 'girlfriend' hit Gohan like a ki blast, heat rushing to his face as his eyes widened. "S-She's not my girlfriend!" he stammered, watching as Yajirobe rolled his eyes before settling back into position on his back. The sudden shift in weight almost threw off his flight pattern again, and Gohan silently promised himself he would never agree to carry Yajirobe anywhere in the future.

"Pfft. Whatever, kid. I saw you two playing house with the baby earlier."

Bulma's silence only made matters worse. Was that really how everyone saw them? Gohan's face burned hotter as memories from earlier flooded back—Cellera's hand closing over his to rescue it from Trunks' surprisingly strong grip, the way her usually fierce demeanor had softened completely while handling her baby brother. He'd never seen that side of her before today, and something about it made his heart beat faster.

He tried to focus on the horizon ahead, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Cellera. The way she'd looked at him when she entrusted him to keep her family safe—there had been complete trust in her eyes, a trust that made him feel both proud and terrified of letting her down. Was that what friends did, or was it something more? He didn't know, and that uncertainty was almost as unsettling as Yajirobe's teasing.

Desperate to change the subject, Gohan shifted the attention back to Yajirobe. "What do you have against Trunks anyway? He's the one who warned us about the androids, and he may have saved my dad's life by bringing him that medicine from the future!"

Bulma, seemingly taking pity on Gohan's obvious embarrassment, jumped in to help. "That's right! My Trunks is a good boy!" She smoothed the infant's fine hair, her maternal pride encompassing both versions of her son.

"I just hope that medicine really works like he said it would..." Gohan's voice trailed off as darker thoughts crept in. With how much the timeline had already shifted, what if the medicine didn't work? What if his father still died from the virus? And if that happened...

The scenery below blurred as his mind filled with worst-case scenarios. His father incapacitated while the androids hunted them. His mother left alone. His own inability to protect anyone without his father's strength to rely on. The faces of Cellera and the others flashed through his mind, counting on him to come through.

"Don't worry, Gohan!" Bulma's confident voice cut through his spiral of fears. Her free hand reached up to touch his arm reassuringly. "Your dad's going to be fine!"

Her words pulled him back to the present, reminding him that fear accomplished nothing. He nodded firmly, determination replacing uncertainty. "Well I've got to know for sure! Hang on!"

He suddenly increased his speed, feeling Yajirobe's startled yelp as he slipped before Gohan doubled back to catch him—though whether the maneuver had been entirely accidental after all that teasing remained Gohan's secret to keep. The wind whistled past them as he accelerated, focusing his energy on reaching Capsule Corporation as quickly as possible.

As they continued toward their destination, Gohan's thoughts drifted to Cellera and the others pursuing Dr. Gero. The memory of her promise to return safely echoed in his mind. He could only hope they would find the laboratory in time to destroy the androids before they could be activated.

Something told him their challenges were just beginning, but at least he could fulfill his part of the mission—keeping Bulma and baby Trunks safe. If he couldn't do that much, how could he face Cellera again?

---

The flare of Krillin's ki led Cellera, Vegeta, and Trunks to a hidden entrance carved into the mountainside. They landed on a narrow ledge where Tien and Krillin repeatedly rammed their shoulders against a thick metal door, the sturdy barrier refusing to yield despite their efforts. Each impact echoed through the mountain valley but barely dented the reinforced steel. Piccolo stood nearby, watching their futile attempts with growing impatience, his cape billowing in the mountain breeze.

Cellera studied the entrance with narrowed eyes. The door's design spoke volumes about what lay beyond—not just reinforced metal, but sophisticated electronic locks that would have stymied ordinary intruders. Dr. Gero had clearly spared no expense in concealing and protecting his work. Her fingers traced the Red Ribbon emblem emblazoned on the door's surface, the metal cold beneath her touch.

"Step aside," Piccolo commanded, his deep voice resonating with authority as he raised his hand toward the door. Energy began to gather in his palm, the air around them growing charged with power.

"If you destroy the androids, I'll have to take it out on you! " Vegeta's threat crackled with barely contained rage. His eyes gleamed with the prospect of battle, his stance shifting to one of aggression even before they'd entered the laboratory.

Cellera fought back a wave of irritation. The past hour of flying had been filled with constant sniping between her father and brother, their clashing personalities wearing her usually steady patience dangerously thin. She had begun to understand why Bulma occasionally threatened to lock Vegeta out of the gravity chamber—some days his single-minded focus was more exhausting than training.

However, before her frustration could peak, a voice from behind the metal door froze her in place.

"17! Cease the ridiculous prank and take care of the intruders outside at once!"

The unmistakable sound of Dr. Gero's command confirmed their worst fears. The cold certainty in his tone suggested complete confidence in his creations' abilities—and if Trunks' warnings held any truth, that confidence was well-founded.

"No! Damn it! We didn't make it here in time!" Piccolo's words echoed Cellera's internal dread.

Her mind raced to recalculate their odds of success. If the androids were already active, their entire strategy had to shift. No longer could they hope for a preemptive strike; now they faced a defensive battle against unknown enemies. The variables multiplied exponentially, each scenario more dire than the last.

"Get out of the way, dumbasses!" Vegeta shoved forward, pushing past Tien and Krillin with enough force to send them stumbling backward. Energy gathered in his palm, the familiar blue glow of his signature attack illuminating the rocky ledge as shadows danced across his determined features.

"You can't!" The panic in Trunks' voice was raw, desperate. "All of us have to get out of here right now!"

Cellera caught the genuine fear in her brother's tone—not the ordinary caution of a warrior facing a powerful enemy, but the bone-deep terror of someone who had lived through the nightmare they were about to face. She understood his reaction completely; she would likely feel the same if she had witnessed her friends and family systematically destroyed by these creations.

But retreat wasn't an option. The androids were already active, and her Saiyan pride wouldn't allow her to abandon innocent lives to their mercy. Besides, fleeing would only delay the inevitable confrontation. She tensed her muscles, ready to face whatever emerged from behind that door, silently praying their intense training would be enough.

"Please, just wait until Goku recovers and then we—" Trunks' plea was cut short as Vegeta unleashed his blast.

The Big Bang Attack slammed into the door with devastating force. The explosion illuminated the entire mountainside in brilliant blue light before darkness fell again. Metal shrieked and stone crumbled as the entrance collapsed inward, debris raining down as the laboratory's floor cracked under the explosion's power. The scent of scorched metal and ozone filled the air, acrid smoke billowing from the new opening.

As the dust settled, two figures stood amid the wreckage of the laboratory entrance. They matched Trunks' description perfectly: a young man with dark hair and an orange scarf, and a beautiful blonde woman in a black shirt and jean jacket. Their casual postures amid the destruction sent chills down Cellera's spine—they hadn't even bothered to shield themselves from the blast, as if Vegeta's attack posed no more threat than a gentle breeze.

To any passerby, they might have appeared completely human—attractive teenagers perhaps, or young adults on a hiking trip. But the Red Ribbon emblem on their clothing and the cold calculation in their eyes revealed their true nature. Even more unsettling was how they barely acknowledged the group's dramatic entrance, instead turning their attention back to Dr. Gero as if the shattered door was merely a minor inconvenience.

"Why did you go back to the old energy absorption type for a newer model?" Android 18's question carried a hint of mockery as she examined Dr. Gero's mechanical body. "Could it be that you found the perpetual energy model too powerful to keep under your control?"

The words 'keep under your control' caught Cellera's attention immediately. The android's tone suggested a history of rebellion, one that Dr. Gero's subsequent reaction only confirmed. These weren't mindless tools but beings with independent thought—potentially far more dangerous than simple killing machines.

"Take care of these intruders at once!" the doctor demanded, his mechanical features twisting with rage, the exposed wiring in his damaged hand sparking with each movement.

Android 17 merely shrugged, running a hand through his dark hair with practiced nonchalance. "Stop whining; we'll fight them when we're good and ready, old man."

"What did you say?!" Dr. Gero's outburst was cut short as Android 18 wandered across the laboratory, stopping before another pod.

Cellera took the momentary distraction to survey the laboratory. Computer screens lined the walls, displaying complex data streams she couldn't decipher from this distance. Robotic parts and half-finished projects littered workbenches, alongside tools that looked more suited for surgery than mechanical engineering. The place felt like a twisted fusion of operating room and computer lab—cold, clinical, and deeply disturbing.

"Oh? Android 16?" Android 18 studied the container with mild interest, running her fingers along its surface. "This is another perpetual energy type, isn't it?"

Horror spread across Dr. Gero's face, a reaction that sent ice through Cellera's veins. If even the creator of these monsters feared one of his own creations, how powerful must this Android 16 be?

"Did she say...Android 16?" The shock in Trunks' voice was palpable. "I've never heard of a 16! What the hell is going on?!"

Cellera watched her brother's composure crumble as each new revelation further derailed his expectations. His hands trembled slightly—an almost imperceptible movement to anyone else, but obvious to her trained eye. Their chances against two infinite-energy androids had been slim enough—a third would make their survival nearly impossible. Their probability of victory dwindled with each passing second, like grains of sand through an hourglass.

"Don't you dare touch that pod!" Dr. Gero's panic only confirmed their worst fears.

As the doctor continued to argue with his creations, Krillin leaned toward the others, his voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we should run while they're arguing with each other?"

"Go ahead and do that." Vegeta's sarcasm dripped with contempt, his arms folded across his chest in a stance of stubborn pride. "After all, I'm the only one here who can handle these things."

Meanwhile, Android 17 released a smooth chuckle at Dr. Gero's ongoing protests. "She could be signing our death warrants?" His tone carried casual amusement, as if discussing the weather rather than their potential destruction. "Not likely, my power rating is higher. Who cares anyway? Go ahead sis."

Dr. Gero's mechanical voice rose to a fever pitch, desperation cracking through his usual authority. "Stop countering me at every turn! You two are the same as 16—FAILURES!" His hand clenched as he made his final threat. "Just try it! I'll shut you down for good this time!"

Android 17's smirk held no trace of concern, his blue eyes reflecting the laboratory's harsh lighting. "We broke your little switch, remember?"

"I'll just make a new one!" Gero snarled back.

As Android 18's hand moved toward the pod's control panel, Dr. Gero's composure shattered completely. "DIDN'T YOU HEAR A SINGLE WORD I SAID?! DON'T TOUCH THAT SWITCH!"

What happened next occurred so quickly that Cellera barely registered the movement. One moment Dr. Gero stood raging at his creations; the next, Android 17's hand had pierced straight through his mechanical body. The doctor's expression shifted from fury to shock as he turned toward his attacker, sparks flying from the gaping hole in his chest. "What do you think you're—"

The question died unfinished as Android 17 withdrew his hand and delivered a devastating kick. Dr. Gero's head separated from his body with a sickening crack, rolling to a stop at their feet. His final words emerged as static-filled whispers: "You miserable...piece of junk..."

The sound of Android 17's boot crushing what remained of Dr. Gero's head made Cellera cringe. The casual brutality of it, the complete lack of hesitation—it confirmed every warning Trunks had given them. Yet she couldn't help but note the irony: the creator destroyed by his creation, the controller by the controlled. There was a certain poetic justice to it, however disturbing the execution.

Android 17 spared them only the briefest glance, his eyes sweeping over the assembled warriors with mild curiosity before striding toward his sister at the pod. "Now, let's get on with it."

A sudden surge of ki drew Cellera's attention to her brother. Trunks' hair began to rise, golden light erupting around him as rage and desperation fueled his transformation. "If they set that android free it will be the end of all of us!"

The energy gathering in his hands grew to devastating proportions—a blast powerful enough to obliterate not just the androids, but the entire mountain along with them. Without hesitation, Trunks released the attack. Cellera and the others barely had time to leap to higher ground as the explosion engulfed the laboratory, the mountain dissolving beneath its power.

They hovered at a safe distance, watching debris rain down through the settling smoke. The mountain where Dr. Gero's laboratory had stood was now little more than rubble, jagged stones tumbling down to the forest below. Dust and ash filled the air, making it difficult to see clearly through the haze.

"Geez! If you're going to pull a stunt like that, how about you warn us first!?" Krillin called out, still catching his breath from their hasty retreat.

Cellera opened her mouth to second Krillin's complaint, but the words died in her throat. Through gaps in the clearing smoke, she spotted figures standing atop a distant plateau. Her heart sank as recognition hit. "No..." The whispered denial escaped her lips as dread settled cold and heavy in her chest.

"You fool! What a waste of time!" Vegeta's harsh condemnation cut through the air toward Trunks.

"What do you mean a waste of time?" Trunks started to ask, but his question trailed off as he followed his sister's gaze. All color drained from his face at the sight before them. The androids stood completely unscathed, proceeding with their task as if Trunks' devastating attack had been nothing more than a mild interruption. They were even now preparing to open Android 16's pod.

Cellera felt her brother's ki waver as despair overtook him. She understood why—that blast had contained everything he had, all his power and desperate hope of preventing the nightmare he'd lived through. And it had accomplished nothing. The sense of helplessness that washed over him was palpable, his shoulders slumping slightly as the reality sank in.

"All you succeeded in doing was wasting your energy." Their father's voice carried an unsettling note of anticipation. Rather than sharing their horror at the androids' invulnerability, he was actually excited by it. His eyes gleamed with the prospect of worthy opponents, his Saiyan blood eager for the challenge. Cellera couldn’t help but inwardly scowl, as she was all too familiar with her father’s dangerous combination of pride and battle-lust that could lead to either triumph or disaster.

They could only watch, helpless, as the androids opened the pod to reveal their third companion.

The newly awakened Android 16 towered over his companions as he emerged from the pod. His imposing frame was clad in a black undersuit beneath a lime green vest, with matching boots and bracers. The striking combination of his fiery mohawk and gold hoop earrings gave him an almost tribal appearance, though the Red Ribbon insignia on his vest marked him as unmistakably one of Dr. Gero's creations.

After a brief exchange between themselves, the three androids simply took to the air and departed, treating their would-be opponents as if they weren't even worth acknowledging. The casual dismissal stung worse than any direct attack could have. At least confrontation would have given them a chance to gauge their enemies' capabilities. This indifference left them with nothing but questions and mounting dread.

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip as she observed the androids' unexpected behavior. According to Trunks' warnings, these androids had been ruthless killers who destroyed everything in their path. Yet here they were, completely dismissing the fighters before them. 

"Th-they just took off." The relief in Krillin's voice was palpable as a tentative smile crossed his face. "Thank goodness."

"Just where exactly are they going?" Tien's question carried equal parts confusion and suspicion as he tracked their trajectory across the clear blue sky.

Piccolo's eyes narrowed as he analyzed their flight path. "One thing's for sure, they won't be attacking North City, they aren't going the right way."

The realization struck Cellera suddenly, her eyes widening as she calculated their heading. "They're going to Kakarot's house!"

"That's right!" Krillin's face lit with understanding. "Doctor Gero's entire plan was to get Goku back for bringing down the Red Ribbon army!"

"But why would they follow Doctor Gero's orders?" Tien's question cut to the heart of the matter.

Cellera saw the logic in his observation. These androids had shown nothing but contempt for their creator, defying his every command before finally destroying him. Their sudden adherence to his mission made no sense. Had they adopted his vendetta as their own? Or did their pursuit of Kakarot serve some other purpose entirely?

But before she could pursue this line of thought further, she noticed her father's attention fixed on something else entirely—and the look in his eyes suggested their situation was about to become even more complicated.

"Who cares? None of that is important right now!" Vegeta's sudden outburst cut through their strategic discussion. Cellera turned to find her father staring in the direction the androids had disappeared, his features twisted with growing irritation. She recognized that look—the one that appeared whenever someone dared to wound his pride.

"They ignored me!" His voice rose with each word, indignation building like pressure in a sealed container. "Not even the slightest acknowledgement that I was here. Are they saying I am beneath their notice?! That was a mistake!"

Golden light erupted around Vegeta as he prepared to pursue the androids. The stones beneath his feet cracked and crumbled from the force of his power, his aura sending ripples through the air. Before he could launch himself after them, Trunks moved to block his path, determination and desperation warring across his features.

Cellera watched the confrontation unfold with grim certainty—she'd seen this side of Vegeta too many times to count. Once his pride took control, there would be no reasoning with him. Trunks was about to learn this lesson the hard way. She considered intervening but quickly dismissed the idea. Her future counterpart may have shielded Trunks from this aspect of their father's personality, but perhaps it was time he understood exactly what they were dealing with.

"No! You can't chase after them!" Desperation colored Trunks' voice as he pleaded with their father. "I'm begging you, we need to wait for Goku and fight them all together! It's the only way to beat them!"

Vegeta's response was to lift his chin with characteristic disdain, looking down at Trunks despite their similar height. "I don't need his or any of your help! I'll handle them all myself." A smirk crossed his face as he added, "And after I do, I'll finally deal with Kakarot once and for all! Now get out of my way."

When Trunks held his ground, disbelief and frustration warred across his features. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded, unable to comprehend their father's reckless pride. "You insist on running off to a battle that will be your death?!"

The sound of impact echoed across the mountaintop as Vegeta's fist drove into Trunks' stomach. Cellera's hand instinctively rose to her own abdomen, phantom pain stirring at the memory of a similar moment years ago on Namek—when she had disobeyed her father's command to kill Gohan.

Trunks doubled over, clutching his midsection as Vegeta streaked away in pursuit of the androids. His face registered shock beyond the physical pain—the betrayal of being struck by his own father, something he clearly never expected despite the warnings she'd given about their father's temper.

Cellera was at her brother's side in an instant, the debris from the laboratory crunching beneath her boots as she moved to steady him.

"Are you alright?" She steadied him with one hand, feeling his body still trembling from the impact. "Taking a punch to the gut from father isn't easy, just take slow deep breaths."

The look Trunks gave her was a mixture of pain, horror, and confusion—likely wondering how she could speak of such violence with such calm understanding. Nevertheless, he followed her advice, drawing careful breaths until the worst of the pain subsided. As he straightened, his gaze fixed on their father's retreating form, golden light streaking across the horizon like a comet.

"I apologize for not stepping in," Cellera said quietly, aware that the others were watching them with varying degrees of concern and awkwardness. "But when father feels his pride and strength as a warrior are questioned, nothing else matters." She turned to address the whole group, her voice taking on greater urgency. "Though, we definitely need to follow him. Contrary to his belief, there's no way Vegeta can fight all three of them alone, not when they have infinite energy."

She didn't add her deeper concern—that this particular combination of wounded pride and eager anticipation made her father even more reckless than usual. His Saiyan thirst for powerful opponents, normally a strength, would work against him here. The androids had shown a calculating intelligence that made their motives and methods unpredictable—they might view this encounter as anything from a game to a serious battle.

"There's no time to waste." Piccolo's agreement carried the weight of command as they all launched into the air, racing after Vegeta and the androids.

---

The afternoon sun had begun its descent as Gohan navigated his unusual passenger arrangement through the sky. After a brief stop in the woods for Bulma to tend to Trunks, they were airborne once again, though their progress toward Capsule Corporation remained frustratingly slow. Yajirobe's weight on his back and Bulma perched carefully on top made maintaining steady flight a constant challenge.

"Gohan? How much longer will it be till we get home? I'm tired!" Yajirobe's whine drew a carefully suppressed sigh from Gohan. The muscles in his arms had begun to ache from hours of carrying his three passengers, though he'd sooner bite his tongue than complain.

"Hang on, Yajirobe. We'll be there real soon. Okay?" He tried to keep his voice encouraging despite his growing irritation. The forest below had given way to rolling hills now, which meant they were making progress, however slowly.

"Hey! Stop your complaining!" Bulma snapped from her position, baby Trunks nestled securely in her arms. The afternoon breeze ruffled her blue hair as she glared over her shoulder. "We're tired too!"

"But I can't stand it!" Yajirobe's groan dissolved into mumbling. "I'm so hungry. And I'm cold." His stomach rumbled loudly as if to emphasize the point, the vibration traveling through Gohan's back.

Gohan made a mental note to never, under any circumstances, agree to fly Yajirobe anywhere again. Between his constant complaints and baby Trunks' innocent babbling, he wasn't entirely sure which of his passengers was actually the child.

"Gross! That's kinda rude!" Bulma chided before her voice softened as she addressed her son. "Trunks, oh, you're being such a good boy!"

Trunks responded with an excited squeal that quickly transformed into giggles. Bulma joined in the laughter, but their amusement was cut short by Yajirobe's horrified cry: "Man! He sprung a leak!"

Under normal circumstances, Gohan might have found some satisfaction in this karmic justice. However, Yajirobe's panicked wiggling threatened their already precarious flight formation, his movements jostling Gohan's carefully maintained balance.

"Quit moving around Yajirobe! Do you wanna fall off? Sit still, will ya!" Gohan's commands fell on deaf ears as the larger man continued squirming, demanding tissues from anyone who would listen.

The sun sank lower on the horizon, casting long golden rays across the landscape as Gohan struggled to maintain their course. Drawing a deep breath, he reminded himself of the promise he'd made to Cellera - to get her family home safely. He just hadn't expected the task to test his patience quite this much.

The city skyline finally appeared in the distance, Capsule Corporation's distinctive domed buildings visible against the sunset. Relief washed over Gohan as their destination came into view. Just a few more minutes, and he could finally set his passengers down, freeing himself from Yajirobe's complaints and the increasingly uncomfortable sensation of baby Trunks' "leak" threatening to soak through to his gi.

As they approached the sprawling Capsule Corp compound, Gohan wondered how Cellera and the others were faring in their pursuit of Dr. Gero. Had they found his laboratory yet? Were they already engaged in battle with the androids? The thought of her facing such dangers while he was stuck on transport duty made his stomach twist with worry.

He wished he could be there fighting alongside her, watching her back as she would undoubtedly watch his. Instead, all he could do was complete this task and then wait - something that had never come easily to him, especially when those he cared about might be in danger.

---

The wind whipped past them as they flew, following the distinctive energy signature of Vegeta's Super Saiyan form. The landscape below transformed from mountain ridges to winding highways, where scattered, abandoned vehicles suggested the androids hadn't completely abandoned destruction, even if they had spared the fighters. The fading afternoon light cast long shadows across the terrain, adding an ominous quality to their pursuit.

They finally caught up to the battle on a winding mountain road, arriving just in time to see Android 18's palm strike send Vegeta crashing through the mountainside. Rock and dust exploded outward as his body carved a tunnel through solid stone. The impact echoed across the valley, a testament to the android's overwhelming power.

"Father, are you alright?" Trunks called out as they landed on the broken asphalt.

Vegeta emerged from the rubble, and Cellera's quick assessment of his condition wasn't encouraging. Scratches and bruises covered his body, blood trickling from a cut above his right eye and down his chin from a split lip. His battle armor, designed to withstand tremendous damage, already showed cracks across the chest plate. In stark contrast, Android 18 stood virtually untouched—only her denim jacket showing any sign of the battle, a small tear at the shoulder that seemed to annoy her more than any of Vegeta's attacks.

Despite his obvious injuries, Vegeta fixed them with his characteristic smirk, though irritation edged his voice. "You pests sure know how to ruin my fun. Do you honestly believe that you will be any help against her?"

The arrogance in his tone made Cellera's jaw clench, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. Her father was their strongest fighter with Kakarot incapacitated, and Android 18 had damaged him this severely in what appeared to be casual combat. Cellera quickly calculated their options, running through potential strategies in her mind.

Their only chance might be to coordinate their attacks against a single android—but even that strategy was complicated by the presence of Androids 16 and 17. Though curiously, neither seemed inclined to interfere in the fight, content to watch from the sidelines. Android 16 stood immobile as a statue, his attention seemingly fixed on a flock of birds circling overhead, while 17 stood with the relaxed posture of someone watching an entertaining sporting event.

Trunks stepped forward, attempting one more time to reason with their father. "Please, listen to me! We need to retreat and come up with a plan. Together, we might stand a chance, but separately—"

"Do you want another beating, boy?!" Vegeta snarled. "Take a lesson from your sister and stay quiet. You obviously lack Saiyan Pride."

"What good is having pride if you just wind up dead because of it?" Trunks muttered under his breath, quiet enough that only Cellera caught it.

Cellera whirled toward her brother, eyes wide with shock. The words revealed a deeper truth that hit her like a physical blow—her future counterpart must have never shared stories of their father with him. How could Trunks not understand that Saiyan pride wasn't just their father's arrogance, but the very core of who he was? It defined him, sustained him through Frieza's torment, gave him purpose when all else was lost.

"Has my counterpart ever spoken about father to you?" The question escaped her before she could stop herself, but Android 18's voice cut off any possibility of response.

"If you want to run away, go on ahead." The android's tone carried casual dismissal as she folded her arms across her chest. "Those who flee aren't worth chasing anyway."

The statement only confirmed Cellera's earlier theory—the androids viewed this as a game, not a mission. They wanted worthy opponents, not just victims. It was a distinction that might prove useful if they survived this encounter.

"You must be joking." Vegeta met Android 18's gaze with open contempt. "You expect me to run when I'm about to destroy you?" His lips curled into a sneer as he continued. "Don't lump me in with these idiots. Let me be clear: If it came down to fighting alongside the Earthlings, The Namekian, or Kakarot, I'd rather fight and die alone before accepting help from any of them."

A slow clap punctuated the end of Vegeta's declaration. Android 17 approached, his movement carrying an almost theatrical appreciation as his boots crunched on the broken asphalt. "That was an excellent speech. I can see from your skills on the battlefield that you're every bit the Saiyan Prince."

Vegeta spat a mouthful of blood to the side before fixing 17 with a withering glare. "A punk kid like you has no business praising the likes of me. So keep it to yourself."

Android 17's response was a sardonic smile that didn't reach his cold eyes. "It's obvious that each of you respects the warrior's code, but I feel it's only proper to warn you anyway. If any of you interfere with Vegeta and 18's one-on-one fight, I'll have to step in as well."

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip as she studied Android 17, her eyes narrowing in concentration. Nothing about this situation aligned with logic or expectations. These androids were offering them a fair fight, even adhering to formal combat rules—behavior that contradicted everything Trunks had warned them about.

The cold-blooded killers Trunks had described seemed worlds apart from these artificial beings who appeared more bored than bloodthirsty, treating combat like some kind of game. Their most brutal act had been executing their creator, and even that felt more like rebellion against tyranny than senseless violence, given what she'd witnessed of Dr. Gero's behavior. A new possibility formed in her mind - had the butterfly effect altered not just events, but the very nature of their adversaries?

"Got that pipsqueak?" Android 17's voice pulled her from her analysis. He'd noticed her scrutiny. "No helping your dad."

Cellera gritted her teeth at his condescending tone. "I understand. I don't need you to patronize me."

Her sharp response only drew an amused chuckle from him. "Alright, alright, just making sure."

His casual attitude only deepened her unease. Glancing toward Android 16, she found the giant merely gazing at the distant forest, a peaceful smile on his face that seemed completely at odds with his supposed purpose as a weapon of destruction.

"Great. Now that that's settled, shall we continue?" Android 18 called out, drawing everyone's attention back to the impending fight.

"I'd love to." Vegeta's confident reply barely left his lips before 18 burst forward.

Her right hook caught Vegeta squarely, the impact sending him hurtling toward the cliffside. He managed to recover mid-flight, retaliating with a savage headbutt followed by a double axel kick that sent 18 crashing into the rock face. Without hesitation, he gathered his energy and unleashed a Big Bang Attack after her.

The formal agreement to one-on-one combat seemed to have an unexpected effect on Vegeta. Cellera observed how her father's movements became more measured, his attacks carrying the strategic precision she recognized from their training sessions. As the smoke from his Big Bang Attack cleared, Android 18 emerged largely unaffected, though her appearance finally showed signs of combat - slight scratches marking her skin and tears in her clothing. The cold glare she fixed on Vegeta suggested she wasn't accustomed to taking damage at all.

"You aren't even phased after that." Vegeta's voice carried what might have been admiration, if not for the telltale twitch of his brow betraying his growing frustration. "You're really starting to get on my nerves!"

Android 18 shrugged off her ruined jean jacket with casual grace, a smile playing at her lips. "I'm surprised. You may be an alien, but you fight remarkably well for someone made of flesh and blood." Her head tilted slightly as she asked, "Tell me, is this Goku guy even stronger than you are?"

"Don't be ridiculous!" The mere suggestion sparked immediate indignation in Vegeta. "He may have temporarily slipped ahead of me, but now everything's as it should be, with me as the strongest."

18 brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, releasing a dismissive huff. "Oh, then neither one of you... are anything special."

Cellera's eyes widened as she recognized what was happening. Android 18 had masterfully manipulated Vegeta, using his pride against him like a weapon more effective than any physical attack. The calculated insult shattered his strategic composure - his carefully planned strikes dissolving into wild, rage-fueled assaults that 18 blocked with ease. He was burning through precious energy with each futile attack, falling perfectly into the android's trap.

"Let her have it!" Tien's cheer rang out across the battlefield.

Cellera glanced at Trunks, who watched their father's assault with an expression of surprised awe. Only Piccolo seemed to share her growing concern about the fight's direction.

"Vegeta is going to get himself killed," Piccolo stated grimly, his words drawing sharp looks of confusion from Trunks and Krillin.

"Piccolo's right." Cellera's fingers dug into her biceps as she fought the urge to intervene. "He's let his anger blind him and is wasting precious stamina with every movement. The androids have infinite energy - she's slowly wearing him down."

The truth of her assessment became brutally clear as the battle continued. Android 18 blocked Vegeta's elbow strike with effortless control before sweeping his legs out from under him. Her right hook caught him squarely in the face, leaving him open for a devastating kick that connected with his left arm. The sharp crack of breaking bone cut through the air.

"Father!" Cellera's cry merged with Trunks' own anguished shout of "No! Damn it!"

Vegeta collapsed to his knees, clutching his shattered arm. Before Cellera could even process what to do next, golden light erupted around Trunks as he transformed into Super Saiyan, launching himself toward the fight.

"Trunks! No!" Her hand reached out uselessly as her brother drew his sword, charging headlong into disaster.

"NO! THAT IDIOT!" Piccolo's growl drew her attention to Android 17, who watched the scene unfold with a disappointed frown and shake of his head.

The battle erupted into chaos as Android 17 joined the fray, moving in perfect sync with his sister. While Piccolo and Tien rushed forward, 18 met Trunks' sword strike with a casual elbow block that left chips in the legendary blade. Before Trunks could process his weapon's failure, 17's strike from behind sent him crashing to earth.

"D-Down in one hit? And he's a Super Saiyan too!" The tremor in Krillin's voice reflected their mounting horror.

Every fiber of Cellera's Saiyan nature screamed at her to join the fight, to help her father and brother. But she forced herself to remain still, channeling her mother's measured approach as she studied the androids' techniques. One detail kept nagging at her - despite their overwhelming superiority, they weren't delivering killing blows. The question was why .

The battle's brutally efficient choreography continued to unfold. Android 17 spun to catch Piccolo's attempted sneak attack with a devastating kick, then smoothly transitioned to capture Tien in a headlock that quickly became a chokehold.

"You fool!" Vegeta's charge toward 17 ended before it began as 18 caught his ankle. She used his momentum to swing him directly into Trunks' attempted rescue, father and son crashing to the ground together.

Cellera noticed Trunks' golden aura fade - he was unconscious. Their father, however, maintained his Super Saiyan form despite his injuries. She recognized his tactics; he was playing possum, waiting for an opening. Her gaze shifted back to Android 17 as he released the now unconscious Tien. Piccolo charged in, only to be felled by a single precise punch.

Physical tremors ran through Cellera's body as she fought to contain her rage and maintain her focus. Her keen perception screamed that something about this situation wasn't adding up, and after her earlier failure with Kakarot's condition, she refused to ignore her instincts again.

 

Vegeta's surprise attack came exactly as she'd predicted - and failed exactly as she'd feared. Android 18 casually sidestepped his ki blast before countering with a punch that sent him to hands and knees. A kick rolled him onto his back, completely defenseless.

"Looks like I'd better see to it that you can't use your other arm either." 18's clinical observation was followed by the sickening crack of breaking bone. The pain finally proved too much - Vegeta's golden hair faded to black as consciousness fled.

Cellera held her breath, waiting for the androids to finish what they'd started. But as she'd suspected during her earlier analysis, they made no move to deliver fatal blows. She unclenched her fists, feeling the stiffness in her fingers from maintaining such tight control over her combat instincts. Beside her, Krillin stared at their fallen companions with naked terror - a reaction she couldn't fault given how effortlessly they'd been defeated. Yet that very ease raised the question again: why leave them alive?

Android 17 and 18 landed casually before them, as relaxed as if they'd just finished a light workout. "Go ahead, give them one of those senzu things," 17 said, gesturing toward their unconscious allies. "That should heal them completely, right?"

Krillin's jaw dropped at the unexpected suggestion, but 17 wasn't finished. "Let them know that once they brush up on their fighting, we'll be happy to take them on again."

That single sentence crystallized everything Cellera had observed about their behavior. The androids weren't following some programmed mission of destruction - they were treating this like an elaborate game.

17 approached her, and she could see the intrigue in his expression when she neither showed fear nor took a fighting stance. "You didn't want to help the others?" His smirk held genuine curiosity.

Cellera returned his expression with one of her own. "Something told me it wouldn't be fun for you."

His widening grin confirmed her theory completely. "Despite your age, you seem to be the smartest of the bunch," he remarked before turning back toward his sister.

"You're not going to ask where Goku is?" Android 18 questioned.

"Relax. There's plenty of time." 17 glanced back at Cellera with that same amused expression. "Besides, don't you think it'd be more fun to find him on our own?"

Android 18 responded with a dismissive "Whatever," rolling her eyes at her brother's theatrics. Their attention shifted to Android 16, who stood gazing at the forest with what could only be described as disappointment.

"What are you looking at, 16?" Android 17 asked.

"In all of the commotion, you scared away the birds." The giant android's mechanical voice carried an unexpected note of regret.

Cellera raised an eyebrow at this revelation. Throughout the entire battle, this supposedly devastating weapon had been completely absorbed in watching birds? He hadn't spared a single glance for the combat, his attention entirely captured by the forest's wildlife. This android was proving even more enigmatic than his companions.

As the androids prepared to depart - Android 18 declaring her need for new clothes - Krillin suddenly broke his stunned silence. "Wait up!" He launched forward, Cellera following close behind as he called out to their retreating forms.

"Do you need something?" Android 17 didn't even bother turning around as he asked.

"T-Tell me just what exactly is it you're after." Krillin's voice shook slightly but held firm. "Is it killing Goku?! Or are you out to turn the world upside down?"

"For now, all we care about is beating Goku." Android 17 gave a casual shrug. "We'll figure out what we'll do next afterwards."

Cellera's mind latched onto his precise word choice - 'beating' Goku, not killing him. Another piece of evidence that these androids weren't the mindless destroyers Trunks had described. They seemed more interested in the challenge than the carnage.

"So why go after Kaka-" Cellera caught herself, the familiar name feeling strange to suppress. "I mean Goku at all? Wasn't Doctor Gero the one who held a grudge against him? I don't see how this pertains to either of you now that he's gone."

"Doctor Gero has nothing to do with it. This is a game." Android 17's casual response carried no hint of the vengeance that had consumed their creator. "After all, Goku is supposed to be the strongest person in the world, right?"

"A game? That's the reason you're..." Krillin's voice trailed off, unable to process this unexpected motivation.

"That's why I said you didn't need to tell us where he is." Android 17 shrugged. "Hunting him down is part of the game."

Understanding dawned on Cellera as she studied the androids. Their rebellion had earned them freedom from Dr. Gero's control, yet they seemed adrift without purpose. There was something almost tragic about it - even in their newfound liberty, they clung to their creator's mission, transforming it into entertainment to give their existence meaning.

"J-Just supposing I were to ask you to give this up... would you?" Krillin's earnest attempt at negotiation drew an unexpected reaction from Android 18. The corners of her lips turned upward slightly, her eyes softening at his naive optimism.

The moment was shattered by Android 16's mechanical declaration: "No good. We were made to kill Son Goku."

The stark contrast between 16's mission-focused response and his companions' behaviors struck Cellera as significant. While 16's statement remained direct and objective-driven, 17 and 18 displayed more nuanced human traits - his playful taunts, her sarcastic confidence. Despite 16's earlier gentle concern for wildlife, when it came to Kakarot, he showed an unwavering commitment to his programmed directive. The difference became even more apparent when 18 suddenly approached Krillin, planting a quick kiss on his cheek with a flirtatious "Bye" that left him blushing furiously. Such a spontaneous, emotionally complex gesture highlighted that something fundamentally different existed between Android 16 and the other two.

As the androids prepared to depart, Cellera couldn't suppress a knowing chuckle. The sound made them pause, 18 scoffing while 17 turned back with raised eyebrows.

"Something funny, pint sized?" His amused tone only confirmed her assessment.

"You say Doctor Gero has nothing to do with it, but I beg to differ." Cellera met his gaze steadily. "You may pass it off as a game, but the truth is neither of you know what to do with yourselves without his mission. You have your freedom, but instead of choosing your own path, you're still following his programming - just reframing it as entertainment to make it feel like your choice."

17's usual playful demeanor shifted. In a blur of movement, he appeared before her, throwing a punch that stopped mere inches from her face. Cellera hadn't flinched or moved to defend herself.

"You're either very brave or very foolish," he remarked, studying her calm expression.

"Neither. I just understand you better than you think." Her eyes moved pointedly to his still-extended fist. "If you really wanted to hurt me, that punch wouldn't have stopped."

She'd noticed it during their entire encounter—the way his tone softened slightly when addressing her, the "pint sized" nickname that carried more amusement than malice, how carefully he'd controlled that punch. Beneath his dangerous exterior, Android 17 seemed to have a peculiar soft spot for children. Another human trait Dr. Gero had failed to program out of him.

17 withdrew his hand, a hint of respect crossing his features. "For someone who preaches about free will, you took quite a gamble on that assessment."

"Did I?" Cellera's smirk matched his earlier ones. "You're clearly capable of making your own decisions - you've shown more humanity in the past hour than Gero probably intended. So why let his obsession with Kakarot define your existence?"

Something flickered in 17's eyes - frustration, uncertainty, or perhaps both. He covered it quickly with his characteristic smirk, but not before Cellera caught it. "Pretty deep thoughts for a kid." He turned away, motioning to the others. "Let's go."

As they took to the air, Cellera noticed how his usual confident stride had gained a thoughtful edge. Her words had landed, even if he wouldn't admit it.

The moment the androids vanished from sight, Cellera turned to Krillin, who still stood frozen, one hand touching the spot where Android 18 had kissed him.

"Come on! We need to give the others a senzu bean. I'll handle father and Trunks." Her urgent tone snapped him back to reality.

They worked quickly, administering the healing beans to their fallen companions. As everyone regained consciousness, Cellera and Krillin explained their encounter - the androids' knowledge of the senzu beans, their treatment of the fight as mere entertainment, and their surprisingly merciful behavior.

"These androids are off the charts strong... I would have never imagined." Piccolo's words carried the weight of their collective shock. "To even think such strength is possible..." He shook his head in disbelief. "They toyed with us for the sport of it."

Cellera's attention shifted to her father. He stood apart from the group, his back turned rigid and fists clenched at his sides. She recognized the telltale signs of his wounded pride - not just from losing, but from being treated as nothing more than an amusing diversion by their opponents. His sudden takeoff into the clouds came as no surprise, though his destination remained a mystery.

The worst part was knowing that this defeat would only drive him to more reckless extremes. Her father had always been dangerous when cornered - but now, with his pride so thoroughly shattered, he would be more unpredictable than ever.

When Trunks moved to pursue Vegeta, Cellera caught his arm just as she had earlier. "Leave father be for now," she said softly, releasing her grip only when she felt the tension leave his muscles. "He had trained to the point of obsession to become a Super Saiyan after Kakarot and I. He had finally regained his lost pride and confidence only to have it broken again in mere moments by the android." Her eyes followed the direction Vegeta had disappeared, concern evident in her expression.

"S-Sorry," Krillin's voice was heavy with guilt as he stared at the ground. "If I hadn't frozen when the rest of you jumped in, maybe things would have turned out a little different."

"Don't let it bother you," Piccolo cut in. "Even if you and Cellera had joined, it wouldn't have made any difference. They pretty much took all of us down in one shot."

Tien stepped forward, his face grim. "I think we need to face the facts. No matter how strong Goku might be, he won't fare much better than Trunks or Vegeta did. I don't think we stand much of a chance against these things, even with Goku fighting alongside us."

"I should mention," Trunks added, his eyes fixed on the ground, "Those guys were a little different from the androids I know. The ones I fought didn't have such devastating physical strength. With them I could at least put up a decent fight on my own."

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip as she absorbed the new information. She'd hoped the androids in this timeline might actually be weaker than those Trunks had faced. Instead, they seemed to have diverged into something even more formidable, though paradoxically less murderous.

"I say our future is looking pretty bleak right now. What do you think we should do?" Tien's question hung heavy in the air.

Piccolo considered for a moment before responding. "You four should make your way over to Goku's and move him some place safe. We can go over our options together after he's recovered from his illness."

Cellera noticed Piccolo's gaze drift upward into the distance. Having spent enough training sessions and spars alongside him, she recognized that calculating look. There was only one location in that direction that would draw such focused attention from the Namekian - Kami's Lookout. "What are you planning to do, Piccolo?" she asked, already suspecting his intentions.

"Good question." The evasiveness in his response only confirmed her theory.

"W-What's with that look on your face? Do you have some sort of plan in mind?" Krillin leaned forward eagerly, hope creeping into his voice for the first time since their defeat.

Piccolo's expression tightened with irritation as Krillin pressed on. "C'mon, tell us! We're all friends here right?"

"Friends?!" Piccolo's sudden outburst carried an almost theatrical intensity. "Don't get the wrong idea! Since when am I your friend?" His cape billowed dramatically as he turned to face them. "Don't forget that I'm the son of King Piccolo. If we ever had a truce, it was only to further my goal of conquering the world!"

Before anyone could respond, he shot into the sky, his departure as dramatic as his declaration. Cellera couldn't suppress a quiet huff of amusement as she watched him go. The same warrior who had sacrificed himself to save Gohan on Earth, who had fought alongside them on Namek, who had spent three years helping them prepare for this threat - now trying to maintain his fearsome reputation with all the conviction of a child's play-acting.

"That's right. He's the reincarnation of King Piccolo. It slipped my mind entirely. He's been using us this whole time." The wariness in Tien's voice was understandable. Cellera had heard enough stories from Bulma about King Piccolo's reign of terror, followed by Piccolo's own early days of villainy, to know why Tien remained suspicious. Yet from her first encounter with him on Earth, she'd seen something different in the Namekian warrior - something that defied his demonic reputation.

"No." Her firm contradiction made Tien turn to her in surprise. "He may have at one point, but from the time I've spent with him these past few years, world conquest no longer seems like his goal." A smile crossed her face as she thought of the young boy who had changed Piccolo so profoundly - the same reason he'd declined to return to Namek with his people. "Besides, he cares too much for Gohan to do anything that would make him upset or put him in harm's way."

"She's right," Krillin backed her up with a knowing smile. "Besides, when you think about it, Piccolo is a lot like Goku and Vegeta. He wants to be the best - stronger than anyone else. That's all he's thinking about right now."

Cellera nodded in agreement. Perhaps that explained why she'd always found it easy to talk with Piccolo - she'd unconsciously recognized how his drive mirrored her father's.

"That's why he flew off," Krillin continued. "He's going to cash in his last resort. At least, I think that's what he's doing."

"His last resort? What are you talking about?" Tien asked.

"Piccolo flew off in this direction." Krillin pointed upward. "The only thing over there is The Lookout, Kami's place."

"Kami? Why would he go there?" Tien's brow furrowed in confusion.

"His last resort? What are you talking about?" Tien asked.

"Piccolo flew off in this direction." Krillin pointed upward. "The only thing over there is The Lookout, Kami's place."

"Kami? Why would he go there?" Tien's brow furrowed in confusion.

"He's going to fuse with Kami." The realization formed a clearer picture in Cellera's mind as she remembered the once-unified nature of Kami and Piccolo. His earlier irritation made perfect sense now - Piccolo was preparing to reunite with his other half, just as he had merged with Nail on Namek to face Frieza.

"The Grand Elder had mentioned that if Piccolo and Kami hadn't split, he'd be able to hold his ground against even the Saiyans," Krillin explained excitedly. "If Goku and the others are Super Saiyans, then they'd probably become a Super Namekian!"

"B-But if that happens, Kami will disappear, and the Dragon Balls will no longer work, right?" Tien asked, concerned.

Cellera had to acknowledge the validity of his point. She noted Krillin's expression growing troubled as well, but the strategic reality of their situation was clear. "If Piccolo or Kami die to the androids, then the Dragon Balls would be lost anyway. I would rather we have an advantage on our side if we are to lose them." Her practical assessment earned understanding nods from both men.

"If Piccolo really does intend to become one again, he must feel like there's no other way to win," Krillin said. "He can't stand Kami, that's how desperate things are looking right now."

The statement brought Cellera back to their battle against Garlic Jr. years ago. She remembered vividly how Piccolo's contempt for Kami had radiated from every word and gesture, his decision to save Earth's guardian stemming solely from their linked existence. Now, facing an even greater threat, he was willing to permanently merge with someone he despised.

This choice only reinforced what she'd been trying to tell them about Piccolo's evolution. The Piccolo who once sought world domination was now preparing to sacrifice his separate identity and cast aside his hatred, all to protect the very world he'd once wanted to conquer. It was perhaps the strongest proof yet of how far he'd come from his villainous origins.

Finally breaking his contemplative silence, Trunks turned to his sister. "What do you think father plans to do?"

Cellera's gaze remained fixed on the horizon where Vegeta had disappeared. "Father isn't the sort to run when he's been bested." She turned to meet Trunks' eyes, her expression softening. "You asked earlier what good is his pride if he winds up dead. It seems my future self has never informed you much about father."

Trunks shook his head slowly. "You've mentioned that he could be prideful, arrogant and strong, but I didn't think it would extend to this degree. And..." His face took on a somber cast that reminded her so much of Bulma in serious moments. "It looked like it hurt too much for you to talk about anything related to him, so I never pushed for details."

The words struck deep, making Cellera's heart ache for her future counterpart. Yet she couldn't help but smile at how much Trunks had inherited from his mother - that same gentle consideration that had allowed Bulma to give Cellera the space to open up in her own time.

"Well then, allow me to tell you." She straightened, her posture shifting to embody the Saiyan pride she spoke of. "Father thinks way too much of himself, he's the embodiment of pride, and it is often his downfall."

Trunks let out a knowing huff of laughter that clearly said 'you think?'

"However," she continued, her voice taking on a deeper resonance, "that same pride is what gives him strength. Our Saiyan Pride is ultimately our reason to push us to keep getting stronger. Though mine may differ from father's, he respects it all the same. It is one of the most valuable lessons that he has taught me."

Trunks absorbed her words, beginning to understand what had driven both versions of his sister. The Cellera before him and the one he knew in his timeline shared that same core strength - a pride not in dominance, but in never abandoning those who needed protection. Perhaps that was the kind of Saiyan pride he could embrace as well - not their father's need to be the strongest, but this unwavering determination to protect what mattered.

"We should head to Kakarot's house," Cellera said, turning to address the group. "The androids may be treating this like a game, but we can't afford to take chances with his safety."

"Right," Krillin agreed. "The sooner we get him somewhere secure, the better."

As they took to the air, Trunks found himself watching his sister's determined profile. For the first time, he truly understood the foundation of the strength that had helped his timeline's Cellera endure against the androids for so long. It wasn't just about power - it was about having something worth fighting for, and the pride to never give up on protecting it.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Snow-capped peaks gave way to rolling hills as Cellera led their small group toward Mount Paozu. The crisp mountain air carried a hint of spring, though patches of white still clung to the shadowed valleys below. Silver streams cut through the rugged terrain, reflecting sunlight like veins of mercury against the earth's dark skin. Pine forests created a patchwork of deep green against brown earth, their scent carried upward by thermal currents. Behind her, Krillin and Trunks flew in tight formation while Tien brought up the rear, all of them acutely aware of the precious time ticking away.

"About how long do you think it'll take for the medicine to work?" Krillin called out to Trunks, his voice nearly carried away by the rushing wind.

Trunks' expression tightened, a shadow of uncertainty crossing his features. "Around ten days, give or take." The usual conviction in his tone had waned. Each new deviation from his timeline's events had chipped away at his confidence, leaving his predictions feeling increasingly tentative.

A hawk cried out below them, the sound echoing against the rocky cliffs. Cellera tracked its flight with sharp eyes, her mind cataloging potential threats even as she considered their position. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly as she remembered one crucial advantage.

"Fortunately, it seems the androids can't sense ki," she observed, scanning the vast expanse below them. "Otherwise, they would have found us by now." The cool mountain air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath, recognizing that even this small advantage offered little comfort against enemies of such overwhelming strength.

As the familiar silhouette of Mount Paozu emerged in the distance, Tien suddenly pulled up short. "I'm going to check on Chiaotzu," he announced, already adjusting his trajectory. "If things start going south, I'll meet back up with you all. Tell Goku I said not to push himself!"

"Yeah, sure!" Krillin called back with a wave, watching Tien's form disappear into the distance. Once their companion was out of sight, he let out a heavy sigh. "Goku not pushing himself? That'll be the day. I just wish I could make myself believe he'll make a difference this time."

The words hung heavy in the air, drawing a troubled look from Trunks. "How could history change so much? The androids I fought were nowhere near this strong, and there were only two of them."

"You were not around when I mentioned this to the others earlier, but it's due to the butterfly effect." Cellera watched understanding begin to dawn in her brother's eyes. "Essentially, it's a theory where the smallest of changes can lead to a bigger change in the future. In any case, we need to focus our attention on the current reality we are in."

Trunks absorbed her words with the same thoughtful expression she often saw on Bulma's face when processing new information. His fingers tapped an unconscious rhythm against his knee—a nervous habit he shared with his mother, though Cellera doubted he realized it. The reality of their situation was finally settling in – his warnings had altered more than just their preparation timeline. Each change had rippled outward, creating a future even he couldn't predict.j

"There it is!" Krillin's excited shout broke through their discussion. He pointed toward a clearing where the Son family's modest home nestled against the mountainside. "Goku's house is straight ahead!"

Cellera smiled at the familiar sight. The small house with its worn path and scattered training equipment stood as a testament to the peace they were fighting to protect. After the day's brutal revelations, the simple dwelling offered a moment of much-needed comfort.

Their boots crunched against the gravel path as they landed near the front door. Cellera extended her senses outward, searching for Gohan's ki signature. Its absence made her pause – he should have arrived before them. A knot of concern formed in her stomach before logic reasserted itself. Given Bulma's maternal instincts and her infant brother's needs, she could easily imagine them having to make several stops along the way. Knowing Gohan, he'd insist on being cautious with his precious cargo rather than rushing recklessly.

"S-Say..." Krillin's voice carried an unusual hesitation as he turned to Trunks. His fingers fidgeted at his sides, betraying the nervous energy behind his seemingly casual question. "The androids... you're sure that they're evil people right?"

The question pulled Cellera from her thoughts, drawing her back to their earlier encounter with the androids. 17's playful attitude flashed in her memory, followed by 18's calculated strategy, and even 16's gentle fascination with birds. The trio had displayed none of the mindless brutality Trunks had described from his timeline. If anything, they'd behaved more like lost souls playing at villainy than true destroyers.

"The two of them are heartless, coldblooded monsters." The conviction in Trunks' voice faltered almost imperceptibly as he spoke. His shoulders slumped slightly as the weight of uncertainty crept in – after witnessing so many deviations from his timeline, even this fundamental truth had begun to waver. "At least... that's true in my time. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, i-it's nothing!" Krillin's hands flew up in nervous defense, his words tumbling out too quickly. "J-Just thinking about how great it would be if they weren't!"

A slight blush colored Krillin's cheeks, and Cellera immediately recognized the telltale signs. She'd seen this exact behavior during his relationship with Marron – the stammering, the nervous energy, the inability to make eye contact. Her mind flashed back to that moment during their confrontation, when Android 18's eyes had softened at Krillin's earnest plea to abandon their mission. There had been something there, though whether it was genuine affection or merely pity remained unclear.

"I think it's best not to hold onto such optimistic hopes." Trunks' response carried the weight of his timeline's tragedy, though it lacked some of his earlier certainty.

"Y-Yeah, you're right, I understand." Krillin tried to wave off his earlier question with forced casualness. "I guess I was just thinking out loud, y'know?"

But Cellera noticed how his eyes remained distant, still turning over possibilities in his mind. Despite his attempt to dismiss the subject, she could see that brief interaction with Android 18 had planted a seed of hope he couldn't quite ignore. After witnessing the surprising humanity in their opponents, perhaps such hope wasn't entirely misplaced.

Cellera stepped forward and knocked on the familiar wooden door. Her warrior instincts served her well as she quickly stepped back – the door flew open with enough force to rival one of her father's punches, the wooden frame vibrating from the impact.

"Is that you Gohan?!" Chi Chi's eager voice preceded her appearance, her hopeful expression visible before she'd fully emerged. The light in her eyes dimmed slightly when she realized her son wasn't among the visitors, but brightened again as she recognized Cellera. "Oh, it's you Cellera!"

Behind them, Krillin leaned closer to Trunks and whispered, "That's Goku's wife." The time traveler responded with an awkward bow, his usual confidence vanishing as he stuttered out a greeting that would have made Bulma proud. Cellera bit back a smile at seeing her usually composed brother so flustered by Chi Chi's intensity.

Movement from inside the house drew their attention as Yamcha emerged from the hallway, relief visible on his features at seeing them intact. His eyes fixed on Trunks with recognition. "You're that kid from the future! Let me guess, you came and beat up the androids for us?"

"Not quite." Krillin's grim tone cut through any hope of good news. He shifted focus to their more immediate concern. "How's Goku holding up?"

Yamcha glanced down the hallway toward what Cellera assumed was Kakarot's room. "He's alright, he took a bit of medicine earlier and fell asleep."

The news lifted some of the weight from Cellera's shoulders. At least something was going according to plan – the medicine appeared to be working. But they couldn't afford to relax yet. "We need to get Kakarot out of here and get to Master Roshi's immediately."

The urgency in her voice caught both ChiChi and Yamcha off guard. They exchanged worried glances before ChiChi asked, "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

Cellera nodded, choosing her words carefully to convey urgency without causing panic. "In short, we have three new androids on our hands. They're more powerful than the two from earlier."

She watched comprehension dawn in Yamcha's eyes, followed immediately by horror. Having barely survived his encounter with Android 20's energy-draining attack, the news of three even stronger opponents struck him like a physical blow. "N-no way... You've gotta be kidding me," he breathed out, one hand unconsciously moving to where the android's hand had pierced his chest mere hours ago.

"Well? What are we waiting for then?" Chi Chi's protective nature took over as she stepped aside from the doorway, gesturing down the hallway with an authoritative sweep of her arm. "Hurry in here and help get my Goku to safety!"

Cellera had to suppress a smile as Trunks, Krillin, and Yamcha practically tripped over themselves responding to Chi Chi's command. Even her brother from the future, who had faced down mechanical monsters in his own timeline, seemed unable to resist the force of Chi Chi's maternal authority.

Those "essentials," Cellera quickly discovered, consisted primarily of Gohan's study materials. She found herself mentally apologizing to her friend as Chi Chi produced stack after stack of textbooks and workbooks, each thicker than the last. The weight of advanced calculus, physics, and literature texts grew in her arms as she carefully arranged the academic tomes in a purple sack. Even facing a potential apocalypse, Chi Chi's priorities remained steadfast – a consistency that Cellera couldn't help but respect, even if she occasionally questioned its practicality.

As she secured the last volume in place, Chi Chi's worried voice cut through her thoughts, softer than her usual commanding tone.

"Is my little boy alright?"

The question carried all the weight of a mother's fears. Cellera couldn't blame her anxiety – first watching her husband collapse from a potentially deadly virus (a pang of guilt still twisted in Cellera's chest at her role in that, despite Gohan's assurances), and now her son's unexpected absence.

"Don't worry, Gohan is fine," Cellera assured her, packing another physics text with careful precision. "I had him take Bulma and my baby brother, Trunks, back to Capsule Corp. He never got to even see the androids we encountered later."

The last part was technically true, though Cellera suspected Gohan would have preferred being with the rest of them to his current task of managing Bulma and her infant brother. Still, if anyone could handle that particular challenge with grace, it would be Gohan.

Chi Chi's shoulders visibly relaxed at hearing her son had avoided combat, but her expression brightened further at the mention of Trunks. "You're an older sister now! Congratulations!" Her enthusiasm sparked a barrage of questions, but one in particular caught Cellera's attention – Chi Chi seemed especially interested in how Gohan interacted with baby Trunks.

Heat threatened to rush to Cellera's face as her mind flashed back to that moment when she'd grabbed Gohan's hand to save it from her brother's grip. She quickly focused on Chi Chi's oddly nervous inquiry about her son's behavior. Movement caught her eye – Chi Chi's hand drifted to rest on her stomach in what seemed like an unconscious gesture. The pieces clicked together in Cellera's mind: Chi Chi's particular interest in Gohan's interactions with Trunks, the nervous energy underlying her questions... Was she pregnant?

Rather than press the issue, Cellera helped load the heavy bags of "essentials" into the aircraft while sharing her observations. "One wouldn't think that Gohan is an only child," she said, noting how naturally he'd taken to caring for Trunks. Their lighter conversation provided sharp contrast to Yamcha and Krillin's grim discussion as they carefully moved Kakarot's unconscious form.

"Are these new androids really that strong?" Yamcha's voice still carried traces of fear from his earlier near-death experience.

"Strong doesn't even begin to describe it," Krillin replied, his usual optimism nowhere to be found.

Once they had everything settled, Krillin did a final check of their preparations. "All that's left is to wait for Gohan."

"You said he was taking back Bulma, right?" Yamcha called from the pilot's seat.

Cellera nodded, then felt a familiar ki signature approaching rapidly. A smirk crossed her face as she announced, "Speak of the scholar and he shall appear."

"Ah! He's come back!" Chi Chi bolted from the aircraft, maternal instincts overriding any sense of caution.

Gohan landed smoothly, barely having time to register his mother's embrace before his eyes swept over the scene – his father laid out on a cot inside the aircraft, surrounded by Trunks, Cellera, Krillin, and Yamcha. Confusion and worry crossed his features as he looked to Cellera. "W-why is everyone... did something happen?"

"We'll explain everything, but it's urgent that we leave now ." The gravity in Cellera's tone spurred him into immediate action. He hurried aboard with his mother, settling beside his father's cot. As he took in their gathered group, he couldn't help but feel relieved he'd declined Mrs. Brief's offers of refreshments. Though that visit hadn't been entirely fruitless – he'd learned something rather interesting about his best friend that she apparently hadn't shared with him.

The aircraft's engines roared to life, vibrating through the metal frame as they lifted away from Mount Paozu. Krillin and Cellera took turns explaining the day's events to Gohan – their discovery of Dr. Gero's laboratory hidden in the mountains, the androids' ruthless execution of their creator, and Vegeta's devastating battle against Android 18.

"So while it may be like a game to these guys," Krillin concluded, his emphasis on the word 'game' carrying all their collective disbelief, "they still intend on killing Goku."

"Are they really that strong?" Gohan turned in his seat to look at them, concern etched across his features.

Cellera met his gaze from her position behind him. "They had defeated everyone with no more than a few moves, save for father, but..." She didn't need to finish the thought. The image of her father's broken arms and unconscious form spoke volumes about how that battle had ended.

Silence descended over the cabin, broken only by the steady drone of the engines. Each person seemed lost in their own thoughts – contemplating how beings powerful enough to break Vegeta could possibly be stopped.

"So what do you think we should do?" Yamcha asked, twisting around from the pilot's seat to face them. The former desert bandit's usual confidence had vanished, replaced by barely concealed fear.

Krillin settled into a seat across from Gohan and Cellera, folding his arms as he considered their options. "That's what I'd like to know. I don't have the slightest idea."

"What about going back in time to before the androids were activated?" Yamcha suggested, grasping at any possible solution. "You guys know where the laboratory is now."

"Why not?" Yamcha called back from the pilot's seat, hope draining from his voice.

"It seems time travel operates on multiverse theory." Cellera noticed Gohan's eyes light up with immediate understanding.

"W-What do you mean, multiverse theory?" Krillin leaned forward, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"It means even if Trunks went back in time and destroyed the androids, it wouldn't have any effect on the ones here at all," Cellera explained.

"We basically created two different realities." Gohan's addition came naturally, as if they were back at his study desk puzzling through complex equations together rather than discussing the fate of their world.

A soft smile crossed Trunks' face as he watched them. The scene before him echoed countless discussions he'd witnessed between their future counterparts. "They're right," he said, joining their explanation. "For example, in the present time, Goku's life was saved with the cure I brought from the heart disease. In the future from which I came, Goku is still someone who died in the past from it. We now have two separate realities, one where Goku lives, this one, and mine, where Goku is still dead."

"Wait a second!" Krillin's eyes widened as the implications hit him. "You're saying that even if you somehow find a way to get rid of the androids here , they're still going to exist in your future?"

Trunks nodded solemnly. The weight of his world's unchangeable fate seemed to press down on his shoulders.

"So then..." Yamcha's voice carried genuine confusion, "why did you bother coming here in the first place?"

Cellera watched as Trunks' gaze grew distant, lost in memories of a future they'd been spared from living. When he finally spoke, his voice carried echoes of conversations held in another time, another world.

"Mother couldn't stand letting the artificial humans walk over us. And..." His eyes found Cellera and Gohan, misting over briefly as past and present seemed to overlap. "The Gohan and Cellera in the future had mentioned the possibility of multiverse theory. They both agreed that even if it were the case, giving another world a better future was worth fighting for, even if it didn't affect us."

Something in his voice made Cellera's chest tighten – she could hear the weight of years spent fighting a losing battle, of watching loved ones fall one by one. Yet beneath that pain lay an unwavering determination as he added, "And I intend to fulfill that wish."

The aircraft's engines hummed steadily in the brief silence that followed. Everyone absorbed not just the technical aspects of time travel, but the deeper meaning behind Trunks' mission.He'd come not to save his own world, but to give their timeline a chance his never had. It was a sacrifice born of hope rather than desperation – hope that somewhere, in some reality, the people he loved might know peace.

In that moment, watching her future brother struggle with memories only he carried, Cellera understood why her counterpart had believed so strongly in this mission. Some battles were worth fighting not for what they could change, but for the possibility they represented. Even if they couldn't alter their own fate, they could ensure that somewhere, another world would know a better tomorrow.

“I'll give you one better," Cellera said, drawing Trunks' attention. "We'll ensure you're strong enough to defeat the androids in your timeline. Your world deserves more than just survival."

A small smile touched Trunks' features. "That was actually my next plan if multiverse theory proved true. I hoped to find a weakness by watching Goku fight them." His expression grew more determined. "And if that failed, I could bring him to the future to deal with them there."

The smile vanished as he looked around their group. "But now..." He shook his head. "I'm in a past I barely recognize. Goku contracted the virus at a different time, three new androids more powerful than anything we faced – nothing's following the path I knew."

"The blame doesn't rest solely on you," Cellera said, her voice carrying an edge of self-reproach. "I noticed something was wrong with Kakarot the moment he transformed, yet I said nothing." Her eyes fixed on a point in the distance. "And then with Dr. Gero..." She paused, remembering how she'd drawn out the fight, letting the thrill of combat override her usual efficiency. "I prolonged the battle when I should have ended it. That delay gave him the chance to activate the other androids."

"You're doing it again," Gohan interrupted, his tone carrying the same gentle firmness he'd used back on the cliff. "I already told you it's not your fault."

Cellera responded with a small pout, folding her arms and turning away from him. The gesture made Gohan bite back a smile – after years of friendship, he knew this was as close as she'd ever come to admitting he was right.

Trunks observed their interaction with quiet fascination, momentarily distracted from his own dark thoughts. "Did my presence in the past really cause all of this?" he mused, more to himself than the others.

"Now you listen here," Chi Chi's voice cut through his brooding with maternal authority. "Without you coming back, we would have lost Goku to that awful virus." Her expression softened as she added, "You gave us a chance to save him. That's worth more than you know."

Something in Chi Chi's words seemed to reach Trunks. The tension he'd carried since explaining the timeline changes visibly eased from his shoulders.

Chi Chi then fixed her gaze on Cellera. "And that goes for you too, young lady. We all knew about this virus. If anyone should have spotted the symptoms first, it should have been me, his own wife."

The unexpected defense, delivered with such motherly conviction, left Cellera momentarily speechless. She'd faced down Frieza with her usual sharp retorts, but something about Chi Chi's genuine concern made any argument die in her throat.

"I told you so, Princess," Gohan whispered, not bothering to hide his triumphant smirk.

"Oh!" Chi Chi's exclamation cut through the moment as she dove into one of their many packed bags. "Before I forget..." She emerged with a thick textbook, practically shoving it into Gohan's hands. "Just because we're hiding from killer androids doesn't mean you can slack off on geometry!"

Gohan stared at the complex equations filling the pages before turning those same pleading eyes he'd used since childhood toward Cellera. The silent request for help was as clear as if he'd spoken it aloud.

Cellera's answering chuckle held more than a touch of her father's smugness. "Oh? The mighty Scholar needs the Princess's assistance?" Her smirk widened as she settled back in her seat. "I think not. This battle is yours alone."

The look of utter betrayal that crossed Gohan's face sent the entire aircraft into much-needed laughter. Even Trunks couldn't help joining in, the sound reminding him of lighter moments with their counterparts in his timeline. For just a moment, the weight of androids and uncertain futures lifted, replaced by the simple joy of family – whether bound by blood or battle.

-

It wasn't long before Cellera found herself on the floor beside Gohan, watching him struggle through what she considered basic geometry. The painful slowness with which he worked through each equation made her suspect he was drawing it out deliberately – he'd always known exactly how to get her to cave in and help.

"I've been meaning to ask," she said, and Gohan's pencil paused mid-calculation as he looked up. "You took a bit longer than I expected to take Bulma and Trunks home. Was everything okay?"

"Ah, about that..." Gohan launched into an explanation of how he'd ended up having to transport Yajirobe as well. Cellera clicked her tongue in disapproval, but couldn't maintain her annoyance when Gohan added, "I think I finally understand why you dislike him so much. That's the last time I'm ever bringing him anywhere."

Her laugh echoed through the aircraft's cabin. After years of defending Yajirobe despite her obvious disdain, Gohan had finally experienced firsthand why she found the man so insufferable.

"We'll reach Master Roshi's island soon!" Yamcha called from the pilot's seat. He glanced back toward their group. "Say, Krillin, don't you think you should clue Bulma in on what's been going on?"

Krillin let out a small groan. "Yeah, I guess we need to fill her in. But why do I have to be the one to do it? Man..." He turned to Trunks with a grimace. "Your mom has one heck of a sharp tongue."

"She's still the same way in the future," Trunks confirmed with an appreciative laugh.

Cellera rolled her eyes at their display of cowardice and pushed herself up from her spot beside Gohan. "If you insist on making such a big deal about it, I'll do it," she sighed, making her way toward the front of the plane. "You both call yourselves warriors, but are too afraid to speak with Bulma."

"And hers is even sharper than Bulma's," Krillin muttered to Trunks, who eagerly nodded in agreement.

Gohan watched Cellera make her way to the front of the aircraft, finding himself captivated by the way she handled the situation. The subtle authority in her stance, the fire in her voice when she called out Krillin and Yamcha's reluctance – it stirred something in him he didn't quite understand yet. At ten years old, he only knew that watching her take charge made his chest feel strangely warm, like when they sparred together under the setting sun.

Chi Chi observed her son's reaction with knowing amusement, nodding approvingly. "Now that's how a woman handles things," she remarked, causing Gohan to quickly look away, suddenly very interested in his geometry workbook.

As Cellera took the radio, she straightened almost imperceptibly - not from pride or status, but from the simple confidence that came with knowing exactly what needed to be done. It was the same quiet competence she'd always shown, whether solving complex equations or navigating battlefield tactics. Krillin and Yamcha exchanged glances, both silently relieved to have someone else handle the conversation with Bulma.

"This is Cellera," she stated with the polished tone she reserved for formal situations. "Is my mother available?" Cellera caught their reactions and shrugged, explaining with slight exasperation, "Bulma said it was easier to explain to the employees."

Any further discussion was cut short by Bulma's voice exploding through the speaker with enough force to make the radio crackle. "Cellera! What's going on? Are you guys all right?!"

The others flinched at the volume, but Cellera couldn't help but smile at the maternal concern in Bulma's voice. It was so characteristic of her to immediately assume something was wrong – though given the day's events, she wasn't entirely wrong.

"Where are you calling from?!" Bulma continued, anxiety clear in every word. "I figured Gohan would be getting back around now, so I called over there and nobody answered!" The rising panic in her voice suggested she was already imagining worst-case scenarios.

Cellera began explaining their situation to Bulma, detailing their plan to move Kakarot to Master Roshi's island for safety. Even as she spoke, she couldn't help but think how obvious that location would be – likely the second place the androids would look after his home. But with their options limited, they had little choice.

"I'm glad you're all safe!" The relief in Bulma's voice was palpable before her tone shifted to something more serious. "Trunks wouldn't happen to be there with you, would he?"

"He is," Cellera confirmed. "And you're on speaker – everyone in the aircraft can hear you."

"Good, because you all need to hear this." Bulma launched into an explanation about a strange discovery out west. "Someone found what they're claiming is a Capsule Corp vehicle. When they sent me a photo..." She paused for effect. "It looks exactly like Trunks' time machine, but it's damaged."

"What?!" Trunks shot up from his seat, color draining from his face. His hands dove into his jacket pocket, pulling out a capsule case with frantic energy. "No way. That can't be true." He surveyed his capsules, checking and double-checking each one. "I turned it back into capsule form when I got here. I have it right here with me." He held out the case for everyone to see, as if seeking confirmation of its existence.

"Then I guess this isn't the one you came here in," Bulma mused thoughtfully. "This one's completely covered in moss and looks like it's been sitting out there for quite a while."

"That revelation triggered warning signals in Cellera's mind. The timeline complications they'd discussed earlier suddenly took on a darker significance."

"Just how many time machines did my future self build, anyway?" Bulma asked.

"How many?" Trunks' voice cracked with disbelief. "You were barely able to build one."

"Really? That's weird, because it's definitely your time machine. I'm sending over a copy of the photo now."

The aircraft's printer whirred to life moments later. Cellera took hold of the emerging photograph, her eyes widening as she studied the image. "This is your time machine," she confirmed, noting the identical design. But this version bore telling differences – thick moss coating its surface, and more worryingly, what appeared to be damage to the glass hatch.

Cellera passed the photograph behind her to Krillin and Trunks as Gohan made his way over, drawn by the gravity of their discovery. "Bulma, do you know the exact location where this photo was taken?" she asked, her mind already working through possibilities.

"Not the precise location," Bulma replied, "but I'm fairly sure that it's somewhere near section 1050 West. Are you guys going to check it out?"

"Yes." The determination in Trunks' voice matched the tension in his frame. "I need to see this for myself."

Cellera nodded in agreement. A theory was forming in her mind – perhaps this mysterious second time machine explained the cascade of changes they'd encountered. Every deviation from Trunks' timeline suddenly seemed less random.

"I'll come along too then!" Bulma's voice rang with characteristic enthusiasm. "It's not very far from where I am!"

Cellera's first instinct was to protest Bulma's involvement, but she caught herself. While her protective impulses wanted to keep Bulma far from any potential danger, she had to acknowledge that no one was better qualified to examine the machine. Future version or not, Bulma was its creator.

After confirming their meeting point at section 1050 West, Gohan shifted uncertainly beside them. "Would it be alright if I came along to help?" He glanced between Cellera and Trunks, adding, "I mean, if it's not just a family thing..."

The siblings exchanged looks before breaking into matching smiles. "Of course," Trunks replied, the warmth in his voice suggesting Gohan's inclusion in family matters was as natural in his timeline as it was in this one.

As they approached the aircraft's side hatch that Yamcha was opening, Chi Chi's worried voice cut through the air. "Gohan!"

Her son turned back with one of his gentle smiles – the same one he'd used to ease his mother's concerns since childhood. "Don't worry, Mom. We're just going to look at something. It's not like we'll be anywhere dangerous."

Chi Chi's gaze moved between the three children – her son, the Saiyan princess who'd become his closest friend, and the time traveler whose warnings had already saved her husband's life. After a moment of internal struggle, she released a defeated sigh. "Be careful," she called after them as they leapt through the open hatch into the wind.

As they turned westward, Cellera couldn't help but notice how naturally they fell into formation – herself, Gohan, and Trunks moving as a unit, as if they'd been fighting together for years. 

As they soared through the afternoon sky toward section 1050 West, Gohan turned to Trunks. "Is the future you're from really as grim as you make it sound?"

The question drew a shadow across Trunks' features. Watching these younger versions of Gohan and his sister fly beside him, still untouched by the horrors he'd known, made his chest ache. In his timeline, they'd never gotten their chance at happiness, at building the family they'd dreamed of. The androids had stolen not just their lives, but all the possibilities of what could have been.

"The global population has been reduced to several tens of thousands," he confirmed, forcing himself to focus on facts rather than what-ifs. "West City is almost completely destroyed. The few survivors only manage by hiding in secret underground bases."

"There has to be some kind of weakness we can exploit," Gohan said. The familiar determination in his voice hit Trunks hard – it was the same tone his mentor had used even in their darkest moments.

"Dr. Gero did regard them as failures," Trunks noted thoughtfully, latching onto this thread of hope. "He knew how dangerous they'd be – only used them because he was backed into a corner. He must have had some kind of emergency shutdown device."

The words triggered something in Cellera's memory. Her mind flashed back to that tense moment in Gero's laboratory:

"Just try it! I'll shut you down for good this time!"

Android 17's smirk had held no trace of concern. "We broke your little switch, remember?"

"I'll just make a new one!" Gero had snarled back.

"He did," Cellera stated, the realization making both boys turn to her. "17 mentioned they had broken a switch when Doctor Gero threatened to shut them down for good."

Trunks' expression fell slightly. "Defeating the androids would be a lot easier with that switch around." The possibility that such a simple solution had existed, that maybe his timeline's warriors had never known about it, made his heart sink.

"Don't worry about it," Gohan interjected, that same optimism coloring his voice. "Maybe Bulma could make a new one."

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, considering the possibilities. "That could work," she said, impressed by the elegant solution. "Well thought out, Gohan."

The praise drew a small laugh from him, color rising to his cheeks. Despite their years of friendship, her direct compliments still caught him off guard.

"I'll discuss it with Bulma later," Cellera continued. "For now, we need to focus on this mysterious other time machine."

Trunks consulted the coordinates on his modified wristwatch, a piece of technology that hinted at Bulma's future ingenuity. "The time machine should be around here somewhere."

As they reduced their speed to survey the area more carefully, a metallic glint caught Cellera's eye. Below them, partially concealed by trees and shrubbery, sat what was unmistakably a time machine in an open field. The afternoon sun reflected off its weathered surface, the once-gleaming metal now dulled by exposure to the elements.

"There," she pointed, drawing their attention downward. "In that clearing."

"Well spotted," Trunks complimented as they descended toward the machine. The admiration in his voice suggested this wasn't the first time his sister's sharp eyes had proven valuable, regardless of the timeline.

Their boots sank an inch into the soft earth as they landed, the loamy soil releasing the musty scent of decay and renewal. Tall grass swayed around their ankles, seed heads brushing against their clothing. A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of cherry and plum blossoms, their perfume almost cloying in its intensity. Dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy, creating shifting patterns across the clearing's floor. The time machine itself stood as an anomaly among the natural beauty, emanating an unsettling stillness like an artifact from another world, its metallic surface cold and lifeless against the vibrant spring landscape.

The whir of an approaching aircraft cut through the peaceful scene mere seconds after they landed. Cellera recognized Bulma's ki signature moments before her voice rang out across the field.

"Hello Trunks! It's me! Your beautiful mother!"

A smile spread across Cellera's face as she watched Trunks' reaction – that mix of embarrassment and affection that seemed universal to children faced with their mother's enthusiasm, regardless of which timeline they came from. As Bulma approached, Trunks retrieved his capsule, clicking the release before tossing it beside the abandoned machine.

They gathered around the two time machines, studying every detail. Despite the thick coat of moss and broken glass dome on the discovered vessel, the craftsmanship was identical in every way. The moss covering the abandoned machine gave off a musty, ancient smell, as though it had been sitting in this field for decades rather than years. When Cellera touched the surface, her fingers came away damp and stained green.

Cellera turned to her brother, her expression focused and intent. "Can you verify if these are truly the same machine Bulma constructed?"

Trunks stepped forward, wiping away layers of moss from the side of the damaged machine. His hand slowed as familiar lettering emerged beneath the green growth. "HOPE" stood out in bold black letters, identical to the marking on his own vessel. 

Trunks' fingers lingered on the word as memories washed over him—not just of his mother's determination, but of nights spent planning in the ruins of Capsule Corp., of Gohan's unwavering resolve even after losing an arm, of Cellera's fierce protectiveness that never dimmed despite every loss they'd suffered. The word had been more than just a sentiment—it had been their lifeline in a dying world. He swallowed hard, wondering if these younger versions could truly understand what that single word had meant to their counterparts.

"Why that word?" Cellera asked, watching his reaction carefully.

A soft smile crossed Trunks' face, though his eyes held old pain. "You and Gohan always had hope, no matter the circumstance." His voice carried the weight of memories from his timeline. "Even in our darkest moments, you both never stopped believing we could create a better future. Mother was the same way – that's why she worked so hard on the time machine."

"Speaking of which..." Bulma studied the moss-covered vessel with growing concern. "What could this mean? This time machine looks like it's been sitting here for quite some time."

Cellera, Gohan, and Trunks began a careful investigation of the worn machine. Cellera's hand traced the curvature of the hole in the glass dome, her eyes methodically assessing the damage pattern.

"It looks like it was melted from the inside by extreme heat," Gohan said, giving voice to her thoughts.

Cellera nodded in agreement. "And look – there's no glass debris or damage inside the cockpit. Whatever did this emerged outward."

Trunks stepped forward, opening the hatch to examine the cockpit more closely. Inside, he found what appeared to be two broken shell halves. He lifted them carefully, the fragments emitting a faint, acrid odor unlike anything familiar. The material felt unnaturally warm against his fingers despite having been abandoned for what appeared to be years. Cellera reluctantly studied their texture from a distance, avoiding direct contact.

"Could this be some kind of egg?" she mused, taking the pieces for closer inspection.

"I've never seen an egg like that before," Gohan remarked, leaning in to examine the unusual shells.

"The texture reminds me of Dodoria," Cellera observed, drawing an appreciative chuckle from Gohan.

"You're right – it does have that same weird feel," he agreed, remembering their shared encounter with Frieza's pink-skinned lieutenant on Namek.

Cellera passed the shell fragments to Bulma, who carefully fitted the pieces together. "You're right – this definitely appears to be some kind of egg," she confirmed, studying the reconstructed shell with scientific interest.

"Whatever hatched from it might be what created that hole," Gohan suggested, gesturing toward the melted glass dome.

"That theory seems increasingly likely," Cellera agreed as Trunks examined the machine's control panel.

"The energy reserves are almost completely depleted," Trunks reported, his voice growing tense as he studied the readings. Suddenly, he let out a shocked gasp. "This... this machine came from Age 788 – three years after I left my timeline. And according to these readings, it arrived here four years ago."

Cellera's eyes narrowed slightly as the puzzle pieces fell into place, her posture straightening with recognition. "Whatever used this machine had already been here for a full year before Trunks ever arrived," she said, eyes narrowing at the implications. "Your quick arrival and departure wasn't the sole cause of these timeline changes. The true catalyst was whatever emerged from this time machine four years ago – something that's been living in our time ever since"

Trunks voiced the question weighing on all their minds: "What exactly had used the time machine... and why?"

Silence fell over the group as they contemplated the unsettling possibilities. Finally, Trunks straightened, shaking off the moment of uncertainty. "Well, we can't just leave it sitting here. Let's revert it back to capsule form for the time being." He pressed the button on the side, watching the moss-covered machine shrink into a small capsule before doing the same with his own vessel.

Bulma gathered the broken egg shell pieces from the ground. "I'll take these with me for analysis."

"Bulma," Cellera said, remembering Gohan’s suggestion from earlier. "The androids – Dr. Gero had some kind of control switch before they destroyed it. Could you recreate something with similar functionality?"

Bulma placed her hands on her hips, confidence radiating from her stance. "Of course I can! I'm the genius who built a time machine, after all!"

The display of characteristic self-assurance drew a chuckle from Cellera.

"Do you have any schematics of the androids?" Bulma asked, already mentally sketching designs.

"No, but..." Cellera paused, recalling the layout of Capsule Corp. "Gero might have had an underground laboratory, similar to what's beneath your main building. I could investigate his facility, see what information remains."

Bulma nodded, her expression growing more serious. "How did the battle go? Were they really that strong?"

"We were completely outmatched," Trunks replied grimly. "Father, myself, Tien, Piccolo – we all went up against them, and we were powerless to do anything."

"That strong, huh?" Bulma's voice softened with concern. "Is Vegeta okay? Is he at Kame House with the others?"

As Trunks began explaining how their father had recovered with a senzu bean before taking off on his own, Cellera noticed Gohan's attention drift toward the trees. His brow furrowed as he studied something in the distance.

"What is it?" she asked, following his gaze.

"I was just wondering what that is over there," Gohan said, already moving toward whatever had caught his eye. Cellera and the others followed as he pushed through the undergrowth, the vegetation scratching against their clothes as they passed.

The birds that had been singing in the trees suddenly went silent, their absence creating a void more noticeable than their chorus had been. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, thicker, carrying an alien scent that was simultaneously sweet and putrid—like rotting fruit mixed with something metallic. Even the insects stopped buzzing, leaving only the sound of their footsteps crushing dead leaves that crackled like static electricity beneath their feet.

The sight that greeted them stopped them cold. A massive shell lay among the trees, its shape suggesting some kind of enormous insect. The translucent casing gleamed wetly in the dappled sunlight, pulsing with faint iridescence that shifted colors unnaturally with each changing angle. Its size was impossibly large—easily taller than Cellera herself—with segments that resembled armored plates more than any known arthropod exoskeleton. The forest floor around it was disturbed, dead vegetation forming a trail as if something massive had dragged itself away, leaving behind a path. Small pools of viscous pink fluid collected in footprint-like depressions, each puddle larger than a dinner plate, emitting faint vapors that distorted the air above them like heat mirages.

Cellera's face drained of color as she unconsciously took several steps back from the discovery. The cool, analytical detachment that normally characterized her approach to threats evaporated instantly at the sight of the chitinous horror before them.

While the others moved closer to examine it, Gohan noticed how Cellera maintained her distance, hanging back significantly farther than himself or Trunks. A small smile tugged at his lips – was she actually afraid of bugs?

"Is it dead?" Bulma asked, leaning in for a closer look.

"It's not dead," Cellera replied through gritted teeth, grimacing as she forced herself to explain. "It's an insect shell... a huge one at that."

"A shell?" Bulma echoed in disbelief. "I've never seen a cicada shell this big before."

"I don't think it's a cicada," Gohan said, studying the massive molt with growing unease.

"It's probably whatever was inside that egg from the time machine," Trunks said, studying the translucent shell.

"Makes sense," Gohan agreed, crouching down for a closer look. His expression shifted from concern to genuine fascination as he examined the structure. "Look at these segments—they're similar to a cicada's exoskeleton, but the development pattern is completely different." He traced a finger along the ridged exterior, his scholarly interest overriding any apprehension. "It must have grown and molted out of its shell.”

"But did someone place the egg in the time machine and send it here?" Cellera mused from her safe distance. "Or did they bring it along with them?"

Gohan found his attention drawn more to Cellera than the molt itself. Here was someone who had faced down Frieza without hesitation, fought androids without flinching, and even stood against an immortal being—yet here she was, practically tiptoeing around a discarded bug shell.

Something warm fluttered in his chest at discovering this unexpected side of her. The way she tried to maintain her normal demeanor while clearly wanting nothing to do with the insect remnants... he couldn't help but find it endearing. It was moments like these, when her careful facade cracked just slightly, that made his heart beat a little faster.

His quiet admiration turned to barely suppressed laughter when Trunks reached into the molt, pulling back his hand with surprise as pink, viscous fluid coated his fingers. Cellera's eyes narrowed in absolute revulsion as she pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, muttering a muffled "How disgusting."

"Whatever was in here must have just molted," Trunks observed, staring at his covered hand.

"The fluid is still fresh," Gohan added with growing excitement that quickly shifted to concern. "That means it couldn't have molted long ago. Maybe hours at most." He leaned in closer, his curiosity momentarily overwhelming his caution. "The exoskeletal structure suggests it could be incredibly strong in its new form. And look at the size—whatever emerged must be enormous."

"WHAT?" Bulma's shriek cut through the air as they all began scanning their surroundings with newfound urgency.

"Right then! I'll call if anything comes up!" She scrambled into her aircraft, pausing only to add, "And Trunks, swing by when you get the chance – your grandparents would get a kick out of meeting you!" With that, she took off, leaving them to contemplate what kind of creature could have emerged from such an enormous shell.

They watched Bulma's ship vanish into the distance before Gohan broke the silence with a grin. "Well, I guess we can say she was really bugged out by all this."

"Gohan!" Cellera whipped her head toward him, eyes narrowing. "This is hardly the time for puns." Her gaze drifted to Trunks' still-coated hand, making her visibly recoil. "Would you please clean that revolting substance off?"

Trunks studied his sister's reaction with growing fascination. This was a side of Cellera he'd never known in his timeline. There, she had been his protector, the composed warrior who'd stood between him and the androids' terror. Yet here she was, years younger and somehow more... human. Not yet shaped by the hell that had forged his timeline's Cellera into an unwavering shield for her family.

A smirk worthy of their father spread across his face. "I suppose I could clean it off," he drawled, examining his coated hand with exaggerated interest. "Though I don't see anything readily available... unless you're offering to help, dear sister?"

He took a deliberate step forward, pink-covered hand extended. Cellera's eyes widened comically as she ducked behind Gohan, hands gripping his shoulders. "Don't you dare!" she warned, using her friend as an impromptu shield. The fierce Saiyan princess, reduced to hiding from bug residue – it was too perfect.

The laughter burst from both Trunks and Gohan simultaneously. "Hold on," Gohan managed between chuckles, twisting slightly to look at where she still clutched his shoulders. "I need to ask, are you actually scared of bugs?"

"I am not scared ," Cellera declared, releasing him to cross her arms with all the royal dignity she could muster. Though the effect was somewhat undermined by how she kept casting suspicious glances at Trunks' hand. "I simply find them repulsive. And whatever that monstrosity was," she gestured vaguely toward the molt without looking directly at it, "clearly exceeds the parameters of any normal insect."

The mention of the mysterious creature sobered them immediately. Trunks shook his head, wiping his hand clean on the grass. "None of this makes any sense."

"We should head back to Kame House," Gohan said, his earlier amusement replaced by concern. "Tell the others what we found and check on my dad."

As they took to the sky, each remained lost in thought. Their discovery had only multiplied their questions – what had emerged from that egg? Why had it traveled through time? And most worryingly, where was it now?

The familiar shape of Kame House appeared on the horizon, its pink walls a stark contrast against the endless blue ocean. The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the waves as they approached. Gohan pushed open the door, announcing their return, but the words died in his throat. 

The atmosphere inside was thick with tension. Everyone sat rigid, eyes fixed on the television screen in horrified fascination. Yamcha's knuckles had turned white from gripping the edge of the couch, while Master Roshi had forgotten his magazine entirely—a testament to the gravity of whatever had captured their attention.

"You guys might want to see this," Krillin said, his voice unusually tense. "They're reporting from Gingertown."

They crowded around the TV just as a blood-curdling scream pierced through the speakers, followed by the sharp staccato of gunfire. Then... nothing but eerie silence. "The hair on Cellera's arms stood on end as the meaning behind that abrupt silence dawned on her."

The anchorman's face had gone pale as he addressed the camera. "We'll... we'll try to get closer to—" His words cut off in a strangled gasp, terror contorting his features before the screen dissolved into static.

"Quick, change the channel!" Master Roshi barked. Yamcha fumbled with the remote, switching to another station.

The new feed showed a tilted view of an abandoned street. Empty clothes lay scattered near an overturned vehicle, the scene carrying an unnatural stillness. A single cry for help shattered the quiet – then that same terrible silence descended once more.

The television's blue light cast a cold glow across the room as they gathered around it. What made the broadcast truly unsettling wasn't just the screams or gunfire, but the abrupt silence that followed. It was the absence of sound - of life - that spoke volumes. Cellera's mind immediately began connecting this eerie quiet to the abandoned shell they'd discovered earlier, the coincidence too precise to ignore.

The heavy silence in Kame House was broken by Cellera's quiet voice. "Gingertown..." She exchanged meaningful looks with Trunks and Gohan. "That's near where we found that shell."

"Shell?" Krillin turned to them, brow furrowed. "What shell?"

The three took turns explaining their discovery – the moss-covered time machine identical to Trunks', the mysterious egg they'd found inside, and the massive insect shell abandoned in the forest. With each detail, the connection to Gingertown's silence became more ominous.

"I need to see this for myself," Trunks declared, already moving toward the door.

"Hang on a second!" Yamcha called out.

"Are you kidding?" Krillin added, eyes wide with disbelief.

Trunks turned back with the confident bearing that marked him as Vegeta's son. "Don't worry – I can transform into a Super Saiyan if needed. Besides, the androids are our only real concern right now."

"I'm coming with you," Cellera stated, her tone brooking no argument.

"Count me in too," Gohan stepped forward, but Chi Chi's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"You will do no such thing!" She fixed her son with a stern look. "Have you forgotten about your father?"

Cellera watched as Gohan's gaze darted between her and the stairs leading to where Kakarot lay recovering. The conflict was clear on his face – the desire to help warring with his duty to family.

"You're staying right here, young man," Chi Chi declared with maternal authority.

Cellera studied Chi Chi carefully, noting again the subtle signs of her suspected condition. The last thing they needed was to cause her additional stress in her state. She turned to Gohan, letting her voice soften slightly.

"Your mother's right," she said. "It would be better if you stayed. If the androids show up while we're gone..." She left the thought unfinished, allowing the weight of her words to settle. 'You're the only one strong enough to protect Kakarot right now.

"Exactly," Trunks nodded before his expression hardened. "Which is exactly why I'm going alone. You both need to stay here."

Cellera's head snapped toward him, shock quickly morphing into annoyance as she folded her arms and strode toward her brother. The familiar gesture only emphasized her growing irritation.

Gohan watched the exchange with barely concealed amusement. Her tone had shifted to that same commanding edge she'd used on the ship earlier – a far cry from the calm girl he'd grown up with. These flares of temper had been appearing more frequently lately, probably influenced by spending the last three years around both Vegeta and Bulma. He found himself enjoying these glimpses of her fierier side, though he'd never admit it out loud.

"And just who do you think you're speaking to?" Cellera demanded, drawing herself up to her full height. "Need I remind you that I am your older sister?"

A knowing smirk crossed Trunks' face. "Care to remind me of our ages again? Because technically, I'm older than you right now."

Cellera opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. The temporal logistics weren't exactly in her favor. Still, she stood her ground. "That doesn't change anything. I can make my own decisions about my safety."

The playful smirk vanished from Trunks' face as memories crashed over him – his timeline's Cellera knocking him unconscious when he'd insisted on joining her and Gohan's final battle, waking up only to find them both... He couldn't go through losing her again.

Cellera caught the change in his expression, her own features softening as she recognized the shadow of old pain in his eyes. "If things become too dangerous, I promise I'll leave when you tell me to."

Trunks studied his sister's determined expression before releasing a reluctant sigh. After losing her once, the idea of potentially watching it happen again made his chest ache. But he recognized that same stubborn set to her jaw that she'd had in his timeline. "Fine, we better get going then."

The moment they stepped through Kame House's doorway, both siblings froze. An impossible ki signature prickled at their senses – something that felt like a twisted patchwork of familiar energies stitched together wrong. The others burst through the door behind them, faces contorted with the same confusion they felt.

"That's impossible," Gohan said, eyes wide. "I can feel Frieza's ki... and his father’s too!"

"Goku and Piccolo's energy as well," Trunks added, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Cellera's fists clenched at her sides. "Father's ki is there too. How is this possible?"

"This can't be right!" Yamcha shook his head violently. "Frieza and King Cold are dead – we all saw Trunks finish them!" The memory of the mysterious youth's easy dispatch of the tyrants was still fresh in their minds, even after 3 years.

Gohan hovered near the upstairs window, pointing inside. "And Dad's still right here, sleeping."  The confirmation of his presence there only made the distant ki signature more impossible, more wrong. The unsettling reality of what they were sensing sent chills through the group."

"It's coming from Gingertown," Cellera said, her voice tight with tension. The coincidence of its location near their earlier discovery couldn't be ignored.

"We need to move," Trunks stated grimly. "I want to see exactly what kind of monster came out of that shell." The word 'monster' felt appropriate – whatever could mimic ki signatures this way couldn't be anything else.

"Be careful," Gohan called out quietly.

Cellera turned back, giving him that familiar smile. "I promise!"

With that simple exchange, she and Trunks shot into the sky, leaving Gohan to watch their forms disappear into the distance.

As they soared toward Gingertown, Trunks found his thoughts drifting to the interactions he'd witnessed between his sister and Gohan. When they'd gone after Dr. Gero, Cellera had assured Gohan he was the only one who could safely transport his mother and his infant self. The way Gohan had brightened at her words, shaking off his earlier disappointment from Piccolo's dismissal – it hadn't escaped Trunks' notice. Even now at Kame House, she'd managed to convince him to stay behind without argument, though Trunks had helped reinforce the decision.

But what struck him most was her absolute faith in Gohan's abilities. From what Trunks could tell, this timeline's Gohan hadn't even achieved Super Saiyan status yet. Despite this, Cellera seemed completely confident in his capability to handle whatever challenges might arise.

"Do you really believe Gohan could handle the androids if they showed up?" Trunks asked, memories of his own timeline flickering through his mind. Even their older counterparts had struggled against the mechanical monsters on their best days.

"Of course," Cellera replied without hesitation, her conviction unwavering. "He's the best choice while we're away."

Her certainty intrigued him. This wasn't just trust between friends – this was complete faith in Gohan's potential. "What makes you so sure?"

Cellera huffed out a laugh before launching into Gohan's achievements over the years. She recounted how he'd landed solid hits on Nappa during their first arrival on Earth, even managing to best her in combat. Her voice filled with pride as she described his rage-filled kick that had sent Dodoria flying on Namek, leading them to save a young Namekian named Dende. She spoke of his fearless charges against Frieza, facing down the tyrant without hesitation.

Trunks watched his sister as she spoke, struck by how her expression mirrored the one he knew so well from his timeline. It was the same look his Cellera had worn whenever she spoke about or was around Gohan – not just respect between warriors, but pure adoration. 

Her tone shifted to concern as she continued. "Though lately, he's been lacking confidence in his abilities. I don't understand it." She shook her head, genuine puzzlement in her features. "He could be the strongest among us, especially if he learned to harness that power that emerges when he's angry. Even Father acknowledged his potential."

The last statement made Trunks' eyebrows shoot up. Vegeta praising anyone, let alone Goku's son? But his surprise quickly gave way to amusement as he watched his sister's animated discussion of Gohan's capabilities.

Cellera caught his poorly concealed smirk. "What exactly do you find so amusing?"

Trunks couldn't resist – after all, he'd never had the chance to tease his sister like this in his timeline. "If I didn't know better," he drawled, "I'd say you were head over heels for Gohan."

The reaction was immediate. Cellera's face flushed pink as she sputtered, "I-I'm merely praising his battle prowess as his best friend and fellow Saiyan warrior! There's nothing romantic whatsoever between us!" Her blush deepened as she added hastily, "Besides, we're far too young for such...courtship!"

Her own vehement denial caught her off guard. Why was she reacting so strongly? This was Gohan they were talking about—her sparring partner, her study companion, her closest friend. She'd never considered their relationship in the terms Trunks was implying. What exactly was he suggesting about their friendship? It was a bond forged through battle and study, through shared experiences no ordinary children could understand. Their lives had never been normal—fighting galactic tyrants and defending Earth from countless threats had created a connection unlike any other. Nothing more complicated than that.

While she understood the concept of romantic attachment she'd never considered such feelings applying to her own life. Warriors had more important concerns than such distractions. Yet something about Trunks' knowing smirk unsettled her in ways she couldn't quite define.

Trunks found her confused reaction utterly endearing. In his timeline, he'd watched Gohan and Cellera dance around their feelings for years, both aware of their mutual attraction but never quite bridging that final gap until it was too late. But this was different – this was his sister at ten years old, completely oblivious to her own developing feelings. The way she praised Gohan's strength while simultaneously worrying about his confidence, how she'd memorized every one of his achievements... she had no idea what was beginning to change between them.

He could tell Gohan was as well, as he recalled the boy's captivated gaze on her as she took charge with being the one to call his mother and inform them of the situation. The way Gohan's expression had softened watching her carefully maintained composure crack at the bug shell's discovery, not even minding being used as her shield from Trunks' hand. Even his parting words held meaning – both when they'd left for Gero's lab and just now on the island, his eyes had held concern for them both, though Trunks hadn't missed how his gaze had flickered mainly to Cellera.

"It seems Gohan trusts in your strength too," Trunks said, backing off from his teasing for now. "That promise you made seemed to ease him."

A fond smile touched Cellera's lips. "It's more than just a promise," she explained softly. "It's a vow that I'll return, no matter what." Her hand moved to touch the pendant beneath her compression shirt. "It started on Namek, when I went to confront Dodoria about my mother."

Trunks' eyes followed the movement, his own hand touching the matching pendant in his jacket pocket. That treasured keepsake had been his constant reminder of his mission, of what they'd lost. He found himself wanting to ask more about the stories he'd never heard – her battles alongside Gohan, about the time before the androids had taken everything from them.

Before he could voice his questions, a familiar ki signature approached, accompanied by Krillin's cheerful greeting. "Hey! Thought I'd tag along to see what's going on!"

"What about Gohan?" Cellera asked, inwardly concerned about leaving him there with limited protection.

"Actually, he told me to go ahead," Krillin replied with a knowing smile. "Said he wanted to protect Goku. Last I saw, he was training by the oceanside." He gave an impressed whistle. "These last three years must have really paid off – he's way stronger than I expected."

"Looks like he took your words about protecting Goku pretty seriously," Trunks remarked, watching his sister carefully. 

The smile that crossed Cellera's face transformed her entire demeanor. That familiar stern expression melted into something warmer, more genuine. "Of course he has," she replied, pride evident in her voice. "Gohan will always rise to defend what's precious to him. That protective instinct..." She paused, as if choosing her next words carefully. "It's the source of his true strength."

Trunks and Krillin exchanged subtle glances at her response. The way her usual composed demeanor gave way to such open admiration when discussing Gohan's protective nature spoke volumes. It reminded Trunks painfully of his timeline – how his sister's carefully constructed walls would lower just slightly whenever she spoke of Gohan's determination to protect others. Even now, years younger and in a different reality, that same quality in him drew her like a beacon.

Krillin had to bite back a smile. He'd watched these two grow up together, seen how Cellera would let her guard down around Gohan in a way she did with no one else. The way she could assess any situation with calm, cold logic, yet speak about his protective instincts with such warmth – well, it didn't take a genius to see where this was heading, even if the two children hadn't figured it out yet.

Ocean spray filled the air as Gohan moved through his kata sequences by the shoreline. Salt crystalized on his skin under the merciless afternoon sun, the humidity making each breath feel substantial in his lungs. The white sand shifted beneath his feet, creating slight depressions that immediately filled with seawater. Each punch he threw sent waves crashing back, the raw power behind his movements causing the turquoise sea to part, revealing the darker seabed beneath before crashing back together with a thunderous clap.

He shifted stance, bringing his hands together at his side like his father had shown him countless times. The motion of the imagined Kamehameha wave sent another wall of water skyward, but Gohan's thoughts weren't on the display of power.

Cellera's words echoed in his mind: he was the only one strong enough to protect his father right now. Coming from her, those words carried weight – she never said anything she didn't absolutely believe. It was the same conviction she'd shown when telling him he was the only one who could safely transport her family. No false praise, no empty reassurance – just that unwavering faith in his abilities.

His movements slowed as he remembered that dinner at his house, how she'd immediately noticed the self-doubt he'd been trying to hide. But she hadn't coddled him or dismissed his concerns. Instead, she'd challenged him to spar, pushing him to prove his worth to himself. Her method of encouragement reminded him so much of his father, and oddly enough, even Vegeta – believing in strength proved through action rather than words.

Her voice rang clear in his memory: "That power that's uniquely yours – the one that comes out when you have something worth protecting."

"Gohan!"

His mother's voice from inside Kame House made him freeze mid-stance. Panic overtook him as he quickly pulled out a capsule, clicking it and throwing it before him. A desk, chair, and stack of study books materialized from the explosion of smoke. He hastily pulled his white button-up shirt over his gi, dropping into the chair just as the door began to open. To anyone looking, he would appear to have been diligently studying the whole time.

Chi Chi studied her son from the doorway, fighting back an eye roll. Did he really think he could fool her? She'd raised him – he wasn't nearly as sneaky as he thought. The massive waves he'd been creating in the ocean had been perfectly visible through Kame House's windows.

Still, she maintained the act as she approached with a tray of orange juice and a sandwich. "Oh, there you are!" she called out with exaggerated surprise. "Studying so hard today, I see."

She set the tray down beside his books. "Why don't you take a break and have a snack? You've certainly earned it." The last part wasn't entirely pretense – those ruptures in the ocean's surface had been impressive, even if she wasn't supposed to have noticed them.

"Wow, my little boy is finally growing up," she continued her performance, watching him squirm slightly in his seat. "I'm so proud. Someday people will say, 'Who's that great man with his nose in the book?'"

Gohan let out that awkward laugh she knew all too well – the same one he'd used since childhood whenever he was trying to hide something. Chi Chi set the tray down on his desk with a deliberate thump that made him jump.

"Is that what you thought I'd say?"

"Mom, I can explain—" Gohan started, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"So long as you're keeping up with your studies, I'll allow it... for now." She fixed him with a stern look that couldn't quite hide her fondness. "At least study for an hour, then train for an hour."

Shock flashed across Gohan's face before he gave her an eager nod. Chi Chi smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Keep up the good work."

A bright grin spread across his face, reminding her so much of Goku. "M'kay!"

Chi Chi released a soft sigh as she made her way back to Kame House. There was no denying it anymore – Gohan was truly his father's son, and perhaps it was time she fully accepted that reality. The thought brought a small smile to her face as she considered what had helped ease her resistance: Cellera's influence on her son. The young Saiyan princess valued academic achievement just as deeply as combat prowess, and she'd never failed to encourage Gohan's scholarly ambitions alongside his training.

Her mind drifted through the countless moments she'd witnessed between the two children. She'd watched them pour over textbooks together, their study sessions seamlessly transitioning into image training as they discussed complex subjects between sparring techniques. Their interaction on the plane earlier, and just moments ago – the gentle concern in Gohan's voice when he'd told her to be careful, matched by that special smile Cellera always seemed to save just for him when she promised to return. Chi Chi recognized those signs better than they did themselves.

The realization made her think back to her own story, meeting Goku when they were both twelve. She'd known instantly that he was the one, drawn to his incredible strength and pure heart, even if his childish nature sometimes drove her to distraction. But she wouldn't change a single thing about him, not really. Now she was watching her son follow a similar path, falling for someone who balanced strength with intelligence, just as she had fallen for Goku's combination of power and kindness.

The parallel made her smile. Both Son men had found themselves drawn to strong-willed women who could match them blow for blow, yet valued more than just fighting. Chi Chi's lips curved into a knowing smile. Perhaps this was why she found herself more willing to compromise on Gohan's training these days. After all, if he was anything like his father when it came to matters of the heart, she knew that trying to stand between him and his chosen path – or chosen person – would be futile.

As the door to Kame House clicked shut, Gohan turned his attention to his studies. His mother's "keep up the good work" had carried approval for both his academic and training efforts – a rare acknowledgment that still made him smile. This unexpected compromise wasn't something he intended to waste. Besides, becoming a scholar remained his dream, even with all the chaos surrounding them.

The pencil moved steadily across his paper as he worked through the problems. His thoughts drifted to the obvious difference between himself and the full-blooded Saiyans in his life. While he enjoyed fighting to an extent, he'd come to realize he didn't share that consuming passion for battle that drove his father and Vegeta.

Even Cellera had changed recently. He remembered watching her battle against Dr. Gero, amazed by how three years of training had honed her skills to near perfection. But something had been different – her usual swift efficiency had given way to something else. She'd drawn out the fight longer than necessary, something she herself had admitted to and when Vegeta had ordered her to finish it, she'd seemed to snap out of some kind of trance. The memory of that moment still puzzled him.

Gohan pressed his pencil to his lips thoughtfully, making a mental note to ask her about it when he next saw her. For now though, he needed to complete this hour of studies so he could return to his training. His mind drifted back to that decisive battle five years ago, when Cellera had taught him his most important lesson – he had people worth protecting, things worth fighting for. That truth had shaped everything since, giving purpose to his power in a way that pure battle-lust never could.

The strength he sought wasn't for the thrill of combat or testing his limits. It was for keeping safe everything – and everyone – he held dear.

Chapter 21: Happy Birthday Cellera! (Mini Chapter)

Summary:

Soooo I almost forgot that today is Cellera's birthday and someone on tumblr suggested that I should write her first birthday 'celebration' on Earth that was mentioned back in chapter 16. I won't lie, I kind of had to speedrun this mini chapter since I literally didn't remember until like a day or so ago, so hopefully there aren't any mistakes, but I hope you guys all enjoy this mini chapter before the main one tomorrow!

The gravity chamber's hum filled the Capsule Corp grounds as morning sunlight filtered through the reinforced windows. Inside, Cellera's breath came in controlled bursts as she dodged a barrage of energy blasts from her father. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her muscles burning from the strain of training under 150 times Earth's normal gravity.

Vegeta stood with arms crossed, his expression calculating as he tracked his daughter's movements. "Your defense is improving," he noted, though his tone carried no warmth. "But your counter-attacks lack conviction. Your mother never hesitated to exploit an opening."

At the mention of Rhuba, Cellera's eyes narrowed. She adjusted her stance, analyzing the pattern of his attacks. While her father preferred overwhelming force, she'd learned from her mother that precision often prevailed against raw power. She'd need both to survive what was coming.

"Again," Vegeta commanded, uncrossing his arms as he shifted into an offensive stance.

The intercom system suddenly crackled to life, Bulma's voice filling the chamber. "Training session over! Gravity disengaging in ten seconds!"

Before either of them could respond, the gravity levels began dropping rapidly. Vegeta's face contorted with fury as he marched toward the control panel.

"Woman! What do you think you're doing?" he snapped, slamming his fist against the communications button.

Bulma's face appeared on the monitor screen, hands planted firmly on her hips, her blue hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. "What am I doing? What are YOU doing? Do you know what day it is?"

Cellera blinked, momentarily thrown by the question. "It's... Wednesday?" she ventured, glancing toward her father who looked equally confused by the Earth woman's behavior.

"It's your birthday!" Bulma exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "And here you are, training like it's any ordinary day!"

Vegeta scoffed, turning away from the screen. "A waste of time that could be spent getting stronger," he stated flatly. "The girl understands the importance of continuous training."

"It's fine, Bulma," Cellera interjected, stepping closer to the monitor. "The androids will be here in two years. We need every day of preparation we can get."

Bulma's eyes flashed dangerously. "She's turning eight, Vegeta! Eight! And this is her first birthday since settling on Earth. You can't seriously be making her train all day!"

"She's a Saiyan warrior," Vegeta replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smirk. "Not some soft Earthling child who needs constant coddling."

"Coddling?" Bulma's voice rose several octaves. "Celebrating the day she was born isn't coddling! It's showing her that she matters as more than just a training partner!"

As the two continued their verbal sparring, Cellera found herself studying them with growing fascination. There was something different in how they argued now compared to when she'd first arrived on Earth. What had once been purely antagonistic exchanges now carried an undercurrent of... something else. The way her father's gaze lingered on Bulma's animated gestures, how Bulma's cheeks flushed slightly with each retort—it reminded her of combat partners testing each other's defenses.

"If you want her to have this celebration so badly," Vegeta finally declared, his smirk widening with challenge, "then she'll have to earn it. Saiyans don't receive gifts—they prove their worth."

Bulma crossed her arms, mirroring his stance through the screen. "Fine. What's your condition?"

Vegeta turned to Cellera, amusement dancing in his eyes. "If the girl can land three solid blows against me today, she can have her... celebration." His eyes narrowed slightly. "I'll allow her to use the Super Saiyan form—she needs more practice controlling it anyway."

Bulma's triumphant smile spread across her face. "What do you say, Cellera? Think you can knock some sense into your father?"

A familiar competitive spark ignited in Cellera's chest at the challenge. While she'd never admit it aloud, the prospect of proving herself against her father always stirred something deep within her. She'd only used her Super Saiyan form in their training a handful of times since mastering the transformation after the Garlic Jr. incident—her father insisted on focusing on her technique in base form first.

"Three hits," she agreed, moving back into position as the gravity slowly began increasing again.

Vegeta's smirk held equal parts confidence and challenge. "Don't expect me to make this easy, girl. Birthday or not."

Cellera nodded, settling into her stance as she reached within herself for that familiar power. Golden light erupted around her small frame, her dark eyes shifting to teal as her hair lifted upward in a brilliant golden flame. The transformation still felt intense, a rush of energy and heightened senses flowing through her.

"Begin," Vegeta commanded.

Cellera barely had time to register his movement before Vegeta was upon her, his fist connecting solidly with her guard. The impact sent her sliding back several feet despite her transformed state. She grimaced—he truly wasn't holding back.

Recovering quickly, she launched her own assault, throwing a flurry of precisely aimed strikes that Vegeta deflected with practiced ease. Each blocked attack only heightened her determination as she analyzed his movements, searching for patterns in his defense.

"Your transformation makes you stronger, but your technique remains the same," Vegeta observed, driving forward with a powerful combination that forced Cellera to weave and dodge. "Power without control is wasted."

A roundhouse kick caught her in the side, sending her tumbling across the chamber floor. The impact would have incapacitated her in her base form, but the Super Saiyan transformation allowed her to roll back to her feet with only a momentary wince. Her father was fighting seriously—exactly as she'd expect.

Cellera wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow, her eyes tracking Vegeta's movements with focused intensity. While her father might not possess the raw power boost of her Super Saiyan form, his years of combat experience more than compensated for the difference.

As they exchanged blows, Cellera felt the familiar rhythm of combat taking hold. This wasn't just training—it was a dance they'd perfected over years, each anticipating the other's moves through countless battles. Vegeta might possess greater experience, but she had been studying him her entire life.

There—a pattern in his combination attacks. He favored a particular sequence when pressing an advantage, one that left a fraction of a second opening after the third strike. Cellera took a calculated risk, allowing herself to absorb a glancing blow to her shoulder to position herself perfectly.

As Vegeta completed his third strike, Cellera twisted inside his guard and landed a solid punch to his abdomen.

"One," she announced, jumping back before he could counter.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed, but a hint of pride flickered across his features. "Not bad," he acknowledged before launching himself forward with renewed intensity.

Their battle escalated, golden energy crackling around Cellera as she matched her father's ferocity. She took several solid hits, each one testing the limits of her endurance even in her transformed state. A particularly powerful strike sent her crashing into the chamber wall, leaving a Cellera-shaped dent in the reinforced metal.

She pushed herself up, wiping a trickle of blood from her lip as she assessed her father. He was breathing harder now, though his stance remained perfect. Despite his earlier comments, he was clearly taking this challenge seriously—a sign of respect she didn't take lightly.

Cellera launched herself forward with renewed determination, feinting left before dropping low and sweeping Vegeta's legs. He jumped to avoid the sweep, exactly as she'd anticipated. As he descended, she was already in position, her fist connecting solidly with his chest.

"Two," she counted, unable to keep a small smile from her lips despite the throbbing pain from her earlier impacts.

Vegeta landed with a slight frown, adjusting his approach. His next attack came with even greater precision, each strike calculated to exploit any weakness in her guard. Cellera found herself on the defensive, blocking and dodging with increasing difficulty as fatigue began to set in.

A powerful energy blast forced her to dive aside, leaving her momentarily exposed. Vegeta capitalized immediately, his boot connecting with her side and sending her tumbling across the floor. She coughed, feeling the ache of what would undoubtedly become impressive bruises by morning.

"You're relying too much on foresight," Vegeta noted as he blocked her counter-attacks. "Sometimes you need to trust your instincts."

Something in his words resonated. Her mother had always emphasized analysis, but her father's approach had merit too. Perhaps true combat mastery lay in blending both approaches—the strategic mind and the warrior's instinct working in harmony.

Cellera adjusted her approach, allowing her instincts to guide her movements while her analytical mind continued to search for patterns. She felt a shift in her fighting style, becoming more fluid, more unpredictable.

Vegeta noticed the change immediately, his own attacks becoming more cautious as he reassessed his daughter's approach. For several intense minutes, they exchanged blows without either gaining a clear advantage, the chamber echoing with the sounds of their combat.

When the opportunity finally came, it appeared in the form of Vegeta's growing frustration. As he launched a particularly powerful assault, Cellera recognized the slight overextension in his movements—the hunger to end the match overtaking his usual precision.

She feinted a retreat, drawing him further into his aggressive push. When he committed to a powerful right hook, she shifted inside his guard, taking the edge of the blow across her shoulder while simultaneously driving her elbow into his solar plexus.

"Three," she announced, her voice steady despite her ragged breathing and the various aches throughout her body.

For a moment, silence filled the chamber. Vegeta stood perfectly still, his expression unreadable as he stared at his daughter. Then, slowly, a small smirk formed on his lips.

"Acceptable," he stated, the single word carrying more approval than any lengthy praise might have.

The intercom crackled to life once more, Bulma's victorious cheer filling the chamber. "She did it! That means birthday celebration is officially on!" Her grin was wide enough to be seen even through the small monitor. "Go get cleaned up, and meet me in the main building in thirty minutes!"

As Bulma's face disappeared from the screen, Vegeta powered down the gravity chamber without further protest. Cellera released her transformation, the golden aura fading as her hair returned to its natural black. The sudden absence of the Super Saiyan energy made her injuries more apparent, though none were serious enough to warrant concern.

"Your technique has improved," Vegeta noted as they exited the chamber. "But tomorrow, we train for twice as long to make up for today's... diversion."

Cellera nodded, recognizing the statement for what it was—not a reprimand, but acknowledgment of her progress. Coming from her father, it was practically effusive praise.

---

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in casual Earth clothes, Cellera entered the Capsule Corp living area to find it transformed. A colorful banner hung across the wall, proudly proclaiming "Happy Birthday Cellera!" in bold letters. Small decorations adorned the room, tasteful rather than excessive—Bulma had clearly considered her preferences.

But what caught Cellera's attention was the centerpiece on the coffee table: a perfectly crafted strawberry shortcake, adorned with fresh berries and delicate cream. Beside it sat a small, carefully wrapped package.

"There she is!" Bulma exclaimed, appearing from the kitchen with a camera in hand. "Come sit down! I know it's not much of a party without other kids, but I figured you'd prefer something quieter anyway."

Cellera nodded gratefully, still somewhat overwhelmed by the effort Bulma had put into this celebration. On Frieza's ship, birthdays hadn't existed. After her mother's death, she doubted her father had even remembered such milestones.

"Thank you," she said simply, the words carrying more weight than their brevity suggested.

Bulma's expression softened. "Of course, sweetie. Now, present first or cake?"

"Present," Cellera decided, her curiosity piqued by the small package.

Bulma handed her the gift, watching eagerly as Cellera carefully unwrapped it. Inside lay a royal blue ribbon, made of silky material that caught the light as she lifted it from the box.

"I noticed you struggle sometimes with your hair getting in your face during training," Bulma explained. "This should help keep it back, and the color..." she smiled, "well, it seemed fitting for a princess, don't you think?"

Cellera ran her fingers over the smooth material, an unexpected lump forming in her throat. Such a simple gift, yet so thoughtfully chosen. "It's perfect," she said quietly.

"Here, let me show you how to use it," Bulma offered, taking the ribbon and standing behind Cellera. With gentle movements, she gathered Cellera's hair and tied it back in a practical ponytail, the blue ribbon securing it firmly in place. "There! What do you think?"

Cellera turned toward the nearby mirror, studying her reflection. The style was practical yet elegant, the blue ribbon contrasting beautifully with her dark hair. Something about seeing herself this way—in Earth clothes, with this new hairstyle—highlighted how much had changed since her arrival.

"I like it," she said finally, turning back to Bulma with a genuine smile.

"Great! Now, cake time!" Bulma announced cheerfully. "And this one is all yours—I made sure to get a small one for us adults to share later. But this one? Nobody touches but you."

As Bulma began cutting a generous slice, a figure appeared in the doorway. Vegeta leaned against the frame, arms crossed over his chest, watching the proceedings with his usual stern expression. Cellera hadn't expected him to make an appearance, and from Bulma's surprised glance, neither had she.

"I thought you'd be back to training by now," Bulma remarked, though her tone lacked its usual edge.

Vegeta's expression remained impassive. "The chamber needs recalibration after our session," he stated flatly, though both Bulma and Cellera knew the chamber had been functioning perfectly.

He approached the table, his eyes briefly scanning the decorations with thinly veiled disdain before settling on Cellera. "Enjoy your Earth celebration," he said gruffly. "Tomorrow's training begins at dawn."

Without another word, he turned to leave, pausing only briefly at the doorway. "The color looks suitable on you," he added, before disappearing down the hallway.

Bulma and Cellera exchanged surprised glances before Bulma broke into a smile. "Well, that's practically a sonnet coming from him," she joked, placing the cake before Cellera. "See? Even he can acknowledge something special now and then."

As Cellera took her first bite of the sweet, tangy cake, she found herself reflecting on the unexpected turns her life had taken. Three years ago, she'd been fighting for survival under Frieza's rule. Now, she was enjoying a birthday celebration while training to defend her new home.

The royal blue ribbon and the strawberry shortcake represented simple joys she never would have experienced before Earth. Even her father's grudging participation showed how much had changed. From a life focused solely on survival to one where birthdays could be celebrated—the contrast was striking.

Tomorrow would bring renewed training and her father's doubled expectations. But today, just for these brief hours, she allowed herself to simply enjoy being eight years old. And as she savored another bite of cake, she decided that perhaps there was wisdom in some Earth customs after all.

Chapter 22

Summary:

Back to the main story! I apologize for any mistakes as my beta reader is behind like 3 chapters, but hey, thats life!

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across hilled terrain as Cellera, Trunks, and Krillin raced toward Gingertown. Their urgent flight was suddenly interrupted by a surge of power that made all three warriors halt mid-air, the sheer magnitude of the energy forcing them to steady themselves against the invisible waves washing over them.

"What... what is this ki?" Trunks' voice carried equal parts awe and uncertainty. "I've never felt anything like it."

Cellera closed her eyes, focusing on the familiar undertones within this new, overwhelming presence. "It's Piccolo," she said, recognition dawning. "But different somehow - stronger."

"This is awesome!" Krillin's excitement burst forth as he pumped his fist in the air. "They really did it - the merge with Kami actually happened!"

"I never dreamed Piccolo could reach this level of power," Trunks breathed out, still processing the immense ki they were sensing.

"He's surpassed even father's strength," Cellera noted, unable to keep a hint of respect from her voice. Though she hadn't spent much time around Piccolo during the three years of preparation, the few encounters she'd had were enough to show her his fierce dedication to growing stronger.

Krillin's grin widened as he declared, "With a Super Namekian on our side, we might actually have a shot at taking down those androids!" His optimism faltered slightly as he added, "And whatever's lurking in Gingertown."

Before anyone could respond, a massive shockwave rocked the air around them. They instinctively raised their arms to shield against the pressure as brilliant light erupted in the distance, painting the clouds in shades of violet and gold.

"Did you feel that?" Krillin asked unnecessarily, his earlier enthusiasm giving way to concern.

"The battle's already started," Cellera said, her muscles tensing. "We need to move. Now."

They surged forward with renewed urgency, the wind whipping past as they pushed their speed to its limit. As they approached Gingertown's outskirts, the source of the commotion came into view - and Cellera felt her blood run cold.

Piccolo stood squared off against what could only be described as a nightmare given form. The creature towered over even the Namekian's impressive height, its green chitinous body marked with black speckles that seemed to absorb light. But it was the tail that drew Cellera's attention - thick and powerful, ending in a wickedly sharp stinger that brought back unwanted memories of their discovery in the forest. The resemblance to that disgusting shell was undeniable.

"It really is Piccolo!" Krillin exclaimed, before his voice dropped with uncertainty. "But who's that other guy?"

"It must be whatever came out of that shell we found," Trunks replied, studying the creature with growing horror. After a moment of stunned observation, he added with grim certainty, "It really is a monster."

The creature's attention shifted to their arrival, and Cellera noticed how its gaze fixed particularly on Trunks. Its eyes narrowed with an unsettling intelligence, and despite its orange beak-like mouth, she could have sworn it was smirking at her brother. Something about that calculating look sent chills down her spine - this wasn't just some mindless beast. 

She forced herself to maintain composure despite her instinctive revulsion toward its arthropodal form. The mysterious time machine, the impossible ki signatures they'd sensed, and now this creature that seemed to recognize Trunks on sight - the pieces suggested a larger puzzle, one she suspected they were only beginning to glimpse.

They descended beside Piccolo, touching down on the now barren land of what had once been Gingertown. The area that was a bustling city filled with citizens is now nothing more than a wasteland of dirt and rubble from what had been buildings. 

"Was it this thing?" Krillin asked, his voice tight with horror. "Did it kill everyone in Gingertown?"

Piccolo's expression darkened as he gave a sharp nod. "Watch out for that tail," he warned, eyes never leaving the creature. "That's how he wiped them all out."

Cellera's gaze shifted to the deadly appendage as it swayed back and forth, the motion unsettlingly familiar. She'd seen that same predatory movement countless times during their days under Frieza's rule. The parallel made her stomach turn.

"Piccolo," she called out, fighting to keep her voice steady despite her growing unease. "Why does this creature have my father's ki signature? And Kakarot's... and the others?" The impossible mixture of energies she'd sensed earlier now seemed to pulse from the monster before them, like some twisted parody of their combined power.

"Later," Piccolo replied tersely. "Right now, our priority is taking him down."

A smirk crossed Cellera's face, her natural distaste toward the creature's exoskeletal horror feeding into her Saiyan desire for battle. "That should be simple enough," she said, falling into a fighting stance. "I've never cared much for bugs."

The creature's laugh caught them all off guard - deep and rasping, it held none of the mechanical quality they'd come to expect from Dr. Gero's creations. "Well, that's not very nice, Cellera," it said, fixing her with an unnervingly knowing gaze.

Cellera felt her confidence waver. How did this thing know her name? She'd never encountered the creature before, yet it spoke to her with the familiarity of an old acquaintance.

The creature turned its attention back to Piccolo, its beak-like mouth somehow conveying amusement. "Taking me out, huh? Do you really think it'll be so simple?"

"It spoke!" Krillin blurted out, taking an involuntary step backward. The human warrior had clearly been expecting something more bestial from the chitinous monstrosity.

Piccolo's stance remained rigid as he addressed the creature. "Under the circumstances, I don't see much chance of you beating us."

"You may be right," the monster conceded, though its tone held no trace of concern. "Which is why I have little choice but to withdraw for now."

"You're not going anywhere," Piccolo growled. His lips curled into a knowing smirk as he added, "And that pathetic Kamehameha of yours isn't going to help you escape."

"It can use Goku's Kamehameha as well?" Krillin's voice cracked with disbelief as he turned to Piccolo for confirmation.

The creature's rough laugh echoed across the empty street. "That's right, Krillin. And not just the Kamehameha." Its eyes glinted with dark satisfaction. "If I needed to, I could probably create a Spirit Bomb as well."

The words hit Cellera like a physical blow. This abomination could somehow access Kakarot's most powerful techniques? Her mind raced through the implications - not only did it possess their combined ki signatures, but it had intimate knowledge of their battle abilities. And there was something else, something that made her blood run cold: it knew their names. It had addressed both her and Krillin with the casual familiarity of an old friend.

"How... how in the world do you know my name?" Krillin voiced her unspoken question, his earlier awe giving way to growing unease. "Man, Goku's going to be stunned when he hears about this!"

The effect of Kakarot's name on the creature was immediate and startling. Its confident posture faltered for a split second as it processed this information. "What was that?" Its voice carried a note of genuine surprise. "Son Goku is alive, you say?"

"Of course he is!" Krillin shot back, though uncertainty had crept into his voice.

The creature's expression shifted into something more contemplative, its earlier predatory focus giving way to careful consideration. "It seems this history is quite a bit different from the one that I know."

Those words confirmed everything Cellera had suspected since they'd discovered that abandoned time machine in the forest. The moss-covered vessel, the mysterious egg, and now this creature that possessed impossible knowledge of their techniques - it all connected. This monster had arrived in their timeline before Trunks.

But two crucial questions remained unanswered: how had this thing acquired a time machine that so perfectly matched her brother's? And more importantly, what was its true purpose in coming to their time? Something told her they wouldn't like the answers to either question.

"I will do whatever it takes to acquire numbers 17 & 18!" The creature's sudden shout shattered their tense standoff. It shot upward, positioning itself directly in front of the sun. Before anyone could react, a blinding light erupted from its form. "SOLAR FLARE!"

Searing white light flooded their vision. Cellera threw her arm up too late, curses spilling from her lips as spots danced behind her eyelids. Around her, she could hear similar exclamations of pain and frustration from the others.

As their vision slowly returned, the reality of the situation became clear - the creature had vanished completely.

"He got away!" Trunks' growl of frustration cut through the air.

"Damn it all!" Piccolo's voice thundered with rage. "I thought the Solar Flare was supposed to be one of Tien's techniques!"

"Well, actually..." Krillin raised his hands in a placating gesture, "the Solar Flare isn't that difficult to pull off. I mean, Goku and I can both use it too."

His attempt at explanation did nothing to calm Piccolo's fury. The Namekian warrior shot into the sky, his cape snapping behind him as he searched frantically for any sign of their quarry. "The damned coward's masking his presence," he snarled. "I didn't think he could do that too!"

Cellera's fists clenched at her sides. She understood Piccolo's outrage all too well - this monster was proving more dangerous with each passing moment. Not only could it utilize Kakarot's techniques, but Tien's as well. Just how many of their abilities had it managed to acquire?

Piccolo landed heavily beside them, the ground cracking beneath his feet. "I was careless!" he berated himself. "I should have ended this sooner!"

A familiar surge of ki drew Cellera's attention to the east. Her father was approaching rapidly. She turned toward his energy signature, but Piccolo's next words snapped her focus back to their immediate crisis.

"I refuse to let him reach his perfect form!"

The word "perfect" had barely registered in Cellera's mind when a familiar presence descended from above. Her father hovered momentarily, golden aura fading as he powered down from Super Saiyan. He landed beside them with characteristic royal bearing, but Cellera didn't miss how his eyes narrowed as he assessed Piccolo's new power level.

"What in the world just happened here?" Vegeta demanded, his casual tone belied by the tension in his stance.

"I'll explain everything once Tien arrives," Piccolo replied evenly. "I can sense his ki approaching."

Vegeta's lip curled slightly at being made to wait. "Then let me ask you this much." His gaze fixed on Piccolo with predatory intensity. "Are you truly Piccolo? How is it possible that you've managed to increase your power so drastically in such a short time?"

"Piccolo and Kami have fused," Trunks supplied, apparently missing the dangerous edge in their father's voice.

"He merged?" Vegeta's composed facade cracked for an instant. "It was that simple?"

Cellera recognized the warning signs immediately - the clenched fists, the grinding teeth, the slight tremor of barely contained rage. Her father's pride had taken yet another blow. First the androids had humiliated him, and now Piccolo had surpassed him through what he clearly viewed as a shortcut to power.

The situation carried uncomfortable echoes of their time on Namek, when Piccolo's fusion with Nail had suddenly elevated him to a level that could challenge Frieza’s second form. History seemed to be repeating itself - Piccolo once again gaining unprecedented power through fusion to face an overwhelming threat. The parallel wasn't lost on Cellera, and she suspected it only made the pill more bitter for her father to swallow.

"Look! It's Tien!" Krillin's shout cut through the mounting tension. Vegeta's interrogation halted as the three-eyed warrior landed beside them, offering a brief greeting before echoing the question on everyone's mind.

"What's going on?"

Piccolo turned to address them all, his expression grave. "The monster we encountered was a biomechanical android called Cell. He was created by a computer in Doctor Gero's laboratory, continuing its work independently after his death." He paused, letting the first revelation sink in before delivering the second. "And he came here from twenty-four years in the future using Trunks' time machine."

The news landed like a physical blow. Cellera felt her jaw clench - it seemed even death couldn't stop Doctor Gero from tormenting them with his creations. Her previous disgust toward Cell's grotesque anatomy was now compounded by the knowledge that he was yet another of Gero's abominations.

"There's more," Piccolo continued. "Cell was created using cells collected from the greatest fighters - Tien, Goku, Vegeta, myself... even Frieza and King Cold."

Cellera's eyes widened slightly. So that explained the impossible mixture of ki signatures they'd sensed - Cell wasn't mimicking their energy, he possessed it at a cellular level. His name suddenly made perfect sense.

"C-Created from our cells?" The slight waver in her father's voice betrayed his shock.

"But how could he manage something like that?" Trunks asked.

"I remember Doctor Gero mentioning a spy-robot insect," Cellera said, pieces clicking into place. "He used it to survey Kakarot's battles and the others. That must be how he collected the cells."

"Exactly," Piccolo confirmed with a sharp nod.

"What's his goal?" Tien's question carried an edge of dread, as if he already suspected the answer wouldn't be pleasant.

Piccolo's expression darkened further. "Cell gains power by absorbing others - that's what happened to Gingertown's population. But his ultimate objective is to absorb Androids 17 and 18. If he succeeds, he'll achieve his perfect form and become the strongest being ever conceived."

Silence descended as the weight of this new revelation settled over the group. They'd barely survived their encounter with the androids, and now they faced a creature specifically designed to absorb and surpass them. Doctor Gero's final gift to them was proving more nightmarish than any of them could have imagined.

"We have two options," Piccolo broke the heavy silence. "Either we find and kill Cell, or we track down 17 and 18 and eliminate them first." His eyes narrowed as he added, "I'm inclined to focus on Cell before his power grows beyond what we can handle."

"Agreed," Cellera said. "Cell would be the easier target to eliminate in his current state." Though the thought of actively hunting that insect-like abomination made her skin crawl. 

"But will we even be able to find him?" Trunks asked. "Now that he knows how powerful Piccolo is, won't he just mask his ki and continue his attacks?"

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, considering her brother's words. Cell had already demonstrated his ability to conceal his presence during his escape. Without any way to track him, he could strike anywhere, at any time.

"If we can't stop Cell from merging with 17 and 18..." Tien's voice trailed off grimly. "We'll be in a world of trouble."

"More than that," Piccolo added. "With Frieza and King Cold's cells, he's a threat to the entire universe."

"Not to mention my blood as well." Vegeta's voice cut through their strategic discussion like a blade. His lip curled in disgust as he surveyed the group. "Everything you're proposing reeks of weak-willed cowardice."

His gaze fell on Cellera, disappointment and anger flashing in his eyes. The look clearly said she should know better than to support such cautious tactics.

"If Cell wants to merge with the androids," Vegeta continued, his trademark sneer deepening, "I say let him! It will save me the trouble of hunting them down one by one."

Rage built in Cellera's chest as her father's words hung in the air. This was Namek all over again - another overwhelming threat to their survival, and once more her father seemed determined to let his pride endanger them all.

"I couldn't care less what the enemy does," Vegeta declared with characteristic arrogance. "I'll kill every last one of them either way."

Something inside Cellera snapped. She would not stand by and watch history repeat itself. "Absolutely NOT!" The force of her own shout even surprised her as she strode toward her father. "Have you forgotten your battle with Android 18? Cell would be merging with opponents you couldn't defeat - he would surpass even their limitations!"

Vegeta's eyes blazed with fury as he turned on his daughter. "How dare you talk down to me?" he snarled. "Watch your mouth, girl."

But Cellera refused to back down this time. "You're making the exact same self-sabotaging mistakes as you did on Namek!" Her voice rose with years of pent-up frustration. "Once again, you're willing to risk all our lives just to prove your power!"

The others watched in stunned silence as father and daughter faced off. Even Krillin, who had witnessed their confrontations before, seemed taken aback. The last time he'd seen Cellera stand up to her father, she had been five years old, her voice carrying the hurt of a child who couldn't understand her father's actions. Now, at ten, her voice held nothing but raw anger.

Trunks stared at his sister in disbelief. Since his arrival, he had never seen her direct such fury at their father. She had always seemed to accept Vegeta's difficult nature with patience and understanding, but something about this situation had finally pushed her past her limit.

"Spare me your hypocritical lectures about self-sabotage," Vegeta's voice cut through her anger like ice. "Or have you forgotten your own actions with Doctor Gero?"

The words struck home with devastating accuracy. Cellera felt her rage freeze in her chest as the truth of his accusation sank in. Her fists clenched at her sides as she struggled to form a response, but no words came. Her father was right - she had done exactly what she was accusing him of. She had let her growing Saiyan battle instincts override her judgment, drawing out the fight instead of ending it quickly. That delay had given Gero the opening he needed to flee and activate the androids.

The weight of that failure pressed down on her shoulders. How could she criticize her father's choices when her own actions had helped create this nightmare?

Vegeta turned away from his daughter, his posture rigid with determination. "I will surpass them all," he declared, his voice carrying absolute conviction. "I swear it on everything. I will go beyond a Super Saiyan."

"Go beyond even a Super Saiyan?" Trunks whispered in disbelief, exchanging a stunned look with Cellera. The concept seemed impossible - the legendary transformation itself had been thought a myth until recently.

"Kakarot will try to do the same, no doubt," Vegeta added, his lip curling slightly at the name. He rose into the air, pausing only to throw one final barb over his shoulder. "You fools can do whatever it is you're going to do on your own." His departure kicked up a cloud of dust and debris, as if even the earth itself couldn't contain his fury.

As the dust settled around them, Piccolo's voice carried equal parts awe and skepticism. "Beyond a Super Saiyan? Is such a thing even possible?"

Cellera barely registered the question. Her father's words about her hypocrisy still stung, but they couldn't afford to dwell on past mistakes - not with Cell's threat looming over them. She turned to Trunks, sparing one last glance in the direction their father had vanished.

"We need to find Doctor Gero's underground laboratory," she said, forcing herself to focus on their immediate priorities. "We have to destroy this timeline's Cell before he can develop further." She paused, remembering their earlier discovery about the androids. "And perhaps we'll find something to help Bulma create a shutdown switch."

Piccolo gave a sharp nod of approval. "While you search for the lab, Tien and I will continue scouting this area. Cell might have left some trace we can follow."

"If you can't find anything, you should head to Kame House," Krillin suggested. "We could monitor the news broadcasts - they might give us a clue about Cell's next target."

The logic was sound. Cell might be able to mask his ki, but he couldn't hide the devastation he left in his wake. They would have to track him through more conventional means.

The trio flew in formation across the rolling landscape, headed back toward the mountain range where they'd first discovered Doctor Gero's laboratory. While Krillin led the way, Trunks kept casting concerned glances at his sister. The usual calculating light in her eyes had been replaced by something darker, more troubled. Her brow would furrow occasionally, followed by a sharp narrowing of her eyes - telltale signs of internal turmoil that only those who knew her well would recognize.

In Cellera's mind, her father's accusation played on repeat: "Spare me your hypocritical lectures about self-sabotage." Each time the words echoed through her thoughts, they seemed to cut deeper. The frustration building in her chest was a tangled mess - anger at herself for her earlier mistakes, fury at her father for so casually throwing those failures in her face while simultaneously acknowledging and continuing his own self-destructive behavior.

But what truly twisted the knife was knowing she'd had a chance to redeem herself. She'd already failed once by overthinking Kakarot's condition, letting her mind spiral through theoretical possibilities instead of trusting her instincts. Then, when presented with an opportunity to correct her course, she'd swung too far in the opposite direction, letting her battle drive override her judgment with Gero.

Her fingers drifted up to touch the pendant that lay against her chest - her mother's gift. Would her mother be disappointed to see how she had handled things? Had she gone through similar struggles at this age, fighting against the pull of her own nature, especially under Frieza’s rule? 

The mountains loomed closer, but Cellera barely noticed them through the haze of her self-recrimination. She had always prided herself on finding that same balance her mother had achieved, but lately that equilibrium seemed to be slipping. The fact that her father had been the one to point this out only made it more difficult to bear.

"Do you think it's really possible?" Trunks' question pulled Cellera from her spiral of self-doubt. "Going beyond Super Saiyan?"

She pressed her thumb to her lip, considering the question. It offered a welcome distraction from her darker thoughts. "I've never given it much consideration," she admitted. "Super Saiyan itself was thought to be nothing more than legend until recently." A slight smile tugged at her lips despite her mood. "But if anyone could achieve it, it would be father and Kakarot."

The thought sparked another wave of uncertainty. She had achieved the legendary transformation before any of them - though she'd only beaten Kakarot to it by the smallest margin. Yet that meant little now. Her father had mastered the form with remarkable speed, calling upon its power at will, while she had struggled for eight months just to access it again after that first explosive transformation on Namek. Only the knowledge that Kakarot had faced similar difficulties gave her any comfort. 

"Hey! Look down there! I think we've made it." Krillin's shout yanked her from her thoughts. Below them lay the remains of Doctor Gero's laboratory, now little more than a field of rubble from Trunks' earlier attack.

They descended through the bitter mountain air, landing among the scattered debris. A harsh wind whipped through the ruins, making Krillin huddle into himself as his teeth chattered audibly. "I-it's freezing!" He stamped his feet, trying to generate warmth. "S-So it was under the laboratory? How are we supposed to find it underneath all this rubble?"

The remnants of Gero's life work surrounded them - twisted metal, shattered glass, and crumbled stone scattered across the mountainside like a giant's discarded toys. Somewhere beneath this destruction lay the answers they sought.

"Simple," Cellera stated, raising her hand to release a controlled ki blast that cleared a section of debris. She turned to Trunks and Krillin, gesturing to different areas of the ruins. "If we each take a section and work systematically, we'll find the entrance faster."

They nodded in agreement, spreading out across the rubble field. The mountain air filled with the sound of small explosions as they carefully cleared away layers of destruction, searching for any sign of Gero's hidden facility.

"Over here!" Trunks called out after several minutes of searching. "I think I've found something."

Cellera and Krillin made their way to where Trunks stood. A metal ladder descended into darkness, its top rungs bent and broken from the laboratory's collapse.

"Nice work," Cellera said, while Krillin flashed Trunks an appreciative grin. Without further discussion, they dropped down into the underground chamber one by one.

The secret laboratory proved surprisingly austere. A massive computer dominated the center of the room, its surface dotted with blinking lights. Thick tubes snaked out from its base, connecting to a large pod filled with green liquid. Papers and scientific equipment lay scattered across several workbenches, telling the story of Gero's obsessive work.

"Take a look at this," Trunks said, moving toward the pod. Cellera followed, fighting back her instinctive revulsion as she approached. Her brother's voice carried a note of disbelief as he added, "This must be what becomes Cell in our time."

Cellera forced herself to study the tiny organism floating in the viscous green fluid. It seemed impossible that something so small could develop into the monster they'd encountered in Gingertown. Yet the evidence was undeniable - this was Cell in his embryonic form.

Unable to stomach the sight any longer, she turned her attention to the papers strewn across nearby tables. As she began sorting through the documents, Krillin's voice carried across the room.

"Find anything about the androids?"

"Perhaps," Cellera replied, her eyes widening as she examined one particular set of blueprints. "I think I may have found something significant."

The technical drawings in her hands promised to change everything they thought they knew about their mechanical adversaries.

"Look at this," Cellera said, laying the blueprints across a cleared section of workbench. Trunks and Krillin leaned in, their eyes widening as they read the label at the top.

"C-Cyborgs?!" Trunks' voice cracked with disbelief.

Krillin glanced between the siblings, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Is there really a difference?"

"A significant one," Cellera replied, studying the intricate diagrams. "Androids are purely mechanical constructs - artificial beings made entirely of machinery. Cyborgs, however, are living organisms enhanced with cybernetic components."

Krillin's blank stare made her pause. "Could you say that again in normal person speak?" he asked. "Some of us aren't geniuses like you and Gohan."

Cellera clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes at his request. "17 and 18 were - well, are human," she clarified. "They've been modified with cybernetic enhancements, unlike the purely mechanical androids we faced before." Her fingers traced the detailed notes beside the diagrams. "They retain human biological functions. They could even have children if they wanted to."

The revelation cast their earlier encounter with the androids in a new light. "It explains why they display more personality than the others," she added. "They're not just following programming - they're modified humans making their own choices."

As her eyes moved to the documents attached to the blueprints, Cellera felt her stomach twist. The clinical words documenting how Doctor Gero had acquired his "test subjects" painted a picture more horrifying than she'd imagined.

The documents revealed themselves to be Gero's personal notes, his precise handwriting detailing a story far darker than mere mechanical construction:

Subject Acquisition: Twins Lapis and Lazuli (local delinquents) successfully acquired for Project Infinity. Their youth and natural combat aptitude make them ideal candidates for cybernetic enhancement. The fact that they were merely street criminals means their disappearance will raise minimal suspicion.

Cellera's hands tightened on the papers as she continued reading:

Procedure successful beyond expectations. Complete cellular reconstruction has transformed these worthless delinquents into the perfect instruments of my revenge. Designated as Android 17 (Lapis) and Android 18 (Lazuli). Once properly conditioned, they will carry out my mission to destroy Son Goku.

The final entry carried an edge of frustrated rage:

Those blasted children refuse to submit to proper control. Their rebellious nature persists despite extensive modifications. No choice but to place them in stasis until I can implement stronger behavioral constraints. They WILL learn to obey their creator.

As Cellera and the others finished reading, a heavy silence fell over the underground laboratory. The clinical brutality of Gero's notes cast their mechanical opponents in an entirely new light. These weren't simply robots following programming - they were kidnapped children who had been forcibly transformed into living weapons.

"Doctor Gero really was a bastard," Cellera stated flatly, her voice tight with controlled anger.

"You sure have that right," Krillin responded, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by rare fury.

As Cellera began carefully rolling the blueprints, Trunks cleared his throat. "We should finish up here and get these to Mother. She'll need them to create that switch to destroy the androi-" He caught himself, the new knowledge making him adjust his terminology. "The cyborgs."

A surprising wave of sympathy washed over Cellera at the thought of destroying 17 and 18. The revelation of their true nature - actual humans who had been twisted into weapons - cast all their previous interactions in a harsh new light. Their behavior made more sense now: the rebellion against Gero's programming, their treatment of combat as a game rather than a mission. They weren't just malfunctioning machines; they were people who had been robbed of their humanity, transformed into tools for someone else's revenge.

17's insistence on doing things "the fun way" carried a deeper meaning now. He wasn't simply being illogical or rebellious - he was trying to reclaim something of the life that had been stolen from him, experiencing the freedom denied to him during those years in stasis.

Cellera shook her head sharply, trying to dispel these dangerous thoughts. No. She couldn't allow sympathy to cloud her judgment, not again. She had already made too many mistakes that endangered others - hesitating with Kakarot's illness, letting her battle instincts take over with Gero. With her father's judgment compromised by pride and Cell actively hunting the cyborgs, eliminating them was the only rational choice.

Lost in her internal struggle, she failed to notice Krillin watching her with growing concern. The former monk had seen that conflicted expression before - on his own face, when he had first sensed there might be more to these "androids" than simple machines.

Krillin studied Cellera carefully, recognizing the battle waging behind her carefully controlled exterior. It was strange, seeing the daughter of someone as ruthlessly pragmatic as Vegeta wrestling with sympathy for their enemies. But that tension between practical necessity and moral consideration was something he could understand.

Despite his reputation as the group's jokester, Krillin had always possessed a unique sensitivity to others' emotional states - perhaps because he'd spent so many years learning to read opponents in battle, or maybe simply because he himself wore his heart on his sleeve.

He'd felt that same conflict himself just days ago, when he'd first glimpsed Android 18's face. Something in her eyes had spoken to him - a flash of humanity that seemed impossible for a supposed killing machine. Now, watching Cellera's expression shift between resolve and doubt as she rolled the blueprints, he recognized a kindred spirit caught in an impossible position.

Their reasons might be different - his own conflict stemming from an unexpected personal connection, while hers seemed rooted in a principled understanding of what it meant to be used as a weapon - but the internal struggle was remarkably similar. It was a side of her he'd rarely glimpsed beneath her composed exterior, a depth of compassion that added another layer to the person he'd come to know. Unlike Vegeta with his ruthless pragmatism, Cellera had always shown a more tempered approach - but this moment revealed something deeper than mere restraint.

As he observed her visibly trying to push away her sympathy, Krillin turned away to give her privacy, a small, sad smile touching his lips. He wouldn't mention what he'd seen - not when her father's recent accusation of hypocrisy clearly still stung. But he filed away this glimpse of her more compassionate nature, another reminder that even the most methodical fighters could find themselves torn between what strategy demanded and what their hearts suggested was right.

With grim determination, they systematically destroyed every piece of equipment in Gero's underground laboratory. Machinery sparked and shattered under their combined assault, ensuring nothing of the doctor's work would survive. They ascended through the access shaft, emerging into the bitter mountain air.

"And now to finish the job!" Krillin's shout echoed across the mountainside as he unleashed a final blast, reducing what remained of the facility to smoldering rubble.

As they took to the sky, putting distance between themselves and the destruction behind them, Cellera adjusted her grip on the rolled blueprints. "I'll take these to Bulma," she said, glancing at her brother. "Do you want to come with me?"

Trunks' response caught her off guard. "Actually, I'm going to try training alongside Father." His expression hardened with resolve. "If there really is a level beyond Super Saiyan, I need to discover it too."

His words stirred something in Cellera as she recalled her earlier thoughts about their transformations. The gap between her father's mastery and her own struggles with the form suddenly seemed wider. If an even greater power existed beyond Super Saiyan, they would need to reach it. Their current strength might not be enough against the combined threats they faced.

"You really think Vegeta will allow that?" Krillin asked, skepticism clear in his voice.

"I'm not exactly thrilled about it either," Trunks admitted, casting a meaningful glance at his sister. "But Father understands, even if he won't admit it - training with a partner yields better results than training alone."

A smirk crossed Cellera's face at her brother's insight. He had already learned to read their father's nature - how the pride that made him reject help would also prevent him from refusing a training partner when it meant faster progress. She had experienced it herself during their three years of preparation, watching her own abilities grow through their shared training sessions. Even Gohan, despite his current crisis of confidence, had shown remarkable growth training alongside others.

"You could join us after delivering the blueprints," Trunks suggested. The suggestion made Cellera's face scrunch up in obvious irritation - her father's earlier words still stung too fresh.

Trunks couldn't help but chuckle at her expression. "I'll take that as a no."

"I'll consider it," she replied, though her tone suggested otherwise. "But don't expect much from father right now. His pride has taken another hit - he may just ignore you entirely."

Trunks acknowledged her warning with a casual two-finger salute before banking away from them. "Best of luck!" Krillin called after him.

The sprawling dome of Capsule Corporation soon came into view. Minutes later, they stood in the familiar confines of Dr. Briefs' laboratory, watching as the scientist pored over the recovered blueprints with professional fascination.

"Remarkable," he muttered, adjusting his glasses. "Doctor Gero's work is truly extraordinary - there are elements here that even I can't fully comprehend." He shook his head slowly. "Such a shame he didn't direct that genius toward better purposes."

Bulma hunched over her desk, a separate set of blueprints spread before her. Cellera stood at her shoulder, watching as Bulma's trained eye dissected the complex diagrams. "The base structure is human," Bulma mused, tracing a circuit path with her finger. "But everything else has been enhanced with bio-organic components."

"Can you find any weaknesses in the design?" Cellera asked, studying the intricate modifications that had transformed two ordinary teenagers into something beyond human.

"I'll need time to study this more thoroughly," Bulma replied, still absorbed in the technical details. Then a confident smirk - one that mirrored Vegeta's with uncanny accuracy - spread across her face. "But I can already see a few components that might give us an opening. Just leave it to me!"

"We'll work as quickly as possible," Dr. Briefs assured Krillin, who had started edging toward the door.

"Thanks, really," Krillin replied. He paused, noticing that Cellera hadn't moved from her position beside Bulma's desk, still intently focused on the blueprints. "Are you coming back to Kame House?"

Cellera considered for a moment. The thought of returning to watch helplessly for news of Cell's movements held little appeal compared to potentially helping develop a solution here. "I think I'll stay and assist Bulma if I can."

"Alright," Krillin nodded in understanding. "I'll let Gohan and the others know where you are." He took his leave, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss.

The mention of Gohan's name brought a slight pang - she knew he'd worry, but right now she needed to focus on something productive rather than dwelling on her earlier failures.

Three days had passed since the discovery in Gero's lab. Cellera had finally torn herself away from Capsule Corporation, where she'd spent countless hours helping Bulma decipher the android schematics and complete work on their replicated Saiyan armor. The promise of fresh air and a change of scenery had drawn her to Kame House - but any hope of respite vanished the moment she arrived.

The assembled group huddled around the television, faces grim as the news anchor's voice filled the room: "...reports of a monster in the southern district. Early estimates suggest at least half the town's population has been killed..."

"Damn it!" Piccolo's curse echoed what they were all thinking. Cell had struck again.

"The plane's ready!" Yamcha called from the doorway. "We need to move!"

They rushed outside where Yamcha's aircraft sat waiting, engines already humming. As they piled in and took to the sky, Yamcha's voice carried a hint of optimism. "Cell won't be able to sense our approach this way," he said, hands steady on the controls. "We've got him this time!"

"Don't be too sure," Piccolo cautioned, his expression dark. "Cell is clever. If he spots us coming, he'll just mask his presence again and slip away."

The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air - they were racing toward another empty town, hoping to catch a glimpse of their enemy before he could vanish yet again. Cellera wondered if two days spent poring over android schematics might have been better used searching for Cell, but she pushed the thought aside. Second-guessing herself had already caused enough problems.

Piccolo sat cross-legged near the front of the aircraft, his eyes closed in meditation. Cellera and Gohan exchanged knowing looks - they both recognized how deeply the situation with Cell was affecting the Namekian warrior. His frustration seemed to run even deeper than his concerns about the androids.

"Southern district isn't too far," Yamcha called from the pilot's seat. "Just sit tight everyone."

Gohan and Cellera settled into seats at the back of the plane, the familiar comfort of each other's presence offering a momentary respite from the tension. After a moment, Gohan turned to her. "You didn't want to train with Trunks and your dad?"

"No," Cellera replied, a slight pout forming. "I don't particularly want to see father right now."

Gohan almost smiled at her expression - it was the same one she'd worn since childhood whenever Vegeta had done something to annoy her. But something in her tone suggested this was different from their usual father-daughter friction. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Cellera bit her lip, struggling with how to explain. "We had a... disagreement," she finally said. "The worst part is, father was right about what he said." Her hands clenched slightly in her lap. "But seeing him now, after he acknowledged his self-destructive behavior and still chose to continue it..." She shook her head. "It would just remind me of my own failure."

Her words carried a weight Gohan hadn't heard before - not just frustration with her father, but a deeper self-recrimination that didn't suit her usual confidence.

Gohan's brow furrowed at her uncharacteristically harsh self-judgment. This wasn't like her - Cellera had always faced challenges head-on, learning from mistakes rather than dwelling on them. "What do you mean by failure?"

Cellera shifted in her seat, turning slightly toward him. "Father explained that I've reached a certain stage in Saiyan development. Our drive for combat intensifies, our battle instincts become heightened." She paused, studying his reaction. "You haven't experienced anything like that, have you?"

"No," Gohan replied, considering. "Nothing like what you're describing."

"It's probably because you're half Earthling," she said. As she spoke, she couldn't help but notice how different their approaches to combat had always been. While they both enjoyed their spars, there was something uniquely pure about Gohan's relationship with fighting - untainted by the Saiyan urge to test limits and seek stronger opponents, possibly putting them in danger. In some ways, she envied that clarity.

"Because of these... changes," she continued, pushing aside her reflection, "I let myself get carried away fighting Gero. I drew it out when I should have ended it quickly." Her voice tightened with frustration. "That delay gave him the chance to activate 17 and 18."

Gohan sat quietly for a moment, processing her words. Her actions during their confrontation with Gero made more sense now - that unusual prolonging of the fight that had seemed so out of character. Still, watching her berate herself over something she had little control over didn't sit right with him.

"You're being too hard on yourself," he said finally. "After Gero attacked Bulma's plane, any of us could have gone after him. We all share the blame for letting him escape."

"But I-" Cellera started to protest, but Gohan cut her off.

"If you don't stop blaming yourself," he threatened with mock seriousness, "I'm going to leave a bug in one of your Sudoku puzzles."

The effect was immediate. Cellera's expression shifted from stubborn argument to horrified disgust so quickly that Gohan had to bite back a laugh. A smirk spread across his face as she turned to him, eyes narrowing.

"You crafty scholar," she accused, though there was no real heat in her words.

"I still can't believe you're scared of bugs," he teased, unable to help himself.

A pink flush crept across Cellera's cheeks as she noticed the others turning to look at their exchange. "I've told you before - I'm not scared of them!" she insisted, lifting her chin with wounded dignity. "I simply find them absolutely revolting."

"Whatever you say, Princess," Gohan replied, his grin widening at her embarrassment.

Before Cellera could formulate a suitably royal retort, a figure suddenly materialized in the center of the plane's cabin, causing everyone to jump.

"Kakarot!" 

"Goku!" 

"Dad!" 

The simultaneous shouts of surprise filled the aircraft as they crowded around the newly arrived Saiyan, everyone except Yamcha (who needed to focus on flying) and Piccolo (who maintained his meditation).

"Did you use Instant Transmission to get here?" Krillin asked, grinning at his friend's dramatic entrance.

"Sure did!" Kakarot replied with his characteristic easy smile.

"So you've recovered?" Cellera asked, studying him carefully for any lingering signs of illness. The guilt she'd been carrying still weighed on her conscience.

"Yep! Though I am pretty hungry," he added, patting his stomach.

The simple admission drew a small smile from Cellera - trust Kakarot to wake up from a near-fatal illness thinking about food. "I'm glad to see you well," she said, then hesitated before adding, "And... I'm sorry I didn't stop your fight sooner when I noticed something was wrong."

Kakarot looked down at her, his expression softening as he recognized the genuine remorse in her voice. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said, flashing that disarming grin of his. "To be honest, it was my fault. I knew something was off the moment I woke up that morning." He rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish chuckle. "But I really wanted to fight those androids!"

Cellera sighed, though she couldn't quite suppress her smile. Another point for Saiyan blood overriding common sense , she thought. It seemed the only ones immune to this particular trait were Trunks and Gohan. Speaking of whom - she turned to find Gohan giving her that knowing smirk she'd come to both cherish and dread. She hated when he was right.

The way his eyes sparkled with that mix of triumph and affection made it impossible to maintain her irritation, though she did her best to look properly annoyed anyway.

Goku approached the meditating Namekian, breaking into a wide grin. "Hey, Kamicollo!"

The nickname startled a laugh from both Cellera and Gohan, though they quickly stifled it when Piccolo fixed them with a withering side-eye. The Namekian turned to Goku with barely contained irritation. "Don't fuse our names," he growled. "My base is mostly Piccolo anyway, so just stick with that."

"Right, sorry," Goku nodded, his expression growing more serious. "But from what Chi Chi and Master Roshi told me about what's been happening, I hate to say it, but I can't beat the cyborgs or Cell as I am now." He turned to face Gohan and Cellera. "That's why I came to get you two. We're going to train in a place where you can get a year's worth of training done in a single day."

Cellera and Gohan exchanged bewildered looks. A place that could manipulate time itself? Cellera found herself wondering why they hadn't used such a valuable resource during their three-year preparation for the androids.

Her unspoken question was quickly answered by Piccolo's shocked reaction. "The Room of Spirit and Time?" The Namekian's usual composure cracked. "No one has ever managed to last a full year in there. Even you could only handle a month when you tried it, Goku!"

"Yeah, but this time will be different," Goku replied with unwavering confidence. "I'm taking Vegeta and Trunks too. I'm sure we can all handle it just fine."

"Then get moving," Piccolo urged, his expression grim. "Cell's killing more people by the hour, growing stronger with each victim."

The gravity of their situation hung heavy in the air. Whatever this mysterious room was, if it could help them catch up to Cell's rapidly growing power, they needed to try it - no matter how difficult it might prove to be.

"Grab onto my hand," Kakarot instructed, holding his arms out to both of them. Cellera gripped his wrist while Gohan took his hand.

Before they could depart, Krillin approached his longtime friend. "Hey, tell me something," he said, a mix of curiosity and concern in his voice. "Having all these enemies stronger than Frieza show up at once - does it scare you? Or are you excited?"

Cellera watched as Kakarot's expression shifted into one she knew all too well - that gleam of anticipation she'd seen countless times on her father's face, the same look that had begun appearing in her own reflection lately. "A little bit of both," he admitted.

The world blurred around them, accompanied by a soft whooshing sound. When reality snapped back into focus, they stood on rocky terrain behind Trunks, who sat perched on an outcropping. Their father's distinctive silhouette was visible at the cliff's edge some distance away.

"Goku!" Trunks exclaimed, his surprise likely stemming from both their sudden appearance and Goku’s recovered state.

"How's training with Vegeta going?" Goku asked cheerfully.

Trunks turned to Cellera with an expression that perfectly conveyed his exasperation, making her fight back an amused smile. "Not well," he replied dryly. "Cellera was right - Father's been treating me like a nuisance and ignoring me completely."

"All Father's done for the past three days is stand there, doing nothing," Trunks continued, gesturing toward Vegeta's motionless form.

Cellera couldn't help but laugh. "He's not just standing there," she explained, recognizing their father's meditation stance. "He's training his mind."

"That's right," Goku agreed with an understanding nod. "He's thinking it through-"

"A rare occurrence," Cellera muttered under her breath, drawing stifled smiles from both Gohan and Trunks.

"-starting to see himself as something above a Super Saiyan," He finished, either missing or choosing to ignore her commentary.

He approached Vegeta, launching into an explanation about a place called the Room of Spirit and Time up on The Lookout. "You can get a year's worth of training done in a single day," he explained, immediately catching Vegeta's attention.

"Are you serious, Kakarot?" Vegeta demanded, turning sharply.

"Yeah! You should come with us," Goku replied. "You can train with Trunks and Cellera while I work with Gohan."

"Fine," Vegeta agreed, his usual scowl deepening. "But I go in first. Is that clear, Kakarot?"

Cellera rolled her eyes at her father's predictable demand for priority, but Kakarot simply nodded his agreement.

The group took to the air, ascending to The Lookout where Mr. Popo emerged to greet them. Cellera's gaze swept across the pristine white tiles and elegant architecture. The last time she'd been here, during Garlic Jr.'s attack years ago, the place had been in ruins. Seeing it restored to its full glory was almost surreal.

"We need to use the Room of Spirit and Time," Goku explained to Mr. Popo. "To train for our fight against Cell and the cyborgs."

Mr. Popo nodded solemnly. "Follow me," he instructed, turning to lead them deeper into The Lookout's mysterious interior.

As they followed Mr. Popo through The Lookout's winding corridors, a thought struck Cellera. "Kakarot," she asked, "how did you convince Chi Chi to let you take Gohan to this room?"

Goku’s face broke into a broad grin. "She said it was fine as long as Gohan keeps up with his studies after all this is over." He paused, turning to his son with pride. "But that's not all - she told me to make sure Gohan gets as strong as possible! Said to give it everything we've got!" He shook his head in amazement. "I honestly thought I'd have to do more convincing."

Cellera glanced at Gohan, noting how his mother's words had sparked a new fire in his eyes. "What changed her mind?" she wondered aloud.

Gohan shrugged, a slight smile playing at his lips as he recounted his earlier attempt at secret training at Kame House. The mental image of Gohan trying to hide his practice from Chi Chi drew a quiet laugh from Cellera - she could picture the scene all too clearly.

Their conversation ended as Mr. Popo halted before an imposing set of doors. He began listing the room's amenities - bath, toilet, food storage, sleeping quarters - but Cellera found herself more interested in the doors themselves. They seemed to radiate an ancient power.

"What would the time dilation factor be?" Trunks asked, studying the entrance with equal fascination.

"Every hour out here equals approximately fifteen days inside," Cellera answered, performing the quick mental calculation. When both Gohan and Trunks turned to her with surprised looks, she simply shrugged. "Simple math."

The smugness in her tone earned her an eye-roll from Gohan, though she caught the slight smile he tried to hide.

"Tell me something, Kakarot," Vegeta turned to face his rival, his stance radiating the same arrogance he'd maintained since their earliest encounters. "Why bring me here to train? You do realize that once this is over, you're my ultimate objective?"

Cellera couldn't suppress the urge to roll her eyes. Here they stood at the threshold of a mystical room that could help them face multiple world-ending threats, and still her father remained obsessed with surpassing Kakarot. Some things, it seemed, would never change, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Goku's response carried none of Vegeta's intensity. Instead, he matched the Saiyan prince's smug look with an easy confidence that had always seemed to infuriate her father. "Well, I probably won't be able to handle these guys by myself," he said with a casual shrug. "You must be sensing that too, right?"

A low chuckle rumbled from Vegeta's throat, carrying equal parts amusement and threat. "You might regret this decision."

The charged atmosphere between the two Saiyans was broken by Mr. Popo's measured voice. "Who will be entering first?"

"Vegeta, Trunks, and Cellera," Goku replied, seemingly unaffected by Vegeta's implied challenge.

The massive doors creaked open under Mr. Popo's touch, revealing what appeared to be simple sleeping quarters beyond. The sight seemed oddly mundane given the room's supposedly extraordinary properties. Trunks hesitated at the threshold, turning back to address Goku with the polite demeanor he'd inherited from Bulma. "Thank you for letting us go first."

"No problem!" Goku's bright response carried his usual warmth. "Good luck in there - and try to play nice!"

Cellera fought the urge to roll her eyes again at the suggestion. Given the fresh wounds from her confrontation with her father and his current mood, expecting them to "play nice" seemed hopelessly optimistic. The tension between them still crackled like poorly contained ki, and now they would be confined together for what would feel like a year. She could only hope their shared goal of growing stronger would outweigh their recent discord.

Cellera followed Trunks toward the entrance but found herself hesitating at the threshold. Reality crashed over her like a physical wave - she would be spending what would feel like an entire year confined with her father and future brother. The thought made her stomach twist slightly. She'd witnessed enough of their interactions over the past few days to know they clashed as frequently as Bulma and her father did, their personalities grinding against each other like poorly matched gears.

The space suddenly felt more confining as she realized there would be no escape, no refuge in Bulma's laboratory or the comfort of her puzzles. There would only be training, pushing themselves beyond their current limits. While the Saiyan part of her thrilled at the prospect, another part remembered how quickly tension could escalate between her and her father even during their normal training sessions.

But they had no choice. If they wanted to surpass Super Saiyan, if they hoped to stand any chance against Cell and the cyborgs, they needed this time. They needed every possible advantage they could get.

Drawing in a steadying breath, she turned for one final look at Gohan. It struck her suddenly that while only a day would pass for him, she would experience an entire year before seeing him again. Their eyes met across the threshold between normal time and the strange realm they were about to enter.

"Come back strong," he said simply, but she could read everything else in his expression - his confidence in her abilities, his concern for her spending so long with her father in this state, his promise to grow stronger himself while she was gone.

A smile tugged at her lips as she nodded. "See you in a year."

"You mean tomorrow," he replied with that cheeky grin that always managed to lighten her mood, no matter the circumstances.

The exchange lasted only moments, but it gave her the resolve she needed to step through the doorway into whatever challenges awaited them in the Room of Spirit and Time.

The massive door sealed behind them with a resonant boom that seemed to mark their separation from normal time. Cellera turned and walked deeper into the bedroom area, taking in their surroundings.

"It's so hot," Trunks observed, pulling at his collar. "And the air... it's thin. Even the gravity feels many times stronger than Earth's."

The increased gravity barely registered to Cellera after countless hours in the gravity chamber with her father, but she could see how it affected Trunks' movements. As they stepped beyond the living quarters, both siblings stopped short, stunned by what lay before them.

Nothing. An endless white void stretched in every direction, unmarked by horizon or feature. The vastness of it made Cellera's mind reel as she tried to process the infinite expanse.

"No wonder Kakarot could only last a month," she said, her voice sounding strangely muted in the empty space. "The psychological toll alone..." She let the thought trail off, understanding now why no one had managed a full year.

Her father, however, surveyed the endless white with something approaching satisfaction - or at least, as close to satisfaction as Vegeta ever showed. "This will be more than sufficient for our needs," he declared.

A slight movement caught her attention. Trunks stood rigid, his expression betraying growing uncertainty as he stared into the void. Cellera placed a steadying hand on his back, making him startle and look down at her with wide eyes.

"Remember why we're here," she said quietly. "We need this strength - not just for our timeline, but for yours too."

The reminder seemed to steel his resolve. Trunks nodded sharply, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it aside. The next instant, Vegeta's boot connected with his back, sending him tumbling through the white expanse.

"Guard down!" Vegeta barked, his face twisting with disappointment. "My own son, lacking even the basic instincts of combat." His eyes shifted to Cellera, that familiar predatory gleam entering them. "Let's see if you've maintained better habits."

Unlike her brother, Cellera was ready when Vegeta struck. She caught his incoming punch with a practiced block, their forearms connecting with enough force to send shockwaves through the void. They exchanged a rapid series of strikes, each attack flowing into the next with practiced precision. But her father hadn't earned his reputation as a tactical genius for nothing - he found an opening in her defense and exploited it ruthlessly, his fist connecting with her jaw and sending her skidding back across the endless white expanse.

She came to a stop near Trunks, who watched their exchange with undisguised amazement. Wiping a thin trail of blood from her lip, Cellera dropped into her fighting stance.

"Well brother," she smirked, despite the throbbing in her jaw, "welcome to Hell."

Their father's training methods were brutal, but she couldn't deny their effectiveness. She felt the familiar surge of Saiyan battle instincts rising within her, that primal urge to fight that had caused her so much trouble lately. But this time would be different. She forced her breathing to steady, consciously restraining that rising tide of combat lust. She wouldn't let those instincts control her - instead, she would master them, bend them to her will. After all, wasn't that what a true Saiyan princess should do? The thought brought an unbidden smile to her face as she remembered Gohan's nickname for her. Perhaps his nickname for her would start to become more than just that.

Trunks watched his sister's controlled power with growing determination. He dropped into his own stance beside her, his resolve hardening. In his timeline, his sister had known he wasn't ready for the brutal reality of fighting the cyborgs - she'd protected him one final time by knocking him unconscious before she and Gohan went to face them. He'd woken to find them both gone, having paid the ultimate price while he'd been powerless to help. But not this time. This time he would prove himself worthy of fighting alongside them. He would emerge from this room with the power to protect them both, to prevent the tragedy of his world from repeating in this timeline. Even if it meant sacrificing himself just as they had for him. 

The air around them crackled with tension as father and children faced each other across the endless white void, each driven by their own burning motivations.

A taunting smirk crossed Vegeta's face as he watched his children's determination build. When they launched themselves at him simultaneously, he met their assault with practiced ease, analyzing their movements even as he defended. Their potential was obvious - but then again, they were his children. What else could he expect? His smirk deepened as he planned not only to surpass Kakarot, but to ensure his children would surpass that clown's brat as well. Though speaking of Kakarot's son... that untapped potential still simmering beneath the surface could prove interesting. If the boy ever fully awakened that power, he might actually give Vegeta someone worth fighting after he'd dealt with Kakarot.

As he deflected another of Cellera's punches, he seized her wrist, attempting to use her momentum to send her crashing into Trunks. The boy managed to dodge - not entirely hopeless then. Like his sister, he had achieved Super Saiyan at a remarkably young age, both of them proving their Saiyan inheritance. But unlike Cellera, his fighting betrayed his inexperience. He fought like a novice, all power and no refinement. No wonder he couldn't handle those mechanical pests in his timeline.

Vegeta blocked Cellera's incoming kick, noting the familiar gleam in her eyes - that pure joy of combat she usually kept so carefully contained. Over the past three years, he'd only seen that look a handful of times. Usually, she fought with her mother's calculated precision, every move carefully planned and executed. But when this side of her emerged, she became gloriously unpredictable, her technique blending Rhuba's precision with true Saiyan battle instinct.

The sight stirred something unexpected in him - not just pride in her strength, but a deeper recognition. She was fighting much as Rhuba had in those rare moments when she had fully embraced her own Saiyan nature. Those times had been few and far between, usually only when protecting Cellera or during their most intense private spars.

In those fleeting instances, Rhuba had shown him a different kind of Saiyan strength - not the mindless battle lust that drove most of their race, but a harmony between combat instinct and strategic thinking. It was what had first drawn him to her, that balanced approach to fighting that gave her an edge few could match.

Now his daughter stood at that same crossroads, struggling to find equilibrium between her strategic mind and the battle instincts flowing through her Saiyan blood. Her current inability to master this balance wasn't weakness - it was simply part of growth, a necessary challenge all Saiyans faced as they matured.

Cellera's struggle now was laying the groundwork for something potentially greater than she yet realized. If she could find that harmony between instinct and strategy that had made Rhuba so formidable, she would become a truly exceptional warrior.

Not that he would ever admit such thoughts aloud. Better to push her relentlessly, to force her to discover this balance on her own as he had been forced to do. When she finally managed it - and he had no doubt that she would - the resulting power would make her a force to be reckoned with.

The moment Trunks left himself open, Vegeta struck. His fist drove into his son's stomach, doubling him over, before a swift ki blast sent him tumbling through the void. By the time this year was done, Vegeta would surpass Kakarot in every possible way - that much he swore. And perhaps, through this relentless training, his children would overcome their individual weaknesses and begin to reach their true potential as well.

Chapter 23

Summary:

A year in the chamber

Notes:

No need to fear, an update is here!
I apologize as this was A LOT of revising and editing that took 10k to 14k.....This was a very difficult chapter as I'm laying some groundwork for future sagas AND all original content as DBZ never gave us anything but like 2 minutes of Vegeta and Trunks time in the chamber LMAO. However, I hope you guys enjoy!

Month 3

Welcome to Hell was right. 

Three months had passed within the Room of Spirit and Time, and every day proved more brutal than the last. Even for Cellera, who had grown up under her father's relentless training, this was different. Without Bulma around to reign in Vegeta's intense regimen, his drive for perfection knew no bounds. Cellera made a mental note to thank her profusely when they finally emerged from this place.

The chamber itself was a marvel of contradictions. While their living quarters provided surprising comfort - with a mysteriously self-restocking pantry that somehow managed to satisfy three Saiyan appetites - the training grounds were anything but hospitable. The vast white void stretched endlessly in all directions and their voices bounced off nothing and everything at once, creating an unsettling echo that never quite faded.

The environment itself seemed designed to break them. Temperatures swung wildly from freezing cold to scorching heat without warning, making even the simplest training exercises a test of endurance. The further they ventured from their living space, the thinner the air became, turning extended sparring sessions into battles against their own lungs. Time itself felt warped here, marked only by the slow trickle of sand in the dual hourglasses flanking their quarters, and the steady tick of the massive clock that crowned the dome - their sole connection to the outside world.

As Cellera sank deeper into the bathing room's tub, she let the hot water work its magic on her aching muscles. This moment of solitude was perhaps the only point of silent agreement between her father and brother - letting her clean up first after training. A small mercy, considering their constant clashing over everything else. Three months in, and it remained possibly the only thing they hadn't argued about.

The water rippled with distant vibrations - no doubt from another heated exchange between her father and brother. Cellera closed her eyes, trying to block out the echoing voices. Nine more months of this. Nine more months of playing mediator between the two stubborn Saiyan males. The chamber's harsh conditions were challenging enough without the added strain of their volatile dynamic.

Cellera couldn't recall how many times they'd argued already. As another heated exchange erupted between Trunks and her father somewhere outside, she sank lower into the tub until the water nearly reached her chin. Only nine more months to go, she reminded herself. Their combined stubbornness was slowly wearing down her patience, making her miss Gohan's much gentler demeanor.

The thought of Gohan's calm presence made her sigh longingly. She missed their study sessions, where disagreements were resolved through reasoned debate rather than shouting matches. His ability to diffuse tension with just a thoughtful observation or gentle smile would have been invaluable in the chamber's confined quarters. Unlike her father and brother, who seemed determined to clash at every opportunity, Gohan knew when to stand firm and when to yield—a balance she'd always appreciated.

After finally dragging herself from the bath's comfort, she left Trunks to his turn and made her way to the food storage area near the bedroom. Her mood lifted considerably at the discovery of fresh strawberries - one of the chamber's more pleasant mysteries. Bowl in hand, she returned to her bed, finding Trunks had already finished his bath. He lay across from her on his own bed, arms crossed behind his head and one knee propped up in a pose that reminded her startlingly of their father.

A smile tugged at Trunks' lips when he spotted the fruit in her hands. "Midnight snack?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Cellera rolled her eyes as she settled onto her bed. "There is no day or night here, brother." She popped a strawberry into her mouth before asking, "What was it this time? What sparked the latest battle between you two?"

Trunks released a heavy sigh, some of his earlier tension returning. "I simply suggested he take a break. Told him rest was as important as training - that pushing too hard would be counterproductive." His jaw clenched slightly. "Then when I tried to convince him to let me continue training with him, he just snapped that I was being a pest and to go away." He huffed out a frustrated breath. "You and Gohan warned me about his personality, but this... this is just asinine."

Cellera swallowed another strawberry, considering how best to explain their father's methods. "It's best to do as father says," she finally offered. "Besides, his body isn't as tired as ours."

Trunks turned to her, confusion evident on his features. "What do you mean?"

"Did you really think father has been going all out on us these past three months?" A knowing smile touched her lips at his bewildered expression. "We've only been in an adjustment period. Our real training is about to begin."

The revelation seemed to stun Trunks into silence. After a moment, he pushed himself up on his elbows, studying his sister with newfound curiosity. "How are you able to read him so easily?"

Cellera was quiet for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. The question touched on something that had been nagging at her since their first conversation about timelines - how little her future self had apparently shared about their father. Trunks had mentioned seeing that glazed, distant look in her counterpart’s eyes whenever their father was brought up, how he'd learned not to push for details when she grew quiet on the subject.

Setting aside her bowl of strawberries, Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip in thought. "Father is complex," she said finally. "He had to be, serving under Frieza. After mother died when I was two, I spent every moment shadowing him. Those three years..." Her hand drifted unconsciously to the pendant beneath her compression top. "You learn to see past his harsh words, to understand the true meaning hidden in his actions."

Trunks' hand moved to his own pocket where an identical pendant lay - a mirror of his sister's gesture that spanned timelines. The shared motion created a moment of connection between them, bridging past and present.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"For example," Cellera said, leaning back against her pillow, "he would always position himself between me and Frieza's soldiers, drawing their attention to himself. He and mother both did that - ensuring one of them was always with me to make sure I was protected. Even Frieza noticed the pattern." A shadow crossed her face. "But Namek changed everything. Father's desperation for immortality... it drove him to leave me behind for the first time in my life."

Trunks leaned forward, completely absorbed in these glimpses of their past. Their time on Namek was something he'd only heard in fragments before - his mother's version consisted mainly of tales about hiding from danger in various safe locations, hardly the full story. And while Gohan had shared pieces during his visits, those early days had been marked by brief, scattered appearances. By the time Gohan had become a constant presence in his life, his time had been split between training him and being with Cellera.

Noticing her brother's intense interest, Cellera paused in her recollection. "Has my future self never told you about Namek?"

Trunks shook his head. "I only know bits and pieces. Mother's perspective, which mostly involved a lot of hiding," he gave a wry smile, "and some things Gohan mentioned in passing. But I've always wondered what really happened - especially from your point of view."

For the next hour, Cellera unfolded the story of Namek for her brother. She recounted everything - from the moment their father had abandoned her with Cui through their desperate battles across alien soil, culminating in their miraculous teleportation to Earth as Kakarot and Frieza's battle reached its climax. Trunks listened in stunned silence, the full weight of what his sister and Gohan had endured at just five years old finally sinking in. But what truly shook him was learning about their father's first death - how watching Frieza murder him had triggered Cellera's transformation into a Super Saiyan. He'd never known their father had died once before.

"I understand now," he said with a quiet laugh. "Why you and Gohan were always so inseparable. Between Namek and fighting the cyborgs, it's no wonder that you two-" He caught himself abruptly, the words dying in his throat.

Cellera's brow furrowed. "That we two what?"

"That you became best friends," Trunks finished awkwardly, his eyes skittering away from hers. The nervous laugh that followed was pure Bulma - it seemed their father's talent for deception hadn't passed to their son.

Cellera studied his reaction, noting how similar it was to Bulma’s tells when she was hiding something. While she chose not to press him about his obvious deflection, curiosity about their counterparts in his timeline got the better of her. "What were we like?" she asked carefully. "Gohan and I, in your time?"

The question had barely left her lips when she saw Trunks flinch slightly, making her instantly regret asking.

Trunks released a heavy sigh, reaching into his pocket to withdraw the pendant - identical to the one his sister wore now. The piece of jewelry had become more than just a memento; it had become his final connection to both his sister and his mentor. The metal caught the chamber's light as he cradled it in his palm, memories clearly weighing heavy in his expression.

"You don't have to-" Cellera began, seeing his struggle, but Trunks shook his head, his eyes fixed on the pendant.

"You and Gohan were the strongest people I knew," he said softly. "Not just in power, but in spirit. No matter how bad things got, you never stopped trying to save people from the androids." A sad smile crossed his face. "You never took time for yourselves though. Barely got to experience any normal teenage years. Mother used to say what a shame it was - both of you growing up so beautiful and strong, but never getting to do simple things like go on dates or enjoy being young."

Cellera couldn't help but smile inwardly at that - trust Bulma to worry about their dating lives even in the midst of an apocalypse. 

His fingers traced the pendant's surface as he continued. "The only peaceful moments I can remember were during meals together, or when you were both recovering from battles. Even then, you were usually planning your next move against 17 and 18."

Something in his expression softened. "I think that's why you were so insistent on giving me some kind of childhood, despite everything. You made time for games between training sessions, tried to shelter me from the worst of it." His eyes met Cellera's. "It makes more sense now, knowing what you'd already been through by age ten - watching father die twice. No wonder you couldn't talk about him much."

The weight of those memories hung between them for a moment, his words painting a picture of a timeline where she'd tried to give him what she herself had lost. Cellera found it difficult to imagine herself in that role - a guardian determined to preserve innocence in a world where such a concept had become a luxury.

"You know," Trunks then said, his voice lightening as he sought to pull them both from the shadow of their father's memory, "I remember having to beg Gohan to convince you to let me start Super Saiyan training." A genuine smile touched his lips at the memory. "My first spar with him ended with me getting dumped into a whirlpool. His only advice had been 'make circles with your arms and kick hard.'"

Cellera's laughter echoed through the bedroom. "That sounds like him. Most people don't realize Gohan has a mischievous side underneath all that politeness." Her expression softened. "I'm glad we stayed close in your time, that our friendship lasted."

Trunks' smile faded slowly, his eyes growing distant. "The last time I trained with you both..." he paused, swallowing hard. "It became the worst day of my life. After searching the city for hours in the rain, I found you both..." His voice cracked slightly. "You were never apart, you know? Always watching each other's backs, fighting side by side. Even at the end…"

Cellera's heart ached for her brother. Though she'd known the basic facts of their deaths from his original warning, hearing the details from his perspective painted a far grimmer picture than she'd imagined. She opened her mouth to respond, but heavy footsteps approaching the bedroom quarters cut her short.

"What the hell are you two doing?" Vegeta's voice carried its usual edge as he passed by, heading for the baths. He fixed Trunks with a pointed glare. "Weren't you the one spouting nonsense about rest earlier?" His lip curled slightly. "Don't expect me to hear any complaints about tomorrow's training." Without waiting for a response, he continued on his way.

Trunks released a weary sigh at their father's attitude, but Cellera found herself smiling as she retrieved her abandoned bowl of strawberries. She popped one into her mouth before standing, but Trunks' voice stopped her as she turned toward the food pantry.

"Wait." He studied her expression carefully. "Was that... supposed to be his way of showing he cares?"

Cellera's lips curved into a smirk. "I'm not going to explain every one of father's actions," she said. "How would you learn if I gave you all the answers?" With that, she made her way to return the bowl to the pantry, suppressing a chuckle. Her brother hadn't even caught the earlier hint about their father's peculiar brand of care - how he'd dedicated three full months of their precious year not just to letting them adjust, but to carefully evaluating where they needed improvement.

 

---

The next morning proved Cellera's assessment about their father correct. Vegeta stood before them in the endless white void, arms crossed as he laid out their training objectives with characteristic bluntness.

"Your individual training starts now," he declared. "I don't have time to waste holding your hands through this. If you can't figure out your own weaknesses and overcome them, you're not worthy of being called a Saiyan warrior."

He turned to Cellera first, his eyes narrowed as he assessed her with the practiced eye of a seasoned warrior who had spent years observing her development.

"You need to stop relying so heavily on that thinking of yours. Let your Saiyan instincts guide you more - right now, you're becoming predictable." When she opened her mouth to protest, he cut her off sharply. "And don't blame it on your current development stage."

"But letting my instincts take control would just leave me attacking mindlessly-" Cellera started to argue, but Vegeta's sharp voice interrupted her.

"I said guide you, not control you," he snapped. "There's a difference."

Cellera fell silent, the distinction hitting home with unexpected force. As she'd grown and developed over these years, so too had her Saiyan instincts – becoming more powerful and pronounced. The battle with Gero had been clear evidence of this, where her growing instincts had overwhelmed her typically methodical approach.

Her father's point was clear - she needed to use her instincts as a guide, not fight against them or be controlled by them. The challenge wasn't finding a middle ground; it was achieving the proper integration. She needed to incorporate her Saiyan instincts into her fighting style without surrendering her strategic edge, allowing both aspects of her nature to work in concert rather than opposition.

Vegeta watched his daughter carefully, recognizing the moment of realization crossing her features. He'd witnessed something extraordinary during those rare instances when she fought without overthinking. In those brief moments, her movements became impossible to predict—not because they were random, but because they contained multiple possible attacks simultaneously. During their last intense spar, he'd seen her body position itself to launch three distinct strikes, only deciding which to follow through with at the last possible instant. It had nearly caught him off guard—something few opponents managed anymore. If she could harness that combination deliberately rather than stumbling into it by accident, she’d become an unstoppable force.

He then turned his attention to Trunks, his critique even harsher than his comments to Cellera. "You've achieved Super Saiyan, yet your basic combat skills are pathetic," he sneered. "Too dependent on that sword of yours. A true Saiyan warrior shouldn't need to rely on weapons."

Cellera watched the exchange silently, unable to argue with their father's assessment. While Trunks was far from a poor fighter, the difference in their foundations was clear. Where she had been forged in combat since her first steps, Trunks' training had been more measured - a testament to what he had described about her future self's attempt to preserve some semblance of childhood amid apocalypse.

"Come find me when you can defeat your sister in combat," Vegeta declared with finality. Without another word, he shot off into the endless white void, leaving his children standing alone at the edge of their living quarters.

The silence stretched between them, but Cellera could read between their father's harsh words. His final challenge revealed more than just criticism - he had high expectations for Trunks. He wouldn't bother setting such a benchmark if he didn't believe his son could reach it.

"I hope you won't go easy on me, brother." Golden light erupted around her as she transformed, her hair lifting with Super Saiyan energy. "Because I certainly won't be holding back."

Trunks matched her transformation, his own aura flaring to life as their power levels soared. "Wouldn't dream of it," he replied, settling into his stance. "Give me everything you've got."

---

6 Months 

Months passed in the endless white void as their training intensified. The easy dynamic of their early sparring sessions had given way to something more desperate, more primal. Both siblings had begun pushing past the Super Saiyan's initial threshold, their bodies straining to break through to the next level of power.

Cellera watched as Trunks attempted another transformation, his muscles bulging slightly as he forced more energy through his body. Her own attempts at, what she refers to as, Grade 2 had yielded similar results - increased power, but with concerning drawbacks she was still analyzing. Behind them, Vegeta observed their progress with his usual stoic expression, though his eyes held keen interest.

Later that evening, Cellera sank into the bath's warm embrace, hoping for a rare moment of tranquility. The hot water soothed her aching muscles as she reflected on their progress. While Grade 2 was above their normal Super Saiyan state there was a glaring issue with the ascended form. The transformation brought remarkable power, though the energy consumption concerned her. Each attempt left her drained faster than a normal Super Saiyan state.

Her analysis was interrupted by raised voices from outside the bathroom door. Another argument had erupted between Trunks and their father, their words bouncing off the living quarter’s walls.

"If you'd just listen-" Trunks' voice carried clearly through the door.

"I won't hear excuses from some half-trained brat!" Vegeta's sharp retort cut through the air.

After months in the chamber, Cellera's tolerance for her father and brother's constant bickering had worn dangerously thin. Their arguments had evolved from occasional disagreements to daily clashes that echoed through the endless void. Now that they were interrupting what little peace she managed to find between training sessions, she felt her patience finally shatter.

"ENOUGH!"

The roar that escaped Cellera's throat surprised even her. She burst from the bath, quickly getting dressed before storming to the door, steam pouring out and filling the air as she threw it open. 

Vegeta froze mid-sentence at the sight of his daughter. That burning yet ice-cold fury in her eyes, the rigid set of her spine - it was like looking at Rhuba all over again.The memory of her expression when he'd accidentally woken infant Cellera during one of their louder "discussions" flashed through his mind. Rhuba had given him that same icy glare, though hers had carried an undercurrent of maternal protection beneath the fury. Cellera's rage, by contrast, held nothing but pure, unfiltered anger directed at both of them.

Trunks took an instinctive step back. This was a side of his sister he'd never witnessed - nothing like the careful protector who'd sheltered him in his timeline. The gentle strategist had vanished, replaced by something that made even their father look wary.

"I have had enough ." Her voice carried the same arctic chill it had held when confronting Dodoria on Namek. "If you two want to ruin my rare moments of peace with your endless bickering, you will deeply regret it."

She turned sharply, making her way toward the chamber's entrance. "At least Gohan knows the value of quiet contemplation," she muttered as she passed them.

Vegeta's eye twitched at Gohan’s name- a detail that didn’t escape Trunks’ notice.. He moved to follow his sister, but their father's hand shot out to stop him.

"If you're finally going to listen to anything I say," Vegeta warned, his voice uncharacteristically serious, "let it be this: nothing in this universe is more terrifying than the fury of a Saiyan female."

The absolute conviction in their father's tone, combined with the way he kept glancing nervously toward where Cellera had disappeared, almost made Trunks laugh. Almost. But the lingering chill in the air suggested that might not be the wisest choice.

---

Cellera sat cross-legged in the vast white void, deliberately positioned near the edge of their living quarters. The freezing temperature matched her mood as she tried to center herself through meditation. Her father's words from Namek echoed in her mind - his offhand comment about Saiyan females and their legendary tempers. Now she understood why, if this was what they had to deal with from their male counterparts.

Though... not all Saiyan males were like this. Her thoughts drifted to Kakarot with his easy smile and gentle heart, traits so clearly inherited by his son. Gohan's face appeared in her mind - his patient explanations during their study sessions, his quiet strength during battles. The stark contrast between his calming presence and her current company made her chest ache slightly.

Twelve Earth hours. That's all that had passed outside these walls, yet these six months felt longer than their entire three years of preparation for the androids. She wasn't sure if it was the chamber's time dilation playing tricks on her mind, or simply the constant tension between her father and brother wearing on her nerves.

Their training had yielded results, at least. They'd all achieved the ascended Super Saiyan state, but it still felt incomplete to Cellera. The transformation's drawbacks troubled her - there had to be a way to access that increased power and speed without the devastating drain on their stamina. A true ascension that balanced raw power with efficiency.

But an even greater challenge loomed: mastering her father's lesson about her instincts. Every time she thought she was making progress, letting those instincts guide rather than dominate her fighting style, she found herself slipping. Just yesterday, during what should have been a controlled spar with Trunks, she'd completely abandoned her strategy halfway through, giving in to a feral battle rush that left both of them surprised by her sudden change in style. The primal aspects of her nature kept threatening to overwhelm her thinking entirely. The careful balance she sought remained frustratingly out of reach.

Her meditation was interrupted, but this time by a hesitant voice that held none of the earlier tension. "Could I sit here?" Trunks asked nervously.

Cellera opened her eyes, studying her brother. Six months in the chamber had left its mark - his lavender hair had grown longer, reminding her strongly of Bulma. She'd changed too, gaining a bit of height as their bodies aged in sync with the chamber's warped time. The thought was surreal - an entire year of their lives would pass in what felt like a mere day to the outside world.

She gestured to the space beside her, noting how carefully Trunks lowered himself down, as if approaching a volatile ki blast. A small laugh escaped her. "I won't bite your head off."

"Are you sure about that?" Trunks asked skeptically, though his eyes held a hint of humor. Their shared laughter broke the remaining tension, echoing strangely in the vast space.

"I'm sorry," Cellera sighed, her earlier fury fully dissipating. "Between trying to integrate these instincts with my fighting style and everything else... my patience isn't what it used to be."

Trunks shook his head. "We're the ones who should apologize. Father and I shouldn't have disturbed your peace like that."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the chamber's frigid air no longer feeling quite so bitter. Trunks studied his sister's profile, noting how these past six months had subtly matured her features. "So," he ventured with a teasing smile, "care to share your thoughts with your brother?"

The deadpan look Cellera shot him could have rivaled their father's best glares.

"Hey, you always gave me an ear in my timeline," he defended, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Just returning the favor."

Cellera hesitated, unused to sharing her concerns so openly. After a moment, she let her carefully maintained guard drop – something she rarely did with anyone besides Gohan or Bulma.

"I can't help worrying about what's happening out there," Cellera admitted. "Has Cell found the cyborgs? Have they managed to defeat them without us?" Her hand drifted unconsciously toward her pendant. "Are Gohan, Bulma, and baby you alright?"

Trunks watched the worry play across his sister's features, understanding the mental toll these past six months had taken. The endless white void stretched around them like a prison, their only connection to the outside world being those chamber doors - doors they couldn't walk through, not when they'd finally reached the halfway point. Not when everyone was counting on their success.

"Try not to worry," he said gently. "If things got really bad out there, they'd let us know. They'd get us out if they had to." He offered an encouraging smile. "Besides, we've come too far to turn back now. Look at how much stronger we've all become."

Cellera released a heavy sigh. Trunks had a point - even with her concerns about the stamina drain of their ascended form, they were far more powerful than when they'd entered. It should be enough to handle whatever awaited them, assuming no new complications had arisen.

"Thank you," she said, returning his smile. "For listening."

"Hey, that's what family does." Trunks bumped his shoulder against hers playfully. "Doesn't matter which timeline we're from - you'll always be my sister."

The sincerity in Trunks' words warmed something in Cellera's chest. She pushed herself to her feet, brushing off her training gear. "We should head back. The cold is worse when we're not sparring."

Trunks stood beside her, nodding in agreement. "I don't think I could take much more anyway."

"You have a jacket," Cellera pointed out as they started walking, eyeing his denim outerwear.

Trunks rolled his eyes. "Trust me, denim doesn't do much against these temperatures." Their shared laughter echoed through the endless void, bouncing back at them from nowhere and everywhere at once.

As they entered the bedroom wing, both siblings stopped short. There, sitting innocently on Cellera's bed, was a bowl of fresh strawberries. Trunks' brow furrowed as he recalled their father's casual dismissal before following after Cellera - "Going to take a bath," he'd said, as if completely unconcerned that he'd helped drive his daughter to such uncharacteristic fury.

But watching Cellera now, the way her face lit up as she popped a strawberry into her mouth, Trunks began to understand what she'd meant about their father's complex nature. Despite Vegeta's overwhelming pride and narcissism - traits that had only intensified during their six months here - he'd found his own way to make peace with his daughter.

Maybe it was time, Trunks thought, to stop trying to protect his father from himself. He'd spent so much time worrying about Vegeta's reckless pride, trying to prevent the tragedy of his timeline, that he'd missed opportunities to truly know and learn from him. The father he'd never had a chance to remember was right here, and perhaps there was more to his methods than Trunks had allowed himself to see.

In the weeks that followed, a subtle shift occurred in the chamber's atmosphere. The constant tension that had marked their first six months gave way to something more productive, if not entirely peaceful. Trunks stopped challenging their father's methods at every turn, instead focusing on extracting the valuable lessons buried beneath the harsh exterior.

Cellera sighed as she soaked in a warm bath after another long day of training. She had noticed that since her outburst, her father and Trunks seemed to have stopped arguing, at least around her. Though whether they had made sure all arguments were out of ear shot as she bathed or if they had stopped all arguments entirely was unknown to her.

The water rippled slightly with distant vibrations from their clashes - she could sense both their ki signatures pulsing with effort. Something had shifted between them lately. Trunks no longer tensed at their father's harsh criticism, instead seeming to search for the meanings hidden beneath his barbed words. And their father... well, he was still his usual self, but his insults carried less bite, more closely resembling the gruff instruction she'd grown up with.

---

Month 9

Another three months had passed by, bringing them closer to completing their year of training. Cellera moved through a complex kata sequence in her Grade 2 form, each punch and kick precise despite the strain of the transformation. A ki blast erupted from her hands, streaking across the endless void. Their mastery of this ascended state had grown significantly - while the stamina drain remained higher than their base Super Saiyan form, it had become more manageable with practice.

The three Saiyans had developed distinctly different approaches to the ascended Super Saiyan state, though all were still grappling with its limitations. Vegeta pushed through the form's energy drain through sheer willpower and endurance, seemingly unconcerned with the stamina cost. Trunks had begun experimenting with controlled bursts of the transformation, trying to maximize its effectiveness in short intervals.

Cellera, always the analyst, had started internally documenting the form's energy consumption patterns. Despite her careful control, Grade 2 consistently depleted her ki reserves at an accelerated rate. The enhanced musculature required constant energy to maintain, creating a fundamental inefficiency she couldn't overcome through technique refinement alone.

During sparring sessions with Trunks, she found herself tiring noticeably faster than her brother. "The stamina drain seems proportionally higher for smaller frames," she explained between labored breaths. "Our father and you can compensate with naturally higher ki reserves, but I'm reaching my limits sooner."

They had all grown more comfortable shifting between their base Super Saiyan form and Grade 2, but the transformation's drawbacks remained pronounced. While they were making progress, something about the form still felt incomplete to Cellera - there had to be a more efficient way to access that increased power without sacrificing endurance. Combined with her recent restless nights, Cellera found herself pushing beyond her limits more often during training, searching for something more efficient.

It was during one of these intense sessions that she stumbled upon a new transformation. The power surge had been incredible, her muscles expanding far beyond even Grade 2's enhancement. But as she moved through basic combat forms, the drawbacks became immediately apparent. The massive muscle increase severely impacted her speed, and the stamina drain was exponentially worse than Grade 2. Cellera had to admit that despite its overwhelming raw power, this new form - Grade 3, as she mentally catalogued it - was ultimately impractical for actual combat. 

Several days after her discovery of this impractical form, Cellera was back to her regular training regimen, focusing on mastering Grade 2. 

"Cellera!" Trunks' voice echoed across the void. "Food's ready!"

"I'll be there in a bit," she called back.

Trunks watched his sister with growing concern. Something had changed in her over the past month. The calculated precision that usually marked her training had given way to something more desperate, more driven. Dark circles had begun forming under her eyes, though she tried to hide them. He'd caught her training late into the night more than once, long after he and their father had retired.

This wasn't like her at all. His sister had always maintained level headedness in her training, knowing exactly when to push and when to rest. But lately, it was as if something was driving her beyond her usual limits. The previous night, he'd heard her muttering in her sleep, tossing fitfully in her bed. He suspected that whatever was haunting her dreams seemed to be pushing her toward dangerous territory.

"Just five more minutes," she said, her voice carrying a slight strain that probably wasn't noticeable to anyone who hadn't spent the last nine months in constant proximity.

"NOW!" Vegeta's harsh voice cut through the void. "Or are you trying to make yourself useless in actual combat? Get in here before I drag you in myself."

To Trunks' surprise, Cellera immediately powered down and started walking toward them. He caught the slight tremor in her movements that she tried to hide - clear signs of exhaustion that their father had no doubt noticed as well. Though Vegeta's words were harsh, Trunks recognized the underlying concern. Their father hadn't threatened to drag her inside; he'd given her the choice to walk in on her own, maintaining her dignity while still getting her to rest.

The pattern had become increasingly familiar - intense training, minimal rest, and a stubbornness reminiscent of their father. Despite her body's clear signals, Cellera pushed herself further each day, her determination growing beyond reasonable standards.

Later that night, exhaustion finally claimed Cellera as she collapsed onto her bed. But sleep brought no peace, not even with her relaxing bath routine. 

-

She was back there, watching Kakarot battle Android 19. The signs had been so obvious - the labored breathing, the uncharacteristic fatigue. Yet she'd hesitated, lost in theoretical possibilities while her friend's father suffered. The scene shifted, morphing into the mountainside where she'd let her battle instincts override her judgment with Dr. Gero. Her own voice echoed mockingly: *"Just a little longer, just a little more..."* While she'd indulged her growing drive for combat, the doctor had escaped, unleashing horrors upon their world.

The dream twisted again. Now Cell stood before her, that wickedly sharp tail swaying like a serpent about to strike. One by one, he absorbed those she cared for - Bulma screaming as she tried to shield baby Trunks, her father's proud stance crumbling as the creature's tail pierced his armor, her brother dissolving into nothingness.

She couldn't move. Her body refused to respond as she watched the monster methodically destroy everything she loved. Cell's laughter echoed through her mind, a sound that carried traces of all those he'd absorbed.

Then Gohan was there, stepping between her and the creature “I won't let you hurt anyone else," he declared, his eyes carrying resolute determination. Before she could cry out, Cell's tail whipped forward, impaling him through the chest. Before she could cry out, Cell's tail whipped forward, impaling him through the chest.

Cellera bolted upright in bed, a scream dying in her throat. Cold sweat soaked her clothes as she tried to steady her breathing in the chamber's endless silence.

She wiped a hand across her face, releasing a shaky sigh of relief. Despite Trunks' reassurances months ago, her mind seemed determined to conjure these horrific scenarios in her sleep. The past month had brought little rest - each night broken by nightmares that left her more exhausted than before. The lack of proper sleep was taking its toll, clouding her usually sharp mental clarity in ways she couldn't hide anymore.

Training had become her escape, a desperate attempt to exhaust herself beyond the point where these visions could reach her. But her weakened mental state was affecting even that. The line between letting her Saiyan instincts guide her and being controlled by them grew blurrier with each passing day.

Even the few hours of sleep she managed to capture had become another battlefield. Her nightmares had evolved beyond mere repetitions of the same scenario - they had begun developing a horrifying creativity of their own. Each vision presented a new variation on their failure, always more detailed and devastating than the last.

The worst dreams weren't the ones where Cell killed them all, but the ones where he left her alive to witness the aftermath. In these visions, she would find herself walking through empty cities, the silence broken only by the distant sound of Cell hunting down the few remaining humans. Sometimes she'd find personal items belonging to those she cared about - Bulma's tools scattered across a laboratory floor, her father's broken armor, Gohan's books soaked with rain. These quiet moments of discovery carried more horror than any direct violence.

She never spoke of these specific nightmares to Trunks or her father, but their effect manifested in her increasingly desperate training. The fear of failure had become a physical presence in her mind - a constant reminder that every second spent resting might translate to another life lost if she couldn't master Star Breaker in time.

Moving silently so as not to wake Trunks or her father, Cellera made her way to the front of their living quarters. She sank down on the steps, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her forehead against them. As she closed her eyes, she found herself wishing for either Bulma or her mother's presence.

With Bulma, she could let these fears pour out freely. She would listen without judgment, understanding just as she had after the nightmares that plagued Cellera following Namek. Bulma would validate her worries while still managing to make her smile, probably throwing in some comment about how they needed a girls' day once this was all over.

But her mother... Rhuba would have taken a different approach. She could almost hear her voice, calm and steady, walking her through each fear, breaking down which concerns were legitimate and which were products of an overtired mind, helping find clarity within the chaos. 

Cellera moved her hand to her pendant again as she began to reminisce. It had been 8 - no, almost 9 years now due to the Room of Spirit and Time - since her mother's death at the hands of Dodoria. Despite that passage of time, she could still remember Rhuba's face and voice as clear as day.

Her fingers traced the pendant's familiar contours as her mind drifted to recent developments in their training. Her father had created yet another devastating technique - the Final Flash, a move that concentrated massive amounts of ki into a single devastating burst of power. While she had mastered the Galick Gun years ago, she found herself drawn to memories of a different technique - one she had witnessed only once.

The image surfaced with crystal clarity—a "simple" purging mission Frieza had sent them on, one that had conveniently failed to mention the planet's unusually powerful native species. She'd been barely two, watching from a protected vantage point as her mother faced down creatures that towered over her. What happened next had burned itself into her memory—her mother gathering a blazing aura into her palms, compressing it into a sphere that burned like a star's heart. When the creatures closed in, Rhuba had unleashed the energy, exploding outward in a brilliant pattern of solar fire that had carved new valleys into the planet's surface. Even at that young age, Saiyan children developed exceptional retention of combat maneuvers—an evolutionary advantage that had helped their warrior race survive. That particular memory had stayed with her, preserved by the profound impression of her mother's power.

As Cellera studied the void around her, a new thought took shape. While her mother's influence already permeated so much of who she was—from her fighting philosophy to her fighting style—she had never attempted to master Rhuba's signature attack. Her mother's Star Breaker technique had shown raw power tempered with control, much like the balance she had been seeking after since their third month of training. The combination of her recent nightmares, the driving need to protect those she loved, and her increasingly active battle instincts sparked something within her. If she could master this technique, it would be more than honoring her mother's memory—it would be claiming her complete heritage, embracing both the precision of Rhuba and the power of Vegeta in a way uniquely her own.

The rational part of her mind warned that attempting such a powerful technique in her current state might be dangerous. But the thought of being left behind, of not being strong enough to prevent her nightmares from becoming reality, pushed that concern aside.

Settling on her final goal for these last three months, Cellera rose and made her way back to the bedroom. Sleep might prove elusive, but if she was going to attempt learning Star Breaker, she would need every ounce of energy she could gather.

-

As the weeks went on, her regular training sessions with Trunks continued and she couldn't help but notice her brother's remarkable progress since those first three months. His fundamentals had solidified into something impressive - no longer fighting with that hesitant caution that had marked his early style. The sword that had once been his primary weapon now remained by his bedside, unused. Their father's harsh lessons had clearly taken root, showing in the growing confidence of Trunks' movements. Sometimes when he managed to catch her off guard, she caught glimpses of Vegeta’s trademark smirk playing across his features, that same pride shining through.

While Cellera's attention remained focused on her own training, she didn't miss the subtle shift in her father's attitude toward Trunks. During their evening meal, she caught Vegeta studying her brother with an appraising eye as Trunks described his progress with mastering the Galick Gun technique.

"Show me tomorrow," Vegeta said simply, cutting off Trunks' explanation.

The request carried none of the dismissive tone that had characterized most of their early interactions. Instead, there was genuine interest, perhaps even a hint of respect. Trunks had paused mid-sentence, clearly caught off guard by the unexpected response, before nodding his agreement.

Later that night, Cellera overheard their conversation in the training area. She'd expected the usual criticism from her father, the constant stream of corrections and declarations of inadequacy that had marked their early months in the chamber. Instead, she heard something unprecedented - detailed technical discussion between father and son, with Vegeta asking questions about Trunks' approach rather than simply imposing his own methods.

"The boy has earned his attention," Vegeta explained when he caught her listening, his tone matter-of-fact rather than defensive. "His power is approaching mine." There was no resentment in the acknowledgment, just the pragmatic assessment of a warrior recognizing another's worth. "Half-breeds seem to have an unusual potential," he added with a hint of grudging respect. "Something about mixing Saiyan blood with these humans produces... interesting results."

What struck Cellera most was how Trunks carried himself differently afterward - not with arrogance, but with a quiet confidence that reminded her sharply of their father's more focused moments. For all their differences, perhaps they weren't so dissimilar after all.

Seeing Her brother's evolution only strengthened her resolve to master her mother's technique. But the time they usually spent together between training sessions - discussing their progress, sharing meals, or simply enjoying each other's company - began to dwindle. Each time Trunks invited her to join him, she declined with the same excuse of needing to train alone. He would nod, accepting her words without protest, but she didn't miss the concern darkening his eyes. Like Bulma, however, he knew better than to push.

Their father's unusual silence about her intense training stood in stark contrast to her own behavior during their three years preparing for the androids - how she'd scolded him for pushing himself too hard. Now she understood that desperate drive that had consumed him, that burning need to surpass Kakarot. Though their reasons differed, they shared that same core motivation: the absolute necessity to grow stronger.

Sleep had become an increasingly rare commodity for Cellera as the months progressed. Her days blurred together in an endless cycle of training, brief meditation, and more training. Even during meals, her mind continued working - analyzing past sessions, identifying weaknesses, planning improvements. The brief periods of rest she allowed herself were filled with strategy rather than relaxation.

Her typically structured approach to training had given way to something more frantic and obsessive. The careful balance she'd always maintained between exertion and recovery had eroded, replaced by a single-minded drive to surpass her existing thresholds. Techniques that once would have been practiced with methodical precision were now attempted relentlessly, regardless of her depleting energy reserves.

Meditation sessions that had once balanced her training now served only to refine combat techniques through image training. The chamber's endless white void had become both her laboratory and battleground, each day challenging the constraints of her power further as her fixation on mastering Star Breaker intensified.

Most concerning was her increasingly reckless approach to energy management. Where once she had carefully monitored her ki outputs to maintain optimal efficiency, she now drove herself past normal restrictions driven by a desperate need to prove herself capable of wielding her mother's technique. The brief periods when her body forced her to rest were filled not with recovery but with frustration at what she perceived as weakness.

Trunks had tried intervening several times, his concern growing with each passing day, but Cellera had become adept at deflecting his questions. She'd developed a practiced smile that never quite reached her eyes and reassurances that sounded hollow even to her own ears. The rational part of her mind recognized the destructive pattern forming, but that voice grew quieter with each passing day, drowned out by the desperate drive to become strong enough to protect what mattered to her.

Standing alone in the void, Cellera concentrated on manipulating her ki. She visualized the energy surrounding her body, drawing on memories of how their Super Saiyan aura blazed around them. This part had become easier since her first attempts, but it wasn't enough. The energy needed to respond without conscious thought, as natural as drawing breath. Again and again she repeated the process, pushing her ki to its limits. Just as the energy began to feel right, to flow exactly as she remembered seeing her mother's do, Trunks' voice cut through her concentration.

"Cellera! Let’s eat!"

She hovered in place, chest heaving as she stared into the endless white expanse. Everything in her screamed to continue, to push just a little further. But the memory of her father's earlier threat lingered, and the last thing she needed was to collapse from depleted energy. That would only increase Trunks' already growing worry. Besides... she wanted to save the reveal of her mother's technique for when she'd truly mastered it. The look on her father's face when she unleashed the perfected Star Breaker would be worth the wait.

-

Later that night, after her meal and bath, Cellera slipped out while her brother and father slept. The chamber's silence felt different at this hour, the endless white void somehow more absolute. She'd finally mastered the first step - maintaining her ki without conscious thought. A small smile touched her lips as she considered her next challenge.

While studying her mother's technique, an idea had begun to form. Rhuba had gathered the surrounding ki into a single devastating attack, but perhaps there was room for innovation. What if instead of following her mother's exact method, she created something uniquely her own - a variation that would honor her mother yet incorporate her own style?

She could split her ki into two distinct focal points, using one as misdirection. A small blast in her palm would draw their attention and make them think they'd measured the full extent of her power. They'd never notice the true attack building around her until it was too late. When their guard dropped, she'd combine both energy sources into one precisely timed, overwhelming strike.

The technique would demand incredible control - maintaining two separate ki concentrations while timing their combination perfectly. But as she began her first attempts, Cellera felt her blood thrum at the challenge. A smirk worthy of her father crossed her face as she gathered her energy. She would master this before they left the chamber, no matter what it took.

-

Trunks shifted restlessly in his bed, listening to Cellera's quiet footsteps as she slipped out yet again. These nightly departures had become routine, though she thought they remained unaware. The dark circles under her eyes grew deeper each day, and her movements during their spars, while still precise, carried a slight tremor that spoke of exhaustion.

Across the room, Vegeta lay with his eyes closed, but Trunks knew their father was equally conscious of her absence. He'd caught the way Vegeta watched her during training, noting how that calculating light in her eyes had shifted into something more intense, more reckless. The same look he'd seen in his own reflection during his obsessive drive to surpass Kakarot.

The chamber's endless silence was broken by the distant sound of ki blasts. Trunks started to rise, but Vegeta's voice stopped him.

"Let her be."

"But father, she's pushing too hard. Something's wrong - she barely sleeps anymore!"

"Hmph." Vegeta's eyes remained closed, but his brow furrowed slightly. "I told her to let her instincts guide her, not surrender to them completely." He paused, and Trunks could have sworn he heard concern beneath the gruff tone. 

The sound of another ki blast echoed through the void, followed by what might have been a frustrated cry. Trunks' hands clenched in his sheets, torn between respecting his sister's privacy and his growing fear that she was heading toward some kind of breaking point. 

-

Deep in the chamber's void, Cellera paused in her Star Breaker practice, frustration mounting as the technique continued to elude her. Perhaps a different approach was needed. Setting aside the advanced technique temporarily, she decided to revisit that strange moment during an early training session with her father.

During what had begun as a routine spar in their first month, something extraordinary had happened. She'd been executing a standard counter-sequence when suddenly her perception shifted dramatically. Her consciousness seemed to operate on multiple levels simultaneously—she still observed and processed, but instead of laboriously calculating each move, her body had responded with perfect instinct while her mind maintained strategic control.

She'd identified not just one vulnerability in her father's stance, but three distinct weak points simultaneously—the slight overextension of his right arm, the fractional weight imbalance on his left foot, and the momentary blind spot created by his forward momentum. Rather than choosing which to exploit through careful deliberation as she normally would, she'd maintained all three potential counters in perfect positioning, only committing to the most devastating option at the precise moment of execution.

It wasn't just that her reactions had been faster—it felt as though the signals between her mind and body had moved with unprecedented speed, bypassing the usual delays caused by conscious decision-making. The normally imperceptible boundary between planning and action had dissolved completely, creating a state of strategic unpredictability that had caught even her father off guard—a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features when he couldn't anticipate her movement pattern.

She'd tried to recapture that state several times since, but the more deliberately she pursued it, the more elusive it became. The perfect balance seemed to require both intense focus and complete freedom—her mind analyzing and her instincts guiding, operating in perfect synchronization rather than in sequence or competition.

Shaking off these thoughts, Cellera returned her focus to Star Breaker. With renewed determination, she began gathering her ki once more, pushing herself further into exhaustion.

---

Month 12

Trunks had been right. Cellera's relentless drive finally caught up with her halfway into their final month. He watched as she struggled through basic maneuvers, her movements stiff and uncoordinated, a far cry from her usual fluidity. The sight of his proud sister fighting just to maintain her balance made his chest ache.

"That's enough." Vegeta's voice cut through the void with unusual sharpness. Even their father, who had pushed them relentlessly throughout their time here, seemed to recognize when a line had been crossed. "You're done training for this month."

Cellera stiffened, though the effect was somewhat undermined by how she had to steady herself. "I'm fine."

"Fine?" Vegeta's laugh held no humor. "You call this pathetic display fine? I've seen newly hatched Saibamen with better form."

"You can barely stand," Trunks added, emboldened by their father's intervention. "When was the last time you actually slept? Your baths that used to take an hour are down to five minutes, and your ki..." He trailed off, the weakness in her energy signature speaking for itself.

"I'm perfectly capable of continuing," Cellera snapped, her words coming out sharper than intended. Despite her body's obvious fatigue, her pride refused to acknowledge weakness. "Just because I'm a bit tired doesn't mean—"

When he saw his words having little effect on her stubborn determination, Trunks tried a different approach. "What would Gohan say if he saw you like this?"

The mention of Gohan finally broke through her exhausted haze. Something flickered in her glazed eyes - the first real spark they'd seen in days.

"If you're so convinced you're fine," Vegeta cut in before she could respond, "then surely you're up for a spar?"

"Of course I am," Cellera retorted, though her voice lacked its usual conviction.

When Cellera attempted to take a fighting stance but wavered, Vegeta pressed harder. "What's wrong? Has all this 'training' made you too weak to accept a challenge?" His smirk widened, knowing in her depleted state she'd be easier to provoke. "Though I shouldn't expect better from someone who can barely maintain proper form in basic exercises."

The bait worked perfectly. Cellera's head snapped up, her nose lifting in that proud tilt that mirrored his own so precisely. "I'll show you exactly what I'm capable of."

"Father, are you serious about this?" Trunks watched their exchange with growing concern.

"Stay out of this," Vegeta snapped, not taking his eyes off Cellera. "Your sister is old enough to make her own decisions." His lips curved into a mocking smile. "Though given how well those decisions have been working out lately..."

The taunt hit its mark. Cellera launched forward with a yell, throwing a punch that Vegeta caught with insulting ease. 

He yanked her forward by her captured hand and easily blocked her knee before driving his fist into her stomach. "Pathetic. You threw harder punches on your first day here."

"Shut... up!" Cellera gasped, struggling to regain her balance as she stumbled backward.

Trunks could only watch as the one-sided battle unfolded. Everything about his sister's fighting had deteriorated. Her normally seamless combinations fell apart after the first strike. The strategic mindset that made her so formidable had given way to frustrated, telegraphed attacks that their father read with contemptuous ease. Even her energy control had abandoned her, ki dissipating uselessly around her body instead of focusing into effective strikes.

"Is this really all you have?" Vegeta taunted, sidestepping another wild swing. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the tactical one." He punctuated his words with a casual backhand that sent her sprawling. "Though I suppose all that talk about protecting everyone was just that - talk."

Cellera struggled to push herself up from the chamber's white floor, her arms trembling with the effort. "I'm not... finished yet," she snarled, though her body betrayed her determination.

"How do you expect to protect anyone," Vegeta continued, his voice cutting through her labored breathing, "when you can't even land a single hit on me? Your Saiyan pride must be truly gone if this is the best you can manage."

Vegeta scoffed, turning his back on his daughter. "We're done here. My earlier statement stands - you won't be training for our remaining time. Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I gave you one simple task, and you couldn't even manage that."

Cellera gritted her teeth as she forced herself to stand, her legs shaking with the effort. Through the haze of exhaustion, her father's words cut through with painful clarity. He was right - she'd let her instincts control her rather than guide her, and this pathetic display was the result.

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" Cellera demanded, though her voice cracked with exhaustion.

She glared at his retreating form, her fists clenching at her sides. Maybe she had failed at finding that balance, she could accept losing that battle. But watching him walk away after mocking her pride? That, she could not accept. Not after everything she'd pushed herself through this past year.

With steely determination, she drew in a deep breath and began to focus. The ki around her body responded sluggishly at first, but she forced it to cooperate through sheer will. She would prove her Saiyan pride still burned bright.

Vegeta felt the sudden surge in his daughter's previously depleted ki. As he turned, the sight before him froze him in place. Energy blazed around Cellera's form, while a concentrated sphere of power formed between her hands - a technique he hadn't witnessed since his days under Frieza's rule.

Vegeta studied the small sphere of ki forming between his daughter's hands, initially dismissing it as all her weakened state could manage. But when his eyes met hers, he saw something that had been missing for weeks - the clear, focused gaze of the daughter he knew. The fog of obsession had lifted, replaced by a determined clarity that reminded him sharply of Rhuba in her finest moments.

"Star Breaker!" Cellera's cry echoed through the void as she thrust both hands forward. In that instant, Vegeta watched in shock as the energy surrounding her body seemed to collapse inward, merging with the concentrated sphere just as she released the blast. The resulting beam was far more powerful than he'd anticipated, forcing him to quickly sidestep to avoid being struck.

The attack streaked past him and Trunks, its brilliant light illuminating the endless white void before disappearing into the distance. When Vegeta turned back, Cellera swayed on her feet, chest heaving with exhaustion. Before either he or Trunks could move, her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground.

"Cellera!" Trunks' panicked shout broke through Vegeta's stunned silence. His son rushed to her side, dropping to his knees beside her unconscious form.

Vegeta remained rooted in place, unable to look away from his daughter. She hadn't just recreated Rhuba's technique - she'd transformed it into something entirely her own. To generate that level of power in her condition….The girl was truly her mother's daughter. 

"Father!" Trunks' voice carried barely contained panic. "She's burning up!" He pressed his hand to Cellera's forehead, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. Her breathing came in labored gasps, a pink flush spread across her face, and sweat trickled from her temples.

Vegeta finally moved closer, looking down at his daughter with a critical eye. "That attack consumed what little ki she had left. She'll be unconscious for a while until her body recovers." His expression hardened slightly. "A technique of that scale requires massive ki reserves - something she doesn't have yet. She's still a child, her capacity isn't developed enough for attacks of that magnitude."

"Then how did she manage it?" Trunks asked, still cradling his sister's head. "I've never seen this attack before - not even in my timeline. What was that?"

"Star Breaker. It was Rhuba's technique." Vegeta's voice carried an unusual note at the mention of Cellera's mother. "Though it seems she modified it somewhat. As for how she executed it..." A hint of pride crept into his tone. "The girl's a prodigy. Like her father." He stared at his daughter's unconscious form for a moment longer, seeing echoes of both Rhuba and himself in her features.

"Take her to the bedroom to rest," Vegeta ordered, finally turning away.

"Where are you going?" Trunks demanded, anger flaring in his voice.

Vegeta glanced back, a familiar smirk crossing his features. "After a display like that, you expect me to just sit around?"

"But your child is sick!"

Vegeta rolled his eyes. "She got herself into this situation, she can deal with the consequences." His smirk widened slightly, though his eyes briefly flickered back toward his daughter's unconscious form. "Besides, don't tell me that show of power didn't light a fire in your blood? She'll recover. Saiyans aren't so easily broken."

As Trunks remained silent, Vegeta turned and strode deeper into the void. A rare smile touched his lips as he walked. He and Rhuba had one hell of a daughter - one truly worthy of her Saiyan blood.

 

---

Trunks carried Cellera back to their living quarters, carefully laying her in her bed before gathering a basin of water and a washcloth. As he moved about the room, his mind kept replaying her attack. The way she'd gathered her ki, the unexpected combination of energies... He'd always known his sister was strong, but this display had surpassed anything he'd imagined possible. In truth, this timeline's Cellera had already exceeded her future counterpart's power - and she was only eleven.

He soaked the washcloth in cool water, wringing it out before placing it across her burning forehead. Watching her labored breathing, he recalled that fierce glare she'd fixed on their father's back before attempting Star Breaker. Their earlier conversation about Saiyan pride echoed in his mind - how she'd explained it was their driving force to grow stronger. Now he wondered if their father hadn't deliberately provoked that pride, knowing exactly how she would respond.

Pulling a blanket over his sister, Trunks paused for one final look at her sleeping form. Their father had been right - a fire was burning in his Saiyan blood, but not from the raw display of power. It was his sister’s unwavering resolve that moved him, her determination to grow strong enough to protect what she cherished. In that moment, he saw the same spirit that had driven her future self.

As he walked back toward the endless void, Trunks made his own resolution. He would push past his limits just as she had - though preferably without ending up unconscious with a fever.

---

Trunks sat beside his unconscious sister, carefully replacing the damp cloth on her forehead with a fresh one. Three days had passed since her collapse, yet the fever still raged through her body. Despite his father's assurance that she would recover, worry gnawed at him each time he watched her face contort with discomfort.

Her lips moved in restless sleep, barely audible murmurs escaping between labored breaths. He leaned closer, hoping to catch what troubled her dreams.

"Gohan..." The name slipped from her lips with such tenderness that Trunks found himself pulling back slightly, feeling as if he'd intruded on something private.

"She's been saying his name for hours."

Trunks jumped at the voice, turning to find his father leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed in his characteristic stance. How long had Vegeta been watching them?

"It's the fever," Trunks replied, though they both knew better.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is it?" He pushed away from the doorframe and moved into the room with predatory grace. "Or is there more to your sister's relationship with Kakarot's brat than you've been letting on?"

The accusation in his father's tone made Trunks tense. He'd been careful to avoid the topic of his sister's relationship with Gohan, knowing how focused Vegeta was on defeating Cell.

"What exactly do you want to know?" Trunks asked cautiously.

"Don't play games with me, boy." Vegeta's voice carried a dangerous edge. "I've seen how you look at them. You know something."

Trunks sighed, running a hand through his lavender hair. He glanced down at his sister's sleeping form, noting how even in unconsciousness, her expression softened slightly when Gohan's name passed her lips.

"In my timeline," he began carefully, "they were... close."

"How close?" The question came out as more of a demand.

Trunks hesitated, weighing his options. The truth might anger his father, but lies would only delay the inevitable. "Very close," he finally admitted. "More than friends."

Vegeta's jaw tightened, a muscle working in his cheek. "And you decided this information wasn't worth sharing?"

"Would it have made any difference?" Trunks challenged, surprised by his own boldness. "The future I came from isn't set in stone. Things are already changing."

"So you've been watching them," Vegeta stated rather than asked. "Looking for signs that history will repeat itself."

It wasn't a question, but Trunks nodded anyway. "I wasn't sure at first. They're still so young here." He glanced down at Cellera, only ten years old yet already burdened with responsibilities and battles beyond her years once again. "But I see the way she looks at him, the way he responds to her... it's the same. Different context, same connection."

Vegeta fell silent, his piercing gaze fixed on his daughter's face as she murmured Gohan's name once more. The expression that crossed his features was complex - frustration mingled with something that might have been resignation.

"It doesn't surprise me," Vegeta finally said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. "Kakarot's brat has been a constant in her life since Namek."

Trunks studied his father carefully, recalling the subtle eye twitch Vegeta had shown months ago at the mere mention of Gohan's name. Something about this situation clearly bothered his father, though he was making an effort to appear unaffected.

"You're not angry?" Trunks asked, genuinely surprised by the measured response.

"Of course I'm angry," Vegeta snapped, though without his usual heat. "But my feelings on the matter are irrelevant. The girl has Saiyan blood - once she sets her mind on someone worthy of standing beside her, not even I can dissuade her." A rueful expression crossed his face.

The way Vegeta spoke suggested this was normal for Saiyans, though Trunks didn't understand exactly what that meant. His own knowledge of Saiyan culture was limited to what Cellera had shared during their training.

Trunks decided to reveal the full truth. "In my timeline, they died together." The words hung heavy in the air between them. "We were training together when the androids attacked a nearby city. Cellera and Gohan insisted on fighting them, but she... she knocked me unconscious when I tried to join them."

Vegeta's eyes flickered with something unreadable at that detail.

"When I woke up, I went looking for them," Trunks continued, his voice growing quieter. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver pendant identical to the one his sister wore. "I found them in the rain... they were already gone. They died holding hands, side by side." His fingers closed around the pendant. "This is all I have left of her."

A strange silence fell over the room. Trunks expected anger, perhaps even disgust at such a display of weakness, but Vegeta's face remained unreadable. After a long moment, his father  simply said, "At least she wasn't alone."

The unexpected response caught Trunks off guard. Before he could comment, Vegeta continued in his more typical tone: "And where were you when they faced the androids every time before then?"

"I wanted to fight with them," Trunks explained. "Cellera always tried to protect me, to keep me out of danger. She held back my training for years, wanting me to have some kind of childhood, something she never got to have."

His hands clenched into fists as he continued, "The one time I did convince them to take me along... Gohan lost his arm protecting me. He nearly died. I'll never forget how Cellera looked that day - like she'd nearly lost a part of herself. After that, she became even more protective, more determined to keep me from facing the androids until I was ready."

His voice hardened with resolve. "I've already lost her once. I won't let it happen again. Even if that means sacrificing myself."

Something flickered in Vegeta's eyes - a flash of respect that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He studied his son for a long moment, as if seeing him truly for the first time.

"It seems your sister has passed her Saiyan pride to you," Vegeta finally said, his tone neutral but lacking its usual edge. There was something almost like approval in his voice, though carefully disguised.

Trunks wasn't sure how to respond. This was the closest thing to acceptance he'd received since arriving in this timeline. Before he could formulate a reply, Cellera stirred slightly, her brow furrowing as another wave of fever passed through her.

Vegeta watched her for a moment longer before turning toward the door. He paused at the threshold, his back to Trunks.

"Change the cloth again," he instructed. "Saiyan fevers run hotter than humans'. She'll need the cooling more frequently."

As his father's footsteps faded into the distance, Trunks gently replaced the cloth on Cellera's forehead. He hadn't told his father everything - how deeply in love the pair had been in his timeline, how Gohan had helped train him after years of Cellera's cautious approach, or how they'd found moments of genuine happiness even amid apocalyptic destruction. Some things were for them alone.

"Don't worry," he whispered to his sleeping sister. "This time will be different. This time, you'll both survive. I’ll make sure of it."

 

----

Outside in the endless white void, Vegeta stood with his arms crossed, staring into the emptiness. His son's words echoed in his mind, painting a future he wasn't sure how to feel about. The prince's face remained impassive, betraying nothing of the storm of emotions beneath.

Despite his outward stoicism, one thought kept surfacing: Kakarot's son and his daughter? The very idea was absurd. Yet even he couldn't deny the boy's potential, especially after seeing it first hand against himself and Frieza. But potential wasn't enough - not for the daughter of the Saiyan prince. The boy would need to prove himself worthy of Saiyan royalty, and so far, Vegeta remained thoroughly unconvinced.

-

While Trunks had taken primary responsibility for monitoring his sister's condition, he noticed something curious the day after the talk with his father. When he awoke to find Vegeta already gone for training, he discovered the washcloth on Cellera's forehead had been recently changed. A knowing smile crossed his face - it seemed their father was concerned after all, even if he'd never admit to it.

A week passed before Cellera finally opened her eyes. Though her fever had broken, weakness still pervaded her every movement. Trunks, who'd happened to be checking on her, quickly brought over a glass of water. He helped her sit up, keeping his hand wrapped around hers on the cup since her grip was still unsteady.

After finishing the water, she sank back against her pillow with a soft exhale. "How long was I out?"

"About a week," Trunks replied. "And from the looks of it, you'll need at least another week of bed rest." He couldn't help but smile at the slight pout that formed on her face - it was the most animated he'd seen her look since before her collapse.

A loud growl suddenly filled the room, causing a pink flush to spread across Cellera's cheeks as she realized it had come from her own stomach. Trunks laughed, the sound carrying genuine relief at seeing her show signs of recovery. "I'll get you something to eat. You must be starving after a week without food." He stood and headed for the door, still chuckling at her embarrassment.

Cellera stared at the ceiling, realizing something peculiar - in the week she'd been unconscious, not a single nightmare had plagued her sleep. Instead, fragments of a peaceful dream lingered at the edges of her memory - something involving Gohan and a quiet meadow, studying together under a clear sky. In the dream, she'd been practicing her forms nearby before eventually joining him under the shade of a tree, both of them content in their different yet complementary activities. It had been the most peaceful rest she'd experienced in months. As she recalled her confrontation with her father, she wondered if his brutal honesty about her inability to protect anyone in her condition, combined with her successful execution of Star Breaker to prove him wrong, had somehow shattered the psychological barriers she'd built around herself.

A mental inventory of her current state painted a clear picture - her body felt like she'd gone ten rounds with Frieza, the price of pushing herself beyond reasonable limits. That pathetic excuse for a fight against her father... yet she couldn't stop a small smile from forming. She'd fallen into the exact behavior she'd lectured him about countless times. Like father, like daughter indeed.

But where Vegeta might once have pushed himself further, pride driving him to train through weakness and injury as he had before the gravity room explosion years ago, she chose to learn from his mistakes as well as her own. Recovery needed to be her priority now, especially with only fifteen days remaining before they faced the cyborgs and Cell. Strange how the thought of rest no longer filled her with that crippling anxiety and fear of weakness that had driven her to this state. While she hadn't mastered the challenge her father had originally set - she'd achieved something else entirely, something even Vegeta couldn't have anticipated.

Trunks returned with a plate of cooked meat and - to Cellera's delight - a bowl of strawberries. She pushed herself up despite his protests.

"Save your strength-"

"I'm not completely helpless," she insisted, though her arms shook slightly with the effort. "I can manage this much." When he handed her the food, she couldn't help but dig in eagerly, savoring each bite after a week without sustenance.

To her surprise, however, she found herself satisfied after just half the plate - nothing like her usual voracious hunger. Trunks noticed too, watching with a slightly furrowed brow as she set down her fork.

"Is something wrong with the food?" he asked, trying to keep his tone casual.

Cellera looked at the remaining food with confusion. "No, it's fine. I'm just... not as hungry as I thought I'd be." She frowned slightly at the half-finished plate, perplexed by this deviation from her typical eating habits. Even when injured in the past, her body had always demanded proper nourishment to fuel recovery. This unusual lack of hunger felt foreign and concerning - another sign that something had been affected by her reckless training and collapse.

As she set the plate aside, she studied her brother more carefully, noticing how his lavender hair had grown long enough to require tying back. The observation made her reach for her own hair, finding it loose around her shoulders. She hadn't worn it down since Bulma had gifted her the blue ribbon for her eighth birthday.

Trunks noticed her gesture and pulled the familiar blue ribbon from his jacket pocket. "Father untied it," he explained, handing it to her. "Said he didn't want to hear you complaining about a headache when you woke up."

Their eyes met in silent understanding. While their father's excuse was practical enough, they both recognized the deeper meaning he'd never voice aloud.

"Speaking of headaches..."

The familiar gruff voice made them both turn. Vegeta stood in the doorway, arms crossed as he studied his daughter with an unreadable expression. Despite her weakened state, Cellera felt her spine straighten instinctively under his scrutiny.

"If you think you'll be using that technique again, you're sorely mistaken."

Cellera flinched as if struck. She had thought mastering her mother's technique would make him proud. Anger surged through her weakened body as she tried to push herself out of bed, ignoring how the room spun around her. Trunks moved to catch her, anticipating her collapse, but Vegeta's sharp command froze them both.

"Don't even think about moving. You're weak enough as is."

She narrowed her eyes, meeting his stern gaze with a glare of her own. "Why?" The word carried all her frustrated confusion. "Tell me why!"

"Because you'd be nothing but a liability in actual combat after a single use." Vegeta's harsh response hit her like a physical blow.

Liability . The word echoed in her mind, dragging her back to Namek - to another time he'd dismissed her with that same cruel assessment. If there was one thing she hated more than cowardice, it was being considered worthless in battle.

Before she could voice her protest, Vegeta continued, "Your body, at its current age, can't handle outputting that much ki without severe consequences. You're lucky to have survived this attempt, especially given the pathetic state you were in beforehand."

Cellera's fingers dug into her blankets as she bit her lip, frustration warring with the undeniable logic of his words. She couldn't refute his assessment - her current condition proved his point all too well.

"Stop your pathetic moping," Vegeta clicked his tongue in disapproval. "I raised you to be a warrior with dignity, not some sniveling child who sulks when they don't get their way." His lip curled slightly. "Perhaps the woman has spoiled you too much. Or maybe it's the influence of Kakarot's brat."

The deliberate jabs made Cellera shoot him another venomous glare, though she recognized the tactic. He was trying to provoke her - probably punishment for her reckless behavior, knowing she barely had strength to argue, let alone stand.

Vegeta rolled his eyes at her expression. "Obviously you need more rest. You're usually more astute when I lecture you." With that parting shot, he turned and left.

To Cellera's surprise, Trunks actually laughed. "He's right, you know. Maybe you do need more sleep." At her bewildered look, he added, "I understood exactly what father meant."

He started toward the door, pausing in the archway. "Besides, ever since your battle, he's been even more intense with training. He's actually demanding I spar with him now." A slight smile touched his lips. "Gets angry when he thinks I'm holding back."

As Trunks' footsteps faded, Cellera could only blink in confusion. Their father had actually changed his stance on solitary training to include Trunks? She had been so caught up in her own frustration that she and her brother had completely swapped roles - where once she had sat contentedly eating strawberries while explaining Vegeta's complex nature, now she sat fuming at his words just as Trunks had done months ago.

She let her head fall back against the pillow, closing her eyes. As she replayed the conversation in her mind, embarrassment crept in as she realized how much she'd missed in her weakened state.

Her father had never actually forbidden her from using Star Breaker permanently - he'd specified her current age and body as the limiting factors. The "liability" comment wasn't just criticism; it was a calculated choice of words he knew would resonate with her, ensuring she wouldn't risk making herself useless in battle. Even his jabs about Bulma and Gohan had served a purpose, deliberately steering her away from self-pity by igniting her temper instead.

She couldn't help but laugh softly at herself, realizing just how much her exhausted mind had failed to grasp. Her father was right - she clearly needed more rest if she'd missed such obvious signs. Still, watching Trunks finally begin to see beyond their father's pride and arrogance brought its own satisfaction. Maybe something good had come from her collapse after all.

-

After another week of rest, Cellera finally felt strong enough to move about without her muscles threatening to give out or the room spinning around her. But as she attempted to resume even the lightest training, a more troubling issue emerged - her ki control had completely abandoned her.

They discovered the extent of the problem during what should have been a simple exercise. She'd started with a basic training sequence to work out the stiffness in her muscles, everything proceeding normally until she attempted to take to the air. Suddenly, her usually perfect control vanished. She flailed wildly through the air, unable to direct her flight or even maintain a consistent height. The sequence ended with her crashing unceremoniously to the ground, her barely-recovered muscles screaming in protest.

Wincing, she pushed herself up from the chamber's white floor. Something was seriously wrong. Even with her depleted ki reserves, basic flight shouldn't require this much effort. The sensation was disturbingly familiar - it reminded her of being two years old again, struggling to master her first ki techniques under her parents' watchful eyes.

Trunks approached, concern etched on his features. "What happened?"

"I'm not sure," Cellera replied, staring at her palm in concentration. She attempted to form even the smallest sphere of ki - something she'd mastered as a toddler - but her energy refused to respond properly. What should have been a controlled ball of light emerged as an unstable flicker that dissipated almost immediately. Her brow furrowed as she studied her empty hand.

The disruption felt strange - not simply a matter of reduced power, but something more fundamental. Her energy seemed disconnected from her intentions, as if the pathways that normally carried her will into action had been damaged. With only three days remaining before they needed to leave the chamber, this development was more than troubling.

From his position near one of the chamber's pillars, Vegeta's voice carried across the void. "It's the price of forcing Star Breaker in your condition. You'll have to deal with the consequences." Without further comment, he returned to his own training.

Left with little choice, Cellera decided to focus on training her mind instead. She spent the final three days cross-legged on her bed, engaged in image training. Though effective, it wasn't quite the same without Gohan as her mental sparring partner. A fond smile crossed her face as she remembered him teaching her the technique on Namek, his patient explanation of how to construct a proper mental battlefield.

Trunks walked in, a knowing smirk playing across his features. "Thinking about Gohan?"

"I am not!" Cellera protested, but the flush spreading across her cheeks betrayed her.

"You can't lie to me," Trunks laughed. "You get that same look on your face whenever you think about him - just like you did in my timeline."

"What look?" Cellera demanded, but Trunks just shrugged with exaggerated casualness.

"Nothing," he replied, though his smirk suggested otherwise.

Cellera noted how smoothly he deflected, just as he had done multiple times before. His knowing smirks and cryptic comments about their "friendship" had become a recurring theme, though she'd never managed to get him to explain exactly what he found so amusing. There was clearly something about her and Gohan that he wasn't sharing. But before she could press him further, he changed the subject.

"How's your ki control coming along?"

Deciding to save that particular mystery for another time, she sighed. "Still difficult, but at least I can fly properly now. Ki attacks are still beyond me though."

"And otherwise?" he asked, studying her with lingering concern.

"Sore and aching," she admitted, "but nothing serious. I'll be fine."

The deep toll of one of the chamber's massive clocks suddenly reverberated through their living space. Cellera's eyes darted to the hourglass, where the last grains of sand had finally settled in the bottom chamber. She and Trunks exchanged meaningful looks as they made their way toward the door, their father close behind.

"Hurry up, boy," Vegeta snapped as Trunks reached for the handle.

Trunks hesitated, glancing back at his sister with concern. "Father, about Cellera... she still can't form even basic ki attacks."

Vegeta's eyes swept over his daughter, noting the careful way she carried herself despite her attempts to appear unaffected. "Then she'll stay out of direct combat," he stated flatly.

"I'm not staying behind," Cellera said firmly, her chin lifting in a way that mirrored her father's so perfectly.

"Did I say that?" Vegeta scoffed. "Use what you have. Your mind still works, doesn't it?" He crossed his arms, a smirk spreading across his face. "Not that it matters. I'll be more than enough to handle that overgrown insect myself. Once I'm done with Cell, I'll take care of those two tin cans as well." 

His confidence wasn't just for show - Cellera could sense the enormous power her father had achieved during their year of training. Yet something about his arrogance sent a chill through her. That same overconfidence had led to disaster against the cyborgs once before.

Trunks moved subtly closer to Cellera, his protective instinct visible in how he positioned himself between her and the door. "She shouldn't be anywhere near Cell in this condition."

"I can make my own decisions," Cellera said, though her tone lacked its usual edge. She understood his concern came from a place deeper than simple worry - from memories of a future where he'd lost her.

"Promise me you'll keep your distance," Trunks insisted, his eyes carrying that haunted look again. "Just... stay safe."

The intensity in his voice made something in her chest tighten. This wasn't just about her current weakness - this was about his fear of history repeating itself. She placed a hand on his arm, her expression softening.

"I'll be careful," she said quietly.

Something in Trunks' shoulders eased at her words, the tension visibly draining from his body. He nodded once, accepting her promise with the gravity it deserved.

As the door began to swing open, Cellera sent up a silent prayer that their year of training - with all its triumphs and setbacks - would prove enough for the challenges that awaited them outside.

Notes:

So.....I will not lie I may have used something from Prince of Tennis in this and i hate how well it can work in the DBZ verse LMAO!

Chapter 24: Chapter 23

Notes:

Nothing like uploading a chapter to my lovely readers during a tornado outbreak!
That being said, if by chance something happens in my area, my beta reader has instructions to keep uploading until I'm back online!
Stay safe if you are someone in the path of these storms in the U.S.!
Don't forget to check out the tumblr dedicated to the fic where I reblog a lot of the fanart I'm tagged in! Truly. you guys are so talented and it makes me so incredibly happy that you love the fic so much! https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar?source=share

The moment Cellera stepped through the Chamber's doors, colors assaulted her senses with almost painful intensity. After a year of nothing but white emptiness stretching in every direction, The Lookout's marble tiles and carefully tended gardens felt surreal - a feast for eyes that had been starved of anything but void. She blinked rapidly, adjusting to a world that somehow felt both familiar and strange.

"Sorry to keep you all waiting," Trunks said, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over the gathered group.

"Hey, it's good to have you back!" Kakarot's warm welcome carried his usual cheerful energy.

Cellera watched as Kakarot's bright smile lit up his face, so different from her father's perpetual scowl. The thought barely had time to form before Gohan's voice drew her attention.

Across from where Cellera stood, Gohan's eyes widened as he took in Trunks' transformation. The future warrior's lavender hair now fell past his shoulders, and his entire frame had filled out with lean muscle.

"Wow Trunks, you've really changed!" Gohan exclaimed, clearly impressed by the physical transformation.

As Gohan's gaze shifted to Cellera, his breath caught slightly. She had grown taller, though the change was subtle compared to Trunks' more dramatic transformation. Her features had matured ever so slightly, wisps of her hair had escaped her blue ribbon, framing her face in a way that drew attention to these newly refined angles.

But something felt off. As Gohan studied Cellera, he noticed the usual spark in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by shadows of exhaustion. While she had always carried herself with careful composure, there had always been an underlying energy to her presence - a vitality that made her seem more alive than anyone else in the room. Now she stood slightly apart from the others, her usual poise marked by an unfamiliar hesitation. Most concerning to Gohan was her ki signature - it felt weaker than he had ever sensed from her, even during their earliest days training together on Namek.

Goku seemed to notice as well, tilting his head in that characteristic way that made him look more curious than concerned. "Hey Cellera, you feeling okay? You look a bit under the weather." His eyes narrowed slightly as he focused on her diminished ki.

A flash of embarrassment crossed Cellera's face at having her condition so easily noticed. Before she could respond, Trunks stepped in to explain.

"There was a bit of a hiccup," he said carefully. "Cellera collapsed after pushing herself too hard."

The worried look that crossed Gohan's face made Cellera want to protest that she was fine, but she knew her current state would make such claims obviously false. Instead, she remained silent, frustrated by her own weakness.

"I must say, I'm impressed," Mr. Popo said, his perpetually calm voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. "Even with that setback, you three managed to last an entire day. I've never known anyone who could endure the chamber for so long."

"We might have come out sooner," Trunks admitted, "but Father insisted on staying until he was absolutely certain he'd done everything possible." He began to elaborate further on their training, but Vegeta's sharp voice cut him off.

"Be quiet, boy," Vegeta snapped. "It seems you can't control your tongue any better than your sister can control her ki."

Cellera turned to fix her father with a fierce scowl. The last thing she wanted was to draw attention to her weakened state - especially not with Gohan about to enter the chamber himself. He needed to focus on his own training, not worry about her condition.

Trunks released a weary sigh at their father's cutting remark, but Goku seemed more amused than concerned. A knowing smirk played across his features as he turned to Vegeta.

"So, did you do what you planned?" he asked, his casual tone carrying an underlying challenge that only those who knew him well would recognize.

Vegeta matched Goku's expression with his own confident smirk. "You'll find out soon enough." He folded his arms across his chest, pride radiating from every line of his posture. "Though if I were you, I wouldn't waste time training in that room. I'll destroy Cell and those androids with my bare hands before you even step inside."

Cellera fought the urge to roll her eyes at her father's declaration. She didn't even bother correcting his use of "androids" instead of "cyborgs" - his pride and arrogance had doubled the moment he'd laid eyes on Kakarot. She knew from experience that trying to reason with him in this state would be as productive as attempting to punch through The Lookout's marble floors with her bare hands.

From where he stood slightly behind his father, Gohan watched the familiar dynamic unfold between Goku and Vegeta. But his attention kept drifting back to Cellera, noting how she seemed to be conserving every movement, as if each gesture required careful consideration of her limited energy. The observation only deepened his concern about whatever had happened during their year in the chamber.

"I don't know how strong you think you've become," Piccolo's gruff voice cut through the tension, "but you're underestimating our enemy."

"He's right," Goku added, his usual cheerful demeanor giving way to something more serious. "Cell's become incredibly powerful. I got to see for myself after he absorbed Android 17."

The words froze the air in Cellera's lungs. "He absorbed 17?" Her voice emerged rough, as if the very question scraped against her throat.

Tien nodded grimly. "17 didn't stand a chance against him. After the absorption..." He paused, the memory clearly troubling him. "Piccolo and I nearly died trying to stop him. His power is beyond anything we've faced before."

Cellera's hand drifted up to her lip as she processed this development. "Then our safest option is clear," she said slowly. "We need to find 18 and eliminate her before Cell can complete his evolution."

The words felt bitter on her tongue. Their discovery in Gero's underground lab haunted her thoughts - the clinical documentation of how he'd kidnapped two young siblings, Lapis and Lazuli, transforming them into weapons against their will. 18 wasn't just a machine to be destroyed, but a human who'd had her life stolen from her. The realization made Cellera's stomach twist - how different was their current plan from Gero's original intentions? They were treating 18 as nothing more than a component to be eliminated, just as Gero had viewed her as merely raw material for his twisted ambitions.

Yet the tactical reality remained unchanged. Every moment they hesitated increased the risk of Cell achieving his perfect form. It was the most logical solution, one that would prevent catastrophic consequences. But for the first time, Cellera found herself questioning whether the most efficient strategy was necessarily the right one. The memory of those laboratory documents made it impossible to view 18 as simply a threat to be neutralized.

"Hmph." Vegeta's derisive snort drew her from her moral dilemma. "Maybe in your pathetic, weakened state, that's the only solution you can see." His lips curled into a predatory smile that held no warmth. "But I intend to savor testing my new power against Cell. And once I'm finished with him..." His eyes blazed with barely contained hatred. "I'll deal with her myself."

Cellera didn't miss how her father's hands clenched at his sides, or the way his ki flickered erratically for just a moment. She recognized the signs - he was reliving his humiliating defeat at 18's hands. That battle had wounded more than just his body; it had struck at the very core of his pride. Now that same pride was driving him toward what could be another catastrophic mistake.

Gohan watched the exchange with growing unease. Something in Cellera's expression when she'd suggested destroying 18 had caught his attention - a fleeting shadow of doubt that seemed at odds with her usual certainty. 

"Hello? Is anyone here?" A familiar voice rang out across The Lookout, cutting their discussion short.

Cellera's eyes brightened at the sound. "Bulma!" After a year in the chamber's isolation, just hearing her voice lifted something heavy from her shoulders. She moved quickly toward the front of The Lookout, the others following behind, curious about this unexpected arrival.

"How'd you know where to find us?" Goku asked as Bulma came into view.

"Krillin filled me in," Bulma replied, scanning the gathered group. When her eyes landed on Trunks and Cellera, she rushed forward, maternal instincts taking over.

"Oh my goodness, look at your hair!" She ran her fingers through Trunks' lavender locks, which now fell well past his shoulders. "Cellera was absolutely right about half-Saiyan hair growing unlike pure Saiyans'."

"Huh, that explains why I've never needed a haircut," Goku mused, running a hand through his own perpetually spiky hair.

Bulma turned her attention to Cellera, her eyes softening. "And you've gotten taller too," she noted, glancing between the siblings. "Both of you have." She continued fussing over them, straightening Trunks' jacket and brushing Cellera's stray hair from her face.

The familiar mothering brought an unexpected lump to Cellera's throat. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed Bulma's presence. A year in the chamber's isolation—where days blended into each other in an endless white void with only her father and brother for company—had made her crave these simple expressions of care. During their three years of preparation for the androids, Bulma had been their voice of reason - particularly when it came to moderating their training intensity. She'd had no qualms about disabling the gravity chamber's functions when she felt they were pushing too hard, a safety feature Cellera herself had suggested to Dr. Briefs during the capsule's development.

That collaboration had come shortly after another of Cellera's proposals - raising the gravity chamber's maximum capacity to 600 times Earth's gravity. She'd known her father would quickly surpass the original 300-times limit, and the modification had proved essential to their training. But it had been Bulma who'd ensured they couldn't completely destroy themselves in pursuit of greater strength, something Cellera had come to appreciate more with each passing year.

Standing here now, watching Bulma fret over them both, Cellera felt a familiar warmth spread through her chest. No matter how much time passed - even if it was only a day in the outside world - Bulma's maternal instincts never wavered.

Bulma's maternal inspection wasn't finished. Her eyes narrowed as she grabbed Cellera's chin, turning the young Saiyan's face from side to side with gentle but insistent fingers. "What's wrong? And don't try telling me it's nothing."

Cellera avoided meeting Bulma's searching gaze. That "mother's intuition" Bulma was so proud of had only grown sharper since having Trunks, and she'd clearly detected something amiss - even without the ability to sense ki. The scrutiny made Cellera feel like a child again, caught trying to hide an injury after training.

"She'll be fine," Vegeta's sharp voice cut through the moment. "What did you come here for? We don't have time for pointless chatter."

Bulma released Cellera's chin, rolling her eyes at Vegeta's typical brusqueness. After years of dealing with the Saiyan prince's attitude, his harsh tone barely registered. "Actually," she said, pulling out her capsule case with casual confidence, "I brought something important. The battle armor is finally complete."

Cellera turned to her stepmother in surprise. "You finished it?"

"Sure did!" Bulma's pride was evident in her voice. "It turned out so well, I made enough for everyone." She selected a capsule, clicked the release, and tossed it. A green box materialized in a puff of smoke.

As Goku and Gohan eagerly opened the container, pulling out perfect replicas of Saiyan battle armor, Bulma cast an appraising eye over Trunks, Vegeta, and Cellera. Their current armor and apparel bore the obvious marks of their year in the chamber - scuffed, chipped, and torn in places. "Looks like I got here just in time," she observed. "You three definitely need a change of clothes."

Cellera collected her new armor and ducked into a small side room to change. When she emerged, she found Gohan adjusting the white combat boots, and suddenly time seemed to blur. The image overlapped perfectly with her memories of Namek - Gohan in nearly identical armor, both of them barely five years old yet facing battles that would have broken most adults. Had it really only been six years ago? The time dilation from the chamber made it feel simultaneously closer and more distant, as if that lost young girl and the warrior she'd become existed in parallel.

The sight stirred something deeper than simple nostalgia. They'd both changed so much since those desperate days on Namek, yet here they were again, preparing to face another seemingly impossible threat. But this time, they weren't helpless children, they were stronger - not just in power, but in their understanding of themselves and each other.

Kakarot was examining his battle jacket with obvious appreciation. "This is incredible - it's so light!" he exclaimed, testing the material's flexibility.

Cellera glanced toward her father, watching as he pulled the jacket over his blue compression suit with characteristic precision. As he adjusted his gloves, his eyes flickered briefly toward Bulma, who stood engaged in conversation with Piccolo and Tien. The look lasted barely a heartbeat before returning to his task, but Cellera caught it. While Bulma would understand that her father's lack of complaints meant approval, Cellera decided a more direct confirmation might be warranted later.

She made her way to where Gohan stood, and he greeted her with a warm smile that made her momentarily forget her exhaustion. "It feels strange wearing this again," he said, gesturing to his armor. "Like reuniting with an old friend from Namek."

"Indeed," Cellera replied, unable to resist the urge to tease him. "The universe's most powerful Saiyan good guy makes his triumphant return."

Gohan's face flushed brilliant red. "Can we please forget I ever said that?" he groaned. "I was five!"

His embarrassment drew a genuine laugh from her - a sound that had become rare during their year in the chamber.

As the color slowly faded from his cheeks, Gohan's expression grew more serious. "What did Vegeta mean about not controlling your ki?" he asked softly. "Is that connected to why you collapsed?"

Cellera released a weary sigh. There was no point hiding it anymore, especially not from him. "I pushed myself too far during training," she explained, choosing her words carefully. "There was a technique I was determined to master—something from my mother's combat style." 

 

She described what happened after her collapse, including her rather undignified attempts at basic flight. "The simplest maneuvers felt impossible," she admitted, the words coming with difficulty. "Skills I've known almost my entire life..."

 

When she described falling from the air like a novice, Gohan couldn't contain his snort of laughter. She fixed him with a glare, arms crossing over her chest.

 

"Sorry, sorry!" he said quickly, though his eyes still sparkled with amusement. The humor faded as concern took its place. "But are you really okay now?"

 

She uncrossed her arms, her expression softening at his genuine worry. "I'm still tired and sore," she admitted, "and while I can manage flight now, ki attacks are beyond me at the moment." Her voice gentled further as she added, "But I'll be fine."

Gohan smiled in response, but Cellera could see the worry hadn't left his eyes. Even after all these years, he still couldn't quite hide his emotions from her. Then again, she thought, she'd never really wanted him to.

"Aren't you two going to try some on?" Bulma asked, turning to Piccolo and Tien.

Piccolo's arms remained firmly crossed as he replied, "I can't stomach the idea of wearing the same armor as Vegeta and Frieza's soldiers." He cast an apologetic glance toward Cellera and Gohan. "No offense."

Cellera shrugged, privately thinking that the Saiyan battle armor required a certain... presence to wear properly. As if reading her thoughts, Gohan smiled up at his mentor. "Your current style is way cooler anyway. I can't imagine you wearing anything else."

His words sparked a memory of their early training sessions, when Gohan had first appeared proudly wearing his own miniature version of Piccolo's weighted clothing. The image of that eager child still shone through in moments like these, despite everything they'd faced since.

"Hey, don't be so picky," Goku said, twisting to test the armor's range of motion. "It's actually a lot more flexible than it looks."

"Hmph." Vegeta's dismissive sound drew their attention. "It doesn't matter what you wear, Kakarot. You won't get the chance to fight anyway."

"That would be the ideal solution, wouldn't it?" Kakarot replied, his cheerful tone belied by the challenging glint in his eyes. They held each other's gaze for a moment, and Cellera recognized that look - a promise between warriors to settle their eternal rivalry once this crisis had passed.

As Vegeta turned to leave, Goku called after him. "Want me to teleport you there?"

Cellera couldn't suppress her smirk at Kakarot's ability to needle her father while maintaining his helpful demeanor. The underlying taunt was subtle but unmistakable.

"Don't be an idiot," Vegeta snapped. "I don't need your help." Without another word, he launched himself from The Lookout, his ki trail blazing against the sky as he headed toward Cell's location.

"Geez," Bulma groaned, hands planted on her hips as she watched Vegeta's form disappear into the distance. "Why can't he ever accept help from anyone?"

"He accepted your armor," Cellera pointed out. "And seemed quite pleased with it."

Bulma's expression softened. "Well, I couldn't have done it without your help." A fond smile touched her lips. "Those design modifications you suggested made all the difference."

"You helped make these?" Gohan turned to Cellera with surprise.

She nodded, a hint of pride showing through her exhaustion. The project had given her a welcome break from training during their three years of preparation. Plus, she enjoyed assisting Bulma in the lab.

"I don't understand," Trunks interjected, looking between Cellera and Bulma. "What does training armor have to do with Father?"

"In Saiyan culture," Cellera explained, her voice taking on the careful tone she used when sharing aspects of their heritage, "gifting one's mate with something to wear holds special significance. It's a symbol of commitment."

"Like a ring?" Gohan asked, catching on quickly as always.

"Precisely." Cellera couldn't help but admire how Gohan's eagerness to learn extended far beyond his academic studies. Whether it was understanding Saiyan customs, mastering new fighting techniques, or discovering something fascinating in nature, his genuine curiosity never wavered. It was one of the traits she'd always appreciated about him - that pure desire to understand everything around him.

Cellera glanced in the direction her father had vanished before turning to Trunks. "We should go if we want to catch up to Father."

Trunks nodded, but before Cellera could move toward the ledge, Gohan's voice stopped her.

"Wait!" When she turned back, she saw conflict written across his features. "Are... are you sure you'll be okay?"

She tilted her head, a teasing smile playing at her lips. "I collapse once and suddenly you think I can't fend for myself?"

Gohan completely missed her playful tone, his arms flailing in panic as words tumbled out. "No! That's not- I mean- it's just that I'm worried because you can't use your ki and-" His cheeks flushed as he stumbled over his explanation, and Cellera found herself thinking how endearing his flustered state was. The thought surprised her, bringing a slight warmth to her own cheeks.

Finally, Gohan's nervous energy settled into something more subdued. His eyes dropped to the ground as his voice grew quiet. "I felt how strong Cell is. He almost killed Piccolo and Tien." He swallowed hard before adding, "I know you can take care of yourself, but..."

The words trailed off, but Cellera understood. The fear of losing Piccolo was still raw in his mind, and now she was heading toward that same danger. Something softened in her chest at his concern.

She stepped closer, closing the distance between them until she stood directly in front of him. "Don't worry about me," she said, forming her right hand into a fist. With gentle deliberation, she bumped her knuckles against his chest, right over his heart—a gesture that felt both playful and strangely intimate. "I'll be just fine."

 

A moment passed before Gohan's hand came up, hesitating briefly before wrapping around her fist. His fingers curled around her smaller hand, warm and steady, neither pulling away nor holding too tightly—simply connecting. The gesture was somehow both protective and seeking reassurance at the same time. When their eyes met, Cellera felt her breath catch slightly at the intensity of emotion in his gaze.

 

"You promise?" he asked, his voice lower than usual.

 

A warm smile spread across her face, genuine and unguarded in a way she rarely allowed herself to be. "I promise. Have I ever broken one to you?"

 

"No," he whispered, the corner of his mouth lifting into a small smile that made her heart flutter in an unfamiliar way.

 

Only then did awareness seem to dawn on them both. Their eyes simultaneously dropped to where his hand still enclosed her fist against his chest. Color rushed to their cheeks as they quickly pulled away, the moment breaking like a soap bubble.

Cellera cleared her throat, willing her voice to stay steady. "Just focus on coming out of that room stronger - and as a Super Saiyan."

"You really think I can do it?" The uncertainty in his voice made her heart ache.

"Of course I do," she replied without hesitation. "You're stronger than you think, Gohan." The way his eyes brightened at her words sent another unfamiliar flutter through her chest.

Spotting Trunks deep in conversation with Kakarot, she caught her brother's eye and tilted her head toward the direction their father had taken. Understanding passed between them with the ease of siblings who'd spent a year learning each other's signals.

"I'll see you in a year," Gohan called as she turned to leave.

She glanced back with a small smile. "See you tomorrow." The echo of his earlier words made his face light up in a way that almost made her forget about leaving.

"Be safe and don't overdo it!" Bulma called after her maternal worry evident in her voice.

Cellera paused at the edge of The Lookout, offering Gohan one final piece of advice. "Don't think too much about the vastness."

Confusion crossed his features as she took to the air, but that expression quickly shifted to concern as he watched her departure. Her speed was noticeably slower than usual - clear evidence of her still-recovering condition. A strange feeling gnawed at the pit of his stomach as her form grew smaller against the sky.

The intensity of his worry confused him. He knew Cellera was more than capable of handling herself, even in her current state. She'd given him her promise - something that had always been enough to ease his fears before. Her words carried weight that even his father's sometimes didn't match. So why did this feel different? Why did watching her leave create this hollow sensation in his chest that he couldn't quite name?

The answer hovered just beyond his understanding, like one of the complex equations they sometimes worked on together. But this wasn't something he could solve with his mind. This feeling was new, undefined, and somehow both wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

Gohan turned to see his father handing Trunks a senzu bean. "Do your best out there," Goku said, his usual cheerful tone carrying an edge of seriousness, "but don't do anything reckless. If things get too dangerous, retreat."

"Thanks for everything," Trunks replied earnestly. He looked between father and son, adding, "Good luck with your training, both of you."

As Trunks turned to leave, Gohan felt the words burst from him before he could stop them. "Wait!"

Trunks paused, turning back with a questioning look. "What's up?"

Gohan approached him, tension evident in every line of his small frame. "About Cellera..." The words stuck in his throat as he stared at the ground, trying to organize the jumble of emotions into coherent thought. Finally, he managed a soft, "Make sure she comes back safe."

A knowing smile touched Trunks' lips. "Don't believe in my sister this time around?"

Gohan shook his head quickly, recognizing the gentle teasing in Trunks' tone. "That's not it..." But he couldn't seem to find the right words to explain the unfamiliar worry churning in his chest.

After a moment of charged silence, Trunks reached out and ruffled Gohan's hair affectionately. "Hey, there's nothing to get worked up about. She won't be alone - Father and I will be right there with her." His voice softened with understanding. "I'll make sure she comes back in one piece."

He dropped his hand from Gohan's hair and walked toward the edge of The Lookout, pausing briefly as Bulma called out her own worried farewell. At the very edge, he turned back one final time.

"Gohan."

Their eyes met across the distance, and something passed between them - an understanding that transcended timelines and ages. "I promise," Trunks said, the words carrying the same weight his sister's always did. With a small wave, he launched himself from The Lookout, racing to catch up with Cellera.

As Trunks flew through the crisp air, a quiet chuckle escaped him. The scene he'd witnessed on The Lookout remained fresh in his mind.

His sister and Gohan's interaction had been painfully familiar - the same obvious connection he'd witnessed in his timeline, though these younger versions remained adorably oblivious to their own feelings. He supposed their age explained the innocence of it all. They'd figure it out eventually, and he hoped for their sake it would be sooner rather than later. He'd already watched one version of them dance around their feelings for far too long.

Their exchange on The Lookout had drawn quite an audience, though neither had seemed aware of anything beyond each other. Even Piccolo, usually stoic and detached, had shown interest - right until Gohan had covered Cellera's fist with his hand. The Namekian had rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering something about "sappy displays," but Trunks hadn't missed the slight upward twitch of his mentor's lips.

The scene had stirred memories Trunks usually tried to keep buried. His timeline's Cellera had used that same gentle tone when reassuring Gohan, knowing exactly what words he needed to hear. Gohan's expression had mirrored the one Trunks had seen countless times when Cellera would return from supply runs with minor injuries. But when Gohan had wrapped his hand around Cellera's fist... Trunks had been forced to look away, the gesture too painfully reminiscent of how he'd found them in death - hands still reaching for each other through the rain.

Cellera's form grew larger as he gained on her, her usually graceful flight noticeably labored. Gohan's anxious request echoed in his mind, and Trunks felt his resolve harden. Don't worry, Gohan , he thought. I won't let anything happen to her.

His sister had never broken a promise to Gohan, and Trunks intended to honor his word with the same dedication. After their conversations in the time chamber, he understood the weight such promises carried between them. This wasn't just a vow to Gohan - it was a promise to himself as well. His sister had sacrificed everything to protect him in his timeline; now it was his turn to protect her. He wouldn't stand by and watch them suffer the same fate they had in his world. This time would be different.

This time, they would all survive.

Gohan watched Trunks' form grow smaller against the sky. He's right , he thought. Cellera would have both her father and brother watching over her. He needed to channel this nervous energy into his own training. His hand drifted to his chest, touching the spot where she'd pressed her fist against the battle jacket. She believed he could become a Super Saiyan - he wouldn't let that faith go unrewarded.

"Time to start our training, Gohan," Goku announced.

"Right!" Gohan's enthusiasm propelled him toward the chamber doors, but his father's voice stopped him short.

"Wait a minute, son."

Before Gohan could ask what was wrong, a loud growl echoed across The Lookout. Goku laughed awkwardly, hands pressed against his rumbling stomach. "Think we could eat first? I'm kind of hungry."

Gohan's shoulders slumped, his earlier determination deflating into exasperation. "Aw... right now, Dad?"

Tien's warm laughter filled the air. "Even with everything that's happening, Goku never changes."

Piccolo released a long-suffering groan that spoke volumes about his years dealing with Goku's appetite.

"I'll prepare something for you both," Mr. Popo offered, gesturing for them to follow. He led them to a simple room furnished with a circular wooden table and two chairs. Sunlight streamed through multiple window cutouts, creating patterns across the polished floor.

The scene felt oddly peaceful given the crisis they faced - just another meal with his father before training. Yet as Gohan settled into his chair, he couldn't quite shake the lingering concern about what lay ahead, both for himself and for those who had just left to face Cell.

Mr. Popo began setting out dishes, and Goku wasted no time attacking the food with characteristic enthusiasm. Gohan glanced between his own bowl and the three his father had already demolished. The sight wasn't entirely unfamiliar - he'd watched Cellera consume impressive amounts during their study sessions together. She'd explained once how their Saiyan genetics demanded higher caloric intake, their accelerated metabolism burning through energy at an astounding rate.

But his father's appetite existed in a category all its own. Bowl after bowl disappeared as if by magic, prompting Mr. Popo to return with four more. Goku beamed at their host with genuine gratitude before diving back in. The stark contrast between his father's enthusiastic consumption and Cellera's more refined approach struck Gohan as amusing. Despite matching Goku's pace, she somehow managed to maintain the kind of table manners that earned Chi Chi's approval.

"Ah, that was great!" Goku released a contented sigh. "Thanks so much, Mr. Popo!" He turned to Gohan with eager anticipation. "Ready to start training?"

Gohan looked down at his half-finished bowl, coming to a decision. If he was going to spend a year training with his father, he'd better start embracing his Saiyan appetite - especially if he wanted any chance at seconds. Setting aside his usual careful eating habits, he began shoveling rice into his mouth at a rapid pace. When he finished, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, knowing the gesture would have earned disapproving looks from both his mother and Cellera.

The thought of their reactions almost made him laugh. He could picture Cellera's exact expression - that particular mixture of horror and royal dignity she got whenever someone violated her sense of proper behavior. It was the same look she'd given him once when he'd suggested using chopsticks to measure the distance between stars during one of their astronomy discussions.

Mr. Popo guided them from the dining area to the massive doors that had swallowed Cellera, Trunks, and Vegeta just yesterday. He turned to face them both. "I hope you're ready."

Gohan stared up at the towering entrance, anxiety and excitement warring in his chest. He wasn't sure which emotion had the upper hand, but it didn't matter. With a firm shake of his head, he steeled his resolve. They had a clear purpose - both he and his father - and only one year to achieve it. Mr. Popo's hand settled on the golden handle, the door creaking open to reveal what would become their home for the next three hundred and sixty-five days.

Gohan's first steps into the living quarters left him awestruck. As he moved toward what appeared to be the bedroom area, the environment's effects hit him immediately. "Everything feels... heavier," he observed, his breath coming in short gasps. "And it's so hot..."

His father's hand settled on his shoulder, steadying him. "Easy there, son. I know the air's thin, but try taking a deep breath."

Gohan followed the instruction, drawing in as much oxygen as he could manage before releasing it slowly. The simple act required more effort than he'd expected.

"I know it's overwhelming," Goku said, his usual cheerful tone carrying an edge of seriousness. "But you'll need to adjust quickly. Once that door closes, we're completely cut off from the outside world." He paused, looking at his son carefully. "Have you noticed? We can't sense Vegeta, Trunks, or Cellera's energy anymore."

The realization hit Gohan harder than the chamber's increased gravity. His father was right - their ki signatures had vanished completely. The thought of not being able to sense if they were safe made his stomach twist uncomfortably. But before he could dwell on it, his father was already leading him deeper into the chamber.

As they reached the front, Gohan stopped short. "Wow..." The endless expanse of white stretched before them, seeming to go on forever. Cellera's cryptic warning about "the vastness" suddenly made perfect sense.

Goku laughed at his son's amazement. "This is why I could barely last a month in here as a kid."

"But... I thought this was supposed to be a room," Gohan said, unable to tear his eyes from the infinite white void. "It looks endless."

"It's actually about the size of Earth," his father explained. "But don't wander too far - I don't want you getting lost out there."

Gohan nodded quickly, still trying to process the chamber's impossible dimensions. As his father detailed the environment's challenges - the wild temperature swings, crushing gravity, and thin atmosphere - that familiar whisper of self-doubt began creeping into his thoughts.

Goku stepped out into the white expanse and turned to face him. "First things first - we need to get you caught up to Super Saiyan. We can't really start our serious training until you transform."

The words "Super Saiyan" sparked something in Gohan's memory. Cellera's voice echoed in his mind, clear and confident: "You're stronger than you think, Gohan." The doubts that had been gathering dissolved under the warmth of that remembered faith. His resolve hardened.

Goku noticed the change in his son's expression and nodded approvingly. "Once you become a Super Saiyan, you'll be a huge help with training. I want to push beyond Super Saiyan's limits and become stronger than anyone - but what I really want is for you to grow stronger right alongside me."

"Really?" Gohan looked up at his father in surprise.

"Of course!" Goku's trademark grin spread across his face. "I know you can do it - and so does Cellera."

"Alright!" Gohan's enthusiasm carried in his voice. "Let's get to work!"

The moment his foot touched the white floor beyond their living space, his body crumpled under its own weight. He found himself on hands and knees, struggling against the crushing gravity. Though he'd known to expect increased pressure, the reality still caught him off guard. A new respect for Cellera washed over him as he realized she trained under forces far greater than this on a regular basis.

As he struggled to push himself upright, his father's amused voice came from above. "Oh yeah, should've warned you - that first step's a doozy." Despite his playful tone, understanding filled his eyes. "I know it's tough, but trust me, you'll get used to it!"

Finally regaining his feet, Gohan felt his father's hand ruffle his hair affectionately. "Just so you know," Goku said, "I'm going to be an even stricter teacher than Piccolo. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes!" Gohan's response came without hesitation, his determination burning through the chamber's oppressive atmosphere.

His father's face broke into a warm smile. "Good! Then let's get started. First thing we need to do is get you adjusted to this gravity."

Cellera flew through the crisp air, trailing behind her father's determined pace. Her eyes drifted to her right hand, the one Gohan had held so gently, as if it were something precious. Heat crept into her cheeks as memories surfaced unbidden - grabbing his hand to keep him away from baby Trunks' surprisingly strong grip, his steady support when she'd nearly slipped from that cliff face. Why was she dwelling on these simple moments? They were just natural reactions between friends, weren't they?

"Are you feeling alright?" Trunks' voice startled her from her thoughts as he pulled alongside her. "Your face is all red. You're not getting sick again, are you?"

The smugness in his expression told her he knew exactly why she was blushing, but she refused to acknowledge it. "I'm not ill."

Seeking to change the subject, she studied her brother's appearance in his new armor. "It suits you," she said honestly. "You look like a true Saiyan warrior." A slight smirk touched her lips. "We really are the only ones who can properly wear this style."

"I still can't believe you and Mom made all of these," Trunks replied, adjusting one of his gloves. "And enough for everyone."

"It took considerable effort," Cellera admitted, "but nothing Bulma's genius and my input couldn't handle."

A familiar mischievous glint entered Trunks' eyes - the same look she'd seen countless times on his infant counterpart when spotting something forbidden. "So," he drawled, "since you helped with the armor, does this mean you and Gohan are mates now? Officially committed?"

The question caught Cellera so completely off-guard that her ki control slipped entirely. She flailed in the air for a moment, concentration shattered by his outrageous suggestion, before Trunks steadied her with a barely contained grin. This momentary lapse only added to her indignation, her dignity thoroughly offended by both his teasing and her body's betrayal. Trunks' laughter echoed across the sky as he clearly enjoyed her distress, taking full advantage of this rare opportunity to see his composed sister so thoroughly flustered.

"We are NOT mates!" The words came out closer to a shriek than her usual composed tone, her face burning crimson.

"Are you sure?" Trunks' shoulders shook with barely contained mirth, his voice carrying the gentler teasing tone they'd developed during their year together. "That moment you two shared suggests otherwise." He raised his voice slightly, mimicking her earlier words with affectionate humor rather than mockery, "'Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine.'"

Cellera launched a punch at him, but her weakened state made it easy for him to catch her fist. He had to steady her again as the movement threatened her precarious flight.

"Why are you so focused on my friendship with Gohan?" she demanded, torn between annoyance and embarrassment.

Trunks' expression softened, though the teasing glint remained in his eyes. "Because after all your lectures to me about father's pride, it's refreshing to see you flustered about something," he admitted. "Besides," his smile widened, "your reactions are adorable."

Cellera's scowl deepened. She thought she'd finally escaped that cursed word years ago, but apparently not.

"I'll stop teasing... for now," Trunks added with a wink.

Their sibling banter died instantly as a booming voice echoed across the sky. "Android 18! Can you hear me? Show yourself, or I'll destroy these islands one by one!"

Cellera recognized the voice as Cell's, though she'd never heard his new one directly before. He continued his threat, his words carrying a twisted logic: "You might think I won't kill you since I need you for my perfect form. You're wrong. I'd like to obtain it... but as I am now, no one can equal my power."

"His new voice is horrid," Cellera said flatly, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Though at least now we know where-"

A massive ki signature suddenly flared to life before vanishing just as quickly.

"He's already following through on his threat," Trunks said, tension evident in his voice. "We need to hurry."

Ahead of them, their father's aura blazed golden as he transformed into a Super Saiyan, his speed increasing dramatically. Trunks began to follow suit but caught himself, dropping back to match Cellera's slower pace.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Go with Father. Cell is the priority - I can catch up."

But Trunks maintained his position beside her, showing no intention of increasing his speed. When she gave him a questioning look, his response came with quiet firmness. "I'm not leaving you."

The resolve in his eyes told Cellera any argument would be pointless. She recognized that expression - it was the same unyielding determination she'd seen in his future self's face when he'd first arrived to warn them. In that moment, despite his playful teasing from earlier, she caught a glimpse of the warrior her brother had become within the chamber.

The siblings caught up to find their father and Cell facing off on a solitary island. As they descended, Cellera scanned the terrain below, searching for any sign of 18, but the female cyborg remained frustratingly hidden. Landing beside her father, she studied Cell's new form with poorly concealed revulsion. While marginally less insect-like than his previous incarnation, the improvement was negligible at best.

"It seems you've brought help," Cell observed, his new voice grating on Cellera's nerves.

"They're just here to watch," Vegeta replied with characteristic arrogance. "I'll handle this myself."

Cell's laughter echoed across the island. "You're strong enough to beat me, are you? Strong enough to tear me limb from limb?"

A predatory smirk spread across Vegeta's features. "That's right. Take a good look, Cell. I'm about to wipe that ugly mug off your face." 

Power erupted around Vegeta as he transformed, his muscles swelling slightly as his ki skyrocketed. Unlike the standard Super Saiyan form, this Grade 2 transformation brought significantly more power, though Cellera knew from her own experience that it came with a cost—increased stamina drain that would become problematic in a prolonged battle. Still, if her father could finish Cell quickly, the drawback wouldn't matter.

"He's transforming already?" Trunks asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"Perhaps it's for the best," Cellera replied. "We can end this quickly and remove one threat from the equation." She could sense the disparity in their power levels - Cell's ki signature fell well below her father's Grade 2 form. Relief washed through her at the realization, though she kept her guard up. They still had to account for Cell's cunning nature and prevent him from reaching 18.

But as she watched her father's confident display, a familiar unease settled in her stomach. She recognized the dangerous pattern unfolding - the way his ki fluctuated with barely contained excitement, the prideful set of his jaw. His newfound power would prove too tempting, as Cell represented the perfect opportunity to test its limits. Their greatest obstacle right now might not be Cell at all, but her father's own tendency toward self-sabotage. She'd witnessed his pride be his own downfall too many times not to prepare for the worst.

Her eyes swept the island again, searching for any trace of 18 or 16, but their lack of detectable ki signatures made them impossible to locate. She silently cursed Dr. Gero's thorough engineering.

A realization hit her with crushing force - even if she could sense the cyborgs, what could she even do? Her ki control remained tenuous at best, every moment of flight requiring far more concentration than normal just to stay airborne. She couldn't even form a basic energy blast -  she would be little more than a liability in direct combat, an assessment that she found more frustrating than frightening.

Turning her attention back to the confrontation before them, she noted the shock written across Cell's features. Clearly, he hadn't anticipated this level of power from her father. Vegeta's trademark smirk flashed across his face before he vanished - moving faster than Cell could track. His fist drove deep into the creature's gut, doubling him over. Before Cell could recover, Vegeta followed with a brutal uppercut that sent him skidding across the ground, ending with him flat on his back.

Cell pushed himself up from the ground, frustration evident in his features despite his attempt to mask it with a smirk. "I didn't expect you to fight so well," he said, his new voice still grating on Cellera's nerves.

The creature launched a punch at Vegeta, who dodged it with insulting ease, simply leaning to the side. In one fluid motion, her father caught Cell's extended arm and used the momentum to throw him over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground. Without hesitation, Vegeta followed up with a devastating kick that sent Cell crashing into a distant plateau, disappearing in an explosion of rock and debris.

As Vegeta strode toward the settling dust where Cell lay embedded in the rubble, Cellera sensed another ki signature approaching. She recognized it immediately as Krillin's, but something felt off about his presence. While she respected his abilities, this battle far exceeded his capabilities, and Krillin was too experienced a warrior to recklessly insert himself into such a situation. There had to be another reason for his approach - but what?

Her attention snapped back to the fight as Cell emerged from the broken plateau, dust falling from his armored form. "It seems I'll have to get serious," he announced.

"Oh? I thought you already were," Vegeta taunted, that familiar arrogant smirk playing across his features. "Go ahead - show me your full power. I won't bite."

Cell's answering smirk sent a chill down Cellera's spine. His ki began to rise as he powered up, but something wasn't right. She had braced herself for a dramatic surge in power, yet the increase seemed almost negligible compared to the transformation she'd expected.

"It looks like Father has won," Trunks voiced her thoughts, though she noticed he maintained his guard despite his words.

From their vantage point, they watched as Cell's fist connected with Vegeta's jaw, the impact snapping his head to the side. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of Vegeta's mouth as he slowly turned back to face his opponent, that infuriating smirk still firmly in place.

 

"Is that the best you've got?" Vegeta taunted, wiping the blood away with his thumb. "It seems I've become too strong for you."

 

Fear flickered across Cell's features as he stumbled backward. "Impossible... you can't be Vegeta."

 

"Not exactly." Vegeta's laughter held a dangerous edge as he jabbed his thumb toward his chest. "I am Super Vegeta!"

 

Cellera rolled her eyes at her father's theatrical declaration, but the familiar gesture sent ice through her veins. Memories of Namek flooded back - her father making that same pose before facing Frieza's final form, his broken body afterwards, and then... her throat tightened as she remembered watching Frieza's death beam pierce his heart. The parallels made her skin prickle with growing dread.

 

"What's wrong?" Trunks asked, noticing the change in his sister's demeanor.

 

"I have a bad feeling," she replied, tension evident in her voice. "And Father playing with his food isn't helping."

 

They watched as Vegeta continued his one-sided assault. Cell attempted a flurry of punches, each one missing its target as Vegeta weaved between them with fluid precision. The prince's newfound speed made him appear almost ghostlike, his afterimages confusing Cell's targeting. When Cell overextended with a desperate lunge, Vegeta sidestepped and drove his elbow into the back of the bio-android's neck with such force that the ground cracked beneath Cell as he face-planted into the dirt.

 

"Pathetic," Vegeta sneered, stepping back to allow Cell to rise. "And to think I actually trained for this."

 

Cell pushed himself up, green blood seeping from a split in his perfect features. His composure was cracking along with his confidence. In a desperate gambit, he leapt backward and began charging energy between his palms.

 

"Kamehame-"

 

Vegeta appeared before him before he could finish, driving his knee into Cell's stomach with such force that the energy Cell had gathered dissipated harmlessly into the air.

 

"Stealing Kakarot's techniques won't save you," Vegeta said, his tone dismissive as he grabbed Cell's spotted crown and delivered a punishing headbutt that shattered part of Cell's facial carapace.

 

When Cell's tail whipped toward him, Vegeta caught it almost lazily, using it to hurl the creature skyward before intercepting him with a brutal kick that sent him plummeting into the waters below. The impact created a massive geyser that temporarily obscured their view.

 

"Why isn't he finishing Cell off?" Trunks asked, frustration creeping into his tone.

 

"He wants to flaunt his superiority," Cellera replied through gritted teeth. Her fist clenched at her side as she added, "If he keeps this up, his stamina will give out before he can end this fight."

Cell hauled himself from the water, fingers digging into the rocky ledge as water cascaded from his armored form. His chest heaved with labored breaths while Vegeta looked down at him, disappointment etched in every line of his face.

"Is that all you've got?" Vegeta asked, lip curling in disgust. "How disappointing. So this is your limit - what a waste of my time and power."

Raw fury contorted Cell's features as he threw his head back, his scream of frustration echoing across the island. "Damn it! This cannot be happening!"

"Seems Cell throws bigger tantrums than your infant counterpart," Cellera remarked to Trunks, but the attempt at levity died in her throat as Cell's next words cut through the air like a blade.

"If only I had my perfect form... then you'd never defeat me, Vegeta!"

Ice flooded Cellera's veins as she watched the shift in her father's expression. That dangerous glint in his eyes, the slight tilt of his head - she'd seen this exact moment play out too many times before. Her father's endless drive to prove his strength would never let him resist such temptation.

"No," Trunks whispered beside her, horror dawning in his voice as he recognized the same signs. "Father wouldn't..."

"We both know he absolutely would," Cellera replied, the words tasting bitter on her tongue.

Movement caught Cellera's eye - Krillin hovering overhead, the remote control clearly visible in his hand. Understanding dawned as she met his gaze and noted his slight nod toward a plateau shrouded by trees. He'd found 16 and 18.

"Trunks," she said urgently, keeping her voice low. "Krillin has Bulma's remote. I'm going with him." Her eyes hardened with determination as she watched their father's growing interest in Cell's claims. "Do whatever you have to keep Father from letting Cell find 18 before we can reach her."

"You can't fight the cyborgs in your condition!" Trunks' protest carried genuine fear for her safety.

"There's no other option!" Cellera snapped, frustration bleeding into her voice. The admission of her own limitations stung her pride, but there was no time for ego. "I'm useless here anyway."

She took in Trunks' stance - the protective posture he'd adopted, ready to pull her back if needed. This was the same brother who'd stayed by her bedside during her fever in the chamber, who had quietly shown such fierce protectiveness toward her since she insisted on going with him to Gingertown. His strength had grown immensely over their year together, his newfound confidence in hand-to-hand combat evident in the way he'd left his sword behind. More importantly, he approached the situation with careful assessment rather than the reckless pride that often clouded their father's judgment. If anyone could handle their father right now, it was Trunks.

"You're nearly as strong as Father now - you're the only one who can stop him from making a terrible mistake."

Trunks bit his lip, hands clenched at his sides as he visibly wrestled with the decision. After a moment, he closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. "Fine. But don't engage if you don't have to."

"Of course," Cellera replied, the lie tasting bitter on her tongue. They both knew if it came down to it, she would do whatever necessary to prevent Cell from achieving his perfect form. Without another word, she slipped away to join Krillin as he descended, both of them moving carefully toward where 16 and 18 waited.

Time flowed strangely in the Room of Spirit and Time, but Gohan's progress remained steady. The crushing gravity that had initially forced him to his knees gradually became manageable. After two weeks, he no longer struggled just to remain standing. By the end of the first month, he moved through their light sparring sessions as if the increased pressure didn't exist at all.

His father's training regimen evolved with his growing abilities. What began as basic endurance exercises - push-ups, sit-ups, and short-distance sprints - expanded into complex combat scenarios that tested both his body and mind. Goku would create challenges that required split-second decision making: dodging ki blasts while solving mathematical equations aloud, maintaining perfect form through temperature fluctuations that ranged from scorching heat to bitter cold, or sparring blindfolded to develop his other senses.

The chamber's endless void provided unique training opportunities. Sometimes his father would have him chase after small ki spheres that darted unpredictably through the white expanse. Other times they would venture further from their living quarters, where the air grew thinner and gravity increased, pushing Gohan's limits further with each session.

His power had grown tremendously. Techniques that once drained him completely now came easily. His Masenko had nearly doubled in strength, and he could maintain the Kamehameha for three times as long as when they'd entered. His speed had increased to the point where he could occasionally surprise his father during their sparring matches.

But Super Saiyan still remained frustratingly out of reach.

Now he stood in the endless white void, chest heaving from another failed attempt to transform. His father's patient guidance had helped him increase his power significantly, but that final threshold remained uncrossed.

"You're just making your ki larger," Goku explained, his usual cheerful demeanor tempered by focus. "To transform, you need to tap into your anger. Get really mad." He paused, studying his son carefully. "The power comes in response to a need, not a desire. You have to create that need within yourself."

Gohan stared down at his hands, frustration evident in his features. "I... I can't get angry like that." He understood the theory perfectly - that raw fury that had always triggered his hidden strength, the same power that had helped him survive against Nappa, Frieza, and so many others. But those bursts had always come from watching his friends suffer, from feeling helpless as those he cared about were hurt. He couldn't manufacture that kind of rage from nothing.

Across from him, his father fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration as he considered how to help his son. Gohan could almost see the different approaches being weighed in his father's mind.

"Try using the pain of loss," his dad finally said, his voice gentler than before. "Imagine Cell destroying me, all your friends..."

"But I've never even seen Cell," Gohan pointed out, frustration evident in his voice. "It's hard to imagine someone I've never faced."

"Then use Frieza instead," Goku suggested.

Gohan nodded and closed his eyes, drawing up memories of Namek. They came in a flood - vivid and overwhelming. Frieza's cold voice whispering "die" as his death beam struck Dende. Piccolo collapsing with a smoking hole in his chest from that same attack. Krillin, suspended in the air before being torn apart by an almost casual gesture. The entire Namekian village, obliterated in an instant. His father, broken and barely alive.

Then another memory surfaced - a single tear falling onto his cheek as Cellera knelt above him, her face twisted in grief while Frieza gleefully recounted murdering her mother. Each memory stoked the embers of his rage higher and higher.

A scream tore from Gohan's throat as his power surged. For just a moment, his hair stood on end, a golden light flickering around him - but then it faded, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath in the thin air.

His father crouched beside him, a comforting hand on his back. "You were closer that time," Goku said encouragingly. "Don't be too hard on yourself - even Vegeta struggled with it at first."

"Thanks, Dad." Gohan's voice came out ragged but determined. "Should I try again? I think I'm starting to get the hang of it..."

"No, that's enough for today. We don't want you burning yourself out."

Exhaustion crashed over Gohan in a wave. The last thing he heard before consciousness slipped away was his father's gentle voice: "Rest now, son."

-

-

The exhaustion of multiple failed transformation attempts finally caught up with Gohan, and he collapsed onto his small bed in the living quarters. Sleep claimed him almost instantly, his mind still churning with determination even as consciousness faded.

In his dreams, Gohan found himself back in the white void of the chamber, his father's voice encouraging him just as it had during their training sessions.

"Now Gohan, try it again! You can do it!" His father's voice echoed through his dreams, filled with unwavering confidence.

Gohan felt his power building as he concentrated, drawing on everything he'd learned. " That's it!" His father's encouragement carried through the haze of sleep. "You're doing it! Push on through!"

Just as he felt that surge of power, that moment of transformation finally within reach, Gohan's eyes snapped open. He shot upright in bed, chest heaving, his hands clutching the sheets. The dream had felt so vivid, so real - as if he'd truly been on the verge of achieving Super Saiyan. For a moment, he wondered if his father's training could somehow reach him even in his dreams.

The thought made him glance toward his father's bed, only to find it empty. Concern pushed him to his feet, and he began searching their living quarters. His father's voice eventually drew him toward the chamber's entrance.

The sight that greeted him took his breath away. The endless white void had transformed into a frozen wasteland, with ice and snow swirling in an impossible blizzard that seemed to materialize from nowhere. Through the whiteout conditions, Gohan watched his father drop into a familiar stance.

"Ka... me... ha... me... HA!"

The blue energy beam cut through the storm, obliterating multiple mountains of ice in its path. The destruction triggered an avalanche, and chunks of ice began raining down on his father. Gohan started forward as the debris buried Goku completely, but before he could take more than a few steps, golden light erupted from beneath the pile.

Ice scattered in every direction as his father's ki exploded outward, his Super Saiyan aura blazing against the stark white landscape. Gohan could only stare in amazement. No matter how many times he witnessed the transformation, its raw power never failed to inspire him. Watching his father train with such intensity, even in these harsh conditions, only strengthened his own resolve to master the form.

Goku turned at his son's presence. "Hey, something wrong? Did my training wake you?"

Gohan shook his head, excitement and disappointment warring in his voice. "I almost did it, Dad. I almost became a Super Saiyan..." His shoulders slumped slightly. "But it was just a dream."

"Hey." Goku's hand ruffled his hair affectionately. "You're getting closer every day. It's only a matter of time until you break through." His smile carried absolute certainty. "Besides, you're already way stronger than I was at your age. Don't be so hard on yourself."

"I'll try..." Gohan's voice trailed off before surging with renewed determination. "But I'm ready to start training again! I'm done resting - I feel fine!"

Meeting his father's evaluating gaze, Gohan pressed on. "There was something about that dream, Dad. It felt so real - I could actually feel the transformation starting!" His hands clenched at his sides as he pleaded, "Please, let me continue!"

The words carried all the urgency building inside him. He was so close - he could feel it. Everyone else had already achieved this legendary power: his father, Vegeta, Trunks, even Cellera had mastered it years ago. He was the only one still struggling to catch up, still unable to cross that threshold. For years he'd watched them grow stronger while he remained behind, relying on sporadic bursts of power he couldn't control. But now, finally, that gap was starting to close. He couldn't stop, not when he was on the verge of joining them, of proving he could stand as their equal.

Cellera's final words to him rang in his ears: "Just focus on coming out of that room stronger - and as a Super Saiyan." She'd said it with such certainty, such unwavering belief in his ability. He couldn't let that faith go unrewarded. He had to prove he was worthy of it.

"You know what your mother would say if she were here-" his father began with a sigh.

Gohan could almost hear his mother’s voice: 'My sweet little Gohan needs his rest!'

"-but since she's not," Goku continued, "I guess it's my call." A few moments of silence passed before he turned his head, a knowing smirk playing across his features. "Alright, let's train!"

"You're the best dad in the whole world!" Gohan cheered, practically bouncing with excitement.

Goku's warm laughter filled the chamber. "The best dad in the whole world would probably make you stay in bed. But instead, I'm going to ask you for one hundred push-ups..."

"Right!"

"One hundred sit-ups..."

"Got it!"

"And ten Kamehameha waves."

"Yes sir!"

As Gohan dropped into position for his push-ups, his purpose remained crystal clear. Unlike his father's pure love of battle or Vegeta's endless drive for supremacy, Gohan's motivation came from a different place entirely. Though Cellera had helped him understand and embrace his power years ago, showing him that he could use it to protect those he cared about, their approaches still differed. While she balanced her warrior's spirit with her drive to protect, enjoying the thrill of combat without letting it endanger others, Gohan's heart remained solely focused on defending those precious to him. He wasn't seeking power for its own sake or even the satisfaction of victory. His drive came from something deeper - that first lesson Cellera had taught him when she had first arrived on Earth. He had the power to protect, and he would use it. Each push-up brought him one step closer to that goal, to ensure no one he cared about would ever have to suffer while he stood helplessly by.

 

Chapter 25: Chapter 24

Summary:

Welcome to the island of mistakes everyone!

Notes:

Hello again everyone! I have survived the tornado outbreak in my area lol.

Don't forget to follow the tumblr! I am currently posting small bits of a Gohan/Cellera university AU because i wrote it to fight some writers block and it spiraled from there.
https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar?source=share

Krillin and Cellera crept through the maze of rocky plateaus, keeping their movements as quiet as possible. In an ironic twist, her depleted ki actually worked to their advantage now - she needed no effort to mask her presence from Cell's detection.. Still, she could feel Krillin's concerned glances.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he finally asked. "Your ki feels really low."

Cellera released a weary sigh. She'd lost count of how many times she'd had to explain her condition since emerging from the chamber. "The aftermath of pushing myself too far," she said simply. "My ki control is limited at the moment."

"Maybe you shouldn't-"

Her sharp glare cut him off mid-sentence.

"Never mind," Krillin backpedaled quickly, raising his hands in surrender. "Forget I said anything."

Cellera rolled her eyes but couldn't quite suppress the slight upturn of her lips. "What did Bulma tell you about the remote?" she asked, steering them back to their mission.

"We need to get within ten meters of 18," Krillin explained, his grip tightening on the device. "Once we're in range, this will completely disable her fighting capabilities."

"Leaving us to finish her off," Cellera added quietly.

The words lingered in the air between them as they continued forward. That gnawing sensation returned to Cellera's stomach - the same unease she'd felt when first suggesting they destroy 18. Glancing at Krillin, she noticed his conflicted expression and remembered how 18 had kissed his cheek during their earlier encounter. His hesitation likely stemmed from more than just moral concerns.

Cellera shook her head, forcing those doubts aside. They couldn't afford uncertainty, not with Cell so close to achieving his perfect form. "We need to hurry," she whispered. "Especially since Father seems intent on letting Cell absorb 18."

"He wouldn't really do that..." Krillin's voice trailed off as Cellera fixed him with a flat stare. "Right, of course he would," he amended quickly.

They pressed on through the rocky terrain, each lost in their own thoughts about what lay ahead. The weight of what they were about to do - attacking another human being, regardless of Dr. Gero's modifications - sat heavily on both their shoulders.But with her father's pride and Saiyan nature threatening to doom them all, they had no choice. At least, that's what Cellera kept telling herself as she tried to ignore the voice in her head pointing out that they were treating 18 exactly as Gero had - as a means to an end rather than a person

Finally reaching a vantage point, Cellera and Krillin crouched behind a rocky outcropping that overlooked where 16 and 18 had taken refuge. The massive android sat propped against a boulder while 18 fretted over his damaged state.

"Looks like 16's seen better days," Krillin whispered, his voice wavering slightly.

Cellera's eyes fixed on the exposed circuitry visible through 16's damaged cranium. "This may work to our advantage," she murmured. "Perhaps we won't need to engage in combat at all." Her eyes darted between the rocky formations, noting the narrow passage that would provide cover to their left and the elevated ridge offering an escape route to the southeast. Krillin's rigid posture made her halt her planning.

"We need to act now, while they're distracted," she urged, but Krillin remained frozen in place.

His hands trembled violently around the remote, knuckles white from the death grip he maintained on the device. Cellera studied his expression, trying to determine if this was simple fear holding him back or something deeper. The conflict etched across his features suggested the latter.

"Krillin," she hissed, her voice carrying a stern edge that would have made her father proud. "Hit the button."

But Krillin only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, his internal struggle plain on his face. Cellera felt her own doubts threatening to surface again but forced them down. They couldn't afford hesitation - not now, not with Cell so close to achieving his perfect form. Whatever guilt they might feel, the fate of the world had to take precedence.

Before she could snatch the remote from his trembling hands, Krillin stepped out from their hiding place. Cellera's breath caught in her throat as he deliberately revealed himself to 16 and 18.

"Krillin? Cellera?" 18's voice carried genuine surprise as she spotted them both, recognition and fear flashing across her features as her eyes locked onto the remote in Krillin's hand. "Is that you?"

"What do you think you're doing?" Cellera demanded, a growl underlying her words.

Krillin's response came quietly but with unmistakable conviction. "The right thing."

Time seemed to slow as Krillin released his grip, letting the device clatter to the ground. As his foot rose to destroy it, Cellera's body moved on instinct. Before Krillin's heel could connect, Cellera dropped low, rolling across the ground to snatch the remote from beneath his descending foot. In one fluid motion, she was back on her feet, putting distance between them.

Her heart pounded against her ribs as she clutched the remote, the logical side of her brain screaming at her to use it immediately. Every instinct urged her to eliminate the threat without hesitation. The cascade of potential consequences threatened to overwhelm her - Cell achieving his perfect form, the planet's destruction, everyone she cared about dying because of this one moment of indecision. But Krillin's words echoed in her mind: 

‘ The right thing. ’ 

What exactly was the right thing when every choice seemed to lead to potential disaster? This wasn't a simple tactical decision anymore - something deeper than logic held her hand steady, making her question whether the most efficient solution was truly the right one.

"Cellera, no!" Krillin's shout carried desperation.

"You know what we have to do," she countered, her voice tight with tension. "This is the only way!" But even as the words left her mouth, they felt hollow.

"Do you really believe that?" Krillin's question cut straight to her core. "You know as well as I do that they're nothing like what we were led to believe. If they wanted us dead, they would have killed us already."

Cellera opened her mouth to argue, but no words came. She couldn't deny the truth in his statement - their encounters with the cyborgs had defied every expectation, every warning they'd received.

"We both saw those notes in Gero's lab," Krillin pressed on. "I know you don't want to do this. Not after learning what he did to them."

Her grip on the remote tightened until the edges bit into her palm. Everything she'd learned under her father pointed to one clear solution: use the remote, eliminate the threat, prevent Cell from achieving his perfect form. Every possible scenario led to the same conclusion—destroying the remote would be catastrophic.

"They could still turn on us," she argued, but the words sounded weak even to her own ears. "Their objective was to kill Kakarot. We can't just ignore that."

But as her thumb hovered over the button, images from Gero's laboratory flashed through her mind—the clinical documentation of how he'd kidnapped two teenage siblings, the cold description of their transformation into living weapons against their will. These weren't just machines to be destroyed, but humans who'd been forcibly changed. The realization made her stomach twist—how different was their current plan from Gero's original intentions? They were treating 18 as nothing more than a component to be eliminated, just as Gero had viewed her as merely raw material for his twisted ambitions.

Krillin's words cut through her defenses. "Goku and Gohan gave you and Vegeta mercy," his voice softened, striking with devastating accuracy, "even when you didn't deserve it. They saw something in you worth saving when the rest of us only saw a threat."

The truth landed like a blade between her ribs. She and her father had threatened this very planet, fully intending to purge it like countless others. Yet instead of execution, they'd received mercy.

Two philosophies pulled at her core—her father's ruthless elimination of threats versus her mother's belief that mercy revealed true strength. Since Namek, she'd tried to follow Rhuba's path, but faced with this impossible choice, both approaches seemed equally valid and equally dangerous.

Krillin had systematically dismantled every logical argument, but his most devastating blow had been reminding her of her own past. She could still remember the cold efficiency with which Frieza had wielded both her and her father - disposable soldiers sent to conquer planets for his empire. That hollow ache beneath her assigned purpose had never truly left her, even years after breaking free.

Her gaze shifted from the remote to 18, who watched with barely concealed fear beneath that composed exterior. In that moment, Cellera saw herself reflected in the cyborg's eyes - not the cold calculation of a killer, but the quiet desperation of someone transformed against their will into a weapon for another's ambition. While Frieza had merely exploited the Saiyans' natural warrior culture, twisting it to serve his galactic conquest, Dr. Gero had gone further - physically altering human beings against their will, stripping away their very humanity in his quest for vengeance. Different methods perhaps, but the same fundamental violation - being used as tools by someone who saw them as nothing more than means to an end.

But…if she made the wrong choice, everyone she'd grown to care about could die. The life she'd built on Earth could vanish in an instant. How could she choose between honoring the second chance she'd been given and ensuring the survival of those she loved?

Cellera's gaze moved deliberately from the remote in her hand to Krillin's pleading face, finally settling on 18. In that moment, her demeanor shifted. The warmth drained from her features as she lifted the remote, her movement carrying the same lethaljess that had made her father's reputation so fearsome.

"Cellera, no!" Krillin's scream tore through the air.

But instead of pressing the button, Cellera's fingers closed around the device with crushing force. The remote shattered in her grip, fragments of metal and circuitry scattering to the ground. The sound of its destruction seemed to echo across the rocky terrain.

I'm sorry, Bulma , she thought, knowing how many hours she had poured into creating the device. But as she met 18's shocked stare, her expression hardened into something dangerous - a reminder that mercy didn't equal weakness.

"Y-you... why did you-" 18 stuttered, clearly thrown by this unexpected turn.

"You owe your life to Kakarot and Gohan," Cellera cut her off, her voice dropping to a steel-edged whisper that carried traces of the warrior who had once purged worlds at Frieza's command. "Had it not been for them, I would have pressed that button without hesitation."

Her eyes locked onto 18's, and Krillin took an involuntary step back. Sometimes he forgot who she truly was beneath her usual composed exterior. In moments like these, when her eyes went cold and her voice carried that dangerous edge, the reality hit him all over again—this wasn't just the levelheaded strategist who helped them in battles or the studious girl who sparred with Gohan. This was the daughter of Vegeta. 

When she spoke again, her words carried the weight of a death sentence.

"Don't make me regret this," she warned, cold authority replacing her usual measured tone. "If you do, I will show you no mercy a second time."

18 gave a shaky nod, and Cellera looked to Krillin. "You're in charge of making sure they don't cause any trouble."

"M-Me?" Krillin's voice cracked in surprise.

"Since you vouched for them so passionately, surely it won't be an issue?" A hint of amusement crossed Cellera's features despite the gravity of the situation. "Besides, I suspect you wouldn't mind the assignment." She gave him a knowing look that made him flush, both of them aware of his growing feelings for 18, though neither acknowledged it directly.

Krillin observed Cellera's easy reading of his emotions with a mix of embarrassment and irony. Here was someone who could decode others' feelings, yet remained completely oblivious to her own growing attachment to a certain half-Saiyan.

"Why?" 18's single word hung in the air, demanding explanation.

Before anyone could answer 18's question, Trunks' voice shattered the moment. "Cell's found you!"

Ice flooded Cellera's veins as she looked up to see Cell's imposing figure silhouetted against the sky. Her eyes darted to the crushed remains of the remote scattered at her feet, the crushed remote fragments glinted accusingly in the sunlight.

What had she done?  

The gravity of the situation hit all of them at once - Cellera's choice to show mercy, born from the same compassion Kakarot and Gohan had once shown her, might now doom them all. But instead of wasting time lamenting such a decision, she pushed aside her regret to focus on immediate action. There would be time to reflect later.

"We need to leave. Now!" She turned to Krillin, 16, and 18, but the command came too late. Cell was already diving toward them with frightening speed, his trajectory precise and predatory.

"Damn it!" Krillin's curse gave voice to their collective dread.

Golden light erupted around Trunks as he transformed into Grade 2, his muscles swelling with power. "I won't let you achieve your perfect form!" he shouted, launching himself toward Cell with protective fury that stemmed from both timelines of watching loved ones die.

But even Trunks' enhanced speed proved insufficient. Vegeta appeared from nowhere, his foot connecting with his son's side with devastating force. The impact sent Trunks carving through a nearby mountain in an explosion of rock and debris. The casual brutality of the attack spoke volumes about how far Vegeta's pride would drive him - willing to strike down his own son just to satisfy his curiosity about Cell's perfect form.

Standing alone against Cell now, Cellera shifted into her fighting stance, the familiar movements automatic despite her condition. She recognized the cruel twist of fate with grim clarity. After months of pushing herself to the breaking point, driving her body to master her mother's Star Breaker technique until collapse, she now faced an enemy beyond her capabilities with barely enough ki control to stay airborne. Her own stubbornness had placed her in this compromised state at the worst possible moment, and now she was facing the repercussions.

Guilt washed through her as she imagined Trunks' reaction. Her promise not to engage Cell echoed in her memory, a commitment already broken by necessity as she shifted into her fighting stance. But with their father actively enabling Cell's plans and her brother temporarily incapacitated, only she, Krillin, and 18 remained as the last line of defense.

"What are you doing?" Krillin demanded, recognizing the subtle tremors in her stance. "You can't fight Cell like this!"

"We're both responsible for this situation," Cellera snarled back, frustration bleeding into her voice. The words carried double meaning - acknowledging both her choice to destroy the remote and Krillin's role in convincing her to show mercy. "I won't stand idle while Cell does as he pleases."

Cell landed with predatory efficiency, his transformed body moving with a fluidity that seemed wrong for his size. 18 immediately dropped into her fighting stance, and even the damaged 16 managed to pull himself upright despite his exposed circuitry. Their show of resistance only seemed to amuse Cell.

"What do you really think you can accomplish?" Cell's voice carried an unsettling blend of confidence and mockery. "16 can barely function, Cellera's power has diminished to less than when I first encountered her, and 18..." His tail swayed behind him like a serpent preparing to strike. "Well, you saw what happened to your brother. And I'm so much stronger now that I've absorbed him."

The mention of her brother was all it took. 18 launched forward with fury in her eyes, her fist whistling through empty air as Cell sidestepped with unnatural speed, his enhanced form making 18's attacks look sluggish despite her cybernetic programming.

"18, wait!" Cellera called out, quickly analyzing the situation. "He's anticipating direct approaches—we need to coordinate!"

As 18 hesitated, Cellera circled to Cell's opposite side, forcing him to divide his attention. Positioning and timing often created opportunities that raw power couldn't—a lesson from countless battles and her own analytical observations of combat. 

"Attack his left flank on my signal," Cellera instructed 18, who gave a quick nod of understanding. Cell's smirk indicated he'd heard the plan, but that was part of Cellera's strategy—let him think he knew what was coming.

"Now!" Cellera called, but instead of charging directly as Cell expected, she dropped low and swept at his ankles while 18 aimed high. The momentary confusion created the opening Cellera had been calculating—their synchronized attack forced Cell to defend both high and low simultaneously.

Her fist connected with Cell's jaw while 18's kick struck his shoulder, but the impact felt wrong. Where once such a blow might have snapped his head back, now he barely seemed to notice. Though their coordination was perfect, their combined strikes barely registered against his augmented power.

"Clever," Cell acknowledged with a mocking smile. "But futile."

Cellera signaled 18 again, this time with just a glance—a silent communication that changed their approach. They began moving in circular patterns, striking from constantly shifting angles, forcing Cell to turn repeatedly. It was a technique she'd learned from her mother—designed to disorient prey by never attacking from the same direction twice.

For a brief moment, their strategy seemed to work. Cell's movements became slightly less fluid as he adjusted to their unpredictable patterns. Desperation drove Cellera to attempt a ki blast, drawing on energy she didn't have to spare. The attack fizzled pathetically in her palm, nothing more than a weak spark that died before it could leave her hand.

"Disappointing," Cell tsked, seizing the opportunity of her failed attack. His hand shot out with blinding speed, catching Cellera by the throat. "I expected more from the Saiyan princess."

"Let her go!" Krillin shouted, launching himself at Cell's back with a flying kick.

Without even looking, Cell's tail whipped around, catching Krillin across the midsection and sending him tumbling across the ground. His grip tightened around Cellera's throat as he studied her with clinical interest.

"I wonder," he mused, "did destroying that remote seem worth it now?"

Before she could respond, an enormous ki signature erupted nearby, momentarily distracting Cell. All eyes turned to witness Trunks confronting their father, raw power radiating from his transformed state.

"I'll stop Cell even if it means defying you, father!" Trunks' declaration carried both rage and pain. The air around him crackled with golden energy as he unleashed a devastating ki blast directly at Vegeta. The massive wave of energy illuminated the landscape with blinding intensity, forcing Vegeta to cross his arms defensively as the attack engulfed him completely. The raw power behind the blast created a thunderous explosion that shook the entire island. 

Taking advantage of Cell's momentary distraction by this family conflict, Cellera drove her knee up with as much force as she could muster, striking the joint of his elbow. The anatomical weak point caused his grip to loosen just enough for her to break free. However, Cell's fist caught her in the midsection before she could capitalize on her temporary freedom, the impact driving the air from her lungs. The follow-up strike sent her hurtling into the plateau's rocky face, stone crumbling around her as she crashed through its surface.

Trunks felt his heart stop as he saw Cell's blow connect with his sister. Time seemed to slow as he watched her small form smash through solid rock, a cry of pain escaping her lips before debris swallowed the sound. He'd been so focused on confronting their father that he'd momentarily lost track of her battle—a mistake that now filled him with cold dread.

The frustration rose in his chest alongside his concern—she had promised him less than an hour ago that she wouldn't engage Cell. A promise she'd clearly broken despite knowing her condition. Yet seeing her battered form embedded in the rock face immediately overwhelmed his irritation with protective instinct.

"Cellera!" His shout echoed across the battlefield as he immediately abandoned his confrontation with their father. But before he could move toward her, Cell's voice rang out.

"SOLAR FLARE!"

Blinding light exploded around them. They all recoiled, hands flying up to shield their burning eyes. Through the searing pain, Cellera stumbled forward, trying desperately to reach where she remembered Cell standing. She couldn't let this happen - couldn't let her choice become everyone's death sentence.

But fate had other plans. 18's scream pierced the air, followed immediately by Krillin and 16's shouts of horror. In that moment, still blinded by Cell's attack, Cellera knew with crushing certainty that her decision had doomed them all. 

As the searing pain subsided and dark spots cleared from her vision, Cellera found herself staring at a transformed Cell. Gone was the bulky, monstrous figure - in its place stood something almost elegant in its deadliness. His body had become sleeker, more refined, though the wings protruding from his back still carried an unsettling resemblance to a cockroach that made her stomach turn. But it wasn't his appearance that made Cellera's blood run cold.

It was his power.

The sheer force of his ki made her body tremble involuntarily, a fear she hadn't experienced since facing Frieza on Namek. But this... this existed in an entirely different realm of terror. Even Frieza's power had felt somehow comprehensible, something that could be measured and understood. Cell's perfect form radiated an energy that seemed to defy comprehension.

Her father's voice carried across the battlefield, mocking Cell's new appearance, but his words seemed to come from very far away. The ringing in Cellera's ears couldn't quite drown out the crushing realization - she and her father had orchestrated their own destruction through entirely different forms of pride. His had been born of arrogance, a Saiyan warrior's desire to test his limits. Hers had come wrapped in moral certainty, in the belief that showing mercy made her better than him.

The hypocrisy of it cut her to her core. How many times had she lectured her father about his selfish choices? How often had she stood as the voice of reason against his self-destructive pride? Yet in the end, she had committed the same sin, just with different justification. Her decision might have appeased her conscience, might have honored the mercy Kakarot and Gohan had once shown her, but at what cost?

Everything she'd built over the past five years now balanced on a knife's edge - her home on Earth, the family she'd found in Bulma and her baby brother, the bonds she'd forged with Gohan and the others, the second chance she'd been given. Even her Saiyan pride, what drove her to be stronger and protect what was hers, lay shattered at her feet. All of it, endangered by her choice to show compassion at the worst possible moment.

Cellera glanced up at her father, seeing in his expression that familiar hunger for battle. He didn't even register the true threat that stood before them - his ego and excitement for a challenge blinded him to the danger, just as her moral certainty had blinded her to the consequences of destroying that remote. The parallel between them had never felt more stark or more damning.

Would her mother be ashamed of her? Rhuba had taught her that mercy was its own form of strength, yet Cellera's attempt to honor that teaching might have doomed everyone she cared about. Her choices, her father's pride, the overwhelming power before them - all collided within her mind with devastating impact. In trying to prove herself better than her father, she had only proven herself his daughter after all.

As she watched her father's growing anticipation, Cellera could only cling to one desperate hope - that somewhere in the Room of Spirit and Time, Kakarot and Gohan's training would prove enough to salvage something from the catastrophe she and her father had created. The thought of Gohan made her chest tighten with an unfamiliar ache. She had promised to come back safely and had assured him everything would be fine. Now those words felt like ash in her mouth, just another failure to add to her growing list.

---

The Room of Spirit and Time

The endless ticking of countless clocks filled the chamber, each second marking down the time remaining for their training. Gohan hit the white floor hard, the impact driving the breath from his lungs. Above him, his dad’s hand raised for a finishing strike.

"No, Dad, don't!" Gohan's eyes went wide with panic.

Just like every time before, His dad immediately stopped, that familiar gentle smile spreading across his face. "Had enough?"

The sight of that smile, usually so comforting, sparked something unfamiliar in Gohan's chest - pure frustration. His dad extended a helping hand, already shifting out of his combat stance. "That should do it for training today."

When Gohan made no move to accept the offered help, Goku withdrew his hand with a playful grin. "What's wrong? Don't trust your old dad?"

Something snapped inside Gohan. A growl rose in his throat as he pushed himself up, fury building with each movement. How was he supposed to grow stronger if his dad kept treating him like he might break?

Without warning, Gohan dropped back into his fighting stance. The sudden aggression made Goku take a surprised step backward as his son's power flared. Gohan launched forward with a kick that his father barely managed to dodge. Goku countered with an elbow strike, but Gohan caught it, shoving the attack aside before aiming another kick at his dad’s chin.

Goku tipped his head back, avoiding the strike before dropping low to sweep Gohan's legs from under him. But Gohan had faced this move countless times in training - his recovery was instant. He rolled with the momentum, gathering ki in his palm and launching it toward his dad. Goku deflected the blast easily, a proud smile touching his lips at his son's improvement.

But that smile only fueled Gohan's determination. He understood his father's gentleness came from love, from wanting to protect him. But they couldn't afford such kindness anymore, not with the threats they faced. As he gathered energy for another attack, memories of training with Piccolo surfaced - his mentor's uncompromising methods that had forced him to grow stronger.

"Piccolo was right about you," Gohan said, watching his father's brow twitch at the accusation. "You're way too gentle with me."

He released his blast, putting more power behind it than before. "You have to fight me seriously!"

They exchanged a rapid series of blows, but Gohan could feel the careful restraint in each of his father's strikes. The realization only stoked his anger higher. "You can't keep going easy just because I'm your son!"

Gohan and Goku landed opposite each other, the endless white void stretching between them. The constant ticking of the chamber's clocks seemed to grow louder in the silence.

"If you really want me to become a Super Saiyan," Gohan called out, his voice carrying a steel his dad had never heard before, "then you have to come at me with everything you've got! Even if it kills me!"

Goku said nothing, studying his son with an uncharacteristically stern expression. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the rhythmic ticking that marked their remaining time.

"I know you love me," Gohan continued, his words carrying equal measures of frustration and understanding. "I know you don't want to hurt me. But if I don't become a Super Saiyan, everything we've done in here will be worthless!"

Gohan watched intently as something shifted in his dad’s expression. Then it happened—golden light erupted around Goku as he transformed, his power crackling through the chamber with such force that it sent Gohan tumbling backward. The raw energy radiating from his father's Super Saiyan form made the air itself feel heavy against Gohan's skin, unlike anything he'd experienced before.

As Gohan regained his footing, satisfaction replaced his earlier frustration. Finally - his father was taking him seriously. In all their time training, Goku had never once faced him in his transformed state.

"It's now or never, Dad!" Gohan shouted, bracing himself. "Don't hold back!"

Goku rose into the air, bringing his hands to his side in that familiar stance. Blue energy began gathering between his palms, and Gohan could feel the immense power building in the attack. This wasn't the controlled, measured force his father usually used in training - this was a true Kamehameha at Super Saiyan levels.

Please don't back down , Gohan thought as he watched the energy growing brighter. To his relief, his father followed through. The massive beam of ki erupted from Goku's hands, hurtling toward Gohan with devastating force.

Gohan threw both hands up, catching the blast head-on. The impact drove him backward immediately, his feet sliding across the chamber's pristine white surface as he struggled to hold his ground. His arms trembled with the effort of containing his father's attack, but determination burned in his eyes. He had asked for this - demanded it. He couldn't fail now.

Gohan pushed his ki against his father's attack, trying desperately to redirect the massive energy beam. But Goku only poured more power into the Kamehameha, and for one terrifying moment, Gohan felt his defense beginning to crack..

Memories flooded through his mind like a cascading stream, each one carrying the weight of his failures. He saw himself frozen with fear as Nappa approached, Piccolo screaming at him to attack. But he'd been too scared, too weak - always too weak when it mattered most.

The faces of his friends flashed before him, each bearing the cost of his inadequacy. Chiaotzu's sacrifice, Tien's severed arm, Piccolo taking Nappa's attack meant for him. He saw Cellera crumpled on Namek after Recoome's attack shattered her spine - an attack meant for him. If only he'd been stronger...

The power comes in response to a need, not a desire. His father's words echoed through the void of his consciousness.

More memories surged forward. Every time he'd found himself overwhelmed, someone else had paid the price to save him. His father, Krillin, Piccolo, Cellera - they were always there, rushing in without hesitation to bail him out. The image of Raditz crushing his father, Piccolo stepping in front of Nappa's attack meant for him, Krillin impaled on Frieza's horns - each memory carried the weight of his failure to act in time.

The worst part wasn't the pain or the helplessness - it was knowing that his failure to act had cost others. His power always came too late, after someone had already been hurt. After the damage was done.

Then came a new vision, more terrifying than any before - Cellera facing Cell alone, her weakened ki making her movements sluggish. Cell's tail surging forward as she called Gohan's name, her eyes meeting his across an impossible distance, filled with a silent promise that she would return...just before Cell's stinger pierced through her chest.

"NO!" The scream tore from his throat with such force that it seemed to reverberate through the chamber itself. The vision wasn't real, but it could be - it would be, if he couldn't find a way to access that power that remained stubbornly locked away until someone was hurt.

A familiar rage began to bubble up from deep within - not just at Cell, but at himself. He was tired of being too weak, too slow, too hesitant when others needed him. Tired of watching those he loved suffer because he couldn't bring forth that power when he needed it most. That terrifying, uncontrollable force that only responded to others' pain had become both his greatest strength and his greatest fear.

"I don't know how to control it," he whispered, the confession carrying all his frustration and fear. The power was there - he could feel it stirring beneath the surface, responding to his distress - but he couldn't grasp it, couldn't bend it to his will without the trigger of someone's suffering.

Faces flashed through his mind - his father's gentle smile, Krillin's unwavering friendship, Piccolo's gruff guidance. Then Cellera - bumping her fist against his chest with that quiet look that made him feel warm inside, quiet afternoons studying together, secret training sessions away from his mother's watchful eyes. The thought of losing any of them, of losing her ...

Then something deep inside him snapped

Raw power erupted from Gohan's core with a scream that echoed through the chamber. Golden energy surged around him as he channeled everything he had into pushing back his father's attack. The Kamehameha reversed direction, forcing Goku to dodge as the blast streaked past him, exploding somewhere in the endless void.

The power rushed through him like a wild river, making his whole body feel like it might burst. He suddenly understood why his dad and Cellera had looked so intense when they first transformed - controlling this much energy felt impossible! Through the rush of energy, he barely registered his father's voice.

"Calm down, son! Focus your energy!"

Gohan tried to steady himself, managing to exert some control over the overwhelming force flowing through him. But the strain proved too much. The golden aura flickered and faded, his hair dropping back to its natural black as the transformation slipped away. He stumbled backward a few steps before collapsing to his hands and knees, chest heaving with exhaustion.

Goku approached slowly, pride radiating from his features. "I'm really proud of you, son."

"I'm sorry," Gohan gasped between breaths. "It was... so hard..."

"Don't worry about it." His father crouched beside him, the gentle smile back in place but now carrying newfound respect. "Just catch your breath. We'll take a break."

As Goku ruffled his son's hair, his hand drifted down to where Gohan's long locks were gathered in their tie. "Hey, what do you say I give you a little haircut?" He chuckled warmly. "If it gets any longer, I'm going to lose you under there."

Gohan considered the offer. His mom would be furious - she took such pride in his appearance, especially his hair. But after achieving Super Saiyan, somehow his mother's potential anger seemed less terrifying. Besides, the length had become unwieldy during training. He gave a small nod of agreement.

Goku gathered the ends of Gohan's hair, charging his hand with precisely controlled ki. With practiced ease, he sliced through the excess length, the energy passing so close to Gohan's scalp that he could feel its warmth without being burned. The sound of hair falling to the chamber floor seemed to mark another transformation - not just in power, but in Gohan himself.

-

Two months after his first transformation, Gohan found himself moving through training sequences that would have once seemed impossible. True to his word, his dad had increased their training intensity substantially, but Gohan matched the new pace with surprising ease. The Super Saiyan transformation had sharpened more than just his power - his reflexes felt faster, his battle instincts more refined. He noticed changes in his personality too, understanding now what his father and Cellera had meant about the transformation's mental effects. During spars, he found himself more aggressive, less hesitant to press an advantage. The shift might have worried him once, but he'd learned to balance it, just as Cellera had shown was possible.

These training sessions had become something Gohan genuinely looked forward to, but the moments he treasured most were the quieter times between battles - sharing meals while his father told stories of his own adventures, bathing together in the chamber's large tub where they'd laugh about training mishaps that later involved into a water fight, or simply sitting in comfortable silence as they gazed into the endless white void. Between the constant threats to Earth and his mother's academic expectations, Gohan had never experienced this kind of uninterrupted time with his dad before. There was something special about witnessing his father's everyday routines—his excitement over simple food, his childlike wonder at small discoveries within the chamber, the gentle way he'd ruffle Gohan's shortened hair when pleased with his progress. These small moments of normalcy within their extraordinary circumstances made the grueling training worthwhile in ways that growing stronger alone never could.

Standing in the chamber's endless void, his shortened hair blazing gold, Gohan centered himself. The constant ticking of the clocks faded into background noise as he focused his ki, letting the energy build until the air itself seemed to vibrate around him. With a sharp cry, he released a massive blast that thundered into the distance. As the explosion lit up his features, Gohan allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. Finally, he could truly help his father push beyond Super Saiyan's limits rather than holding him back.

"Gohan!" His father's voice carried from the living quarters. "Food's ready!"

Pausing his rapid-fire punches, Gohan couldn't suppress a smile. "Coming!" he called back, making his way toward the entrance where Goku waited, a large piece of meat in hand.

"Remember," his father said with a grin, "a true Super Saiyan cleans his plate."

Gohan nodded eagerly. After months of intense training, he finally understood why his dad and Cellera could consume such impossible quantities of food. Their enhanced metabolism combined with the constant energy expenditure created an appetite that seemed bottomless.

"Hey, think you can grill this for me?" Goku tossed the meat high into the air.

Timing his ki blast perfectly, Gohan hit the falling meat with what seemed like just the right amount of energy. The meat appeared perfectly cooked as it descended into his father's waiting hands.

For a moment, everything seemed fine. Then Goku paused, sniffing cautiously as smoke began rising from the meat. Before either could react, Gohan's delayed blast took full effect - the meat erupted into flames, instantly charring to a crisp that crumbled into ash. A small flame danced at the edge of Goku's hair, and Gohan could only stare in shocked dismay, caught between horror at his miscalculation and amazement at his own increased power.

"What did I tell you about controlling your power?" Goku asked, still holding the charred remains of what had once been dinner.

Gohan looked down sheepishly. This wasn't the first time he'd miscalculated his strength since transforming. He really thought he'd held back enough this time, but his ki control clearly needed more work.

"I know, but Dad, your hair is on-"

"Don't try changing the subject," He cut him off with mock sternness. "You've got to learn to-" The words died in his throat as realization finally hit. His eyes crossed upward, trying to see the small flame dancing in his spiky hair. Panic replaced his teacherly demeanor as he began hopping from foot to foot. "Put it out! Put it out!"

"I tried to tell you," Gohan said, fighting back a smile as his usually composed father flailed about. "Just hold still!"

After a brief struggle that left them both smelling of singed hair, father and son stared at each other for a moment before dissolving into laughter. The sound echoed through the chamber, a rare moment of pure joy in their intense training.

Neither of them could know that beyond the chamber's massive doors, beyond the sanctuary they'd created in this timeless void, their world was changing forever. As their laughter filled the endless white expanse, Cell's perfect form was unleashing horrors they couldn't begin to imagine.

---

Outside World

Cell stood before them, examining his transformed body with clinical interest, as if the others weren't even worth acknowledging. A suffocating silence enveloped the island - no one dared speak, too stunned by the monster they'd allowed to emerge. Only Vegeta seemed pleased, pride radiating from his stance as he admired the fruits of his arrogance.

The paralysis broke when Krillin's rage finally exploded. "You bastard!" His voice cracked with fury and grief. "How dare you do that to 18!"

"Krillin, don't!" Cellera's warning came too late.

He charged forward with a battle cry, driving his fist into Cell's face with everything he had. The impact should have at least turned Cell's head - instead, the creature continued studying his new form as if swatting away an insect wasn't worth his attention. Krillin's shock gave way to desperate determination as he launched into a series of strikes, each blow carrying more force than the last. His foot connected solidly with Cell's neck, but still earned no reaction.

Jumping back to gain distance, Krillin raised his hand above his head. Energy crackled as he formed his signature technique - the attack that had even managed to cut through Frieza's armor. The Destructo-Disk spun through the air with lethal precision, connecting squarely with Cell's neck.

For one brief moment, hope flashed across Krillin's features. Then the disk dissipated harmlessly, not even leaving a mark on Cell's perfect form. Terror replaced Krillin's confidence as Cell casually rolled his neck, as if working out a minor kink from sleeping wrong.

Cellera felt her stomach turn. She'd expected Krillin's attack to be ineffective, but to do absolutely nothing? Even Frieza had been forced to dodge the Destructo-Disk, knowing it could slice through his seemingly impervious body. Once again, she silently cursed Dr. Gero's twisted genius for creating this abomination that somehow managed to combine the worst aspects of both biological and mechanical engineering. The way Cell's wings twitched behind him only reinforced her deep-seated hatred of insects - though calling him merely a bug felt like an insult to cockroaches everywhere.

"My turn." Cell's words carried casual menace as he turned to Krillin. "Ready?"

Before Krillin could even process the question, Cell materialized in front of him. The kick connected with devastating force, sending Krillin flying across the island. The sight struck Cellera with painful familiarity - Krillin tumbling across Namek's green soil after Recoome's attack.

Trunks immediately gave chase after Krillin's flying form, but Cellera remained frozen beside 16's damaged frame. Her body refused to respond, caught between fear and the warrior's instinct that screamed at her to stay perfectly still, like prey trying to avoid a predator's notice. Everything about Cell radiated absolute dominance - from his casual dismissal of their presence to the way he'd shrugged off Krillin's attacks as if they were nothing more than gentle breezes. Most terrifying was her growing certainty that his kick had been little more than a love tap compared to his true capabilities.

Vegeta's descent broke through the tension, his trademark smirk firmly in place. "Nothing special about this perfect form of yours," he sneered, clearly savoring what he saw as his moment of triumph.

"My apologies for disappointing you," Cell replied with mock contrition. "Perhaps you'd help me warm up?"

"Gladly." Vegeta's grin turned predatory. "Though I'll kill you before this little warm-up of yours is finished."

Cellera watched the exchange with mounting dread. The gap between her father's power and Cell's was obvious - at least to anyone not blinded by Saiyan pride. But she knew better than to voice her concerns. Her father wouldn't hear any warning, not when he finally had the challenge he'd been craving. He would only tell her to stay out of his fight, just as he always did when his pride and arrogance overcame reason.

The battle unfolded before them, though "battle" seemed too generous a term. Cell moved with casual grace, barely engaging with Vegeta's attacks. The perfect being's restraint became increasingly obvious, and judging by the growing scowl on her father's face, he'd noticed too.

"Damn you!" Vegeta finally snapped, fury overtaking his composure. "Stop mocking me! Take this fight seriously!"

Cell shrugged, his hands resting casually on his hips. "I told you, this is just a warm-up."

"How dare you treat me like this!" Vegeta's ki flared with his rising anger. "You're starting to piss me off. Fight me with all you've got!"

From her vantage point, Cellera could read the dangerous shift in her father's demeanor. Her tongue clicked against her teeth in frustration. Her father's temper would only make things worse - exactly as Cell intended. The creature had clearly inherited more than just physical traits from his stolen Saiyan DNA; he knew exactly how to manipulate her father's pride.

"If you insist." Cell's smirk carried echoes of Vegeta's own signature expression before he vanished.

The standoff broke in a blur of movement. By the time Cellera's eyes registered Cell's disappearance, he had already reappeared behind her father. Vegeta spun with remarkable speed, his heel whistling through the air toward Cell's neck with enough force to shatter mountains. The impact should have at least staggered Cell, but the creature didn't even flinch. The sound of the connection echoed across the island—not the dull thud of flesh yielding to force, but the sharp crack of striking something immovable.

Cell folded his arms, and the expression that crossed his face made Cellera's blood run cold. The smirk was an exact mirror of her father's—a chilling reminder that this creature wore pieces of their family's legacy like a borrowed coat.

"What happened to all that energy of yours?" Cell asked, his tone dripping with false concern.

His leg shot out in a movement almost too fast to follow, a white-blue trail of ki tracing its arc. The blow connected with her father's midsection with a sound like thunder. Cellera caught a glimpse of Vegeta's face as the impact lifted him off his feet—his eyes rolled back, showing only whites for a terrifying moment, blood and spittle flying from his mouth in a crimson spray. His body carved through several rocky outcrops, each collision sending stone fragments exploding outward like shrapnel before he managed to catch himself, hovering unsteadily in the air as reality finally seemed to penetrate his pride.

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, desperately searching for any strategy that might help them survive this nightmare. She had to find something - she'd promised Gohan she'd return safely. But as she watched Cell's casual display of power, that promise felt like ash in her mouth. Their father had set this disaster in motion when his lust for a worthy challenge led him to allow Cell to absorb 18, and she had all but guaranteed it when she crushed the remote.

Before she could formulate a plan, Cell's gaze shifted toward her. Pure instinct made her step backward, though she immediately dropped into a fighting stance to mask the involuntary retreat. To her surprise, 16 moved in front of her, his massive frame assuming a shielding position that made her pause in confusion.

Cell's laughter carried across the battlefield as 16 prepared to attack. "How cute," he sneered. "Now that 17 and 18 are gone, you're making friends with the child?" His perfect features twisted into a mocking smile. "Don't waste your energy. We both know neither of you can leave so much as a scratch on me."

The taunt struck home - Cell was right, and they all knew it. Cellera caught a glimpse of 16's expression, seeing more emotion than she'd ever witnessed from the stoic android. The pain in his features went beyond physical damage, speaking to a deeper anguish over failing to protect his companions. 

A battle cry split the air, drawing everyone's attention skyward. Vegeta hovered above them, arms spread wide as he gathered an unprecedented amount of ki. His body pulsed with power, each flash illuminating the rapidly darkening sky. Cellera's tied-back hair whipped against her neck as wind howled across the island, a few strands that had escaped her blue ribbon dancing around her face. The beautiful blue sky had vanished, replaced by roiling storm clouds that seemed drawn by her father's sheer power output. Debris filled the air, caught in the growing maelstrom.

The energy continued building to terrifying levels.For one horrifying moment, Cellera thought her father might actually attempt to destroy the planet - but no, even wounded pride wouldn't drive him to such extremes. Unlike Frieza, Vegeta had found something worth preserving on Earth, even if he'd never admit it openly. This had to be something else, some strategy she wasn't seeing yet. Though she couldn't read his mind, she had known him long enough to recognize when her father was implementing a tactical approach rather than surrendering to blind rage.

"Even with your perfect form," Vegeta roared down at Cell, "do you have the guts to survive this?"

Cell's only response was to uncross his arms and plant his feet, clearly accepting the challenge. The gesture carried absolute confidence, but something in his stance suggested he recognized the genuine threat.

"We need to move." 16's mechanical voice carried urgency as he grabbed Cellera's arm. She nodded quickly, and they barely made it to cover before her father's voice thundered across the island.

"FINAL FLASH!"

The beam that erupted from Vegeta's hands was smaller than the energy buildup had suggested, and Cellera immediately recognized the tactic - the same one she'd employed with Star Breaker. Rather than unleashing a planet-destroying blast, her father had concentrated all that power into a precise strike. The attack's true nature became apparent as even Cell's face registered alarm.

"Oh shit!" The creature's eyes widened in genuine fear as the beam struck him head-on. The Final Flash carved a path through the island, splitting the ocean beyond into towering walls of water. The raw power of the attack made Cellera's earlier Star Breaker attempt feel like a child's ki blast in comparison.

Vegeta landed heavily, his chest heaving from exertion. Cellera could sense how much the attack had drained him - her father had poured everything he had into that single blast. When she looked toward Cell, her eyes widened in shock. Half of the creature's right side had been completely obliterated, exposing grotesque blue and purple organs beneath his armor-like exoskeleton. 

"Damn you, Vegeta!" Cell's voice carried what seemed like genuine pain. "It hurts!"

Her father's triumphant laughter echoed across the devastated landscape, but something about Cell's performance rang false to Cellera. The way his remaining arm clutched at his nearly non-existent shoulder seemed too theatrical, his cries too rehearsed.

"How could this happen to me?" Cell wailed. "I am perfection!"

While her father's attack had clearly caught Cell off guard - that much was evident from his initial reaction - one detail nagged at Cellera's tactically-trained mind. Cell possessed speed that made her father look slow; he could have dodged the Final Flash easily. So why hadn't he? The answer hit her with stunning clarity just as Cell's dramatics ceased.

"Did you really forget?" Cell's pained expression morphed into a knowing smirk. "I possess Piccolo's cells as well."

Horror dawned on Vegeta's face, his proud laughter dying instantly as his complexion went ashen. Above them, Trunks and Krillin's voices rang out in denial. Cellera couldn't suppress a grimace as she watched Cell's body regenerate, new tissue and armor growing to replace what had been destroyed. 

"Shall I kill you now?" Cell asked casually, rotating his newly formed arm in wide circles.

"DIE!" Vegeta's response came with a barrage of desperate ki blasts, filling the air with smoke and debris. But Cell walked through the assault as if taking a leisurely stroll, each blast dissipating harmlessly against his form. In one smooth motion, he appeared before Vegeta, driving his fist into the Saiyan prince's stomach.

Vegeta crashed onto his back, struggling to stand. Before he could regain his footing, Cell's kick sent him skyward. The creature followed, winding up his elbow before driving it into Vegeta's spine with devastating force. The impact sent a shudder through Cellera's own back as memories of Namek flooded her mind - the sickening crack of Recoome's attack breaking her spine as she tried to protect Gohan, the helpless paralysis that followed.

Her father's limp form hit the ground with a dull thud, his golden hair fading to black as unconsciousness claimed him. Fear gave way to concern as Cellera rushed to his side, fingers pressing against his neck to find a pulse. Relief washed through her as she felt the steady beat beneath her fingers. If she could just get a senzu bean from Trunks-

"It seems Vegeta is still barely alive." Cell's voice carried from above as he descended toward them.

Cellera's mind raced through possible escape routes, but each option seemed more futile than the last. Cell's speed and power made any attempt at retreat pointless. Yet something deeper than logic - that core of Saiyan pride that had seen her through countless battles - refused to let her give up without a fight.

I'm sorry, Gohan , she thought, shifting into her fighting stance. It seems I'll be breaking my promise after all.

Cell's dark chuckle carried genuine amusement. "At least Vegeta won't be dying alone." His perfect features twisted into a cruel smile. "Such a shame, really. At full strength, you might have provided some entertainment - though we both know how it would end regardless."

Despite the truth in his words, Cellera held her stance, refusing to show fear even in what would likely be her final moments.

"Don't you touch them!" Trunks' voice thundered across the battlefield. His ki erupted around him as he unleashed a transformation that made the air itself vibrate. His already impressive musculature swelled to extreme proportions, his Super Saiyan hair growing sharper and more rigid. The display of raw power drew a surprised breath from Cell, who actually spoke Trunks' name with something approaching respect.

But Cellera recognized this form immediately - Grade 3. Questions raced through her mind as she watched her brother's confidence. Surely he understood the form's fatal flaw? The massive power boost came at the cost of speed, rendering it practically useless in actual combat. Yet Trunks wore an expression of unmistakable arrogance as he assumed their father's signature pose, arms crossed over his chest. After passing a senzu bean to Krillin and exchanging what appeared to be meaningful words, he descended to the ground with deliberate authority.

"You die here, Cell." Trunks' voice carried none of its usual caution.

Cell's attention shifted fully to this new challenge, his perfect features twisting into an amused smirk. "That's quite a bold statement."

Cellera couldn't help but agree with Cell's assessment. While her brother's power had grown incredible, she knew the limitations of that form all too well. Raw strength meant nothing if you couldn't land a hit. Yet there was something about that familiar Vegeta-like pride in Trunks' stance that made her wonder if he had somehow found a way to overcome the form's weakness.

The tension shattered in an instant. Cell's leg whipped toward Trunks' head in a blindingly fast kick. Trunks managed to sway backward, avoiding the strike, and countered with a punch that showcased his newfound power. But Cell simply tilted his head, letting the attack pass harmlessly by before driving his fist into Trunks' guard. The impact sent her brother skidding several meters across the ground, confirming Cellera's fears about the form's decreased mobility.

Movement caught Cellera's eye - Trunks waving his hand in what she first took as a random gesture. Then she understood. He was signaling Krillin, creating a distraction to allow them to escape with their father and get the senzu bean. Her brother's own strategic mind showed even in the midst of his seemingly reckless transformation.

Krillin landed beside them, hoisting Vegeta's unconscious form across his shoulder. He flashed Trunks a quick thumbs up. "Let's go, Cellera."

But she couldn't move. Her feet seemed rooted to the ground as she watched her brother trading blows with Cell in that fatally flawed form. She couldn't leave him here to die - not when she knew exactly how useless Grade 3's power was without the speed to land a hit. Yet the absolute conviction in Trunks' eyes made her wonder - could he truly have found some way to overcome the form's limitations? His father's stubborn certainty seemed to have found its way into her brother's bearing.

"GO NOW!" Trunks' voice cracked through the air like a whip, carrying a commanding force she'd never heard from him before. The tone startled her - this wasn't her playful brother teasing her about Gohan or sharing quiet conversations in the Room of Spirit and Time.

Still, she held her ground, but Trunks played the one card that could break her resolve.

"You promised Gohan." The words hit with devastating force. "It wasn't just words - it was a vow that you'd return."

Something fractured inside her chest. In those few words, Trunks had laid bare the impossible choice before her - stay and fight alongside her brother, likely dying in the process, or honor the promise she'd made to someone who'd never stopped believing in her. The sickening awareness that she couldn't do both tore at her with physical pain.

Her earlier mental apologies suddenly felt hollow as she truly processed what her death would mean. She could picture Gohan's face with perfect clarity - would it shatter with heartbreak, or would he unleash that burning rage that lay dormant within him? Perhaps both?

As she looked at Trunks, she recognized the raw fear in his eyes - not just concern for her current state, but something deeper, more visceral. He had already lost her once in his timeline; the thought of watching it happen again seemed to be tearing him apart.

The knowledge of how he had found her dead in his world had clearly left scars that ran deeper than she'd realized. She'd made a promise to him too, back in the Room of Spirit and Time - that she would be careful, that she wouldn't recklessly endanger herself. And here she stood, planning to do exactly that.

"Your timeline needs you," she wanted to say, but the words died in her throat. Her brother's expression left no room for argument - he had already accepted whatever price he might pay to ensure her escape. In that moment, she recognized that Trunks had developed his own form of Saiyan pride, one that mirrored her own rather than their father's. Not pride in battle or dominance, but pride in protection - the willingness to sacrifice himself if it meant those he cared about would survive. It was the same pride that had driven her to save Gohan on Namek from Frieza, the same conviction that had shaped her choices again and again. Somehow, without her witnessing it, her brother had embraced that same principle.

Her fist clenched at her side as she made her choice. A single nod was all she could manage - anything more and she might change her mind. Krillin understood immediately, and they rose into the air together. At the last moment, she looked back at her brother.

"GO!" Trunks shouted one final time.

With that final command, Cellera turned around and began to follow Krillin who carried their father across his shoulders, but her heart remained behind on that island with her brother.

---

Back in the Room of Spirit and Time, Gohan practiced his aerial strikes, his golden aura illuminating the endless white void. Between combinations, he glanced toward his father, who had spent the last several days deep in meditation. Whatever lay beyond Super Saiyan seemed to require more than just physical training to achieve.

After a few more sequences, Gohan descended to the chamber's floor, releasing his transformation as he caught his breath. The familiar black spikes of his newly shortened hair fell around his face, damp with exertion.

Suddenly, Goku rose from his meditative pose. Golden light erupted around him as he transformed, but something was different this time. His muscles began to swell as his ki skyrocketed, the sheer power making the air vibrate around him.

"Wow!" Gohan rushed to his dad's side, excitement lighting up his features. "You did it! You've surpassed Super Saiyan!"

But his dad's expression didn't match the achievement. Instead of his usual proud grin, Goku's face remained thoughtful, almost concerned.

"I can take it even further," Goku said.

"Huh?"

Another yell filled the chamber as Goku's power climbed higher. His hair grew sharper, more rigid, while his muscles expanded to massive proportions. The raw energy radiating from him was unlike anything Gohan had ever felt.

"This is incredible!" Gohan could barely contain his enthusiasm. "You're so strong now - you can definitely beat Cell!"

But Goku shook his head, his voice carrying unusual gravity. "No, I can't beat Cell like this."

"What do you mean?" Gohan tilted his head in confusion.

"All this extra mass makes me stronger, sure," Goku explained, "but it slows me down too much. What good is being stronger than Cell if I can't land a single hit? Plus, maintaining this form burns through energy too quickly."

Understanding dawned on Gohan as he remembered something Cellera had told them during training - how their smaller frames might seem like a disadvantage, but actually allowed for greater speed and agility. Size and raw power weren't everything in a fight; stamina and efficiency mattered just as much. It was a lesson she'd learned early under Vegeta's harsh training, and now Gohan saw its wisdom reflected in his father's words.

"A regular Super Saiyan form is more balanced," Goku explained, letting his muscles return to their normal size. "From now on, we're going to stay transformed all the time, until it feels as natural as breathing." His face lit up with enthusiasm. "First step is getting rid of that restless feeling that comes with the transformation!"

Gohan couldn't help but feel amazed at his dad's ideas. It was like his father saw things about fighting that nobody else could see, even though he explained them in such a simple way. Gohan sometimes forgot how much his dad really understood about martial arts beneath all his carefree smiles and love of food. His father might not care about studying books like his mom wanted, but when it came to finding new ways to get stronger, nobody could match him."

"We'll need to start over with basic training," Goku continued. "Might seem like we're moving backward, but trust me, it's the best way forward."

"Okay!" Gohan's excitement bubbled over. "I'll give it everything I've got!"

His father's warm laughter filled the chamber as he ruffled Gohan's shortened hair. "I know you will. You've been amazing since day one in here." The praise brought color to Gohan's cheeks.

Golden light surrounded him as he transformed again, his black spikes lifting into their now-familiar golden state. Rather than launching into complex combinations, he began working through basic forms. Cellera had taught him these movements years ago, patiently correcting flaws in his technique. He remembered explaining to her how his crash course with Piccolo had focused on survival rather than refinement - six months to learn what most fighters spent years mastering.

As he moved through the familiar patterns, his style now carried a lot more of his father's influence. His thoughts drifted to how they were faring against Cell. Despite his lingering worry, he trusted in both Cellera and Trunks' promises to return safely.

Yet something nagged at him - an uneasy feeling in his gut that whispered of dangers he couldn't see. The sensation reminded him of those moments before everything had gone wrong on Namek, that same creeping dread that preceded disaster.

Gohan shook his head, trying to dismiss his unease as mere paranoia. He needed to focus on mastering the Super Saiyan transformation. Cellera and Trunks were more than capable of handling themselves. But at the thought of Cell hurting them, his ki suddenly flared hot and wild. The surge was strong enough to make his father glance over, confusion crossing his features.

Quickly reining in his power, Gohan resumed his sequence with deliberate calm. These uncontrolled bursts of rage had always been a double-edged sword - bringing forth incredible power but at the cost of any real control. Now that he'd grown so much stronger, the thought of losing himself to that anger terrified him. What if next time he couldn't pull back in time? What if he hurt someone he cared about?

Pushing those dark thoughts aside, he refocused on perfecting his basic forms. His father needed him at his best if they were going to surpass Super Saiyan's limits together. After years of being the one who needed protection, he'd finally stopped being a burden. He couldn't falter now.

And if something went wrong - if Cellera, Trunks, and Vegeta couldn't handle Cell as planned - then his father would show the creature what true power looked like. Gohan allowed himself a small smile at the thought. After all, his dad had never met a challenge he couldn't overcome.

Chapter 26: Chapter 25

Notes:

Hello everyone!
I hope those of you who are off today, enjoy your Friday!
We are nearing what I feel is an awaited point in the story, and let me just say to our Gohan/Cellera shippers....prepare yourselves for next week.
Don't forget to follow the tumblr where you can see some of the incredible fanart i get, along with little AU drabbles i think of with Gohan & Cellera when I'm not having them save the world here: https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar?source=share

Dark clouds churned overhead as Krillin and Cellera fled from the site of battle, their forms silhouetted against a sky that had no business being so ominous at midday. Each burst of lightning that crackled through the heavy air cast stark shadows across the scattered islands below them, briefly illuminating the destruction left in their wake. The very atmosphere seemed to pulse with Trunks' power, his distant yells carrying across the water like rolling thunder.

Another explosion rocked the air around them, and Cellera's flight path wavered slightly - a reminder of her still-recovering ki control. Below them, one of the smaller islands began to crumble, massive chunks of rock breaking free and plunging into the churning sea. The raw energy radiating from her brother's battle was literally reshaping the landscape.

"This is absolutely insane," Krillin said, having to raise his voice over the sound of splintering rock. "I've never felt anything like this before. To think we can still sense his power from this far away..." He shook his head in disbelief. "It's like the whole world is shaking."

Cellera remained silent, her eyes fixed ahead even as her thoughts spiraled inward. Grade 3's flaws had been glaringly obvious during their time in the Room of Spirit and Time - the massive energy drain, the crippling loss of speed. Had Trunks somehow found a way to overcome these limitations? Or was his confidence born of something far more dangerous? The thought that he might have inherited their father's fatal pride, just as she had apparently inherited his tendency toward self-destructive choices, sent a chill through her that had nothing to do with the turbulent weather.

"Hey..." Krillin's voice cut through her dark musings. When she glanced his way, his expression held genuine concern. "You've been really quiet since we left. Is this about what happened with the remote? Because if it is, I'm sorry for putting you in that position. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't," Cellera interrupted, her voice carrying a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. "Don't apologize. While I'm still... uncertain about whether we made the right choice, that's not what concerns me right now."

Lightning flashed again as Krillin studied her profile. "What is it then?"

"I'm worried about Trunks."

"Worried?" Krillin's eyebrows rose in surprise. "But he's incredibly powerful now. I mean, just look at what his energy is doing to everything around us. What could you possibly have to worry about?"

Another island shattered beneath them, punctuating his question with the sound of destruction.

Before Cellera could explain her concerns, her father let out a pained groan from his position across Krillin's shoulder.

"We need to land somewhere safe," Cellera said, scanning the horizon. "He needs that senzu bean."

"Over there." Krillin nodded toward a small island in the distance. "That should work. Far enough from the fight but close enough to keep track of what's happening."

They descended onto a stretch of pristine beach that seemed almost absurdly peaceful given the chaos unfolding nearby. Krillin carefully laid Vegeta onto the sand, the Saiyan prince's face contorted in pain as he drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. Reaching into his gi, Krillin retrieved the senzu bean.

"Here, Vegeta," Krillin said, noting how the proud warrior's breathing came in ragged gasps. "Eat this quickly." He popped the bean into Vegeta's mouth just as another tremor shook the island.

The effect was immediate. Color rushed back into Vegeta's face as the healing magic coursed through his body. His eyes snapped open, and he shot upright with explosive force.

"CELL!" The name erupted from his throat like a battle cry as he whirled around, searching for his opponent. "Where is that bastard? I'll make him pay for making a fool of me!"

"Father, are you alright?" Cellera asked, though she already knew the answer. The senzu bean had restored his body - his pride was another matter entirely.

"I'll be fine once I find Cell and show him what happens when he dares to mock the prince of all Saiyans!"

Cellera's scowl deepened at his predictable response. "You've done quite enough damage to our situation for one day," she snapped, unable to keep the edge from her voice.

Vegeta's eyes narrowed dangerously at her tone, but before he could respond, an enormous surge of ki exploded from the direction they'd fled. The very air seemed to vibrate with Trunks' power.

"What does that boy think he's doing?" Vegeta growled, his previous argument forgotten as he sensed the familiar energy signature of Grade 3.

Cellera set aside her frustration with her father, focusing on the more immediate concern. "It seems Trunks has also achieved the form beyond the ascended Super Saiyan," she explained, her voice tight with worry. "But I don't think he realizes it's practically useless in actual combat."

"Fool," Vegeta spat, clicking his tongue in disgust.

"Wait a second," Krillin interjected, looking between father and daughter with growing confusion. "You're saying both of you can use that form too? But how can it be useless? Trunks' power is incredible!"

"You're a martial artist, Krillin," Cellera replied. "You should understand better than most that raw power isn't everything in battle. There's a critical flaw in that form that should be obvious."

Krillin's brow furrowed as he considered her words. Suddenly, his eyes widened with understanding. "His muscle mass," he whispered, the pieces falling into place. "Oh man, now I get why you're worried! With all that bulk, his speed..." He trailed off, understanding sinking in. "He won't be fast enough to keep up with Cell!"

Her father leaned against a nearby palm tree, arms crossed over his chest. "The boy is still clearly a novice if he can't grasp something so fundamental," he said, contempt dripping from every word.

As much as she wished to defend her brother, Cellera found herself unable to refute her father’s assessment. While her frustration currently split between herself and her father, she had to acknowledge the truth in his words. Though Trunks had grown tremendously during their year in the Room of Spirit and Time, mastering techniques that would have seemed impossible when they first entered, he still lacked the fundamental mindset of a true fighter.

The thought had barely formed when they all froze, sensing a dramatic shift in the battle. Trunks' overwhelming ki signature suddenly plummeted, and Cellera felt her blood turn to ice in her veins.

"What's happening?" Krillin's voice cracked with concern. "Trunks' power just dropped drastically, but Cell's ki is still massive!"

Before anyone could respond, Cellera launched herself from the beach, her body moving on pure instinct. Her hasty takeoff caused her to stumble severely in the air, her weakened ki control making her flight erratic and impossible to achieve the speed she desperately wanted.  Krillin's shouts for her to stop barely registered - all that mattered was reaching her brother.

She sensed more than saw Vegeta pull up beside her, with Krillin following close behind. Glancing sideways, she caught the irritation etched across her father's features. But his immediate pursuit told a different story than his expression suggested. Though he would never admit it, she recognized the subtle signs of paternal concern. After experiencing Cell's overwhelming power firsthand, even he couldn't completely mask his worry.

As they approached the battle site, the scene that greeted them sent fresh waves of fear through Cellera's chest. Trunks knelt in the broken earth, his golden hair having reverted to its natural lavender. His Super Saiyan aura had vanished completely, and more worryingly, Cell was nowhere in sight.

Relief flooded through Cellera at seeing her brother alive, though that feeling clearly didn't extend to their father. The moment they landed, Vegeta's sharp voice cut through the air.

"Where is Cell?" he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. "What happened?"

Trunks' face twisted with a mixture of shame and anger. His fingers dug into the ground beneath him, leaving deep furrows in the earth. "I tried to beat him," he ground out, each word seeming to cost him. "But I couldn't do it. I just... couldn't..."

Cellera could see there was more weighing on her brother's mind, but before she could intervene, Krillin stepped forward. He placed a steadying hand on Trunks' shoulder, his voice gentle but firm.

"Take it easy," Krillin said. "Just tell us what happened."

Silence stretched between them as Trunks gathered his thoughts. Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with frustration. "Cell was just toying with me. He mocked my transformation, even demonstrated he could achieve the same form without breaking a sweat." His fist clenched tighter against the ground. "But instead of finishing me off, he announced he's holding a martial arts tournament."

Looking up at them, confusion clouded his features. "He seemed almost... eager to test his strength. He even asked about my potential to grow stronger with more time. When I mentioned Goku was training to defeat him, his excitement only grew. Told me to watch the news for the tournament details before taking off."

A bitter laugh escaped Cellera. The sheer absurdity of their situation struck her - their Saiyan blood, with its damned pride and endless thirst for battle, had led to this disaster. Yet those very same traits were now offering them a chance at redemption.

"Who in their right mind would enter a tournament like this?" Krillin asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "None of us could even touch him - not even you or Vegeta!"

Trunks considered for a moment. "After Goku and Gohan finish their training, I could go back into the Room of Spirit and Time. Maybe with more preparation-"

"Don't waste your breath," Vegeta interrupted with a dismissive laugh. "I'll be the one to enter that room again. And I'll be the one to put Cell in his place."

Cellera couldn't mask her disgust. "Because your judgment has proven so reliable thus far," she said, her words sharp as a blade.

Her father whirled to face her, eyes blazing. She hadn't dared challenge him this directly since their days on Namek. "If we're cataloging failures," he snarled, "shall we discuss yours? You had the chance to prevent Cell from achieving his perfect form. You're as much to blame for this situation as I am."

Cellera's jaw clenched as his words struck home. If he wanted to have this fight... She crossed her arms, matching his stance. "You're right," she admitted, satisfaction flickering across her features as surprise momentarily cracked his arrogant mask. "I share the blame for this disaster. But I wasn't the one strutting around in front of Kakarot, making grand proclamations about defeating Cell before he could even reach the chamber."

The verbal blow landed perfectly - she saw her father physically flinch, his pride taking yet another hit.

Krillin and Trunks watched the exchange with growing unease as father and daughter locked eyes, tension crackling between them like the lightning that had accompanied Trunks' transformation. Each glare carried another silent accusation, another wound exposed.

"I acknowledge my failure," Cellera continued, her voice dropping to something raw and painful. "The weight of endangering everyone... it consumes me. But do you feel it at all, Father? Or does your precious pride shield you even from that?"

The silence that followed felt heavier than any gravity they'd endured. Father and daughter stood frozen, their shared flaws laid bare between them.

"This isn't helping," Krillin finally cut in, desperate to break the mounting tension. "We need to focus on how we're going to handle Cell and this tournament."

Krillin was right - arguing with her father would only serve to soothe her wounded pride, nothing more. A shadow fell across the ground before she could respond, and movement at the periphery of her vision caught her attention. The sound of damaged servos and mechanical joints preceded the familiar mechanical voice that cut through the tension.

"I will also fight."

They turned to see Android 16 limping toward them, one arm clutched against his damaged frame. Sparks occasionally flickered from his exposed circuitry as he struggled to maintain his balance. "If you could arrange repairs for me, I believe I could prove useful against Cell." Another electrical surge caused him to grimace, the expression startlingly human on his artificial features.

"Why would we help you?" Trunks demanded immediately. "You're one of Gero's androids!"

"Once my systems are restored, I give you my word that I will fight alongside you." 16's gaze shifted to Cellera, something almost pleading in his usually stoic expression. "Please... allow me to help."

Cellera studied him carefully, memories of their recent encounter flashing through her mind. The way he had stepped protectively in front of her despite his damaged state. The raw pain that had crossed his face at the loss of 17 and 18. The look he gave her now - not just asking for help, but for a chance to prove himself worthy of it.

She approached 16, ignoring Trunks' warning call of "Cellera!" as she examined the extent of his injuries. "Bulma and Dr. Briefs should be able to repair this damage at Capsule Corporation," she said finally. "It's nothing beyond their capabilities."

Surprise flickered across 16's features at her ready acceptance, his eyes widening slightly.

Krillin moved to stand beside her, offering 16 a warm smile. "Don't worry big guy, we'll get you fixed up good as new." He glanced at the android's unsteady stance. "Can you still fly?"

"I... may require some assistance."

"No problem!" Krillin clapped 16's massive shoulder. "I've got you covered."

"Have you both lost your minds?" Trunks protested, looking between them in disbelief.

"Relax," Krillin said. "He's going to be one of the good guys from now on."

"He's an android!"

The accusation struck something deep in Cellera as Krillin's earlier words echoed in her mind. They had seen past what she was supposed to be - what she could’ve been. They had ignored her connection to her father and offered her shelter on Namek when they had every reason not to. They had welcomed her to Earth, giving her a different life than the one of slaughter under Frieza’s command, something she thought she would forever be under until her dying breath.

Their acceptance hadn't asked her to deny her Saiyan nature - that warrior's spirit that was ingrained into her being, that drive for battle that grew stronger with each passing year. Instead, they had unknowingly helped her channel it into something meaningful: protecting the life she'd built here, defending those who had given her a second chance, testing her limits not for dominance but to ensure she would never again watch helplessly as those she cared about were threatened.

That balance between warrior and protector had become her strength, so different from her father's path of pride and power for its own sake. Looking at 16's hopeful expression, she saw someone seeking purpose beyond their original programming.

"Krillin's right," Cellera said firmly, ignoring the sharp spike in her father's ki behind her that signaled his disapproval. She met her brother's shocked stare. "Think about it, Trunks. 16 hasn't shown any malicious intent since his activation. He was even willing to place himself between me and Cell despite his damaged state."

Her father turned away with a dismissive "hmph," but she continued as if she hadn't noticed, done letting his judgments influence her decisions. "Look at how dramatically events have diverged from your timeline. None of Dr. Gero's creations have displayed the ruthless behavior you described - except Cell."

Trunks winced slightly at her argument, an odd expression crossing his features.

"What's wrong?" Cellera asked, noting his reaction.

"Speaking of Cell and timelines..." Trunks hesitated. "There's something I need to tell you all."

"Well, you can fill us in on the way to Capsule Corp," Krillin said as he carefully helped 16 onto his back. The android's massive frame dwarfed him, making the sight almost comical despite the gravity of their situation.

"Thank you," 16 said with surprising gentleness for his size.

Trunks cast one final uncertain look at the android before giving a reluctant nod and taking to the air. As they departed, Cellera sensed her father's energy still crackling with frustration behind them, but she had more important concerns than managing his wounded pride.

The endless white void of the Room of Spirit and Time echoed with the sounds of combat as Gohan and Goku pushed past their twentieth hour of continuous battle. Their muscles screamed in protest, but neither father nor son showed any sign of yielding.

Their hands locked together in a test of strength, golden auras flaring around them both as they struggled for dominance. When they finally broke apart, Gohan's legs betrayed him. His knees hit the ground hard, but his eyes never left his father's face. Even as his chest heaved for air, he launched himself forward again, unleashing a barrage of strikes that would have seemed impossible just months ago.

"That's the way, son!" Goku encouraged as he weaved through Gohan's assault. "Remember - you control the strength, not the other way around!"

Something inside Gohan snapped. With a fierce cry that surprised even himself, he drove his fist deep into his father's stomach. The impact landed solidly - far more powerful than anything he'd managed before. A flash of genuine shock crossed his dad's features before he delivered a swift kick that sent Gohan flying.

Gohan crashed into the ground hard, his golden hair fading back to black as his transformation slipped away. His body twitched from exhaustion as he fought to draw breath into burning lungs. Every muscle fiber begged him to stay down, but he couldn't - not yet. Not when his father had finally been forced to strike back with real power. As he struggled to push himself up on trembling arms, he heard his father's laugh - there was an odd edge to it, almost nervous.

"Alright, I think that's enough for today," Goku said, his voice carrying forced lightness. "Twenty hours straight is overdoing it, don't you think?"

Footsteps indicated his father walking away, and normally Gohan would have gratefully agreed. But something was different now. The words ‘ keep going’ pounded through his mind with each heartbeat. He had to push harder, had to prove he could keep up.

“Wait!" Gohan insisted as he forced himself to stand. Golden light erupted around him once more as power surged through his exhausted body. The energy felt different somehow - wild and intoxicating. The air around him began to crackle with electricity, and for just a moment, something deeper stirred within him, something he'd never felt before...

Then darkness claimed him, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the floor.

Goku watched his son crumple to the floor, finally giving in to exhaustion. He released a heavy breath, relief washing through him - if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't sure how much longer he could have continued. That last kick had been harder than he'd intended, but something about that strike had awakened something in Gohan. In all their years of training, he had never seen that look on his son's face before - that flash of confidence, that hunger for combat that reminded him so much of himself. And his ki... it had shot up so dramatically that it had even surpassed his own!

Walking over, Goku carefully hoisted his son onto his back, carrying him toward their sleeping quarters. As he gently laid Gohan down and pulled a sheet over his sleeping form, he couldn't help but smile. His son really was a chip off the old block after all! The way Gohan had demanded to continue despite his exhaustion, that determined look in his eyes - it made Goku's heart swell with pride.

The rapid pace of Gohan's improvement didn't really surprise him anymore. His son's potential had always been extraordinary, surpassing anything Goku could have imagined. While Gohan seemed convinced that his father was still holding back, the truth was quite different - Goku was the one struggling to keep up with his son's explosive growth. 

He found himself grinning as he remembered their earlier spars in the chamber, how their battles had grown so intense that their Super Saiyan auras had literally changed the temperature around them, leaving trails of fire in their wake. He had actually been forced to flee multiple times, desperately trying to buy himself even a moment to think of his next move, but Gohan had pursued him relentlessly.

As he watched his son's peaceful expression in sleep, so different from the warrior he'd glimpsed today, the realization hit him with crystal clarity - he wouldn't be the one to defeat Cell. That honor would belong to his son.

-

Golden light illuminated the endless void as Gohan's ki blasts struck the ground, each impact creating massive craters that pulsed with residual energy. As he descended, his breath came in heavy pants, but he pushed himself to gather more power.

"Have to get stronger than a Super Saiyan," he muttered between labored breaths. "Have to help Dad get stronger too!"

"Son Gohan!"

The familiar sharp tone cut through his concentration like a knife. He turned to find his mother striding toward him, her face set in that expression he knew all too well - the one that meant he was in serious trouble.

"Stop what you're doing right now!"

"Mom?" Confusion colored his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I've come to take you home." Chi-Chi's tone left no room for argument. "You've been gone far too long."

"Please, Mom," Gohan pleaded, looking up at her with desperate eyes. "Dad and I are almost finished. Just a little longer?"

"Absolutely not." Chi-Chi crossed her arms. "I only agreed to this if you could keep up with your studies. You're falling behind!"

"I promise I'll catch up as soon as I get back," Gohan tried, but his mother's expression remained unmoved. The familiar guilt of disappointing her academic expectations twisted in his stomach.

"I'm sorry, kid." Piccolo's deep voice drew his attention. "I tried to stop her."

Gohan turned to find both his mentor and Cellera standing off to the side - Piccolo with his hands clasped before him, Cellera with her arms folded across her chest in a stance that reminded him so much of Vegeta.

"Even I was unable to reason with her," Cellera added, a note of resigned amusement in her voice.

Something felt wrong. How had they gotten into the chamber without him noticing? The doors hadn't opened, had they? Before he could pursue that thought, his mother's voice rang out again.

"Goku! Come out here this instant!"

The air behind Chi-Chi seemed to ripple, and suddenly a tall figure materialized. Though Gohan had never seen him before, every fiber of his being somehow recognized the creature - Cell. Before he could cry out a warning, Cell's hand lashed out, striking his mother with casual brutality. She crashed to the ground, unmoving.

Horror froze Gohan in place. His limbs refused to respond, trembling uselessly as he stared at his mother's crumpled form. He tried desperately to move, to help her, but his body wouldn't obey.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words catching in his throat. Once again, he was that helpless child, watching as those he loved suffered while he could do nothing.

Piccolo launched himself at Cell with a battle cry, but the fight - if it could even be called that - ended almost instantly. Three brutal impacts echoed through the void before Piccolo's body plummeted from above, crashing to the ground beside Chi-Chi.

"Piccolo!" Gohan's cry felt pathetically weak in his own ears. Just like when the Saiyans had first arrived, he could only watch as his mentor fell. Nothing had changed - he was still that same frightened, useless child.

A soft click of the tongue drew his attention. Cellera stepped up beside him, her eyes fixed on Cell's hovering form. "Guess it's my turn."

"No, don't!" Panic clawed at Gohan's throat. "You haven't recovered your full strength yet!"

She turned to him with that familiar smile - the one that had always made everything seem manageable before. "I promise I'll be back."

But for the first time, those words rang hollow. Something was wrong - this wasn't like her other promises. Before he could stop her, Cellera shot toward Cell. The fight was brutally short. Her body hit the ground with the same finality as the others, and Gohan's self-loathing reached new depths. What good was all this new power if he couldn't protect anyone? He remained frozen, watching helplessly as those he cared about most were torn apart while he did nothing.

Cell descended slowly, deliberately, savoring each moment. His foot came to rest almost gently on Piccolo's head. The crunch that followed would haunt Gohan forever. His mentor's body twitched once before going completely still, his ki signature vanishing like a candle being snuffed out.

Trembling, Gohan watched Cell move toward his mother's prone form. "Mom, please... get up!" But Chi-Chi could only twitch her fingers weakly before Cell's foot descended again. Another sickening crunch. Another ki signature extinguished.

Rage began to bubble up as Cell turned toward Cellera's unconscious form, that same cruel smile playing across his perfect features.

"Don't you dare touch her!" The snarl that ripped from Gohan's throat barely sounded human.

Cell's smirk widened. "And what will you do about it? You were too weak to protect Piccolo. Too weak to save your mother." His foot hovered over Cellera's head. "And you'll be too weak to save her too."

As Cell's foot began to descend, something inside Gohan shattered. His vision went red as pure, unbridled fury coursed through him. Power unlike anything he'd ever felt erupted from his core, electricity crackling across his skin as his golden aura intensified. The chamber itself seemed to tremble under the force of his rage.

In the blink of an eye, he stood between Cell and Cellera, catching the creature's foot in one hand. Cell's expression shifted from mockery to shock as Gohan's grip tightened, crushing bone.

"I'll kill you," Gohan heard himself say, his voice cold and detached, as if coming from someone else entirely.

The power flowing through him was intoxicating, liberating—and terrifying. He could feel something fundamental changing within him, his consciousness pushed aside by a darker, more primal force. This wasn't just his Super Saiyan form; this was something else entirely. Something that whispered for blood and vengeance, something that cared nothing for restraint or mercy.

With one swift motion, he tore Cell's leg clean off. The creature's scream of pain didn't satisfy him—it only fed the hunger for destruction growing within. As Cell stumbled backward, Gohan advanced, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice unrecognizable even to himself. "Good. I want you to suffer."

Cell's terror was palpable now, but Gohan felt no satisfaction, only a burning desire to inflict more pain. Each blow he delivered was calculated to maximize suffering rather than end the fight quickly. Some distant part of him—the real Gohan—watched in horror from behind his own eyes as his body moved with cruel precision, dismantling Cell piece by piece.

"Gohan, stop!" A voice cut through the haze of his rage. Cellera was standing now, her eyes wide with fear—not of Cell, but of him. "This isn't you!"

But he couldn't stop. The power had taken control completely, driving him forward with savage purpose. As Cell lay broken before him, he raised his hand for the final blow—only to freeze in horror as Cell's form shifted and changed, becoming his father.

"Son?" Goku's voice was weak, confused. "What are you doing?"

The rage evaporated instantly, leaving cold horror in its wake. What had he done? What had he become?

His eyes snapped open as he bolted upright in bed, nearly colliding with his father who had been leaning over him.

"I let Cell kill them," he gasped, the nightmare's horror still pulsing through his veins. "And then I... I became something else."

"Easy, son," Goku said gently, placing a steadying hand on Gohan's shoulder. "It was just a nightmare."

Gohan's breathing gradually steadied as his ki settled back to normal. Goku pressed his palm against his son's forehead before comparing it to his own. "That feels better," he said with relief. "Your fever's broken."

The adrenaline from the nightmare began to fade, and Gohan sank back against his pillow. As Goku pulled the sheets up over him, he murmured, "Back to bed."

"We'll still train tomorrow, right?" Gohan's voice carried that familiar determination, even through his exhaustion.

"Of course! Once you're feeling better, we'll get right back to it." Goku smiled warmly. "But for now, you need rest."

"I'll try," Gohan mumbled as his eyes began to close. "It's just hard with all these nightmares..."

His father's reassuring presence faded as sleep pulled him under again, but the memory of that cold, detached voice—his voice—whispering "I'll kill you" followed him into darkness. The fear of what he might become if he ever truly lost control stayed with him, a shadow lurking at the edges of his consciousness.

Goku watched as sleep reclaimed his son, running a gentle hand through Gohan's dark hair as he considered what he'd witnessed. That sudden burst in Gohan's power during the nightmare followed a pattern he'd seen before. The spike in ki before it faded reminded him of earlier moments: his son exploding from Raditz's pod, his stand against Vegeta when they first arrived on Earth when his body was too battered to go on.

A small, satisfied smile crossed Goku's face as he pieced it together. Anger - that was the key to unlocking Gohan's dormant power. The realization felt like finding the missing piece of a puzzle. He wiped away a bead of sweat that still lingered on his son's forehead, not connecting it to the terror Gohan had just experienced. In Goku's mind, discovering a pathway to greater power was always something to celebrate - a new challenge to master, a new height to reach.

As he prepared to head for the bath, Goku took one final look at his sleeping son, pride swelling in his chest. When they'd first entered the chamber, his goal had been simple: push beyond Super Saiyan and defeat Cell himself. But watching Gohan's incredible growth had changed everything. His son's technical precision was flawless, absorbing new techniques and fighting styles at a rate that left even Goku amazed.

This wasn't just about defeating Cell anymore. With every passing day, Goku realized he wasn't just training their trump card - he was preparing Earth's future protector. The thought filled him with a deep sense of pride and certainty. The next generation of Earth's defense was in good hands, even if Gohan didn't realize it yet.

As they flew toward Capsule Corporation, Trunks explained the grim revelation Cell had given him about a seperate timeline. Despite successfully warning everyone about the androids and even managing to eliminate them in the future, he had been ambushed and killed by Cell. 

"That explains his possession of your time machine," Cellera said, her voice tight with frustration. "And why events have diverged so drastically from what you described."

"Hold on," Krillin interjected, scratching his head. "All this alternate timeline stuff makes my head spin, but wouldn't that mean there's still a Cell in your time waiting to do the same thing?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Trunks' expression hardened. "Just another problem I'll have to deal with when I return, along with my timeline's versions of 17 and 18."

The familiar dome of Capsule Corporation finally came into view. As they descended, they spotted Mrs. Briefs tending to her garden, humming softly to herself as she watered a cluster of white lilies. The peaceful domesticity of the scene felt almost surreal after everything they'd just experienced.

She turned at the sound of their landing, her perpetual smile brightening further. "Welcome home, Vegeta! Cellera!"

The simple greeting sent an unexpected wave of comfort through Cellera. After a year in the chamber's isolation, just hearing Mrs. Briefs' cheerful voice felt like a balm. While her father responded with his typical silence, Cellera offered a warm greeting in return.

"My goodness, look how much you've grown!" Mrs. Briefs exclaimed, studying Cellera with motherly attention. Her gaze shifted to the others. "And I see you've brought some guests with you!"

"Where's Bulma?" Cellera asked, scanning the grounds of Capsule Corp as she tried to ignore the way her father deliberately maintained his distance from the group.

Dr. Briefs emerged from the building with a sleeping baby Trunks nestled carefully in his arms. "Just got off the phone with her, actually. She's on her way back now."

Cellera frowned slightly - Bulma staying at the Lookout this long seemed odd, but they had more pressing concerns. She turned her attention to 16, who stood apart from them, completely absorbed in studying a small bird that had boldly perched on his finger. The gentle way he observed the creature stood in stark contrast to his imposing frame.

"Dr. Briefs," she said, gesturing to the android, "we need your assistance. He's another of Gero's creations, but unlike 17 and 18, he's purely mechanical." She caught Trunks tensing at the mention of Gero's name but pressed on. "We're hoping you can repair him. We'll need his strength against Cell."

The scientist's eyes lit up with professional curiosity as he studied 16's damaged form, adjusting his glasses for a better look. "Remarkable engineering... Even with the damage, the intricacy of his construction is fascinating. The repairs shouldn't pose too much difficulty. I'll just need to prepare the lab properly."

"Guess that's my signal to head out," Krillin said, already floating upward. "I should get back to Master Roshi's, fill Yamcha and the others in on Cell's little tournament announcement." There was an edge of bitterness in his voice at those last words that Cellera couldn't blame him for.

She and Trunks waved as Krillin took off across the sky before following the others into the familiar halls of Capsule Corp. Dr. Briefs carefully transferred the sleeping baby into Cellera's arms - a gesture that had become natural over the years, despite Vegeta's occasional disapproving glances.

"I'll go get everything set up," Dr. Briefs said, already heading toward his lab. "Make yourselves comfortable for now. I'll need Bulma's expertise on this one - she's developed quite an understanding of Gero's methods since we first started studying his work."

As his footsteps faded down the corridor, the atmosphere grew noticeably heavier. The tension from her earlier confrontation with her father still crackled between them like residual battle energy. Trunks' discomfort was equally palpable - after everything he'd endured in his timeline, having one of Gero's creations in what should have been a safe haven clearly set him on edge. The promise of relaxation felt like a hollow joke.

A small movement in her arms drew Cellera's attention downward. Baby Trunks blinked sleepily for a few moments before his eyes focused on her face. Recognition dawned, and his whole face lit up with pure joy as he began clapping and laughing. Cellera couldn't help but return his smile, though the gesture carried a hint of sadness. While only days had passed for him, she'd spent an entire year away in the chamber.

From the corner of her eye, she caught her father watching the interaction, his rigid posture softening almost imperceptibly. For a fleeting moment, something beyond his usual stoicism crossed his features before he quickly masked it and turned away. As she looked back at baby Trunks' innocent face beaming up at her, guilt began to gnaw at her insides. Her father's pride and her own misplaced mercy might have cost this child his future.

Movement by the window caught her eye, breaking through her dark thoughts. Android 16 stood gazing out at Capsule Corp's sprawling atrium, his expression holding something close to wonder as he watched the various creatures going about their lives. The sight triggered a memory - during the battle with 17 and 18, he had shown the same fascination with wildlife, his face falling when their combat had scattered the local birds.

"What's wrong?" Trunks asked, coming to stand beside her as he followed her gaze to 16.

"Here, hold him for a minute," Cellera said, carefully transferring baby Trunks to his future self. "Watch yourself though - he's got quite the grip."

She approached 16, but the android remained transfixed by the scene outside, seemingly unaware of her presence until she spoke. "I can take you down to the atrium if you'd like a closer look."

"No, thank you," 16 replied without turning, his deep voice carrying surprising gentleness. "I would not wish to disturb them."

Cellera opened her mouth to insist, but a sudden cry of "Ow! Let go!" interrupted her. She and 16 turned to find baby Trunks giggling delightedly, one tiny fist firmly wrapped in his older self's lavender hair. Cellera had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at the sight. Even Vegeta, leaning against the far wall, couldn't quite suppress his smirk as he watched his future son brought low by an infant.

She made her way back to the struggling pair, unable to keep the amusement from her face.

"Stop smiling," Trunks grumbled. "This isn't funny."

"I'm sorry," Cellera said, though her barely contained laughter made it clear she was anything but. "Hold still." She carefully began working baby Trunks' surprisingly strong fingers free from his future self's hair.

Once she had reclaimed the still-giggling baby, Trunks released a relieved sigh, running a hand through his now-freed hair.

"First Cell, and now bested by a mere infant," Vegeta remarked with a mocking chuckle. "Perhaps we should reconsider your training."

"If it makes you feel any better," Cellera told Trunks, adjusting baby Trunks in her arms, "I had to rescue Gohan's finger from the same fate." She couldn't help but chuckle at the memory. "Even after I freed him, I had to quickly move his hand away since this little one made another grab for it. He's surprisingly quick when he wants something."

Something shifted in Trunks' expression, that familiar mischievous glint entering his eyes that reminded her so much of his infant counterpart when spotting a new target. "Oh? So the Lookout wasn't the first time you two held hands after all?"

Heat flooded Cellera's cheeks as she recalled how Gohan's hand had covered her fist, his gentle touch carrying a warmth she hadn't expected. Her brother's laughter only intensified her embarrassment.

"I was just making a joke," Trunks said, barely containing his mirth, "but it looks like I hit the nail on the head!"

Her father's ki flickered with sudden irritation behind them, the energy spike making baby Trunks gurgle in response. Cellera felt herself growing flustered - a state that would have mortified her usually composed self.

"That's not- you're completely misunderstanding!" she protested, hating how her voice rose slightly in pitch. "I merely moved Gohan's hand away from danger. That's all!"

"Oh?" A knowing smirk spread across Trunks' face. "Then what exactly happened on the Lookout? Because that looked like something entirely different."

Cellera found her usual quick wit failing her. For perhaps the first time in her life, she couldn't formulate a logical defense. She caught her father's dark glare from the corner of her eye - wonderful, another thing for him to be upset with her about, as if their argument about Cell achieving his perfect form hadn't been enough.

Salvation came in the form of Bulma's voice echoing through the living room: "Trunks! Cellera!"

The urgency in Bulma's tone shattered the moment. She burst into the room with characteristic energy, nearly colliding with Vegeta in her haste. The proud Saiyan prince had to take several quick steps to maintain his balance, a low growl of annoyance rumbling in his throat as he fixed Bulma with an irritated glare.

But Bulma, as usual, seemed completely immune to Vegeta's intimidation attempts. Her focus remained entirely on her children as she frantically looked them over for injuries. Her hands moved with maternal precision, checking for any sign of harm that might have been overlooked.

"Thank goodness you're both okay," she breathed, relief evident in her voice. "Piccolo said you might have been hurt after fighting Cell. I've been so worried!"

The genuine concern in Bulma's voice drew Cellera's thoughts away from her earlier embarrassment. She noted internally that this explained Bulma's extended absence from Capsule Corp - she must have stayed at the Lookout to monitor their battle through Piccolo's observations.

"Stop your needless worrying," Vegeta huffed. "Of course they're alright - they aren't mere children but warriors."

Bulma shot him a fierce glare as she pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, gently wiping at a smudge of dirt on Cellera's cheek - likely a remnant from being thrown into that plateau during their battle. "None of this would have happened if you had just destroyed Cell when you had the chance!"

Cellera watched her father's features twist into a scowl. "I already have one person giving me lip," he growled, narrowing his eyes at her. She responded with an exaggerated eye roll, causing him to add, "I certainly don't need your two-cents either."

"Well, I wouldn't be giving my two-cents if you'd just-" Bulma started, but Cellera cut her off.

"Father isn't solely to blame," she interjected, wanting to prevent their argument from escalating when they had far more pressing matters to handle. "Krillin and I failed to use the remote you created for us."

Vegeta gave a satisfied huff at her words, folding his arms and leaning against the wall. The gesture was so characteristically him that it almost made Cellera want to take back her defense.

"Besides," she continued, "if we keep this up, Trunks is going to be upset."

Bulma glanced at the older version of her son in confusion, but Trunks shook his head. "I think she means him," he said, nodding toward his infant counterpart.

"Oh, right!" Bulma's expression softened as she gathered baby Trunks into her arms. "That's right, you don't like it when mommy and daddy fight, do you?" she cooed. The baby responded with a delighted laugh that seemed to momentarily lighten the tension in the room.

Finally noticing the imposing figure by the window, Bulma asked, "Who's that?"

Cellera explained 16's presence, repeating what she'd told Dr. Briefs earlier. "Your father's preparing the lab now," she added, "though he said he's waiting for you since you've become more familiar with Gero's methods."

"I see..." Bulma's voice trailed off as she observed 16's intense focus on their atrium. After a moment, she seemed to come to a decision. "I better head down to the lab then. You three should get cleaned up and join us when you're ready." She shifted baby Trunks in her arms. "There's a TV down there so we can keep an eye out for Cell's tournament announcement."

-

After showering, Cellera changed into her loungewear - a long, deep blue sweatshirt emblazoned with the Capsule Corp logo and black leggings. Making her way down to the lab, she found Bulma and Dr. Briefs already at work, Android 16 laid out on one of the examination tables. They'd removed his green vest and bracers, leaving him in only his black spandex as they assessed the damage.

The familiar space stirred something in her chest. It felt like ages since she'd last been here, though logically she knew it had only been days in the outside world. Her eyes drifted to the table where she'd last helped Bulma analyze Gero's blueprints for 17 and 18. Her Sudoku puzzle book still sat exactly where she'd left it, as if waiting for her return.

As she glanced around the lab, she noticed her father and Trunks' absence. Walking over to switch on the small television Bulma had mentioned, she asked, "Have either of them been down yet?"

Bulma looked up from her computer screen. "No, I think Vegeta dragged Trunks off to discuss something about their training." She tapped a few keys before adding, "Mom offered to watch the baby until we finish with 16's repairs."

"Discussing or arguing?" Cellera scoffed, already knowing her father's tendencies.

Bulma laughed, the sound carrying genuine amusement. "I'm not sure, but at least they're doing it somewhere we don't have to hear it."

Taking her usual seat beside Bulma, Cellera allowed herself a small smirk. "That might be my doing. After my outburst during our training, they seem to avoid fighting in my presence."

"Speaking of fighting and arguments," Bulma said, pausing her work to give Cellera her full attention, "it seems you and your dad have one of your own going on."

Cellera sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "You know how he is - arrogant as ever, refusing to acknowledge or care about his mistakes and what his actions could do to others." She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she reflected on her own choices. "I'm sorry, Bulma."

"Sorry?" Bulma tilted her head in confusion. "Is this about the remote?"

Cellera nodded, guilt twisting in her stomach. "You worked so hard creating that for us. All those sleepless hours you poured into it..." She stared down at her bare hands, the absence of her gloves making them seem almost unfamiliar. These hands that had crushed their best chance at stopping Cell, at preventing this nightmare from unfolding.

Bulma's hand settled on her shoulder, the touch carrying that maternal warmth that had become so familiar over the years. "I'm sure you and Krillin had a good reason."

But even Bulma's reassurance couldn't ease the weight pressing down on Cellera's conscience. The memory of destroying the remote - a choice born from compassion that might doom them all - sat like lead in her chest.

After several moments of heavy silence, Cellera's voice emerged barely above a whisper. "Have you ever felt like you were a failure? That no matter how many times or how hard you tried, it seemed hopeless?"

Bulma's brow furrowed with concern. "Cellera, what are you-"

"Bulma... please."

The raw emotion in those two words stopped Bulma short. She studied Cellera's face for a long moment before releasing a soft sigh. A small, grateful smile touched Cellera's lips - in the five years since she'd made Earth her home, Bulma had always known when to press and when to simply listen.

"Of course I have," Bulma finally said, her voice gentle. "I may be a genius, but even I have my days." She leaned back in her chair, a distant look crossing her features. "The first time I truly felt that way was when I was creating the Dragon Radar."

Cellera perked up slightly. Though she knew Bulma had built the device at sixteen, she'd never heard the story behind its creation.

"No matter what I did," Bulma continued, "it felt hopeless - like chasing an impossible dream. I kept comparing myself to all the incredible things my father had created, convinced I'd never measure up."

"What did you do to overcome it?" Cellera asked, finding herself drawn into the story.

"Sometimes," Bulma said thoughtfully, "the best thing you can do is take a step back and stop completely. Then, when you're ready, you pick it up again." A fond smile crossed her face. "Taking time away from the radar helped clear my mind. When I came back to it later, everything just fell into place."

Cellera considered Bulma's words carefully, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. The conversation triggered a memory from years ago on Namek - lying with her head in Bulma's lap as the woman gently insisted that "the universe won't fall apart if you take a break for five minutes." Even then, before their bond had truly formed, Bulma had understood exactly what she needed to hear.

Feeling some of the anxiety beginning to ebb away, Cellera offered Bulma a grateful smile. The woman rose from her chair and swept Cellera into a warm embrace. Unlike her first awkward experience with Bulma's hugs after the Garlic Jr. incident, or even her own hesitant attempt at returning one when discussing her father's return to Earth, this one felt natural - right. The gesture carried none of the stiffness that had marked their earlier moments of physical affection.

A throat cleared behind them. They turned to find Dr. Briefs absently brushing at his mustache with one finger. "Not to interrupt what I'm sure is a fascinating discussion," he said with his characteristic gentle humor, "but those diagnostics won't run themselves, dear."

"Dad! You're ruining a perfectly good mother-daughter moment," Bulma protested, though there was no real heat in her voice.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Bulma stiffened, casting an uncertain glance at Cellera. But Cellera merely shrugged, her smile unwavering. "After five years, I'd say you've more than earned the title," she said with unusual warmth. "The Capsule Corp staff already considers it fact anyway."

"Along with half the press in West City," Bulma added with a wry smile.

"The press?" Cellera's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Mhmm. Seems we weren't as subtle as we thought with all the coming and going." Bulma's eyes sparkled with mischief. "I may have spun a small tale about a recent marriage and inheriting a brilliant stepdaughter."

"Brilliant flattery aside," Cellera said, her expression growing suspicious, "why do I feel there's more to this?"

"Well..." Bulma drew out the word. "There might be a few corporate functions that require family attendance..."

"Corporate functions?" A look of mild horror crossed Cellera's features.

"Just occasional appearances," Bulma assured her quickly. "Nothing too frequent."

Cellera's shoulders relaxed marginally, though she couldn't help thinking that their days of relative anonymity had been surprisingly long-lived, considering the media circus that constantly try to follow Capsule Corporation.

"There is no way that I am attending those silly gatherings." A familiar gruff voice cut through their conversation from the stairwell.

Bulma and Cellera turned to see Vegeta and Trunks descending the stairs. Her father wore a pale yellow sweater and khakis - an outfit that would have seemed absurd on him just a few years ago. Trunks followed in a deep blue sweatshirt similar to Cellera's, though his lacked the Capsule Corp logo, paired with simple jeans.

Bulma planted her hands on her hips, fixing Vegeta with a look that had cowed far more amenable men. "Yes, you will. I don't care if you just want to sit and brood in the corner the whole time - if you want to keep using the gravity capsule, you'll make an appearance."

Her father responded with nothing but an irritated "tch" as he took a seat in a nearby chair. Cellera couldn't help but smirk, mentally marking another victory for Bulma in their ongoing battle of wills. Though privately, she wondered if his attendance might create more problems than it solved - her father's tolerance for social niceties was practically nonexistent.

"Any sign of Cell yet?" Trunks asked, grabbing the remote and settling into another chair.

Cellera shook her head. "Everything's been normal so far." She retrieved her Sudoku book from where it had waited these past months, finding comfort in the familiar numbered puzzles.

The whir of machinery from Bulma and Dr. Briefs' work on 16 triggered a wave of nostalgia. It hadn't been that long ago when peaceful moments like this were commonplace, before the androids appeared, before her father had returned from his search for Kakarot. Now here he sat with them, waiting for Cell's announcement - something he had no real reason to watch here when he had a perfectly good television in his and Bulma's room upstairs.

Studying him from the corner of her eye, Cellera noticed how his usually rigid posture had softened. She'd never seen him quite this relaxed, not even during their rare peaceful moments on Frieza's ship. As if sensing her observation, her father glanced her way. But instead of the anger she expected from their earlier argument, his gaze held something different - something she couldn't quite identify. He seemed to be examining her with unusual intensity before his features suddenly twisted and he looked away. The flash of agitation that crossed his face wasn't directed at her, she realized, but at something else entirely.

Cellera filed away her father's peculiar behavior for later consideration as she turned her attention to Trunks. Her brother seemed almost mesmerized by the television, his eyes following each channel change with undisguised fascination.

"You look intrigued," she observed.

Trunks turned to her, a hint of sadness crossing his features. "In my time, we're lucky if we can get radio news. With most of humanity wiped out, television's pretty much extinct."

The casual mention of his timeline's devastation made something twist in Cellera's chest. Her thoughts drifted to the future version of Bulma, wondering how she coped with losing her beloved soap operas along with everything else. While Cellera had never shared Bulma's passionate devotion to the shows, she'd developed a grudging appreciation for some of them over the years. They had served as an unexpected window into Earth's culture during her early days on the planet, though she gravitated more toward the action-oriented storylines. Not that the staged fight scenes impressed her much - after experiencing real combat, the choreographed violence seemed almost comical in comparison.

It was about another hour before the television made a distinctive high-pitched tone, cutting through their relative peace. The words "Emergency Broadcast" flashed across the screen as a terrified anchor appeared, apologizing for interrupting their regularly scheduled programming... though he hoped the interruption would only be temporary.

Cellera set aside her puzzle book as she, Bulma, and Dr. Briefs quickly gathered closer to the TV. Cell appeared on screen, his perfect form somehow even more unsettling through the camera lens.

"Greetings," Cell's smooth voice carried through the speakers, "I am the monster you may have heard about who was murdering townsfolk a few days ago. I'd like to publicly thank those individuals for their life force - it helped me become what I am now. But don't worry, I won't be needing any more energy."

His lips curved into a cruel smile. "I'm here today with great news for those tired of their peaceful lives and looking for some excitement. Nine days from now, on May 26th at noon, I will be holding a martial arts tournament called the Cell Games. The ring will be located near Central City at 28 KS Point 5."

Cell's perfect features held an almost theatrical satisfaction as he explained the rules. "Unlike your standard tournament, I will be your only opponent. All contestants may enter and fight me - with my power, you might just need those numbers to stand a chance. The traditional rules apply: lose by defeat, surrender, ring-out, or..." his smile widened, "death, though I'll try to hold back on that last one."

His expression darkened with malicious glee. "And if all challengers are defeated... I will kill everyone on Earth. I look forward to watching the fear on your faces until there's no one left."

"Anyone who thinks they can beat me is welcome." Cell's perfect features twisted into a cruel smile. He lifted his hand behind him, and even through the television broadcast, Cellera, Trunks, and Vegeta could feel the massive surge of ki. The blast tore through the studio wall, leaving a gaping hole through which Cell casually departed, as if he hadn't just demonstrated power that made their own recent battle seem like child's play.

"My hatred of bugs grows each time I see Cell," Cellera commented, unable to fully mask the unease in her voice despite her attempt at dry humor. The casual display of power served as yet another reminder of how badly they'd failed to prevent his evolution.

Vegeta stood suddenly, his movement sharp with barely contained energy as he aggressively pulled off his yellow sweater. The domestic garment seemed absurd now, a mockery of their brief moment of peace.

"Going off to train again?" Bulma asked, though they all knew it wasn't really a question. Her tone carried a familiar mix of resignation and concern.

"Of course I am," he responded, his muscles already tense with anticipation. "Cell has issued a challenge, and while I don't care about the people of Earth, I will be the one to beat Cell." His declaration lacked some of its usual bombast, replaced by something harder, more focused.

"I'll join you," Trunks quickly chimed in, already rising from his chair. The determination in his voice matched his father's, though his reasons likely differed significantly.

Cellera turned toward the clock mounted on the lab wall, its steady ticking a counterpoint to the tension filling the room. "Kakarot and Gohan have a few more hours until their time is up."

"In that case," Bulma said, looking at Trunks with a calculated gleam in her eye, "let me cut your hair first. Otherwise, it's just going to get in the way of your training."

Vegeta released a long-suffering sigh, his impatience evident in every line of his body. "Don't keep me waiting," he said, already making his way back toward the stairs.

As Cellera watched her father's ascent, something in his demeanor caught her attention. The words themselves were typical enough, but they lacked their usual arrogant edge. This wasn't the familiar boasting of a warrior prince determined to prove his superiority - this felt almost... dutiful. The subtle shift spoke volumes about how seriously he was taking Cell's challenge, perhaps more than any grand declaration could have.

Bulma retrieved a pair of scissors and a towel, ushering Trunks to sit down as she wrapped the towel around his front near his neck and got to work.

"I don't understand," Trunks said, watching Cell's destruction replay on the news. "If he has so much power, why hold a tournament at all? Why not just destroy the planet?"

"Saiyan blood," Cellera replied simply. When Trunks turned to her with questioning eyes, she elaborated. "He has Father and Kakarot's cells - which means he inherited more than just their power. We Saiyans live for battle, whether it's testing our limits or simply reveling in combat itself." Her voice carried a note of bitter understanding. "That drive can blind us to reality, make us take foolish risks even when we know better. Our pride convinces us we're invincible until proven otherwise."

Trunks started to nod, but Bulma quickly grabbed his face. "I said hold still! Unless you want a crooked haircut."

"Well," he said once Bulma released her grip, "guess I've earned my Saiyan heritage. Getting too confident and thinking that bulked-up form would be enough to beat Cell."

"Welcome to the family," Cellera said dryly, earning a short laugh from her brother. But her amusement faded quickly. "The irony is, the same Saiyan pride that caused this disaster might be our only salvation. It reminds me of when Father and I first came to Earth hunting the Dragon Balls."

"That's a story I haven't heard," Trunks said, interest clear in his voice.

Cellera's eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced between her brother and Bulma. She'd assumed the Bulma in the future would have shared at least some of their history with him, but his genuine curiosity suggested otherwise. The realization that her brother knew so little about their past struck her as strangely painful.

"I mentioned Kakarot falling victim to our Saiyan blood," Cellera began, watching Trunks nod in acknowledgment. "When Father and I first came to Earth, Kakarot did something unfathomable - he let us leave. Not just to show mercy, but because he wanted to fight Father again when they both became stronger."

A quiet laugh escaped her, tinged with lingering disbelief. "Can you imagine? We had killed most of his friends, wounded his best friend and son, left Kakarot himself so broken he couldn't even move... and still, he let us go." She shook her head at the memory, watching Trunks' jaw drop in shock, his expression almost comical.

Her features softened as she continued. "I owe everything to that moment. That simple act of mercy gave me a second chance, allowed me to build the life I have now." She glanced at Bulma, sharing a knowing smile. "Though I've been told that's not exactly uncommon where Kakarot is concerned."

"Now I understand," Trunks said suddenly.

"Understand what?" Cellera tilted her head, studying her brother's expression.

"Why you crushed the remote."

The words had all the anxiety and guilt that Bulma had helped ease come rushing back - the weight of what might be her most catastrophic mistake pressing down on her once again. But before she could spiral further into those dark thoughts, Bulma's triumphant voice cut through the tension.

"All done!" She yanked the towel from around Trunks' neck with a dramatic flourish that seemed calculated to break the heavy mood. Cellera had to admit, studying her brother's newly trimmed hair, that Bulma really could do anything.

"You two better hurry up and meet your father," Bulma said, already gathering her supplies. "You know how impatient he gets."

As they made their way up the stairs, Trunks turned to his sister. "I know how Goku and Father have fallen victim to their Saiyan instincts, but how did you?"

"I made a critical error during my fight with Gero," she admitted. "I had the power to end him right there, but I got too much like Father - played with my food, as they say." Her voice tightened. "Then Bulma and you joined the battle, and... well, you know how that ended."

"I never would have thought," Trunks said, studying her with new understanding. "You've always seemed so... cautious with everything."

"It used to never be a problem," Cellera explained. "But these last few years, it’s become more difficult to quell. The Super Saiyan transformation only intensifies that struggle." She paused, wrestling with how to explain this growing internal conflict. "Usually, I have no issue, but these instincts... they're getting harder to suppress. The more I try to control them, the more forcefully they push back. During Father's challenge in the Room of Spirit and Time, I let that control slip too far. It snowballed from there - you saw the result yourself, how hyper-focused I became. And now..." She gestured vaguely at herself, indicating her current condition.

As they turned down the Capsule Corp hallway toward their rooms, Trunks asked, "What about Gohan?"

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, thoughtful. "Anytime I've remotely seen Gohan do anything along those lines, it wasn't due to his Saiyan blood at all. It came from his emotions - not from any selfish desire for battle, but from a deep need to protect those around him."

She'd expected Trunks to seize another opportunity to tease her about Gohan, but when she looked at him, she found him wearing his own reminiscing smile.

"Yeah," he said softly, "that sounds like Gohan alright."

As they split ways to their separate rooms, Cellera's thoughts lingered on Gohan and his peculiar relationship with his Saiyan heritage. Unlike herself or her father, in whom warrior blood burned like an ever-present flame, Gohan's power seemed to flow from something entirely different. She often wondered if his human half and gentle spirit had altered that primal Saiyan drive, transforming it into something nobler.

The transformation in his character since their first encounter still amazed her. She could remember that frightened child on Earth, trembling at the mere thought of combat. Yet by Namek, he had found his courage - standing against Dodoria, Recoome, and even Frieza himself. But where a typical Saiyan would have awakened to the thrill of battle through such trials, Gohan's strength had bloomed from a purer motivation - the simple desire to protect those he cared about.

While Cellera understood the drive to protect - it had become her own core motivation since making Earth her home - she couldn't deny that surge of excitement when facing a worthy opponent. Her father might chase battle for pride and Kakarot for the pure joy of testing his strength, but at least she had learned to channel those instincts toward defending what mattered. Gohan, though, approached fighting almost like a responsibility. He wielded his power not with the pride of a warrior race, but with an almost innocent sense of duty. To him, fighting wasn't about proving strength or satisfying any innate drive; it was simply a means to help others, a tool to be used when needed and set aside when peace prevailed.

After sliding on her battle jacket, Cellera met her father outside, Trunks falling into step beside her. Vegeta scoffed at their arrival.

"It's about time," he muttered before launching himself skyward toward The Lookout. Cellera and Trunks followed, though she noticed her brother matching her still-recovering pace rather than keeping up with their father.

-

When they reached The Lookout's summit, they found Piccolo, Tien, and Mr. Popo gathered near the entrance to the Room of Spirit and Time, still awaiting Kakarot and Gohan's emergence. Piccolo and Tien fixed Vegeta with cold glares as they approached. Cellera couldn't blame them - her father's pride had nearly doomed them all. A twinge of guilt made her wonder if they held similar resentment toward her and Krillin for their part in this disaster.

Cellera and Trunks settled near the entrance steps, the familiar white marble cool beneath them. Their father remained standing, arms crossed in his characteristic pose.

"Being rather greedy with their time, aren't they?" Vegeta remarked sharply. "They don't need the entire day."

Cellera raised an eyebrow at that. The comment seemed particularly rich coming from someone who had insisted on using every last second of their own time in the chamber. Her father's impatience was showing - though whether from genuine strategic concern or wounded pride at Kakarot potentially surpassing him, she couldn't quite tell.

Piccolo didn't bother turning to face them, his cape stirring slightly in the high-altitude winds. "Don't rush them," he said, his deep voice carrying clear warning. "We still have nine days until the Cell Games. You've had your turn - rest while I take mine."

Cellera found herself agreeing with Piccolo. Even if she'd had the strength for another round, which she decidedly didn't, the thought of returning to that endless white void so soon after everything that had happened made something twist uncomfortably in her stomach.

"That's fine, you can have your turn so long as I can go in for the remaining 8 days," Vegeta said with forced casualness.

Piccolo's chuckle only seemed to irritate her father further. "The Room of Spirit and Time only allows for a single person to spend up to 48 hours of their life in there."

"Why, what would happen if I stayed in there for 48 hours?" Vegeta's question came out more like a challenge.

"The door will vanish," Piccolo replied without hesitation, "and you would be trapped there forever."

A shiver ran down Cellera's spine at the thought. She found herself deeply grateful that their father hadn't pushed for overstaying their time in the chamber. His annoyed grunt drew a quiet observation from Trunks beside her: "We can still spend another 23 hours there."

Before anyone could respond, conversation died instantly as two familiar ki signatures suddenly materialized. Every head turned toward the dark hallway leading to the chamber's entrance.

"That's Goku's ki!" Tien exclaimed. "They're coming out from their training."

Cellera's brow furrowed in confusion. They still had three hours remaining - that translated to at least another 45 days in the chamber. Why leave early when they had so much precious training time left? The possibilities raced through her mind: had they hit some insurmountable wall in their training? Or more hopefully, had they discovered something that could defeat Cell?

They all watched in anticipation, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the chamber's massive doors.

Chapter 27: Chapter 26

Summary:

The moment you've all been waiting for....

Notes:

Happy Friday!
The moment you've all waited patiently for has arrived, and I'm so excited to post this chapter, as it hints towards some things that goes on in the Cell Games later.
Don't forget to check out the tumble dedicated to this fanfic, where I reblog art and answer questions regarding the fic and get to interact with you all! https://www.tumblr.com/the-princess-and-the-scholar?source=share

All eyes fixed on the chamber's entrance as father and son emerged into the light. Kakarot glanced around The Lookout, his trademark easy smile in place despite the gravity of their situation.

"So Vegeta, Trunks and Cellera are still here," he observed, his keen senses already reaching outward. "And I can still sense Cell... he's even stronger now."

But Cellera barely registered his words. Her attention had fixed completely on Gohan, taking in the changes the Room of Spirit and Time had created. He stood noticeably taller, his shortened gold hair retaining that untamed quality unique to Saiyan males, yet transformed with such remarkable control - his Super Saiyan state appeared effortless, as natural as breathing.

The changes weren't just in height. His frame carried new definition that his battle-torn armor revealed in glimpses - shoulders broader, arms more developed, the child's body she remembered giving way to something... different. Even his face showed the transformation, softer lines replaced by sharper angles that made her stomach do an unfamiliar flip. The word "handsome" surfaced in her thoughts before she could redirect them, sending a jolt of surprise through her.

What was wrong with her? She'd recognized attractiveness before—even as a child she'd noted how many found Zarbon handsome without feeling anything herself. But this was different. Her hands felt oddly damp, and her heart seemed to skip and stutter in a way completely foreign to her experience - not the steady rhythm of battle focus or the calm of concentration. This wasn't just observation; it was something that made her pulse quicken and thoughts scatter. Was this related to her ki problems? While her mind searched for explanations, her eyes refused to cooperate, staying locked on him as if drawn by some invisible force she couldn't counter or comprehend.

An elbow nudged her ribs gently. "You can stop staring anytime now," Trunks whispered, amusement dancing in his voice.

Cellera's cheeks blazed with sudden heat, the sensation so unexpected she couldn't immediately respond. Just like earlier when he'd teased her about their goodbye on The Lookout, words completely failed her - a rare vulnerability she couldn't explain away. She mentally categorized her symptoms: elevated heart rate, unusual facial warmth, inability to maintain focus... if this were a battle, she would have identified these as warning signs of distraction. But why was she behaving so strangely today? Was it how his damaged armor revealed glimpses of new strength beneath? Or perhaps the easy confidence with which he wore his transformation? Her face grew even warmer as these thoughts tumbled through her mind, creating confusion where certainty usually resided.

 

She'd stood beside him in countless battles, had seen him covered in the dust of combat many times before. They'd trained together, studied together, grown up together for years. So why now did looking at him make her stomach feel like she'd swallowed a handful of butterflies? It was like seeing a familiar constellation suddenly reveal a new star - everything looked different, though nothing had actually changed. 

Gohan's eyes met hers then, and something in her chest fluttered traitorously. His gaze shifted to Trunks, who gave him a subtle nod - confirmation that he'd kept his promise to bring Cellera back safely. Gohan returned the gesture, but not before his own gaze lingered on her for just a moment longer than necessary. If anyone else noticed the slight coloring of his cheeks, they were kind enough not to mention it.

Trunks, barely containing his smirk, watched the exchange with poorly hidden satisfaction. He had seen this dance before, even if its participants hadn't yet recognized the steps.

The state of their armor - the blue compression suit torn to shreds in places, the battle jacket having entire pieces broken and missing - served as a testament to their intense training in the chamber. Yet both father and son wore the damaged gear as naturally as they maintained their Super Saiyan state, showing just how far they'd come in their year of training.

 

Trying to collect herself, Cellera shifted her attention to Piccolo, catching the moment he turned to fully face his pupil. The Namekian's usually stoic features gave way to open shock at the dramatic changes in Gohan. 

The father-son pair stepped forward, their movements carrying a peculiar grace that spoke of their complete comfort in their transformed state. "Think you can fill us in on what's happened while we were gone?" Goku asked, his casual tone belying the gravity of their situation.

"S-sure," Tien managed, still visibly thrown by their early emergence from the chamber.

A loud growl suddenly cut through the air. Goku's hand flew to the back of his neck with his characteristic laugh. "Maybe we should eat first?" He turned hopeful eyes toward Mr. Popo.

The guardian's assistant nodded with knowing acceptance. "I'll be right back with something."

Cellera couldn't suppress the slight upturn of her lips. Even after a year in that endless void, some things remained constant - Kakarot's appetite chief among them.

True to his word, Mr. Popo soon returned with an impressive spread that would have fed a small army - or in this case, two hungry Saiyans. Father and son fell upon the food with equal enthusiasm, though Cellera found herself particularly fascinated by Gohan's appetite. She'd never seen him eat like a true Saiyan before. While she could only imagine Chi-Chi's horror at her son's deteriorating table manners, there was something almost endearing about seeing him fully embrace this aspect of his heritage. The year with his father had clearly rubbed off on him in more ways than one.

"Wasn't there enough food in the chamber?" Tien asked, watching the pair demolish another platter.

Goku attempted to answer around a mouthful of noodles, producing only unintelligible sounds. Yet somehow Gohan seemed to understand perfectly, nodding vigorously in agreement with whatever his father was trying to convey.

"Could you perhaps try that again without your mouth full?" Piccolo's voice dripped with familiar exasperation.

Goku just shrugged at his son, who was doing his best to hide his amusement. He then proceeded to slurp up the hanging noodles with a sound that made Cellera grimace. Her expression didn't go unnoticed by Gohan, who suddenly seemed far more conscious of his newly acquired eating habits. Though his appetite remained decidedly Saiyan, he made a visible effort to eat more carefully, a slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"Disgusting," Piccolo gritted out, looking like he might actually be turning a darker shade of green.

"Well, we can't really cook," Kakarot explained, launching into a story about one of Gohan's more spectacular culinary failures.

But Cellera found her attention drawn to something far more significant. As she observed father and son, memories of her own desperate attempts to surpass Super Saiyan's limits surfaced. She'd spent months in the chamber pushing herself to exhaustion, convinced that the answer lay in forcing more power through their transformations. Yet here sat Kakarot and Gohan, casually maintaining their Super Saiyan state as if it were their natural form. No crackling energy, no fierce aura - just perfect control that seemed to require no effort at all.

Something clicked in her mind, a realization that would have been obvious if she hadn't been so consumed by her own drive for power. The answer had never been about increasing raw strength or muscle mass. It wasn't about Grade 2's enhanced power or Grade 3's overwhelming but crippling force. The true path forward lay in mastering the original transformation itself - making it as natural as breathing.

She glanced at her father, catching the familiar scowl that meant he'd reached the same conclusion. But something else flickered across his features as his gaze fixed on Gohan - a flash of irritation that seemed oddly misplaced. Usually such looks were reserved for Kakarot, yet there was something personal in this glare. Just what had Gohan done to make him upset?

Her eyes drifted to Trunks, who remained transfixed by the sheer volume of food the pair was consuming. A suspicion formed in her mind - her father's odd behavior had started after that private conversation with her brother. Whatever Trunks had revealed during their talk clearly involved Gohan, but what could possibly have shifted her father's usual focus from his rivalry with Kakarot?

The question lingered as she returned her attention to the transformed pair, unable to suppress a hint of rueful admiration. While she'd nearly broken herself searching for greater power, they'd discovered the true key to advancement. The irony wasn't lost on her - all those months pushing her limits had only left her with compromised ki control, while they'd achieved perfect mastery through apparent simplicity.

Gohan's cheerful voice thanking Mr. Popo broke through Cellera's speculation. Kakarot turned to Trunks, his expression growing more serious. "Think you can fill us in on what's been happening?"

Trunks nodded, recounting their disastrous encounter with Cell - his absorption of Android 18, his achievement of perfect form, and finally, the announcement of the Cell Games in nine days' time.

"I see," Kakarot hummed thoughtfully when Trunks finished. "A tournament, huh?" A grin spread across his face. "Sounds exciting!"

Trunks shot Cellera an incredulous look, but she merely returned it with a knowing expression that clearly said 'I told you so.' 

"Exciting, you say?" Piccolo's disbelieving tone carried all their collective exasperation.

Kakarot turned to Mr. Popo, seemingly oblivious to their reactions. "Could you bring me my gi?"

As Cellera observed their battered state - the blue compression suits torn to ribbons, battle jackets missing entire sections - she had to admit they'd certainly gotten their use out of the Saiyan armor. The moment Mr. Popo returned with the orange gi, Kakarot began stripping off his damaged armor without ceremony.

Cellera quickly averted her eyes, suggesting, "If you'd like, Bulma and I could provide you with new armor."

"Thanks, but I want to fight as a human," Kakarot replied, his casual tone carrying deeper meaning.

The response sparked understanding in Cellera. While Kakarot had embraced his Saiyan heritage, Earth had raised him from infancy. This planet wasn't just his residence - it was his home.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Gohan approached Piccolo. "Piccolo?" His voice carried that slight hesitation she found herself missing during their year apart. "Since you were my first teacher... could I get an outfit like yours?"

The hardened worry etched into Piccolo's features softened at his pupil's request. "Of course, kid. I'll make you something stylish." He placed his hand atop Gohan's head, and light enveloped the boy's form. When it faded, Gohan's tattered Saiyan armor had been replaced by an outfit identical to his mentor's.

Gohan examined his new clothes with obvious delight before beaming up at Piccolo. "Thank you!" The pure joy in his expression drew an involuntary smile from Cellera, though she quickly tried to hide it when she caught Trunks watching her reaction with poorly concealed amusement.

The lighthearted moment shattered as Vegeta stepped toward Kakarot. "Do you think you can beat Cell?"

"I dunno," Kakarot replied with characteristic directness. "Haven't seen his perfect form yet. I'll go check him out." He pressed two fingers to his forehead, brow furrowing in concentration before vanishing. Even after witnessing it multiple times, the instant transmission technique's suddenness made them all start slightly.

As they waited for his return, Cellera found herself stealing glances at Gohan. Piccolo's gifted outfit suited him surprisingly well - even those distinctive shoulder pads seemed to belong on him now. When she caught herself studying the way the fabric moved with his gestures, a strange warmth tingled across her cheeks. This puzzled her deeply; maintaining focus had never been a challenge before, yet lately whenever Gohan entered her field of vision, her thoughts scattered like birds startled into flight.

"Are you okay?" Gohan's voice, filled with genuine concern, pulled her back to reality as he approached. His palm rested gently against her forehead, the simple contact sending an unexpected ripple of awareness through her. "You look a bit red. Are you still feeling unwell?"

Cellera had to tilt her head back slightly to meet his eyes - when had he gotten so tall? She stepped back from his touch, trying to ignore how her pulse quickened. "I'm fine," she assured him, proud that her voice remained steady. "Much better now."

Gohan studied her with lingering worry. "How's your ki control?"

Grateful for the subject change, she replied, "Better, though ki blasts are still difficult." She demonstrated by raising her palm, managing to form a tiny sphere of energy that flickered out almost immediately.

"Well, that's progress at least," he offered with an encouraging smile.

"I suppose you're right." She paused, then added, "Speaking of progress - you did it. You became a Super Saiyan."

Gohan chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that endearing nervous gesture he'd inherited from his father. "Yeah, it was pretty tough. The training after transforming was even harder."

"It clearly paid off," Cellera said, unable to hide her admiration. "I'd put your strength on par with your father's now."

A flush spread across his cheeks at her words. Pride surged through him, different from what he felt when his father praised his progress. His dad's approval made him happy, of course, but Cellera's recognition sparked something else entirely - a desire to prove himself further, to show her just how strong he'd become. The feeling confused him; he'd never been one to seek acknowledgment of his power before, yet somehow her compliments made him want to earn more.

Gohan now found himself noticing Cellera in a way he hadn't before. Though he'd observed how training had changed her when she'd emerged from the chamber, something felt different now. The determined way she held herself even with limited ki, how her eyes lit up when she talked about his progress... He realized he was staring and quickly looked away, his face growing warmer as he tried to understand why his heart beat faster whenever she smiled at him like that.

Goku reappeared on The Lookout, and Trunks immediately stepped forward. "What did you think about Cell?"

"Man, he's gotten so much stronger," Goku replied, scratching his head. "Judging by his ki, there's no telling how strong he'll be by tournament day. I won't know until I fight him, but as he is right now..." He grinned. "I don't think I'd stand a chance!"

Cellera stared at him, shocked not just by his admission of inferiority to Cell's power, but by the casual way he delivered it - as if discussing the weather rather than their potential doom.

"We should use the Room of Spirit and Time again," Piccolo suggested. He outlined the order: himself first, then Vegeta who had made it clear he wanted to train alone this time, followed by Cellera and Trunks. "You and Gohan can go in after us."

"Nah," Goku said with unexpected cheerfulness. "We'll just train out here. Nine days is plenty of time!"

The statement was so baffling it made Piccolo slowly uncross his arms in shock. Cellera's brow furrowed - something about Kakarot's behavior felt distinctly off.

"Why?" Piccolo demanded. "You still have one more day before reaching your limit."

"It's pretty rough in there, even if you're not training," Goku said. "Better to rest for now."

Cellera found herself silently agreeing. The chamber's endless void, thin air, and wild temperature shifts took their toll even without physical exertion. She knew firsthand how the psychological strain could wear someone down.

Her father's mocking laugh cut through her thoughts. "So the great Kakarot can't handle it? Is the pain too much?"

"Maybe," Kakarot replied with his usual calm. "But all that pointless stressing of your body is torture, not training." His tone shifted slightly as he added, "Though you guys can still use the room if you want - you've got room for improvement!"

The barely concealed cockiness in his words made Cellera's eyes widen. Her father caught it too.

"Are you implying you're stronger than me?" Vegeta demanded.

"Uh-huh, I am!" Kakarot's cheerful confirmation earned an indignant "WHAT?" from her father.

But Kakarot didn't engage further. "Good luck! See you at the tournament," he called over his shoulder before turning to his son. "Come on, Gohan - we need to pick up your mother from Master Roshi's."

"Uh, okay," Gohan stuttered, clearly as thrown by his father's refusal of additional training as the rest of them. He gave Cellera a small wave which she returned, watching as father and son descended from The Lookout.

Kakarot's unusual behavior to their situation churned in her mind. His casual confidence, the dismissal of further chamber training, that hint of cockiness in his words.... Whatever he and Gohan had discovered in their year of training, it was clearly something that gave them an edge none of the others had found yet.

Silence hung over The Lookout for several moments before Tien turned to Piccolo. "I thought maintaining the Super Saiyan state took enormous effort, but they seemed so... calm."

"They've trained themselves to stay transformed even under normal circumstances," Piccolo replied.

"Does that mean they'll undergo some kind of even bigger transformation when they fight?" Trunks asked.

Before Cellera could explain the true significance of their controlled Super Saiyan state, her father's irritated voice cut in.

"Are you really that dense?" Vegeta demanded, clearly frustrated by his son's lack of combat insight. "Has experience taught you nothing? Kakarot has chosen the standard Super Saiyan form as optimal - they've learned to maintain it effortlessly, allowing them to channel their full power into fighting without wasting energy on the transformation itself." He growled before grudgingly adding, "It's actually quite clever. He has a plan."

Cellera pressed her thumb to her lip, considering. Her father was right - Kakarot wouldn't have been so casual about Cell's superior strength unless he knew something they didn't. She hadn't seen him display such confidence since facing the Ginyu Force on Namek, right before he'd decimated them with ease. Their early exit from the chamber, combined with this new mastery of the Super Saiyan state, suggested they'd discovered something significant.

She took a few steps toward the direction father and son had departed, studying the horizon. "I'm sorry, Trunks, but it seems you'll be training alone," she said, earning shocked looks from everyone present.

"You're not going in either? Why?" Trunks asked.

"Father's right - Kakarot definitely has a plan, and I intend to figure out what it is." She thought about her current condition, remembering Kakarot's words about pointless bodily stress. Bulma's advice echoed in her mind: "The best thing you can do is take a step back and stop completely. Then, when you're ready, you pick it up again." Perhaps it was time to follow that wisdom. With nine days until the tournament, unraveling Kakarot's strategy offered the perfect opportunity to step back and recover.

"Besides," she added, "Kakarot was right - in my current condition, entering the chamber would be counterproductive."

Her father scoffed. "Don't listen to that fool. His advice will only foster a slacker mentality."

"Funny," Cellera shot back, "you were just praising this 'fool's' insight about the Super Saiyan transformation - something the three of us failed to see during our time in the chamber."

The glare her father fixed her with could have melted steel, but she met it with equal intensity, refusing to back down.

Their standoff shattered as an enormous ki signature exploded from below, the raw power shaking The Lookout and sending debris flying in all directions. Kakarot's energy surged with such force that Cellera's hair came loose from her ribbon, forcing her to grab the top of her head to keep it from flying away. The sheer magnitude of his power left her momentarily stunned - he'd grown incredibly strong during their year in the chamber, and something told her this display wasn't even the full extent of his capabilities.

As the tremors subsided and the surge of power faded, she couldn't help but cast a smug look at her father. "Not bad for a slacker, wouldn't you say?"

The jab hit its mark. Her father's face twisted with a mixture of surprise and fury at both her words and Kakarot's display of power. "If you're in such a damn hurry to use the chamber then go!" he snapped at Piccolo. "Stop wasting time!"

Piccolo merely rolled his eyes as Mr. Popo led him toward the entrance.

"Sure you want to skip your turn?" Trunks asked, watching his sister.

"I'm certain," she replied. "I'll head back to Capsule Corp first - see what I can do to help with Android 16’s repairs." The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "Better to let Kakarot and Gohan settle in first. I'd rather not be there when Chi-Chi discovers her son's new look."

The next nine days promised to be interesting. She was particularly curious to see how Kakarot would approach their remaining time, and just how much Gohan had grown during their year of training.

With a brief wave and a "good luck," she took to the skies, setting course for Capsule Corporation.

-

Vegeta stood motionless on the edge of The Lookout, watching his daughter's form disappear into the distance. His scowl deepened as he recalled the conversation he'd overheard between her and Bulma in the lab. Her self-recrimination over Cell still weighed on her — as if any child of his could be considered a failure. His lip curled in irritation. If she needed to 'step back' to purge this ridiculous notion from her mind, then fine. Let her have her break.

But his true concern — though he'd never voice it as such — lay with Kakarot's son. His daughter's uncharacteristically flustered behavior around the boy hadn't escaped his notice. The way she'd stared when Gohan emerged from the chamber, how her usual composure had faltered at his mere presence... it only reinforced what he'd learned during their time in the chamber.

Their growing bond, which Trunks had been so eager to point out, had been evident since their first battle on Earth years ago. While he'd dismissed it then, the significance had become clearer after his discussion with Trunks. The memory of their conversation surfaced - how his son had explained that in his timeline, Gohan and Cellera had died side by side, their hands intertwined even in death. His first thought had been grimly practical: at least she hadn't died alone like Rhuba.

What Trunks had revealed about their future selves troubled Vegeta deeply — how they'd fought the androids together for years, how they'd protected Trunks, how even in that apocalyptic future they'd found moments of happiness despite everything.

Of all the possible choices, why did it have to be Kakarot's spawn? Though... Vegeta grudgingly admitted there were worse options. At least the boy was Saiyan, and Cellera's earlier assessment wasn't wrong — Gohan's power now rivaled his father's. The boy's growth had been remarkable, though Vegeta had suspected his potential since Namek. He hadn't missed how the five-year-old had managed to land solid hits on Frieza — a feat that had impressed him even then, though he'd rather die than admit it.

The situation was progressing faster than he'd anticipated. Their Saiyan blood was beginning to recognize what their young minds hadn't caught up to yet. He'd seen hints of it during their time in the Room of Spirit and Time—a glimpse of what would only grow stronger as they matured. His challenge had been meant to help her understand these aspects of her heritage. Someday she would need to know how to navigate these instincts properly.

"Think either of them realizes it yet?" Trunks' question broke through Vegeta's brooding.

"No," he growled, then added with evident frustration, "and I can't decide if that makes it better or worse."

"Trust me," Trunks said, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice, "that's definitely for the better."

Vegeta continued staring in the direction his daughter had disappeared, eyes narrowing slightly. Based on what he'd witnessed today — her blushing at the mere sight of the boy, his lingering gaze when she wasn't looking — he wasn't entirely convinced of that.

-

Bulma's head snapped up in surprise when Cellera appeared in the lab doorway. She immediately rose from her chair, concern evident in her features. "What happened? I thought you were training with Trunks and Vegeta?"

"I was going to," Cellera explained, making her way down the stairs. "But after thinking over both your words and Kakarot's, I decided taking a step back would be best."

A soft smile spread across Bulma's face.

"Besides," Cellera added, "I want to figure out what Kakarot's planning."

"What do you mean?"

Cellera detailed Kakarot's strange behavior - his casual admission of Cell's superior strength, his refusal to use the chamber again, the unusual confidence in his demeanor.

Bulma laughed. "That sure sounds like Goku! Don't worry, he definitely has something up his sleeve. He always finds a way to save the day."

Watching Bulma's absolute certainty, Cellera had to admire her unwavering faith in Kakarot. Years of friendship and countless victories had cemented that trust beyond any doubt.

"So what brings you here then?" Bulma asked.

"Kakarot and Gohan are maintaining their Super Saiyan forms constantly now."

"Chi-Chi?" Bulma raised an eyebrow.

"Chi-Chi," Cellera confirmed with a slight nod.

"Well, you can help me look through Android 16's memory files," Bulma offered. "I could use another set of eyes."

Taking her usual seat beside Bulma, Cellera focused on the screen as lines of code scrolled past, Dr. Briefs' muttering about wire colors creating a familiar background rhythm. A pattern in the text caught her attention.

"Wait," she said, stopping Bulma's typing. "There seem to be multiple files about Kakarot."

"Dad, come look at this!" Bulma called. She began opening files one after another. "He's got everything - fighting records, technique analysis, even his home address!"

Cellera noticed each file seemed to have its own corresponding image attached, documenting Kakarot's movements and battles in meticulous detail.

"Gero seems even more obsessed with Kakarot than Father," she remarked dryly.

"How strange," Dr. Briefs mused, adjusting his glasses.

"There's only one logical conclusion," Bulma said, leaning back in her chair. "Android 16 was specifically designed to destroy Goku."

Cellera rolled her eyes. "Apparently that was Gero's only creative direction for his creations."

They all turned to study Android 16, who lay motionless on the examination table, Capsule Corp wires connected to his damaged skull. "But if that's true," Bulma wondered aloud, "why hasn't he made any attempt on Goku's life?"

Cellera considered Bulma's question. It was strange - 16 had even directly rejected Krillin's plea to spare Kakarot. Yet she couldn't reconcile that programmed purpose with what she'd witnessed: the gentle way he'd let a bird perch on his finger, his quiet appreciation of the Capsule Corp atrium's wildlife, how he'd stepped protectively in front of her against Cell. In many ways, his gentle nature reminded her of Gohan.

"His circuitry is too complex to definitively explain his behavior," Dr. Briefs said, adjusting his glasses. "But he certainly doesn't seem evil. The only aggressive action he's taken has been against Cell." He walked closer to the android's prone form, fascination evident in his voice. "It raises profound questions about artificial intelligence. Despite all of Gero's programming, this android appears capable of making his own choices."

Cellera studied Android 16, struck by the parallels to her own life. She too had been programmed, in a sense - raised to be a ruthless warrior in her father's image. Yet she'd chosen a different path, embracing her mother's teachings and methods. Just as 16 had apparently chosen to be protective and gentle toward Earth's creatures, defying his core directive as a killing machine.

"Well, I'm glad he's on our side for the tournament," Bulma said, interrupting Cellera's reflection. "Once we finish these repairs, he'll be one of our strongest allies."

Cellera nodded silently. She couldn't help but appreciate the irony of Gero's creations choosing to protect rather than destroy.

-

Making her way toward the Son household, Cellera felt strangely exposed without her combat gear - something she hadn't experienced since her early years on Earth. But with everyone taking time to rest, practicality won over habit. She'd chosen a casual but functional outfit: a black button-up with sleeves cuffed above her elbows, paired with a teal skirt over black leggings. Though she'd left her gloves behind, her hands feeling oddly bare, she'd kept her white boots despite Bulma's insistence on heels. "You'll need to practice before your first Capsule Corp gathering," Bulma had said with that knowing smile that meant resistance was futile. That, however, was a battle Cellera intended to delay as long as possible.

Finally reaching Mount Paozu, Cellera landed at the Son household and knocked on the familiar door. Chi-Chi answered immediately, quickly ushering her inside.

"My, my," Chi-Chi said, looking her over. "It seems Gohan isn't the only one who's done some growing."

As they entered the dining room, three surprised faces turned toward her. Kakarot and Krillin paused their conversation, while Gohan's book slipped from his grasp, hitting the table with a soft thud. Their shock at seeing her here instead of at The Lookout was evident.

They'd all opted for casual wear as well - Kakarot in a white shirt under an orange and black jacket paired with green cargo pants, a vast improvement over that garish orange shirt he'd worn during his driving test attempt. Krillin wore a simple navy shirt and white shorts. But when her eyes fell on Gohan in his white shirt, styled similarly to Chi-Chi's preferred fashion, and black pants, she found herself noting how well the simple outfit suited him. Heat threatened to rise in her cheeks as she caught herself admiring his appearance yet again.

Gohan, for his part, couldn't stop staring. He'd grown so accustomed to seeing Cellera in training gear that the change was striking. The last time he'd seen her dressed casually - aside from their underwater adventure four years ago - was just after their return from Namek, when she'd first visited him. He remembered her complaints about jeans being impractical for combat, even as she admitted to liking them.

This outfit seemed uniquely her - the practical black shirt that revealed the silver oval pendant she always wore, its chain glinting in the light, down to her retained battle boots. Her hair, usually confined by its blue ribbon, now fell freely past her shoulders, framing her face in a way that highlighted how their year in the chamber had subtly matured her features.

"You look nice," he blurted out before his brain could catch up with his mouth.

They both flushed immediately - Cellera at the unexpected compliment, Gohan at his own impulsive words. He caught his mother's expression, taking on that dreamy quality it got whenever she talked about meeting his dad, while Krillin shot him a sly look from the side.

Gohan felt relief wash over him when his father broke through the awkward moment. "What brings you here? Thought you were training with the others?"

Cellera shook her head as she took a seat beside Gohan. "I've decided to take your advice and rest. Training would be pointless anyway until I can properly control my ki again."

"Still that bad, huh?" Krillin asked.

"I can manage a small ki sphere now," she demonstrated by raising her palm, a tiny orb of energy flickering briefly into existence, "but nothing I can truly control."

"You're making the smart choice," Kakarot said, his usual playful demeanor shifting to something more thoughtful. "Pushing too hard now would only make things worse. When I trained with Kami and Mr. Popo, they taught me something important - ki isn't just about physical strength. Your mind and emotions affect it too." He leaned forward slightly, showing rare focus. "If one part is lacking, the others can compensate, but the real key is getting your mind and body working together."

Cellera found herself drawn in by his explanation. She'd never considered ki being connected to emotional or mental state, though it made sense given that ki came from within oneself.

Krillin chuckled. "Kind of like Master Roshi's four virtues: Work hard, study well, eat and sleep plenty."

"Yeah!" Kakarot laughed, and the two friends began trading stories about their early training days.

A slight, rueful smile touched Cellera's lips as she absorbed their words. Such simple principles, yet so easily forgotten in the drive to grow stronger. She couldn't help wondering if things might have turned out differently had she remembered these basics during their time in the chamber. The thought of how her choices had contributed to their current situation weighed on her, though she kept the guilt from showing on her face.

Gohan watched Cellera from the corner of his eye, noting how she'd gone quiet. Her eyes, usually sharp and attentive, darted around in that way he recognized - she was spiraling into self-blame again. While Krillin hadn't shared many details about the remote incident, he'd mentioned feeling guilty for putting Cellera in that position. Like his father had told Krillin, Gohan knew there had to be a good reason for destroying it.

However, it seemed that choice weighed heavily on Cellera, and he wondered if anyone had stopped to help her shoulder that burden. He knew her too well - she would blame herself completely before letting Krillin take any responsibility. He'd already watched her carry the guilt of his father's illness and Dr. Gero's escape alone. Despite her fierce confidence and strength, when it came to protecting those she cared about, her Saiyan pride made her take every perceived failure personally, hurting her more deeply than she would ever let show.

He had to do something to help, but what? After a moment of thought, an idea struck him.

"Hey," he said softly, drawing her attention from whatever dark path her mind had wandered down.

When she looked at him, he offered the gentle smile that seemed to come naturally around her. Setting his book aside, he stood and motioned for her to follow. Though she rose to join him, he caught the slight wariness in her expression - she could always read him like an open book, and clearly sensed he was planning something.

They'd barely made it to the door when Chi-Chi's voice stopped them. "And where do you two think you're going? Not sneaking out again, are you?"

Heat rushed to both their faces at the reminder of their escapade years ago, when they'd slipped out of Gohan's room to attend Master Roshi's party. Though they'd ended up saving the day, Chi-Chi's reaction afterward had been memorable.

"That was one time!" Gohan protested, his flustered response making Cellera bite back a laugh. He gathered himself and added, "I just want to show her the plains near the river."

Chi-Chi's gaze shifted between them, studying their faces as if searching for hidden mischief. Finally, her expression softened into a smile. "Just be back by dinner."

They nodded and headed outside, taking to the skies together. As they flew, Gohan found himself oddly aware of how the sunlight caught in Cellera's loose hair - a detail that probably shouldn't have seemed so important, but somehow was.

-

They descended together onto the grassy plains, and Cellera found herself taking in the breathtaking view. Small clusters of white flowers dotted the vibrant grass, a lone oak tree stood sentinel a few meters behind them, and the mountains of Mount Paozu stretched across the distant horizon.

Gohan dropped onto the grass with a contented sigh, stretching his arms out before falling back. "I love it out here."

"I never knew such a place existed," Cellera replied, settling beside him.

He reached out, patting the grass next to him. "Go on, lay back."

She gave a small shrug before complying. As she gazed up at the drifting clouds against the blue sky, an unfamiliar sense of peace washed over her. It felt as if her worries were floating away with those same clouds. The gentle symphony of nature surrounded them - rushing water from the nearby river, leaves rustling in the breeze, birds calling to each other in the distance.

"What do you think?" Gohan's voice blended naturally with the peaceful sounds.

"It's... peaceful," she admitted. "Almost like I can breathe properly for the first time in months."

Gohan's quiet "mhm" was followed by a slight chuckle. "Just don't get too relaxed. Krillin nailed Dad with a rock to the forehead earlier."

An unexpected laugh burst from Cellera. "Wait - you're telling me Kakarot, who can catch sword strikes with his fingers, was taken down by a rock?"

Their shared laughter echoed across the plains.

"What possessed Krillin to throw a rock at him in the first place?" she asked, still fighting giggles.

"I have no idea," Gohan grinned. “Dad wasn't too happy about it though."

"I imagine not," she grinned. “Though I'll be sure to keep my distance if Krillin starts picking up rocks."

Gohan watched her laugh, taking quiet pride in how her earlier rigid posture had melted away, life returning to her features. As her laughter subsided, she fixed him with a knowing look.

"Why did you really bring me out here? You'd already been here earlier."

Panic flashed through him - he thought he'd been subtle - but her expression held no anger, just a slight smile and eyes that told him she'd read his intentions from the start.

He sat up with a sigh. "You looked like you could use some cheering up."

Silence fell between them. Cellera's fingers found their way to the pendant at her neck - a gesture Gohan had learned meant her thoughts had turned to her mother.

"How do you do it?" Cellera asked quietly, her fingers tracing the pendant's familiar contours.

"Do what?"

"Remain so... hopeful." The word caught in her throat as everything she'd been holding back finally broke free. "I keep failing everyone. I saw the signs of Kakarot's illness but said nothing, too caught up in analyzing possibilities while he suffered. Then I let my Saiyan instincts consume me with Gero, and he escaped because I couldn't control myself. And now..."

Her voice cracked. "I destroyed the remote. Bulma poured herself into creating it, our one chance to stop Cell, and I crushed it." She drew in a shaky breath. "When I looked at 18, all I could think about was how you and the others saw past what I was supposed to be. How Kakarot gave Father and me mercy when we deserved none."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "I told myself I was honoring the legacy of my mother, that I was being better than what I was raised to be. But in the end, my choice let Cell achieve his perfect form. And when I finally tried to help, I couldn't even stand against him. My body was too weak, my ki too damaged."

Her grip on the pendant tightened until her knuckles went white. "The worst part? A small voice keeps whispering that I'm becoming just like Father - letting pride guide my choices at everyone else's expense. He at least had the excuse of wanting to test his strength. I just..." her voice wavered, "I thought I was doing the right thing. But my mercy may have doomed us all."

She stared down at the pendant, her mother's last gift. "Sometimes I wonder what she would think of me now. Would she be proud of who I'm trying to be? Or disappointed that I keep failing to protect the people I care about?"

The question hung in the air between them, carrying the weight of years of carefully contained guilt.

" Stop it. " The sharp edge in Gohan's normally gentle voice made Cellera look up. He moved to kneel in front of her, his hands settling on her shoulders with firm kindness as he turned her to face him.

"Your mother would be proud of you," he said with quiet conviction. His hands moved to her clenched fingers, and without her usual gloves, she felt the surprising warmth of his touch as he carefully uncurled each finger from the pendant. "You saved me from Recoome on Namek. You charged straight at Frieza to protect me. When my mother was possessed by the Black Water Mist, you defended me while still trying not to hurt her."

With each memory, another finger loosened its grip. The pendant caught the sunlight as her hand finally relaxed completely under his.

"You watch over your little brother like he's the most precious thing in the world," Gohan continued, his voice growing softer. "And Android 18..." His eyes met hers steadily."You didn't destroy that remote because you were weak. You did it because of your compassion - because deep down, you're not cruel." His words echoed their first real conversation years ago, when she'd tried so hard to appear ruthless. "You recognized in 18 what I saw in you the day I first met you- someone forced into a role they never chose."

 

Her eyes widened slightly at the reference, remembering how even as a frightened child, he had looked past her Saiyan armor to see who she truly was. Before she could respond, he added gently:

 

"Your father makes choices because of pride and the thrill of battle. You make choices to protect people, even when it's hard. Even when it means standing alone. That's what makes you different from him, Cellera."

As Gohan's words settled between them, Cellera became suddenly aware of their proximity, of the warmth of his hand still gentle against hers. Trunks' knowing smirk from earlier flashed through her mind, but for once she didn't feel the usual urge to pull away. The pendant caught the sunlight, its silver surface reflecting tiny fragments of light between them – her last connection to her mother now shared, if only momentarily, with someone she trusted enough to see her vulnerability.

"I see the chamber did more than just increase your power," she said, trying to mask her flustered state with levity. "You've developed quite the wisdom."

"I'm just stating facts," he replied with that characteristic earnestness that always managed to break through her defenses.

She couldn't help but laugh. "You are terrible at deception."

"You should tell my mother that," he said, a rare mischievous glint entering his eyes. "She was convinced Dad and I were lying about the Super Saiyan transformation. You should have seen her face - she thought I'd joined some gang and started bleaching my hair!"

The image of Chi-Chi confronting her gentle, scholarly son about becoming a delinquent sent Cellera into genuine laughter. Coming from anyone else, the story might have seemed like an attempt to lighten the mood, but Gohan's sheepish expression told her it had actually happened.

As their laughter faded, she met his eyes. "Thank you," she said quietly, the words carrying more weight than usual.

"Always," he replied simply, and somehow that single word carried more weight than any lengthy response could have.

They settled back onto the grass, watching clouds drift by. This time when Cellera's fingers found her pendant, the touch was contemplative rather than pained. Gohan's words had reached something in her that no one else had managed to - not even Bulma's maternal comfort or Trunks' understanding. Coming from him, she finally understood: while the consequences of her choice remained to be seen, the decision itself hadn't been selfish or born of pride and superiority. Besides, wallowing in self-pity was hardly befitting a Saiyan princess. As the breeze brushed across her face, she felt something else too - the faintest stirring of ki flowing more naturally through her body, as if her best friend's unwavering faith in her had begun to clear a bit of whatever blocked her power.

Her eyes drifted to her hand, where she could still feel the lingering warmth of his gentle touch. For some reason, her heart began beating faster at the memory, and she found herself wondering why a part of her wished he hadn't let go. The thought made her cheeks warm, and she quickly turned her attention back to the clouds, though she couldn't quite ignore the strange flutter in her chest.

They spent another hour enjoying the peaceful landscape, but Cellera hadn't forgotten her original mission. Finally, she decided to ask Gohan directly about his father's strange behavior.

"Something happened at Korin's Tower," Gohan said thoughtfully. "Korin asked if Dad had made some kind of discovery. Dad just smiled and said 'you could say that.'" He shrugged slightly. "But I was with him the whole time in the chamber, and I didn't notice anything unusual. He was focused on training me - I don't even know when he would have had time to discover something new."

"That display of power earlier," Cellera said, "the one that shook The Lookout..."

"Oh, that?" Gohan's casual tone made her stare at him. "Dad was only using about half his strength there."

Cellera's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Half?" She remembered how the sheer force had nearly torn her ribbon away, how the backdraft had kicked up debris and made the entire structure tremble. "Even then, that kind of power..."

"Actually," Gohan said, his expression thoughtful, "I think he was holding back even more than that."

She turned to study his face, searching for any sign he was exaggerating. But Gohan looked completely serious, almost confused by her surprise. The implications stunned her - if Gohan was dismissing that incredible display of power as nothing special, just how strong had they become? And what exactly had Kakarot discovered that made him so confident about facing Cell?

-

They made it back just in time for dinner. The lively atmosphere at the Son household provided a welcome respite from the weight of recent events, especially when Chi-Chi chose that moment to share her news.

"I'm pregnant!"

"What? Really?" Gohan's entire face lit up as he turned to his mother.

Before she could respond, Kakarot had already leapt from his chair, sweeping Chi-Chi into his arms with a laugh of pure joy as he spun them both around. Gohan watched his parents with a mixture of excitement and wonder, the reality of becoming a big brother clearly sinking in.

Cellera found herself unexpectedly moved by the scene, remembering her own reaction to Trunks' arrival - that strange protective instinct that had awakened in her from the moment she'd first held her little brother. She and Krillin exchanged amused looks as they offered their congratulations, and for just this moment, Cellera allowed herself to forget about Cell, about ki control, about everything beyond this simple family celebration.

As evening settled over Mount Paozu, she and Gohan found themselves sitting by the stream, the setting sun painting the water in shades of gold that reminded her of their newly mastered transformations.

"This feels familiar," Gohan said with a slight smile.

"Except last time, I had to convince you that you were actually a capable fighter."

His hand moved to the back of his neck with that characteristic embarrassed gesture. "Yeah, well..."

"Now look at you," she continued, studying his relaxed Super Saiyan state. "Maintaining this transformation like it's nothing. I've always known you had incredible potential within you."

Gohan looked surprised by her confidence in him. "You sound so certain."

"You already possess the strength to face whatever challenges come our way," Cellera said with conviction. "I've seen it firsthand, over and over. The only thing holding you back is your reluctance to embrace it fully." She gave him a knowing look. "Even Father sees it, though he'd sooner die than admit it outright."

She paused, studying his expression. "That power that emerges when you're angry... I've never seen anything like it. The way you fought against Frieza on Namek, even as a child—it was extraordinary."

The light mood shifted as Gohan's gaze fixed on the flowing water, something troubled crossing his features.

"What's wrong?" she asked, catching the change.

"Nothing, I just..." He fell silent for a moment before continuing, his voice quieter. "That power... it terrifies me sometimes."

"What do you mean?"

"When I get angry, everything just... disappears. It's like I'm not even there anymore - just this rage that wants to destroy everything in its path." His hands clenched in his lap. "What if I hurt someone? What if I can't stop myself from-"

"That wouldn't happen," Cellera cut in firmly.

"You don't understand-"

"I understand perfectly." She turned to face him fully. "Every time I’ve witnessed that power emerge, it's been to protect someone. Against Nappa, against Dodoria, against Frieza - it's never been about destruction. It's always been about saving people you care about."

"That power... it's always been about protecting others," Cellera continued softly. "You're different from us that way."

"Different?" Gohan turned to her, confusion evident in his features.

"You don't like fighting - not the way a typical Saiyan would." She tilted her head back, watching as the first stars began to pierce the darkening sky. "Kakarot lives for the thrill of testing his limits. Father seeks battle to prove his superiority. And I..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I can feel it more and more with each passing year - this drive for combat that grows stronger, this urge to test my limits against stronger opponents."

"But you fight to protect people too," Gohan pointed out. 

"True," she acknowledged with a slight smile. "But at the end of the day, I'm still a Saiyan. When I fight, there's this... hunger for the next challenge. Even when I'm fighting to protect someone, part of me still thrills at the combat itself." Her fingers absently traced patterns in the grass. "You though - you only fight when you have to, when someone needs protection. There's something pure about that. No pride, no thrill-seeking, just... the simple desire to keep others safe."

She glanced at him. "That's why I know you'd never hurt any of us with your power. Your strength comes from wanting to protect, not destroy. Even your anger serves that purpose."

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Krillin's voice made them both turn. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and wearing an exaggerated grin as he looked between them. "You two sure picked a nice spot to be alone."

Cellera and Gohan exchanged puzzled glances. They'd sat by this stream countless times before - what exactly was Krillin finding so significant about it now?

"I should head back to Capsule Corp," Cellera said, rising to her feet. The evening air had grown cooler, though that didn't explain the slight warmth in her cheeks.

"Wait." Something in Gohan's voice made her pause. When she turned back, she found him looking unusually hesitant. "Would you... would you come by again tomorrow?"

Something fluttered in her stomach at the request. The sensation confused her - Gohan had asked her to stay longer plenty of times before, back before this mess started. She remembered afternoons spent studying together, him pleading for "just a few more minutes" before she had to leave. Why did it feel different now?

Pushing aside the unfamiliar feelings rising in her chest, she asked, "Won't I interrupt your training with Kakarot?"

Gohan shook his head. "Dad actually suggested we take three days to rest, then three days of training, followed by three more days of rest."

Cellera frowned slightly. The schedule seemed oddly specific - Kakarot wanting to spend only three out of their nine remaining days on training? But then again, given his earlier behavior and that confident display of power, she suspected it tied into whatever plan he'd discovered during their time in the chamber.

Taking her silence as hesitation, Gohan added quickly, "Actually, Mom's planning a small party for my birthday tomorrow. I have to run some errands for her..." 

The mention of his birthday sparked realization - with everything that had happened, she'd nearly forgotten. Between the cyborgs and Cell's emergence, normal occasions like birthdays had seemed almost trivial. 

A slight smile tugged at his lips as he continued. "And if I remember correctly, you did promise Mom you'd help with errands since we don't have a car that one time."

The memory surfaced immediately of how she'd volunteered both herself and Gohan after seeing the way his shoulders had tensed at Chichi's words, forcing him into helping his mother with a well-placed stare and comment about it being fair for him to help. The reminder drew an unbidden smile from her - Gohan was certainly clever, using her own promises against her. 

"Using my own actions to trap me?" she asked, though there was no real reproach in her voice.

His answering grin carried just a hint of mischief. "Is it working?"

"I suppose I can't argue with my own logic," she said, ignoring how her pulse quickened when his face lit up with genuine delight.

Krillin's knowing smirk as he took to the air only added to her confusion. What exactly did he find so amusing?

After bidding farewell to Gohan, Cellera took to the night sky, eventually matching pace with Krillin as he soared ahead. The cool air did little to settle the lingering warmth in her cheeks from earlier.

"Didn't expect to see you at Kakarot's place," she said, grateful for a distraction from her confusing reactions to Gohan. 

"Could say the same about you," Krillin replied with his characteristic easy manner. "What brings you out tonight?"

"Kakarot's behavior after leaving the chamber was suspicious. I came to investigate." She said simply.

"Funny you should mention that." Krillin's tone grew more serious. "That's actually why I stopped by Master Roshi's too. He seemed way too relaxed, even for him. When we asked if he could beat Cell, he just laughed and said Cell would probably crush him."

Cellera's thumb pressed against her lip thoughtfully. "Gohan mentioned a similar response at Korin's tower. Kakarot appears fully aware of Cell's superior strength, yet maintains this strange confidence about the situation."

"Did Gohan give you any hints about what Goku might be planning?"

She shook her head, frustration evident in her features. "He's equally confused. Apparently Kakarot discovered something during their time in the chamber, but even Gohan seems uncertain on what, exactly."

"Oh man." Krillin's face fell slightly. "If even Gohan doesn't know what's going on..."

"Between the two of us, we should be able to unravel whatever he's planning," Cellera stated with characteristic determination. "Tomorrow will provide ample opportunity to observe him."

Krillin then gave her a curious look. "Speaking of tomorrow... What are you getting Gohan?"

The question caught her completely off guard. Her mind drew a complete blank, a rare occurrence. After years of friendship, shared battles, and countless study sessions, choosing a gift should have been simple. Yet here she was, as lost as she'd been in the chamber's endless void.

"I..." She hesitated, hating how uncertain her voice sounded. "I honestly don't know."

"Hey, don't worry about it too much," Krillin offered with a thoughtful hum. "Even if you showed up empty-handed, just having you there would probably make his day."

While Krillin's observation likely held truth, Cellera's pride wouldn't allow her to arrive without a proper gift. Perhaps Bulma might offer some insight? The woman had an uncanny ability to understand these matters that still occasionally left Cellera at a loss.

As they continued their flight home, she found herself wondering when exactly giving Gohan the perfect gift had become so important to her. And why the thought of his bright smile at her presence made her heart beat just a little faster.

-

At Capsule Corp, Cellera found herself in the kitchen with Bulma, who was taking a brief break from her work on Android 16. Trunks sat before her, eagerly awaiting another spoonful of his dinner, his bright eyes fixed on the approaching spoon with characteristic Saiyan focus.

"I never expected getting a gift for someone to be this difficult," Cellera admitted, guiding the spoon carefully to her brother's waiting mouth.

Bulma's smile carried that knowing warmth that still occasionally caught Cellera off guard. "Finding that perfect gift for someone you care about is always hard."

Bulma's words rang true. Cellera recalled how long the two had spent helping her develop a gift for her father - the Saiyan armor that Bulma had put such care into creating. Though he would never acknowledge it directly, the fact that her father had accepted the gift without complaint spoke volumes.

Her thoughts halted abruptly as she realized she'd just compared getting Gohan a birthday gift to Bulma's gesture of commitment to her father. What was she thinking? Bulma's gift had carried deep significance in Saiyan culture, while she was simply following Earth's birthday customs. This was about showing appreciation for a friend, nothing more.

But Bulma's words - 'someone you care about' - kept echoing in her mind, refusing to be dismissed by her usual logical reasoning.

An angry series of noises snapped her from her thoughts. Trunks glared up at her, his tiny brows furrowed in an expression that mirrored their father's scowl with almost comical accuracy. She'd stopped feeding him, and he was making his displeasure known with indignation.

"You really do have Father's temperament," she said, scooping up more food. The words carried equal parts exasperation and affection as Trunks' scowl immediately transformed into eager anticipation at the sight of the approaching spoon.

Bulma studied her step-daughter's distracted expression with growing amusement, though she kept her observations to herself. Some realizations, she knew, had to come in their own time. "Are you alright? You seemed out of it for a moment there."

Cellera hesitated, considering whether to confide in Bulma about her strange reactions to Gohan lately. But even she wasn't ready to examine those feelings too closely. "I'm fine," she said instead. "Just thinking about what to get Gohan."

Bulma gave her a speculative look but didn't press further. "You'll think of something. I've never known you to give up."

Bulma's encouragement brought a slight smile to Cellera's lips, sparking her mind into action as she sifted through her memories of Gohan, searching for clues. While he enjoyed their spars, anything training-related felt too impersonal. No, it needed to be something that spoke to his scholarly aspirations.

A book perhaps? But what kind? Her thoughts drifted to moments they'd shared - Gohan's attention captured by butterflies during their study breaks, the way he'd let a grasshopper perch on his finger with fascination, even his careful examination of Cell's molt. A shiver ran down her spine at the memories. She'd never understood his fascination with insects of all things, but if it would make him happy, she could set aside her distaste just this once.

Bulma gently took the spoon from her hand, continuing to feed an increasingly impatient Trunks. Cellera explained her idea about an insect encyclopedia, but found herself adding, "It doesn't feel like enough. I don't want it to be just any book."

"Why not add your own annotations?" Bulma suggested after a thoughtful moment. "Like those notes you left me about the Saiyan armor - they were incredibly helpful during creation. Plus, it would make it uniquely yours."

The idea struck something in Cellera. Though the thought of spending hours researching insects made her skin crawl, especially with such limited time, she couldn't deny the elegant simplicity of Bulma's suggestion. It was practical yet personal - something Gohan would truly appreciate.

She quickly stood from her chair, thanking Bulma before quickly leaving the kitchen. As she hurried out, she wondered if this was how Bulma felt when she had suggested replicating the Saiyan battle armor for her father as a gift. Though unlike that situation, Cellera couldn't understand why she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her lips when she thought about Gohan's reaction to her gift.

-

Bulma watched Cellera as she left, hiding her smile behind the spoon as she fed Trunks. She recognized the signs—the distracted gaze, the sudden fixation on finding the perfect gift, the way she kept getting lost in her thoughts. Bulma remembered her own first crush with perfect clarity, that confusing swirl of feelings that seemed to come out of nowhere. She'd been about Cellera's age too, though considerably less mature in many ways.

The Saiyan princess was experiencing something entirely new, something her combat training couldn't have prepared her for. Bulma considered saying something, offering guidance through this unfamiliar territory, but decided against it. Some discoveries needed to be made in their own time, especially for someone as proudly self-sufficient as Cellera. Besides, watching her navigate these new feelings was oddly heartwarming—a reminder that beneath the warrior's exterior beat the heart of a young girl discovering the world beyond battle.

As Trunks gurgled happily at another spoonful, Bulma made a mental note to record tomorrow's celebrations. With Cell's tournament looming just days away, these precious moments of normalcy seemed all the more valuable. The coming days would be challenging enough—for now, she'd let Cellera discover these new feelings at her own pace.

Chapter 28: Chapter 27

Summary:

Gohan and Cellera go on what seems to be a simple errand that then turns into an adventure!

Notes:

Hello! I am not dead! I....rewrote this whole chapter 3 times and think I am finally satisfied with it. Sadly, this also led the chapter going from an original 15k to 23 almost 24k....So i hope this makes up for the 2 week (i think) absence!

As a note going forward, I am in the middle of moving states as well as switching jobs over these next few weeks, so updates will be irregular as I want to bring the best content to you guys! While I do have chapters 28-32 written, i do need to look over these, as they were written within a state of creative block (which i can still tell I'm having due to the stress of work, moving etc.). I think chapter 27 assisted me a bit with coming out of it, but i refuse to put out mediocrity if I can help it.

So to everyone who has waited for this chapter to upload and given me kind words, THANK YOU! I hope you guys enjoy the extra long chapter! And don't worry, we definitely will have the Gohan celebration chapter, as it's probably my favorite chapter out of everything I've written so far.

Sunlight was just beginning to creep over Mount Paozu as Cellera landed at the Son household's doorstep, the delicately wrapped gift held carefully in her hands. The silvery paper caught the morning light, its pristine appearance belying the chaos that had preceded it. While the hours she'd spent researching and annotating the encyclopedia had been successful, her attempts at gift wrapping had proven to be her unexpected downfall.

What should have been a straightforward task had escalated into an outright disaster. The same girl who had helped defeat Garlic Jr.'s immortality and battled alongside Earth's defenders since childhood had been thoroughly conquered by sticky tape and decorative paper. When Bulma had walked in, she'd found Cellera surrounded by the aftermath of her battle—crumpled paper, mangled ribbons, and tangled tape forming a wasteland across the living room floor. There had been more wrapping materials clinging to Cellera's clothing than covering the actual gift.

Bulma's immediate burst of laughter had earned her a withering glare that would have sent most warriors running for cover, but the woman had only managed to cover her mouth with her hand, shoulders still shaking with barely contained amusement. Trunks, however, hadn't been so easily intimidated by his sister's expression. Her baby brother had continued giggling from his spot on the floor, seemingly delighted by his sister's rare moment of defeat. His pudgy finger had pointed accusingly at the chaos while he happily played with the discarded wrapping paper, occasionally making determined attempts to grab the scissors that lay tantalizingly just beyond his reach.

In the end, Bulma had come to her rescue, helping salvage the wrapping disaster while Trunks busied himself creating what appeared to be abstract art from the discarded scraps. The memory of Bulma's barely suppressed laughter still lingered as Cellera stood before the Son household, studying the now perfectly wrapped package in her hands.

She winced internally as she recalled Bulma's commentary while helping her fix the wrapping catastrophe.

"You know," Bulma had teased, eyes dancing with unconcealed mirth, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone look so disgusted while working so hard on a gift before."

The woman had found entirely too much entertainment in the situation, especially considering how many hours Cellera had spent forcing herself through insect books, visibly cringing with each turn of the page as she documented everything from wing patterns to habitat preferences. Her profound aversion to anything with segmented bodies and multiple appendages had made the task of creating Gohan's gift far more challenging than she had anticipated.

But this day wasn't about her discomfort or the effort she'd expended—it was about Gohan. At the thought of his potential reaction to her gift, a peculiar mixture of anticipation and nervousness stirred in her chest. The unfamiliar emotions caught her off guard, and she quickly pushed them aside, drawing a steadying breath before knocking on the familiar door.

Chi-Chi answered with her customary warm greeting, her eyes immediately falling to the wrapped package. "Is that for Gohan? You didn't need to go to all that trouble," she said, gently taking the gift from Cellera's hands. She ushered the young Saiyan inside with a welcoming gesture.

As they moved through the entryway, Chi-Chi set the gift carefully on the table. "Though I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," she continued with a gentle smile. "But you know, having you here is already the perfect gift for him."

The sentiment echoed Krillin's words from the previous night as they'd left the Son household, leaving Cellera slightly bewildered. The idea that someone's mere presence could constitute a meaningful gift felt surprisingly abstract for such a practical culture. During her five years on Earth, she'd observed how birthdays were celebrated—with wrapped presents, cakes, and special meals. Even her own limited experience with Earth celebrations had always involved physical gifts such as the simple blue ribbon Bulma had given her for her 8th birthday. While nothing grandiose, it was evident Bulma had put thought into it by taking Cellera’s practical nature into account, and it was something she rarely ever parted with.

Her thoughts were interrupted as something on the kitchen counter caught her attention. Chi-Chi followed her curious gaze and smiled.

"Our family album," she explained, lifting the leather-bound book. "I was feeling nostalgic about my little boy growing up so fast and wanted to take a trip down memory lane. Would you like to see?"

Chi-Chi held the album toward Cellera, who couldn't help but crack a small smile as she took in the image of baby Gohan in his crib, wearing that same wide smile she'd grown so accustomed to seeing. Other photos tracked the milestones of his early years—his first wobbly steps, tiny hands clutching picture books almost as big as he was, sleeping peacefully surrounded by stuffed animals that dwarfed his small form.

The images stirred something unexpected within her. While Gohan had experienced a childhood filled with these gentle moments, surrounded by peace and books, her earliest memories consisted of combat drills and survival techniques. He hadn't known the meaning of battle until her arrival on Earth with her father and Nappa, while she had been conditioned for combat since before she could properly speak, learning to dodge energy blasts before she could recite numbers.

Their beginnings couldn't have been more different. She'd been raised to view attachments as potential weaknesses, to see planets as targets rather than homes. Yet somehow, those fundamental differences hadn't prevented them from forging a connection that had evolved from cautious alliance to something she valued deeply. The contrast between their childhoods made their current friendship seem all the more remarkable.

 

As she continued to look through a few more pages of photos, a sound of shuffling footsteps drew their attention to the hallway. Gohan appeared, still heavy-lidded with sleep, his shortened hair sticking up at odd angles. He gave a languid stretch, and for a brief moment, golden light flickered around him, transforming him into a Super Saiyan with such effortless ease that it might have been mistaken for a natural morning glow. The transformation seemed as automatic as breathing now, requiring no more conscious thought than blinking. A wide yawn escaped him as he offered a sleepy "Good morning" in Cellera's direction.

"Gohan!" Chi-Chi's voice carried gentle reproach. "Is that how we greet guests? Mind your manners."

"Sorry," he mumbled, offering a sheepish smile while stifling another yawn behind his hand.

Cellera noticed how, despite his drowsy state, his eyes brightened noticeably upon seeing her, the teal Super Saiyan irises somehow warmer than their color suggested. That simple shift in his expression—from sleepy indifference to unmistakable pleasure—stirred something unexpected within her.

That simple shift in his expression—from sleepy indifference to unmistakable pleasure—stirred something unexpected within Cellera. She was reminded of Chi-Chi's comment just moments ago and Krillin's similar remark last night about her presence being gift enough for Gohan, as well as the way his face had lit up when he'd cleverly "trapped" her into accompanying him on today's errand run. At the time, she'd dismissed their sentiments, convinced that a proper gift required tangible effort—the kind of thoughtfulness she'd poured into her encyclopedia annotations until the small hours of the morning.

Yet watching his entire demeanor transform at the mere sight of her gave her pause. There was something in his reaction that made her reconsider. Perhaps their notion carried more truth than she'd initially credited. The satisfaction that bloomed within her had nothing to do with victory in battle or solving a complex puzzle—this was something altogether different, something she couldn't quite categorize despite her usually precise mental classifications.

Five years on Earth had taught her much about the value of connection, yet this simple moment—his sleepy smile directed at her—somehow felt more significant than she could articulate. The warmth spreading through her chest wasn't the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment that had plagued her recently, but something deeper, steadier—a sense of belonging that felt both foreign and strangely familiar.

Gohan's eyes suddenly darted to the book Chi-Chi held. "What are you looking at?" he asked, before recognition dawned on his face. Horror replaced sleepiness as his hand flew up to cover his rapidly reddening face. "Mom! Not the baby pictures!"

The dramatic reaction created such an amusing contrast—the legendary Super Saiyan transformation that had once terrified Frieza now showcasing nothing more threatening than an embarrassed teenage boy—that Cellera couldn't suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

Chi-Chi merely waved away his protest with the serene confidence of a mother who knew her rights. "A mother is allowed to reminisce on her son's birthday," she stated matter-of-factly, placing her other hand gently over her stomach. "Especially about my firstborn."

The reminder of Chi-Chi's pregnancy somehow brightened the already cheerful morning atmosphere, casting everything in a gentler light. Chi-Chi handed the album to Cellera with a knowing smile. "I need to get the errand list. Keep looking—there are some particularly wonderful ones on the next page."

As Chi-Chi disappeared into the kitchen, Cellera continued flipping through the album, much to Gohan's visible dismay. She paused at a series of photos showing him in a traditional Chinese outfit—vibrant yellow and green with red accents, topped with a small hat that proudly displayed the four-star Dragon Ball. Based on his size and the timeline she knew, these images must have been taken between Garlic Jr.'s kidnapping attempt and Raditz's arrival—that brief window before their first meeting.

"Please, just close the book," Gohan pleaded, a hand over his face in an attempt to cover his embarrassment.

"I don't understand why you're so mortified," Cellera replied, studying the images with interest. "You were actually quite a cute child."

The words left her mouth before she could consider them, catching her off-guard. Identifying anything as "cute" was hardly her usual mode of expression.

Gohan narrowed his eyes slightly, seizing the opportunity for a counterattack. "You'd be embarrassed too if I had pictures of you when you were an 'adorable little recruit,'" he retorted, employing the exact nickname the Ginyu Force had used for years to her endless irritation.

Cellera braced herself for the familiar surge of annoyance that always accompanied that particular combination of words. "Adorable" had been perhaps her least favorite descriptor throughout her childhood years in Frieza's forces. The Ginyu Force had delighted in using the term precisely because it undermined the serious, capable image she had worked so hard to project. Yet strangely, the expected wave of irritation never materialized.

The absence of her typical reaction caught her completely off guard. Instead of wanting to correct him or deliver a cutting remark, she found herself wondering what Gohan would actually think if he saw images of her younger self. Would he find the small girl with serious eyes and formal stance endearing in the way she found his childhood photos charming? The idea that he might see something appealing in even her earliest memories created an unfamiliar flutter in her chest. The thought shouldn't have mattered, yet somehow it did.

Something in her expression must have revealed her confusion, because Gohan's teasing smile faded into immediate concern.  "Cellera? What's wrong?"

Before she could formulate a response to a question she wasn't sure she could answer, Chi-Chi returned, folded paper in hand. "Here's the shopping list," she announced, breaking the moment between them. "Now remember, I need everything on this list for the party tonight."

She pressed the paper into Gohan's hands, her expression softening into a smile that still managed to convey unmistakable authority. "And make sure you're both back in time. I won't have my son being late to his own celebration." Her eyes shifted to Cellera with a pointed look that clearly communicated she was being entrusted with ensuring their punctual return.

Cellera gave a slight nod, accepting the unspoken responsibility. As Gohan pocketed the list, Chi-Chi's voice followed them toward the door. "And I still need to wake your father. That man could sleep through the end of the world if I let him."

Stepping outside into the cool morning air, Cellera turned to Gohan. "We should look over the list and plan the most efficient route."

Gohan nodded, unfolding the paper. His brow furrowed slightly as he scanned the contents, then he shifted the list so Cellera could see as well. Their shoulders brushed lightly as she leaned in to read, and something about the casual proximity felt different than it had during their countless training sessions or study afternoons.

"These items seem straightforward enough," Cellera observed, mentally calculating distances between villages. "We should be able to find everything in Aru Village."

"That's what I was thinking too," Gohan agreed, refolding the list and tucking it safely away.

As they took to the skies, the early morning sunlight bathed the landscape below in a gentle golden glow that matched Gohan's Super Saiyan aura. The mountains of Mount Paozu stretched out beneath them, familiar territory they'd flown over countless times before. Yet something about this morning flight felt distinct from all those previous journeys—perhaps because for once, they weren't racing toward danger or fleeing from it.

Today they were simply two friends on an errand run, with nothing more pressing than returning in time for a birthday celebration. The normalcy of it felt almost strange after everything they'd been through together, and as they soared higher into the brightening sky, Cellera found herself grateful for this moment of peace before the storm that Cell's tournament would surely bring.

Hours later, the peaceful morning had given way to growing frustration.

"That was the third abandoned village we've been to," Cellera remarked as she and Gohan soared through the air.

Where vibrant market stalls once offered fresh produce and handcrafted goods, nothing remained but empty carts and scattered debris. Some homes showed signs of hasty departures—laundry still hanging from lines, doors left ajar in the rush to escape. The sight struck Cellera as a visceral reminder of the terror Cell had spread across the world.

"At this rate, we may have to venture out into the city," she continued, keeping pace with Gohan as they surveyed yet another abandoned settlement from above. Gohan let out a small sigh of defeat at the mention of city travel. Cellera sent him a sympathetic smile, understanding his reluctance.

While Gohan didn't have anything against the city itself, he preferred supporting the smaller villages around his home whenever possible. The connections his father had built with these communities over the years had always been important to him.

"I know you'd rather avoid the city," she said, "but we're running out of options."

"Yeah," Gohan conceded, his golden hair ruffling in the wind as they flew. "And I really don't feel like incurring Mom's wrath for being late."

They were flying over the mountain ridges, passing above a dense forest with a raging stream cutting through it, when a flash of movement caught their attention. Both halted mid-flight, hovering as they focused on the source.

Below, a small girl with auburn hair tied in twin braids was perched precariously on a branch hanging over the stream. She was reaching for an apple dangling just beyond her grasp, her body stretched to its limits as she extended her fingertips toward the fruit.

Before either could comment on her reckless position, a voice called from nearby: "Lime! Get down from there right now!"

The girl—Lime—ignored the warning, stretching even further toward the apple, her determination overriding any sense of caution.

"The branch is unstable. She's going to fall!" Cellera warned, her sharp eyes detecting the splintering wood where the branch connected to the trunk. Just as the words left her mouth, a loud crack filled the air, and Lime plummeted toward the muddy waters below.

"I got her!" Gohan shouted, darting toward the falling girl with a burst of speed that caught even Cellera off guard.

The lack of hesitation in his movement, the fluid grace with which he moved—something about it sent a jolt of what she could only describe as excitement through her veins. Cellera found herself momentarily perplexed by her reaction. She'd witnessed Gohan's skills countless times over the years, from his battles against Frieza to their countless sparring sessions, and it had never elicited such a response before. Then again, most of her interactions with Gohan lately had sparked confusion and feelings she'd never experienced before.

Leaving the matter unexamined for now, Cellera quickly followed after him, reaching the ground just as Gohan was setting Lime onto her feet. As the young girl regained her balance, Cellera immediately noticed Gohan's unfortunate hand placement during the rescue—something Lime had obviously registered as well.

"You pervert!" the girl shouted, pushing Gohan away with more force than her small frame suggested she was capable of. She darted behind Cellera, using the older girl as a shield between herself and her rescuer.

"What? No, I didn't mean to—" Gohan stammered, his face flushing crimson as he realized what had happened. He looked to Cellera for help, but she was clearly fighting back amusement at his predicament. Her barely contained smirk only widened as Lime peeked out from behind her to stick her tongue out at Gohan.

"Lime! Thank goodness, you're okay!" a relieved voice called out from nearby. The bushes rustled for a moment before a boy around Gohan and Cellera's age emerged from the treeline, rushing to the scene.

He immediately began checking over Lime with frantic thoroughness, examining her for injuries with the practiced motions of someone used to the responsibility. Cellera recognized the behavior instantly—it mirrored how she inspected Trunks after any potential mishap, that instinctive need to ensure a younger sibling's safety.

Even without this telling behavior, the family resemblance was unmistakable. He shared Lime's auburn hair and blue eyes, though unlike his sister, his cheeks and nose were dusted with a splash of freckles. Cellera also noted how his frame seemed unusually lean and muscular for a child his age, particularly for a regular human with no apparent combat training.

After confirming his sister was unharmed, the boy straightened himself up. "I'm Lemone," he said, turning toward them with a grateful expression. As his gaze settled on Cellera, his demeanor shifted subtly—spine straightening, chin lifting slightly. "Thank you for saving my—" he paused, clearing his throat and continuing in a deliberately lowered tone, "—my sister."

He turned to Lime with a stern but caring expression. "Though she wouldn't have needed saving if she'd listened when I told her to stop being so reckless."

Gohan's brow furrowed as he caught Lemone's lingering gaze on Cellera—not the simple appreciation of someone grateful for assistance, but something more evaluative that made an unfamiliar tension coil in his stomach. He'd seen similar looks sometimes when boys at the village markets would notice pretty girls walking by with their mothers. 

Without conscious thought, Gohan moved closer to her, driven by an instinct he'd never experienced before—not the familiar urge to shield someone from physical danger, but something more personal. The other boy paid his movement no mind, his attention remaining completely fixed on Cellera.

"You must not be from around here," Lemone said, running a hand through his coppery hair with practiced smoothness. "I feel like I would have remembered running into you before."

Beside him, Lime rolled her eyes dramatically at her brother's behavior. The exasperated expression suggested she'd witnessed this particular performance many times before and found it equally tiresome on each occasion.

Completely oblivious to both Gohan's discomfort and Lime's obvious irritation, Cellera merely nodded. "We're not," she confirmed simply. "We've been searching for supplies, but it seems most of the villages in this area have been abandoned."

Lemone's face brightened immediately, as if she'd just presented him with the perfect opportunity. "Well, our grandfather runs the village store," he offered, his voice carrying an eager note. "Maybe we could help you find whatever you're looking for? Do you happen to have a list?"

As Lemone spoke, his attention remained fixed solely on Cellera, his body angled toward her as if Gohan weren't even present. Something hot and stirred in Gohan's chest, a sensation he'd never experienced in all their battles against planet-destroying tyrants and immortal beings. The feeling was so different that he didn't know what to call it or why he felt so bothered whenever Lemone kept looking at Cellera instead of him.

Before he knew what was happening, Gohan found himself stepping forward, placing himself partially between Cellera and Lemone. "We do have a list," he said, pulling the folded paper from his pocket. "My mother needs these items for a party. We're in a bit of a hurry."

Lemone finally shifted his attention away from Cellera, taking the list from Gohan's outstretched hand to examine its contents. The moment the other boy's eyes left Cellera, Gohan felt the strange tension in his chest begin to dissipate, which only confused him further. He'd never reacted this way when Krillin or Trunks talked to her. They weren't in battle, and Lemone clearly posed no danger to either of them, even with Cellera's ki control not yet fully restored.

So why was it that every time Lemone focused on Cellera, Gohan felt this overwhelming urge to step between them? Why did he suddenly care so much about who Cellera spoke with? He'd never been possessive of their friendship before.

Lime's eyes lit up with interest as she peered at the list over her brother's shoulder. "A party? What kind of party?"

Cellera gave the younger girl a small smile. "It's for Gohan's birthday."

"Your birthday?" Lime looked at Gohan, all earlier suspicion regarding his "perverse" behavior instantly forgotten. A wide smile spread across her face as she turned to her brother with fierce determination. "We have to help them!"

Lemone glanced up from the list to study Gohan for a moment, his eyes carrying an assessing quality that made Gohan stand a little straighter despite himself. After a brief moment of consideration, Lemone's expression shifted into a friendly smile as he nodded. "Sure. We have everything on this list back at the Chazke Village mercantile."

Although the words seemed innocent enough, Lemone's eyes shifted back to Cellera as he added, "Lime and I will make sure you get everything you need for the party."

"Thank you for your assistance," Cellera replied with a polite nod.

Something about the way Lemone had looked at him before deliberately turning his attention back to Cellera felt like a challenge—as if the older boy knew exactly how his focused attention on Cellera was affecting Gohan and was enjoying it. Gohan couldn't detect any real animosity in the other boy's demeanor, but there was a subtle message in his behavior that even Gohan's usually oblivious nature couldn't miss.

Gohan wasn't one for confrontation outside of true battle, especially not over something as trivial as another boy talking to his friend. But something weird was bubbling up inside him, a feeling he'd never had before—a determination not to let Lemone get all of Cellera's attention to himself.

The realization that he even saw this as a competition was startling. Since when had he started viewing social interactions as battles to be won or lost? He'd never felt territorial about Cellera's attention before, never seen someone else's interest in her as something that required his intervention.

As they began walking toward the village path, Gohan found himself studying Lemone with new awareness. The other boy carried himself with a confident ease that suggested he was accustomed to taking charge—likely a product of the responsibility he'd assumed for his sister. Something about his focused attention on Cellera created an unfamiliar tightness in Gohan's stomach, a sensation he'd never experienced before. 

So why did Gohan feel like they were adversaries?

Lime skipped ahead on the forest path, her earlier terror completely forgotten as she chattered excitedly about the village. Lemone naturally fell into step beside Cellera, his attention focused almost exclusively on her. Gohan quickened his pace, finding himself suddenly unwilling to fall behind and lose track of their conversation.

"I just realized," Lemone said, turning his attention back to Cellera, "you never told me your name."

"Cellera," she replied simply, not elaborating further.

"Cellera," Lemone repeated, testing the name on his tongue with evident appreciation. "That's a unique name. I've never heard anything like it before."

His tone carried an unmistakable attempt at flattery, but Cellera merely offered a slight shrug. "It's considered a more traditional name where I'm from."

"And where's that?" Lemone asked, clearly hoping to draw her into further conversation.

Cellera's gaze flickered briefly toward Gohan before she replied, "Quite far from here."

Seeing that she wasn't going to elaborate, Lemone nodded with a knowing expression, as if he completely understood her vague response. "Different cultures have such interesting naming traditions."

Several paces behind them, Gohan listened to the exchange. He couldn't help but feel a small surge of satisfaction. The ambiguous answer Lemone had so readily accepted carried layers of meaning that only he truly understood.  

This sense of connection, of having a shared secret identity with Cellera, felt oddly comforting in the face of Lemone's persistent attention toward her. While he knew it shouldn't matter who Cellera spoke with, that quiet certainty that Lemone would never truly understand her the way he did gave Gohan a peculiar sense of reassurance.

"The path gets a bit tricky up ahead," Lemone announced as they approached a section where the trail narrowed between large boulders. "The terrain steepens after the spring rains wash away parts of the trail. We'll need to be careful."

They soon came upon a gap in the path—a narrow fissure that opened onto a steep drop below. The crevice wasn't particularly wide, but the consequences of a misstep were obvious from the jagged rocks visible several meters below.

Lemone demonstrated the crossing first, gauging the distance before making an agile leap across the gap. He landed securely on the other side, turning immediately to assist his sister.

"Come on, Lime," he called, extending his hand toward her. "I'll help you across."

Lime approached the edge with noticeably less confidence than her brother had shown. She hesitated, eyeing the drop below with newfound caution—perhaps her earlier fall had instilled a temporary sense of self-preservation. Taking a deep breath, she jumped across while clutching her brother's outstretched hand. Lemone steadied her as she landed, making sure she was safely away from the edge before turning his attention back to Cellera and Gohan.

"Your turn," he said, extending his hand toward Cellera with an encouraging smile. "The rocks can be slippery. Let me help you across."

Cellera glanced at the gap with an almost imperceptible trace of amusement. "I can manage," she said, politely declining his assistance with a small shake of her head.

Without further ceremony, she jumped across the gap with a fluid grace that made the obstacle seem trivial. Her landing was perfectly controlled, requiring none of the adjustment or balance corrections that Lemone and Lime had needed. It was the casual confidence of someone who had navigated far more treacherous terrain during actual battles, who had trained extensively in environments specifically designed to challenge her physical capabilities.

Gohan caught the brief flash of surprise that crossed Lemone's face at Cellera's effortless display of athleticism. The look quickly transformed into clear admiration as he nodded approvingly.

"Impressive," he acknowledged, though the compliment sounded slightly forced. "You must be quite athletic."

Something about the exchange—the way Lemone had tried to position himself as Cellera's protector only to be shown how unnecessary his assistance was—stirred something competitive within Gohan. Rather than taking the simple jump across the gap as he'd initially planned, he felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to do something more.

Without fully processing the impulse, Gohan launched himself higher than strictly necessary, propelling his body in an arc that cleared not just the narrow gap but the entire difficult section of the path ahead. He sailed over both Cellera and Lemone before landing lightly on the trail several meters ahead of them, barely disturbing the dirt beneath his feet.

Gohan's shoulders tensed as he landed. What had possessed him to show off like that? He typically went to great lengths to conceal his true abilities from regular people, particularly in casual settings. His mother had spent the last 3 years drilling into him the importance of appearing normal, of not frightening others with displays of power they couldn't comprehend.

Yet something about Lemone's persistent attention toward Cellera, his obvious desire to impress her, had triggered an impulse Gohan had never experienced before—a need to demonstrate that he could do things the other boy couldn't even imagine. The realization made him feel self-conscious. Such behaviors were more characteristic of his father or Vegeta than his usual restrained approach.

He turned back toward the group, catching Cellera watching him with a slightly raised eyebrow. Her expression held a mixture of surprise and curiosity at his uncharacteristic display. Though she said nothing, the question in her eyes was clear: What was that about?

Lemone's reaction proved harder to interpret—a complex blend of surprise and reassessment flickered across his features. Whatever assumptions he'd made about Gohan were clearly being recalibrated in real time, as if he were mentally adjusting his approach to a situation that had suddenly become more complicated than anticipated.

"You've got quite a jump there," Lemone commented after a moment, his tone truly impressed despite the slight competitive edge beneath his words.

"Thanks," Gohan replied awkwardly, uncertain how to respond to what felt simultaneously like a compliment and a challenge. "Years of training."

"Training?" Lemone's interest seemed piqued, the focus that had been exclusively directed at Cellera now shifting to include Gohan for the first time since they'd met. "What kind of training? My grandfather was the village martial arts master years ago. He's been teaching me for a while now."

The comment created an odd mixture of relief and heightened competition in Gohan's chest. At least now Lemone was acknowledging his existence rather than looking past him to Cellera, but the conversation's turn toward skills and abilities made their interaction feel even more like some sort of contest.

Gohan hesitated, trying to formulate a response that didn't involve alien heritage, intergalactic battles, or the Room of Spirit and Time. He knew that any attempt to create a believable story would fail miserably. As Cellera had pointed out before, he was a terrible liar.

"Hurry up, slowpokes!" Lime called from further up the path, saving Gohan from having to craft a believable explanation. "Grandfather will be wondering where we've been!"

"She's right," Cellera agreed, looking pointedly at Gohan. "The sooner we return, the less chance your mother will be angry."

She glanced briefly at the sun's position in the sky, making a quick mental calculation. "Based on the sun's position, I estimate we've been gone for just over an hour now."

"You can tell time by reading the sun?" Lime asked, her eyes widening with undisguised admiration.

Cellera nodded. "It's quite easy once you understand the principles."

"Could you teach me how?" Lime asked eagerly, momentarily forgetting her earlier mission to hurry them along.

A small smile touched Cellera's lips at the girl's enthusiasm. "Of course," she replied, "though perhaps we should continue toward the village while I explain. It would be more efficient."

She gave Lemone a pointed look, and he quickly agreed, taking the lead once more as they continued along the path. Lime fell into step beside Cellera, her earlier impatience forgotten as she peppered the older girl with questions about celestial navigation and timekeeping.

As they walked, the only sounds filling the silence were the girls' voices and the ambient noise of nature around them. Gohan couldn't help but smile as he watched Cellera explain to Lime how to read the sun's position, breaking down complex astronomical concepts into digestible pieces for the younger girl. Whenever Lime struggled with a particular concept, Cellera adjusted her explanation without making the girl feel inadequate for not understanding immediately.

She met each of Lime's enthusiastic questions with patience, encouraging her curiosity rather than dismissing it. This softer side of Cellera, which emerged primarily when interacting with those younger than herself, stirred something warm within Gohan's chest. Since Trunks' birth, she had embraced the role of older sister with a natural ease that belied her typically reserved demeanor. She approached this responsibility with the same dedication and seriousness she applied to combat training, treating the developmental needs of children with the same attention she gave to tactical battlefield assessments, or one of her sudoku puzzles

Watching her now, Gohan found himself hoping that he could be half as good of an older sibling when his mother's baby arrived. The thought of having someone looking up to him the way Trunks and now Lime looked up to Cellera created a strange mixture of excitement and nervousness.

The winding path through the dense forest finally opened onto what must have once been a well-traveled road leading into a small village. Unlike the bustling community it had clearly once been, Chazke Village now stood eerily quiet, much like the other settlements they'd passed through earlier.

The main street stretched before them, dotted with empty market stalls and abandoned carts. Withered vegetables lay forgotten on display tables, and several storefronts had been hastily boarded up. Signs of sudden departure were everywhere—laundry still hung on lines between houses, and here and there, everyday items littered the ground as if dropped in a rush.

"Most people fled after hearing about Cell's tournament announcement," Lemone explained, his voice taking on a more somber tone than they'd heard from him thus far. His expression softened again as they approached a building ahead with a sign that read 'Chazke Mercantile.'

"Grandpa refuses to leave though," he added, more proudly. "And the store has come in handy for anyone passing through or those who chose to stay behind."

Unlike the abandoned buildings surrounding it, warm light spilled from the shop's windows, creating a small oasis of life amidst the desolation. The contrast between this single beacon of activity and the ghost town surrounding it made the mercantile seem even more welcoming.

Cellera's brows furrowed slightly as she studied the illuminated storefront. "Your grandfather isn't frightened by Cell's threat?" she asked, unable to fully mask her surprise at finding such courage in an ordinary civilian.

"Grandpa isn't scared of anything!" Lime declared proudly, hands planted firmly on her hips in a gesture that seemed well-practiced.

Lemone chuckled at his sister's dramatic stance before offering a more measured explanation. "He says living in fear won't do any good. He'd rather help than hide."

As they approached the general store, raised voices carried through the still air. Lime suddenly froze, her earlier cheerfulness evaporating instantly. "Oh no," she whispered, her voice small. "It's them again."

Lemone's posture shifted immediately, the casual confidence he'd displayed around Cellera replaced by watchful tension. He motioned for them to slow down, gesturing toward the large front window where they could see two men looming over a counter, their aggressive postures clearly visible even from a distance.

"I take it this isn't the first time you've dealt with these men?" Cellera asked, her sharp eyes assessing the confrontation unfolding inside.

"Who are they?" Gohan asked quietly, moving closer to peer through the window.

"Kasdan and Burdwell," Lemone replied, his voice hardening as he pointed toward the two men. "They're thugs who work for the Bourbon family. They've been harassing Grandfather since Cell announced his tournament."

Inside the shop, the taller man jabbed a finger toward an elderly shopkeeper who stood calmly behind the counter. Despite his advanced age, the old man maintained a straight posture and dignified bearing as he faced his antagonists.

"You're a fool!" the tall thug shouted, his voice audible even through the glass. "What good is money when the world is ending?"

The elderly shopkeeper maintained his composure, arms folded contentedly across his chest. "Perhaps," he replied, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to his aggressor's. "But no one knows that for sure. Especially not you."

The shorter, stockier man slammed his fist on the counter, rattling the items displayed there. "If you won't give it willingly, we'll just take it!"

"Calm down, Burdwell," the taller man—Kasdan—said, attempting to regain control of the situation. "Let's be reasonable about this..."

Gohan turned to Lemone, concerned by the escalating confrontation. "Why are they so eager to get your grandfather's supplies?"

"They want it for the shelter," Lemone explained, his expression darkening.

"Shelter?" Cellera questioned, her interest piqued.

Lemone nodded grimly. "The Bourbon family built it. They're charging people everything they own just for spots inside."

Cellera scoffed, clearly unimpressed. "How hypocritical. They claim the world is ending so your grandfather should provide free supplies, yet they have no issue demanding payment from frightened villagers."

Gohan frowned deeply as he processed the situation. Not only was the Bourbon family exploiting people's fear for profit, but the shelter they offered wouldn't provide any actual protection against Cell. These villagers were surrendering their life savings for a false sense of security that would crumble the moment Cell decided to destroy it.

"Normally I wouldn't be worried," Lemone continued, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Grandpa can handle those two easily. But his back has been giving him more trouble lately..."

Gohan and Cellera exchanged a brief glance, a silent understanding passing between them. Without another word, they both moved away from the window and toward the door.

"Wait!" Lemone called after them, confusion evident in his voice. "What are you doing?"

"You were kind enough to assist us," Cellera responded, her tone matter-of-fact. "Now we're going to repay the favor."

"I should go with you," Lemone insisted, stepping forward.

Cellera shook her head firmly. "Your priority should be your sister." She gestured toward Lime, who had shrunk back from the window. "Besides, if things go awry, the thugs could use you both as leverage against your grandfather."

Lemone's eyes widened slightly as he processed her reasoning. His gaze flickered between them both for a moment, as if reassessing who exactly these strangers were, before resignation settled over his features. He set a protective hand on Lime's shoulder, drawing her slightly closer to his side.

Seeing that he wouldn't protest further, Gohan nodded decisively. "Let's go," he said, his voice carrying an authority that momentarily surprised Cellera.

Typically, she was the one who took the lead in situations like this, naturally assuming command. Yet seeing Gohan step forward with such confidence felt like a welcome change. As she followed him toward the entrance, she noticed the subtle squaring of his shoulders, the focused determination that replaced his earlier uncomfortableness around Lemone.

She had immediately noticed the strange tension that had seemed to be between Lemone and Gohan, though she couldn't quite identify its source. Whatever it was, it had caused Gohan to behave in ways she'd never witnessed before—showing off his abilities, acting strangely whenever Lemone talked to her, displaying uncharacteristic bursts of assertiveness.

Yet here, faced with people who genuinely needed help, the Gohan she knew best had resurfaced—the core of who he was beneath the recent confusing behaviors. This was the Gohan who could set aside personal feelings when others needed help, the dependable ally, and the kind hearted soul.

As they approached the shop door, Gohan caught her eye, a familiar hint of mischief flickering in his teal Super Saiyan gaze. Like she had told Trunks during their year in the Room of Spirit and Time, Gohan secretly possessed a mischievous streak that rarely showed itself to others. Her earliest memory of it had been years ago, when he'd first given her the same look before he used those imploring eyes to convince her to sneak out his bedroom window and attend Master Roshi's party against Chi-Chi's explicit wishes.

This situation was different, of course. They needed to defuse a potentially dangerous confrontation without revealing their true capabilities or causing more problems for Lemone's grandfather. Whatever plan was forming behind Gohan's eyes, Cellera found herself curious to see it unfold.

The shop bell jingled cheerfully as Gohan pushed the door open, his expression immediately transforming into one of wide-eyed innocence.

"Excuse us!" he called out with bright, childlike enthusiasm, as if completely oblivious to the tense standoff taking place inside.

All three men turned toward the newcomers, their confrontation momentarily forgotten. The shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the interruption, while the thugs' expressions darkened at the sight of children entering their intimidation session.

"What do you kids want?" Burdwell demanded gruffly, his stocky frame tensing as if their mere presence was an affront.

Gohan tilted his head in apparent confusion, his expression a perfect mask of childlike bewilderment. "We just came to get some supplies," he replied, his voice carrying none of the hard determination Cellera had heard moments before. Instead, he sounded exactly like any other eleven-year-old boy running errands for his mother.

Cellera studied Gohan with quiet appreciation. This approach was brilliantly effective in its simplicity—and characteristically Gohan. While she tended to confront problems more directly, Gohan had found a gentler path that was proving just as effective.

He'd neutralized the threat without throwing a single punch. His deceptively simple act of innocence was diffusing a situation that could have easily escalated into something dangerous for the elderly shopkeeper. The tense atmosphere that had filled the store upon their arrival was already beginning to crack, the intimidation tactics dissolving when faced with what appeared to be a child's guileless curiosity.

She knew she could never replicate this strategy. Her sharp eyes and natural self-assuredness typically read as intimidating even when she tried to appear harmless. Gohan, despite his own sharp awareness, could somehow maintain the ability to appear completely guileless when he chose to.

Taking another step forward, Gohan maintained his façade flawlessly. "My mom sent us to pick up some things for my birthday party," he continued, fishing the neatly folded list from his pocket. His movements were perfectly calibrated—not too confident, not too timid, exactly what one would expect from a boy on an innocent errand. "Do you have everything on this list?"

The two thugs exchanged uncertain glances, their intimidation tactics momentarily forgotten as they struggled to respond to this unexpected development. The store's atmosphere shifted as the elderly shopkeeper seized the opportunity Gohan had created.

"Of course," Mr. Lao replied, his earlier tension giving way to a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Let me see that list, young man."

As the shopkeeper reached for the paper, Kasdan stepped between them, trying to recapture his earlier menace. "We're not finished with our conversation, old man."

"Yeah," Burdwell added, seemingly grateful for his partner's intervention. "Our business comes first."

Gohan paused, looking at the thugs with an innocent expression. "Oh? Are you shopping too?" he asked, curiosity radiating from him. "We can wait our turn if you're next in line."

The friendly phrasing was masterful—it made it impossible for the thugs to explain what they were actually doing without openly admitting they were threatening the shopkeeper. In a few simple sentences, Gohan had trapped them in a social situation where their intimidation tactics seemed not just inappropriate but almost comically out of place.

"We're not shopping," Kasdan growled, running a hand through his greasy hair in frustration as his intimidation tactics faltered against Gohan's apparent obliviousness. "We're here on business for Mr. Bourbon."

"What kind of business?" Gohan's eyes widened with interest. "Does Mr. Bourbon need supplies too?"

Cellera caught the calculation behind Gohan's questions—each one designed to push the thugs further into a corner. It was a technique worthy of a seasoned negotiator, though in Gohan's case, the skill seemed to come from natural empathy rather than manipulation.

Burdwell's patience finally snapped. "Listen, kid, this doesn't concern you. We're discussing important shelter business with the old man here."

"A shelter?" Gohan repeated, his voice brightening with apparent interest. His expression suggested nothing but wholesome enthusiasm. "Is that for the animals in the forest? Mom says it's important to take care of wildlife."

Cellera had to fight to keep her expression neutral as she watched Gohan deliberately misunderstand the thugs' purpose. She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, hiding the smile that threatened to emerge as the men fumbled through their explanations to what they perceived as a naïve child. With each exchange, they retreated further from their threatening posture, backed into a corner where their intimidation tactics seemed increasingly absurd.

"No, not for animals!" Kasdan barked, his composure cracking visibly. "For people! To protect them from Cell!"

Gohan's expression shifted to thoughtful consideration, a picture of childhood contemplation. "But wouldn't Cell just break through any shelter?"

The simple question—delivered with perfect innocence—struck at the foundation of their entire enterprise. Burdwell's mouth opened and closed without sound, his certainty visibly crumbling before their eyes.

"That's..." he began, then faltered, looking to his companion for support that wasn't forthcoming.

In that moment of uncertainty, a panicked voice cut through the air from just outside the shop: "Cell is back! I just saw him by the river!"

The effect was instantaneous. What little color remained in the thugs' faces drained away completely as Gohan's seed of doubt bloomed into full-blown terror. They exchanged horrified glances, all thoughts of intimidation forgotten.

"What? He came back?!" Kasdan choked out, the color draining from his face, his earlier bravado entirely gone.

The two men practically tripped over themselves in their rush to escape. Kasdan bolted for the door, shouting over his shoulder as he went, "Hurry! Get to the shelter!"

"You should've taken our offer, you old coot!" Burdwell yelled to the shopkeeper as he scurried after Kasdan, his previous threats transformed into something closer to a desperate warning.

As the door slammed behind them, Gohan turned to Cellera with a sheepish expression. "I probably should have consulted with you first," he said quietly. "Sorry for taking over like that."

But instead of the disapproval he half-expected, he found Cellera watching him with unmistakable appreciation in her dark eyes.

"There's no need to apologize," she replied, the corner of her mouth lifting in amusement. "Your approach was both efficient and entertaining to witness." Her expression then softened in a way that made his heart beat just a little faster. "Very well handled, Scholar."

The simple acknowledgement brought a warmth to Gohan's cheeks. That same pride surged through him that he'd felt on The Lookout when she'd complimented his Super Saiyan transformation. Just as it had then, her approval created a desire to earn more—to show her what else he could do. It was a feeling he'd never experienced with anyone else, this peculiar need for recognition specifically from her.

The moment was interrupted by Lemone entering the shop with Lime in tow, his hand firmly clasped over her mouth. As he released her, she gasped indignantly.

"She's right," Lemone admitted, looking reluctantly impressed. "That was pretty smart—pretending not to understand what they were doing."

"It wasn't entirely an act," Gohan replied humbly. "Their shelter really wouldn't protect anyone from Cell."

"No," the elderly shopkeeper agreed, stepping around the counter to join their conversation. "But fear makes people desperate for any illusion of safety."

He approached Gohan and Cellera with a gentle bow. "I am Mr. Lao. Thank you both for helping chase off Bourbon's men."

As introductions were exchanged, Mr. Lao turned toward his granddaughter with an expression of exaggerated severity. "Lime! What have I told you about lying?"

The young girl's triumphant expression melted into a picture of contrition, though the gleam in her eyes suggested she wasn't entirely repentant. "Sorry, Grandfather," she mumbled. "I was just trying to help."

Lemone stepped forward, placing a protective hand on his sister's shoulder. "It's my fault too," he said. "I should have stopped her, but when I saw what she was planning..." He trailed off with a shrug that suggested he'd found her scheme too effective to prevent.

Mr. Lao regarded his grandchildren for a long moment before his stern expression softened. With a sigh that carried more affection than frustration, he knelt to meet Lime's eyes directly.

"I appreciate that you wanted to help," he said gently. "But I need you to promise me you won't lie again. There are better ways to solve problems."

"I promise," Lime replied, her voice small but sincere.

With a smile, Mr. Lao ruffled her hair affectionately before doing the same to Lemone, who made a half-hearted attempt to dodge the gesture. Family matters settled, he turned back to Gohan and Cellera.

"Now, about that list of yours," he said, extending his hand. "Let's see what you need for this birthday celebration."

"Oh, right!" Gohan nodded, handing over the paper. As Mr. Lao examined the list, his eyes brightened with recognition.

"I have everything here," he confirmed. "Lime, would you help me collect these items? And Lemone, we're running low on firewood. Could you chop some more out back? I'll join you shortly."

As Lime eagerly followed her grandfather toward the shelves, Cellera's attention shifted to Lemone. She found herself studying him more carefully now, the unusual leanness in his build suddenly making perfect sense. The boy's muscular development was something she'd noticed immediately, but now the cause was evident.

"You must chop wood often," she observed. "It would explain why your arm muscles show significant development for someone our age."

The comment caught Lemone off guard, a flash of surprise crossing his features. He hadn't expected her to notice such a detail, and for a moment his carefully maintained confidence faltered. Just as quickly, it returned with renewed enthusiasm. He straightened his posture slightly, clearly pleased by her attention.

"I've been doing it since I was eight," he replied, unconsciously flexing one arm. "I used to just help around with the chores occasionally, but recently I've had to take over most of the heavier tasks." His voice took on a slightly forlorn quality, his gaze momentarily distant before his confident smile returned. "I'm impressed you noticed something like that," he added, his tone warming with appreciation.

"It's rare to see someone our age with that kind of muscle definition," Cellera replied matter-of-factly. "It was a logical observation."

Gohan felt that strange twisting sensation in his stomach again. Objectively, he knew Cellera was just making one of her typical assessments—noting physical details others might miss and analyzing them with her usual precision. That was how her mind worked. But something about the way Lemone responded to her attention, as if there were some deeper meaning behind her observation, stirred that unfamiliar discomfort inside him.

Why did her noticing things about Lemone bother him so much? And why did it worry him that there might be another reason for her interest? These questions had never troubled him before—he'd never felt possessive about who Cellera spoke with or what she observed. Yet now, watching Lemone's pleased reaction to her comment, he couldn't ignore the tightness in his chest.

His internal questioning was interrupted by Lime's voice from across the store. "If Lemone chops the wood by himself, it'll take all day!"

"It would not!" her brother protested indignantly.

Mr. Lao paused in his gathering of supplies, his weathered hands setting down a jar as he considered the situation. "It wouldn't take all day," he conceded with a small smile, "but having an extra set of hands would make the work go faster."

His gaze settled on Gohan, studying him with an intensity that made the young half-Saiyan wonder if the old man somehow saw more than his appearance suggested. There was something assessing in those eyes—an evaluation that seemed to look beyond the surface.

"Would you mind lending Lemone a hand with the wood-chopping, young man?" Mr. Lao asked.

Cellera pressed her thumb thoughtfully to her lip. The shopkeeper's request was curious. Nothing about Gohan's appearance suggested unusual strength—his current outfit concealed his well-developed physique completely. While he had demonstrated agility with that leap across the gap earlier to Lemone, he hadn't displayed any hint of his true capabilities to anyone.

Lemone had mentioned his grandfather was once a martial arts master. Perhaps there was more to Mr. Lao than met the eye. Most humans couldn't detect energy signatures the way she and the other fighters could, but some of the more experienced martial artists on Earth had developed limited sensing abilities. Was it possible that the old man could somehow perceive the carefully controlled power Gohan maintained? It would explain why he'd singled out Gohan for this physically demanding task.

"I'd be happy to help," Gohan replied, his natural helpfulness immediately taking over.

"Can I help too?" Lime asked eagerly, a hopeful expression lighting her features. "I'm big enough!"

Mr. Lao shook his head gently. "You're still a bit too young for that kind of work, Lime."

The young girl's face fell immediately, her small shoulders slumping in disappointment. A pronounced pout formed on her lips as she folded her arms across her chest, the very picture of childhood indignation.

Seeing Lime's reaction, Cellera approached her, crouching slightly to meet her at eye level. The gesture came naturally—an instinct she'd developed from her months caring for Trunks. Despite being only eight months old, her baby brother had already proven himself remarkably adept at finding trouble. She'd spent countless moments kneeling beside him, gently redirecting his determined crawl away from power sockets or carefully prying potentially hazardous objects from his tiny fingers.

Cellera remembered how Lime had lit up at the mere mention of Gohan's birthday when they'd first met, her eagerness to help immediately evident. That enthusiasm hadn't disappeared—it had simply been dampened by disappointment.

Lime’s dejection stemmed from feeling excluded and undervalued—emotions she could effectively counter by offering an alternative that would give Lime a sense of importance. If she could rekindle that initial excitement while redirecting it toward something the girl could actually accomplish, it would solve multiple problems at once: Lime would feel valued, the supplies would be gathered more efficiently, and they could return to Mount Paozu on time.

Yet even as she analyzed the situation tactically, Cellera realized her motivation wasn't purely strategic. She sincerely wanted to see the girl's smile return.

"Your job is just as important," she said, her voice carrying a gentleness that seldom emerged except around children. "Gohan and I need to return on time for his party, and your assistance with gathering our supplies would be a tremendous help."

"Really?" Lime asked, her disappointment giving way to cautious hope.

"Absolutely," Cellera confirmed with a slight nod. "Organization and preparation are just as crucial as physical labor. If we don't have the right supplies for tonight, no amount of chopped wood would make the party successful."

The encouragement worked its magic. Lime's pout transformed into a bright smile as she looked up at her grandfather with renewed enthusiasm. "What should I help with first on the list?"

Gohan watched the exchange, captivated by the effectiveness of Cellera's approach. She spoke to Lime not as a child to be placated with empty promises, but as a person being entrusted with a responsibility. While her method was partly meant to appease the young girl, Gohan recognized that every word she said was authentic—the task truly was important, and Lime's help would make a meaningful difference. 

What struck him most was how naturally Cellera adapted her approach without a hint of condescension. She hadn't simplified her vocabulary or used that exaggerated tone adults often adopted with children. Instead, she'd spoken to Lime with the same directness and respect she used with everyone else, adjusting only her physical position to make the conversation more comfortable for the younger girl. 

He was so absorbed by this glimpse of Cellera's gentler side that he almost missed the shift in Lemone's expression. Glancing toward the other boy, Gohan expected to find the same focused attention on Cellera that had been bothering him all morning. Instead, he discovered something entirely different.Lemone was watching the interaction between Cellera and his sister with heartfelt appreciation—the calculated charm he'd been displaying earlier replaced by something more authentic as he witnessed Lime's spirits lift under Cellera's attention.

As Lime excitedly rejoined her grandfather behind the counter, practically skipping to help sort through the items on the shelves, Lemone approached Gohan. His confident demeanor had momentarily subsided, replaced by something more subdued.

"I haven't seen her that excited about helping in months," he said quietly, a wistful tone seeping into his voice. "Not since before Cell showed up in our village."

"What happened?" Gohan asked, the question emerging naturally.

Lemone's gaze remained fixed on his sister as she carefully sorted supplies on a shelf, her small face alight with newfound purpose. "Most people fled after Cell appeared," he explained, his voice softer than Gohan had heard it before. "The other kids her age, the older girls who used to look after and play with her..." He paused, something distant in his eyes. "They're either at Bourbon's shelter or left the area entirely."

The admission hung in the air between them, offering Gohan a glimpse into the burden Lemone carried. Suddenly, the boy's earlier comment about taking over the "heavier tasks" made more sense, as did that momentary shadow that had crossed his face when he'd mentioned it. Gohan recalled the forlorn quality in Lemone's voice, the way his eyes had hazed over briefly before he'd reassumed his confident persona. There was more to this story than just his grandfather's age or the villagers fleeing—something more personal that Lemone wasn't ready to share.

It explained much about his earlier behavior—the overconfidence, the need to appear capable and in control, even his persistent attention toward Cellera. Behind the bravado was a boy trying to hold everything together in a world that had quickly become much smaller and more frightening.

For a moment, Gohan felt his earlier irritation dissolve into something more sympathetic. While he'd never had to shoulder the responsibility of looking after a younger sibling—at least not yet—he understood the protective instinct all too well. The way Lemone's entire demeanor softened when he spoke about his sister reminded Gohan of how Cellera looked when she was with Trunks, that same combination of responsibility and fierce care.

The moment of understanding was short-lived as Cellera rejoined them. Almost instantly, Lemone's posture straightened, his shoulders squaring as his earlier confidence returned in full force.

"So, you mentioned years of training earlier," he said, addressing Gohan while glancing pointedly toward Cellera. "Let's see how that training holds up against mine."

He gestured toward the back door of the shop, his competitive edge returning with Cellera's presence. Whatever brief vulnerability he'd shown had been carefully tucked away, replaced once more by the self-assured boy who seemed determined to impress.

Gohan caught Cellera's questioning look and responded with a slight shrug. Whatever connection he'd momentarily felt with Lemone had shifted back to their earlier dynamic, though something had subtly changed in his perception of the other boy. The rivalry remained, but the irritation that had accompanied it had diminished, tempered by this glimpse behind Lemone's confident facade.

Following Lemone through the store's back door, they emerged into a small clearing behind the building. A substantial pile of logs awaited splitting, stacked neatly beside an old stump that had been worn smooth from years of use as a chopping block. Two axes leaned against the woodpile, their handles darkened from frequent handling.

"Grandpa says a good woodsman should be able to split a log with a single stroke," Lemone said, lifting one of the axes with practiced ease. He tested its weight in his hand before setting a medium-sized log upright on the stump. "The trick is to aim for the center and let the weight of the axe do most of the work."

With a fluid motion that spoke of long practice, he brought the axe down. The log split cleanly in two, the halves falling to either side of the stump. There was no wasted energy in the movement, nothing flashy or exaggerated—just the clean efficiency of someone who had performed this task countless times before.

"Your turn," he said, offering the second axe to Gohan.

Taking the tool, Gohan was momentarily surprised by its weight. Not that it felt heavy to him—with his Saiyan strength, he could have swung it one-handed without effort—but he realized immediately that for a normal human child Lemone's age, wielding this axe daily represented significant physical exertion.

He set a log on the stump, aware of both Lemone's evaluating gaze and Cellera watching from a few steps away. Under normal circumstances, splitting wood would be trivial for him, but something about Lemone's skill and Cellera's presence made him want to approach this properly rather than simply relying on his strength.

Remembering Lemone's advice, he focused on his technique rather than power. The axe descended in a controlled arc, connecting with the center of the log and splitting it cleanly. There was something oddly satisfying about accomplishing the task through proper form rather than brute force.

"Not bad," Lemone acknowledged, seemingly surprised by Gohan's competence. "Most people try to muscle through it their first time and end up getting the axe stuck."

"My dad taught me the basics," Gohan explained, which wasn't entirely untrue. They had occasionally gathered firewood together during training breaks for the cyborgs, though his father typically used his hands rather than tools. "But you've definitely had more practice."

The simple acknowledgment of Lemone's expertise seemed to ease some of the tension between them. As they settled into a rhythm, taking turns at the chopping block, their earlier rivalry gradually shifted into something more cooperative. From time to time, Lemone offered pointers about angle and stance that Gohan accepted graciously, while Gohan occasionally displayed a technique his father had shown him that proved efficient with certain types of wood.

Cellera observed their interaction with interest, noting how the shared activity seemed to bridge something between them. The competitive edge hadn't disappeared entirely—she could detect it in the way they occasionally glanced at each other's growing pile of split logs—but it had transformed into something almost friendly.

After they had been working for several minutes, Gohan looked up to see Lemone studying him with newfound curiosity.

"You said your dad taught you," Lemone said, pausing to wipe his forehead with his sleeve. "What kind of training do you do?"

Gohan's mind raced through memories of the Room of Spirit and Time—the endless white void, gravity that could crush normal humans, temperatures that swung wildly from freezing to scorching within minutes. How could he possibly explain any of that to Lemone without sounding insane?

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, no plausible explanation coming to mind that wouldn't reveal too much about their extraordinary lives.

Cellera caught his momentary paralysis and smoothly interjected. "His father is a skilled martial artist," she said casually. "Gohan's been training since he was four."

Relief washed over him. The explanation was perfect—completely truthful without revealing anything about other planets, aliens, or time-warping dimensions.

Lemone turned his attention to Cellera, eyeing her with growing curiosity. "You seem to know quite a bit about him," he observed, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

Cellera merely shrugged, unfazed by his scrutiny. "We've been training partners since we were five," she replied matter-of-factly. "Our fathers are rivals of sorts."

 

Understanding dawned across Lemone's features as the pieces clicked into place. "So you do martial arts as well," he said, nodding as if this explained everything. "That explains it—your athleticism, the way you jumped that gap earlier." His attention pivoted between them, lingering on their dynamic. "And the nickname—'Scholar.' Why do you call him that?"

Something shifted in Cellera's expression—a subtle change that most would miss entirely. But Gohan recognized it instantly. The slight softening around her eyes, the barely perceptible lift at the corner of her mouth—it was the expression she wore when discussing something that truly impressed her.

"Despite Gohan's considerable abilities in combat, his intellect is his true strength," she said, unmistakable pride coloring her tone. "He excels across multiple disciplines—mathematics, sciences, literature. Even before I met him, he'd already decided to become a scholar."

Gohan stared at her, momentarily speechless. An emotion far stronger than simple gratitude bloomed in his chest, catching him by surprise. While Cellera had certainly acknowledged his intelligence before, hearing her speak about his academic abilities with such evident pride—especially to someone else—affected him in a way he hadn't anticipated.

What struck him most wasn't just the praise itself, but how she had prioritized his intellectual achievements over his combat skills when speaking to Lemone. Most people in his life gravitated toward one aspect of his identity or the other. His mother focused almost exclusively on his academic potential, while his father naturally emphasized his fighting abilities.

But Cellera had always been different.

From their earliest interactions, she had recognized and engaged with both sides of his nature. She never made him feel like his human heritage was something to overcome, or that his love of learning was at odds with his Saiyan potential. Unlike the conflict he often felt between his mother's academic expectations and his father's warrior lineage, with Cellera, there was no contradiction to resolve.

He thought about their afternoon at the stream just yesterday, when she'd described his protective instinct as something "pure," something different from the battle-hunger that drove full-blooded Saiyans. There had been a note of almost-envy in her voice then, as though she admired how naturally his dual heritage had given him clarity of purpose.

While he'd always taken quiet pride in understanding parts of Cellera that others didn't—her analytical approach to problems, the compassion she hid beneath her tactical exterior, her struggle between Saiyan instincts for battle and her mother's gentler influence—he'd somehow forgotten that the understanding ran both ways. She knew him just as deeply, saw him as a complete person rather than a collection of contradicting halves.

Looking at her now, Gohan realized just how far she'd come from the serious young warrior who'd arrived on Earth five years ago. She wasn't just the princess raised under Frieza's cruel regime, but someone who had forged her own path, who honored her mother's legacy while finding a home on Earth, who faced her fears daily—from insects that made her cringe to the impending Cell Games.

The words spilled from him before he could fully consider them.

"She's underselling herself," he said, his hand automatically finding the back of his neck as warmth crept into his cheeks. "She's the fastest learner I've ever met, and her mathematical abilities outshine mine completely."

He meant to stop there, but something compelled him to continue. "She approaches everything with the same dedication—whether she's working through complex equations, perfecting a new technique, or solving one of her expert-level sudoku puzzles. When Cellera decides something is worth doing, she commits to it completely."

Realizing he'd said far more than intended, Gohan felt heat rising to his face. His eyes darted to Cellera, who looked equally caught off guard by his praise. A faint pink colored her cheeks as she brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear, looking away with uncharacteristic shyness.

The sight made his breath catch slightly. He'd always thought Cellera was pretty in an objective sense, with her striking dark eyes and the confident poise that seemed to come naturally to her. But there was something about this momentary glimpse of vulnerability, the way the sunlight caught in her hair and highlighted the soft curve of her smile, that made his heart beat in that strange, uneven pattern he'd been experiencing more frequently around her lately.

 

From where he stood, Lemone observed them both carefully, noting their matching flushed faces and averted gazes. A realization slowly settled over him as pieces clicked into place—the subtle interplay between them, the unconscious mirroring of movements, the way they seemed to communicate without words. All his attempts at impressing Cellera had met with polite indifference, not because she was dismissive, but because her attention had already been claimed long before he entered the picture.

The softness in her expression when discussing Gohan's intellect, the pride in her voice when listing his accomplishments, even that small smile now playing at her lips while she pretended to examine the woodpile—these weren't reactions he could ever hope to evoke. What had initially been an attempt to capture the attention of an interesting girl had become a front-row seat to something much deeper.

Watching Gohan struggle to recover his composure, hand rubbing the back of his neck in that characteristic gesture of embarrassment, Lemone found his earlier competitiveness fading. His grandfather had always told him to pick his battles wisely, and this was clearly one where the outcome had been decided before it began. Whatever existed between these two went beyond a simple crush—it was a connection forged through experiences he could barely imagine.

"We should get back to it," Lemone said, deliberately breaking the awkward silence as he hefted his axe. "Firewood doesn't split itself, and Grandpa will be wondering what's taking so long."

The relief on both their faces was immediate and obvious. They fell into a comfortable rhythm, the steady percussion of axes against wood creating a peaceful counterpoint to the earlier tension. Cellera moved between them, stacking the split logs into a neat pyramid against the shop wall, her earlier embarrassment giving way to focused efficiency.

Gohan found himself studying Lemone's technique with sincere appreciation. Despite lacking enhanced strength, the older boy worked with impressive skill, positioning each log perfectly and striking with just enough force to split the wood cleanly along its grain. Each movement was practiced and economical—the result of countless hours of repetition.

"I've never seen anyone split wood so efficiently," Gohan commented, meaning every word. "You've really mastered this."

The compliment seemed to catch Lemone off guard. After their earlier rivalry, earnest praise was clearly unexpected. A small, pleased smile crossed his face.

"When you do it every day for years, you figure out all the shortcuts," he replied with a modest shrug. "Grandpa's particular about technique—says you can tell everything about a person by how they handle an axe."

"How long has he been teaching you martial arts?" Gohan asked, curious about this connection between mundane chores and combat training.

Lemone's expression grew more contemplative as he positioned another log. "He started showing me basic forms when I was little, but it was mostly games back then." A shadow crossed his face. "After Cell came through here, everything changed. I asked him to teach me properly—no more games, no more holding back."

The determination in his voice resonated with Gohan on a fundamental level. He recognized that drive—the need to be stronger, to protect what mattered most. It was the same feeling that had pushed him through countless brutal training sessions, the force that kept him going when his muscles screamed for relief.

Cellera, who had been observing the distant fireworks display visible above the treeline, turned her attention back to them. "When we were in the shop earlier, Lime yelled that ‘Cell was back,"’ she said. "Your village was one of his targets, then?"

The question was delivered with her characteristic directness, but there was a gentleness in her tone that hadn't been there when they first met Lemone.

His jaw tightened as he nodded, the axe coming down with enough force to embed itself in the stump. "He wasn't fully formed yet—still absorbing people to get stronger. Nothing like what he is now." He worked to free the axe, movements rigid with suppressed emotion. "When he attacked, I pulled Lime under the house through a loose floorboard. We hid while he..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

The implication hung in the air between them. A cold knot formed in Gohan's stomach, reminding him of when he'd thought Cell had killed Piccolo after absorbing Android 17. But unlike Lemone, he still had his family intact. His mother, his father, and soon, a new sibling. The contrast made him even more determined to stop Cell at the tournament—to ensure no one else would experience the loss that Lemone and Lime had suffered.

"That's why I need to get stronger," Lemone continued, his voice steadying as he resumed his work. "Next time something threatens my family, I want to do more than just hide."

"That's a worthy reason to pursue strength," Cellera said quietly, her gaze meeting Gohan's in silent understanding. Her words echoed their conversation by the stream yesterday—this protective motivation that Gohan had always possessed, the one she'd described as "pure" compared to typical Saiyan battle-hunger. This was a purpose they both intimately understood, though from different origins.

Something in her words caught Lemone's attention. "I figured you were an older sibling too," he said. "The way you handled Lime earlier—that kind of patience doesn't come without practice."

"My brother is still a baby," Cellera confirmed. "Though he already shows a remarkable talent for finding the most dangerous object in any room and making a determined effort to reach it."

"That sounds familiar," Lemone laughed, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. "Lime was the same way. I once found her trying to climb the store shelves using kitchen ladles as climbing hooks."

"Last week, Trunks somehow located the one box of tools in a room full of toys," Cellera replied, a rare hint of sisterly exasperation in her voice. "I turned my back for two seconds, and he was already trying to pry open the latch."

As they traded stories about their siblings, every shared laugh seemed to widen the distance between Gohan and the conversation. This feeling differed from the sharp irritation he'd experienced when Lemone had been showing off earlier. Instead, a peculiar hollow sensation spread through him—not jealousy exactly, but the sudden awareness of being excluded from an experience he couldn't share.

The feeling confused him. He'd already noticed how Lemone's interest in Cellera had dissipated after his own involuntary outpouring of praise for her. The competitive tension between them had eased into something approaching camaraderie during their wood-chopping. So why did watching them connect over their shared experiences as older siblings bother him so much?

It was then, with sudden clarity that Gohan realized what it was. There was something fundamental to Cellera's life that he couldn't fully relate to, at least not yet, but Lemone—someone who they had only just met—could understand completely. This aspect of her daily existence, the way she navigated the responsibilities and challenges of being an older sibling, was territory where he had no firsthand experience to share.

Questions began to swirl in Gohan's mind, stirring emotions he'd never confronted before. Why did he want to be the only one who knew these things about her? Why did he feel this need to be the only person who knew her so deeply, the only one who could make her laugh or smile in that particular way? The intensity of his desire to exclusively understand every facet of her life caught him off guard.

For all the battles they'd faced together, for all the secrets and triumphs that bound them, this was one experience he knew only through observation. He couldn't contribute to this particular conversation, couldn't offer his own stories of little siblings and their adventures. The realization left him feeling oddly excluded from a part of her life that clearly meant a great deal to her.

"Gohan will understand soon enough," Cellera said, noticing his quietness. "He'll be an older brother himself before the end of the year."

The reminder of his mother's pregnancy immediately brightened his mood. "Yeah," he confirmed, unable to suppress a smile. "Mom just told us yesterday."

"Consider yourself warned," Lemone said with mock solemnity that couldn't quite hide his sincere warmth. "Being an older sibling changes everything, but I wouldn't trade it for anything—even when Lime decides climbing trees over raging streams is a good idea."

Their conversation was interrupted by the back door flying open. Lime bounded out, practically vibrating with excitement as she proclaimed, "All your supplies are ready! I wrapped them myself so nothing will break on your way home!"

"Lime," Mr. Lao sighed as he followed her more sedately. "What have I told you about slamming doors? The hinges are older than you are."

His mild exasperation gave way to appreciation as he surveyed the impressive stack of firewood. "You've been quite productive," he observed, his keen eyes taking in not just the quantity but the precise arrangement.

Cellera observed Mr. Lao's reaction to the woodpile. Despite the impressive volume, his expression registered neither surprise nor particular curiosity. The slight crinkle at the corners of his eyes matched the same measured assessment he'd shown when specifically requesting Gohan's help earlier. Another piece of evidence confirming her theory about the former martial arts master's hidden abilities.

A sudden thunderous crack cut through Cellera's analysis, startling them all. Their heads turned in unison toward the source of the noise, where brilliant flashes of red and gold fireworks bloomed against the sky just visible over the treeline. The colorful display seemed to originate from the structure she had noticed earlier in the distance.

"What's going on over there?" Gohan asked, squinting at the distant celebration.

Lemone set his axe against the shop wall beside the neatly stacked woodpile, his expression darkening as Gohan followed suit with his own tool. "That's the Bourbon family's shelter," he explained. "They're having their 'grand opening' today."

Though his voice remained steady, the way he emphasized "grand opening" carried unmistakable disdain. The shift in his demeanor was subtle—a tightening around his eyes, a slight tensing of his shoulders—but to Cellera's observant gaze, it revealed how deeply the shelter's existence troubled him.

"They're a bunch of fools," Lime added, her small face hardening with a glare far too severe for someone so young. The transformation from the cheerful girl who had eagerly organized their supplies to this bitter child was jarring.

Mr. Lao placed one gentle hand on each of his grandchildren's shoulders, his weathered fingers offering subtle reassurance. "That's enough," he said, his voice firm but kind. "If they want to delude themselves, then let them be."

Something in his tone suggested this wasn't their first conversation on the matter. The tension in Lemone's posture eased slightly at his grandfather's touch, though the boy's eyes remained fixed on the distant fireworks with unmistakable resentment.

Mr. Lao redirected his gaze to Cellera and Gohan, his stern expression softening into a gentle smile that creased the corners of his eyes. "Come inside," he offered. "Let's get your supplies together."

As Lemone and Lime followed their grandfather into the shop, Cellera didn't miss the way the young girl glanced back over her shoulder toward the fireworks. Despite her proclaimed disdain, there was something else in her expression now—a flicker of longing, a shadow of sadness that contradicted her earlier contempt. It vanished almost immediately, but Cellera had caught it clearly.

Once they were back inside the shop, Lime hurried over to a collection of neatly packaged items on the counter. She eagerly presented Cellera with the shopping bags, her eyes bright with anticipation as she waited expectantly for approval.

Cellera examined the work—items carefully secured and arranged for maximum protection during transport—and felt a surge of real appreciation.. The careful organization reminded her of how she'd meticulously prepared supplies for missions when she was younger, ensuring everything was accessible in order of potential need.

"Excellent work," she commented, running her fingers over the neat packaging. "This organization will make our journey much more efficient."

The praise had an immediate effect on Lime. Her entire face lit up with pride, her earlier display of maturity temporarily giving way to the pure, uncomplicated joy of a child receiving recognition.

Gohan stepped forward, reaching for the small cloth pouch of zeni his mother had given him that morning. "How much do we owe you for everything?" he asked, addressing Mr. Lao with the respectful tone Chi-Chi had instilled in him.

The shopkeeper merely waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Consider it my way of thanking you for your help," he replied, his eyes twinkling with honest warmth.

"It's not every day strangers step in when they see someone in trouble," Lemone added, coming to stand beside his grandfather. "Especially when that trouble is the Bourbon family."

The mention of the Bourbon family brought Gohan's thoughts back to what they had learned earlier. The injustice of it weighed heavily on him—innocent villagers being manipulated through fear, giving up everything they owned for a shelter that provided nothing but false security. If what Lemone had said was true, and these people had indeed surrendered their life savings, they would have nothing to return to once the Cell crisis ended. Assuming, of course, that he and the other fighters were successful in defeating Cell.

And the thugs' retreat felt temporary. There was nothing stopping them from returning as soon as he and Cellera left, perhaps with reinforcements. The thought troubled him deeply.

"We're just glad we could help," Gohan replied, forcing a smile despite his concerns.

A small voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you have to go so soon?"

The question came from Lime, her earlier boldness now replaced by an unexpected timidity. She stood with her hands clasped in front of her, shoulders slightly hunched inward—a stark contrast to the confident girl who had boldly faced down Gohan moments ago.

Cellera felt a twinge of understanding as she recognized the longing in Lime's eyes when she had looked toward the shelter earlier. The other children were there—friends, playmates, companions her own age. In their absence, Lime was isolated, surrounded only by adults and her brother.

Lemone placed a gentle hand on his sister's shoulder. "They need to get back, Lime," he reminded her, his voice kind but firm. "You know better."

Lime blinked rapidly, clearly fighting back tears that threatened to spill. Despite her effort, her lower lip trembled slightly. Still, she managed to meet Cellera's gaze directly, maintaining dignity beyond her years.

"I understand," she said with forced bravery. "Thank you for teaching me about the sun, and about organizing things properly."

The simple gratitude, delivered with such obvious effort at maturity, made Cellera's usually stern expression soften slightly.

"Of course," Cellera replied, her typically crisp tone gentler than usual.

As Cellera turned to look at Gohan, she said, "We should be on our way," their eyes meeting for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them.

Gohan nodded, and they gave their goodbyes as they walked out the shop door. Once they were far enough from the shop not to be overheard, Gohan spoke.

"We're not really leaving yet, are we?" His voice carried certainty rather than question.

Cellera stopped and turned toward him, a familiar smirk playing at her lips. "Perceptive as always, Scholar," she replied. "You're correct. We aren't leaving until this whole shelter farce is exposed for what it is—a scheme that preys on people's fear for profit."

"And to get Lime her friends back?" Gohan added with a teasing smile.

Cellera clutched the shopping bags tighter, turning her face away slightly as color rose to her cheeks. "That... might have something to do with it as well," she admitted reluctantly.

Gohan chuckled softly, understanding how difficult it was for the proud Saiyan princess to acknowledge the emotional component of her decision. "I agree," he said. "Besides, we can't trust that Bourbon's men won't come back to harass Mr. Lao again once we're gone."

"Count me in too!" a familiar voice announced from behind them.

They turned to find Lemone jogging toward them, determination etched across his features. He reached them slightly winded, but the resolve in his eyes burned bright.

"What are you doing out here?" Gohan's brow furrowed in utter surprise.

"I knew what you two would be up to as soon as I saw that look you gave each other," Lemone explained, his lips curving into a knowing smile. "It was just like the one before you confronted Kasdan and Burdwell in the shop."

Gohan blinked in amazement. They had only met Lemone this morning, yet he had managed to read their subtle communication with remarkable accuracy after observing it just once. It was an impressive display of perception.

"It's about time someone took down the Bourbons and their cronies," Lemone continued, his voice hardening with determination. "They can't keep manipulating everyone with fear."

Gohan studied him carefully. The casual bravado that had characterized their earlier interactions had fallen away entirely. In its place was something more serious—a firm resolve that reminded Gohan of his own determination when facing threats to those he cared about. Despite their earlier rivalry, he found himself respecting Lemone's commitment to his village.

"Okay," Gohan said simply, accepting the other boy's help without hesitation.

Lemone looked momentarily surprised, clearly not having expected such easy acceptance after the competitive tension that had existed between them throughout the morning. His expression shifted to one of gratitude before being interrupted by another voice.

"Me too!" Lime's high-pitched declaration rang out as she appeared from around the corner of the shop, her small face set with the same determination as her brother's.

"No!" Lemone turned to his sister with a stern expression that belied his age. "Go back with Grandpa, Lime. This isn't for you."

"If you send me back, I'll just tell Grandpa what you're doing," she replied, crossing her arms with a defiant lift of her chin. "Then neither of us will go."

Lemone sputtered indignantly, caught between his protective instinct and his sister's surprisingly effective blackmail attempt. Gohan noticed Cellera placing the back of her hand against her mouth—a gesture he recognized as her attempting to hide her amusement. He could tell she was impressed by Lime's tactical approach to getting her way.

"Fine!" Lemone finally conceded, though his expression remained troubled. "But you listen to everything we say. Got it?"

"Got it!" Lime agreed, her defiance instantly replaced by excitement.

Sighing in defeat, Lemone turned back to Cellera and Gohan. "I know a shortcut through the woods that will get us to the shelter quickly," he offered.

"Lead the way," Cellera responded, subtly repositioning the shopping bags to ensure they wouldn't be damaged during what was clearly going to be more than a simple errand run.

Their path through the forest took them along a narrower trail than the one they'd followed earlier, winding between ancient pines whose branches created dappled patterns of sunlight on the forest floor. Lemone led them confidently, occasionally pausing to help Lime navigate trickier sections, while Gohan and Cellera followed at a measured pace, silently preparing for the confrontation ahead.

As they followed Lemone and Lime into the woods, Gohan found himself wondering what they would find at the shelter. The villagers had given up everything for the illusion of safety—and whatever Mr. Bourbon was offering them, it couldn't possibly provide the protection they believed it would. Not against Cell.

The injustice of it fueled his determination. While he couldn't fix the larger crisis hanging over the world—at least not until the tournament—perhaps he could resolve this smaller wrong. It wasn't saving the planet, but for the people of Chazke Village, it might make all the difference.

After about a fifteen-minute trek through the dense forest, they emerged at the edge of a large clearing. The structure that dominated the space was far more imposing than Gohan had expected—a massive concrete bunker with reinforced steel doors that gleamed in the sunlight. Around it, a substantial crowd had gathered, their attention fixed on a makeshift stage where a short, round man in an expensive-looking suit was addressing them with theatrical gestures.

"That's quite a turnout," Cellera observed quietly, her sharp eyes assessing the scene. She noted how every person in the crowd seemed to be hanging on the speaker's words, their faces reflecting a mixture of hope and desperation that made something twist uncomfortably in her chest.

"Is that Mr. Bourbon?" Gohan asked as they crouched at the forest's edge, keeping themselves concealed among the underbrush.

Lemone nodded, his eyes narrowing. "That's him."

"Thank you, thank you," Bourbon's voice carried across the clearing, dripping with false modesty as he acknowledged the crowd's applause. "But please, give yourselves a hand as well—after all, this is your home!"

Another round of cheers echoed through the forest opening. Cellera's eyes narrowed at the manipulative display. Everything about the man's performance felt calculated, from his carefully practiced smile to his deliberately chosen phrases. Each word seemed designed to make the villagers feel included while actually giving them nothing of substance.

"It warms my heart to see such unity," Bourbon continued, spreading his arms wide in a gesture that seemed rehearsed to the point of being theatrical. "In these uncertain times, we must band together!"

"We need a strategy," Cellera said, pressing her thumb to her lip as she analyzed the situation. "Something that will expose Bourbon's true nature to the villagers."

However, before she could begin formulating a plan, Lime stepped forward, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"CELL IS COMING!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, her voice carrying clearly across the clearing.

"What are you doing?!" Gohan asked in a panicked whisper, reaching for her a moment too late.

Lemone lunged forward, clamping his hand over his sister's mouth, but the damage was already done. Chaos erupted in the crowd as screams of fear and shouts to get to the shelter echoed throughout the clearing.

The effect on Mr. Bourbon was immediate and telling. His mask of benevolent leadership shattered in an instant as he bolted toward the shelter entrance, roughly shoving aside anyone who stood in his path. His bodyguards followed close behind, sealing the massive doors behind them with a resounding clang that left the "unified" villagers locked outside, their panicked faces reflecting betrayal and disbelief.

Cellera scowled. While she hadn't expected much from Bourbon, the speed with which he'd abandoned those who had trusted him still managed to disgust her. These people had given up their savings for protection, and at the first sign of danger, he'd left them to fend for themselves without a second thought. There were few things Cellera despised more than such blatant cowardice.

"Lime!" Lemone hissed once he removed his hand from her mouth. "What were you thinking? You promised Grandpa no more lies about Cell!"

"Cellera said they needed to see Mr. Bourbon's true colors!" Lime shot back, her expression defiant despite her brother's stern tone. "And they did!"

Cellera had to admit the girl had a point. Bourbon's true nature had been revealed more effectively than any carefully crafted plan might have managed. However, the method remained problematic for several reasons.

Setting down the shopping bags carefully, Cellera turned to face Lime, her expression firm but not unkind. "That's true, but now we've created a different problem," she explained. "Not only have we left ourselves without a clear path forward, but you've broken your promise to your grandfather."

Her gaze held Lime's steadily as she continued, "Deliberately breaking a promise you can keep makes you no better than Bourbon. It makes you a liar, just like him."

The words seemed to strike home, as Lime's defiant expression crumbled into shame. She looked down at her shoes, her shoulders slumping.

Seeing the effect of her words, Cellera gentled her approach, crouching down to Lime's level just as she had in the shop earlier. She placed her hands on the girl's shoulders, feeling a responsibility to balance her correction with encouragement.

"I know you were only trying to help," she assured Lime, her voice softening. "But promises are meant to be kept." She hesitated, then added, "I've made many promises to Gohan over the years, and I've always done my best to honor them."

Lime looked up, curiosity replacing shame. "Really?" she asked, her voice small. "You've never broken one? Ever?"

"She hasn't," Gohan confirmed, stepping closer. "Cellera has kept every promise she's made to me since we were five years old."

Lime's eyes widened at this revelation, clearly impressed by such a perfect record. After a moment, she bowed her head slightly. "I'm sorry," she said, her remorse unmistakable. "I'll keep my promises from now on."

"Hey, you brats!" A familiar voice shattered the moment. 

Kasdan and Burdwell emerged from the trees opposite their position, each holding a gun trained on the group. 

"We recognize you two from the shop," Kasdan growled, gesturing between Gohan and Cellera with the barrel of his weapon. His gaze then shifted to Lime. "And you must be the one who was yelling about Cell earlier."

Lemone immediately moved to position himself between his sister and the armed men, his protective instinct overriding any concern for his own safety. Cellera assessed the situation quickly. The guns posed no real threat to her or Gohan, but Lemone and Lime had no such protection. One wrong move, one stray bullet, and the consequences could be deadly for the siblings.

She and Gohan exchanged a glance, both reaching the same conclusion simultaneously. While they could easily neutralize these thugs, any display of unusual abilities would raise questions they couldn't answer. More importantly, keeping Lime and Lemone safe had to take priority over any display of power.

Without a word, they both raised their hands in surrender, the siblings quickly following their lead.

"Mr. Bourbon wants to have a word with you troublemakers," Burdwell said with a sneer that exposed yellowed teeth. "Move it. Toward the shelter. Now."

As they were marched toward the crowd still clamoring at the shelter's entrance, Cellera could hear Mr. Bourbon's voice crackling over a speaker system.

"Some of you may qualify for a partial refund," he was saying, his tone condescending. "Of course, there will be a processing fee..."

Cellera rolled her eyes, unable to contain her disgust at the transparent greed. "Unbelievable," she muttered under her breath.

"Tell me about it," Lemone whispered beside her, sharing her disdain for the shelter's owner.

"These people deserve better," Gohan added quietly, an unusual undertone of anger coloring his normally gentle voice. Cellera glanced at him, noticing how his jaw had tightened as he glared at the speaker system above the shelter's entrance. His normally warm eyes had hardened in a way she typically only witnessed during planetary-level threats, not when facing a simple conman.

Despite their current predicament, she couldn't help but admire how deeply his sense of justice ran. While most warriors fought to protect those closest to them, Gohan's instinct to defend extended to anyone suffering injustice, even strangers in a village they'd stumbled upon by chance. It reminded her of what set him apart from typical Saiyan warriors—that purity of purpose she'd mentioned during their conversation by the stream.

Kasdan pushed his way to the front of the agitated crowd, creating a path through the confused villagers. "Everyone calm down!" he called out, gesturing with his free hand while keeping his gun trained on the four children. "It was just some stupid kids playing a prank."

"WHAT?!" The enraged voice of Mr. Bourbon boomed from within the shelter, magnified by the speaker system.

The massive steel doors began to rise with an ominous mechanical whir, revealing the shelter's interior. Mr. Bourbon stood at the threshold, his round face contorted with fury. Whatever benevolent mask he had maintained for the villagers had completely shattered. His expensive suit seemed at odds with the almost childish rage that twisted his features as he stormed toward them.

"Which one of you did it?" he demanded, his face reddening with each word, veins visibly pulsing at his temples.

"It was her," Kasdan declared, jabbing an accusatory finger toward Lime. "The girl."

Mr. Bourbon rounded on Lime, leaning down until his face was inches from hers. "You're in big trouble!" he shouted, flecks of spittle flying from his lips as he towered over the child.

Cellera felt Lemone tense beside her. Despite his fear of the weapons pointed at them, he was clearly preparing to place himself between his sister and the furious man. His protective instinct overrode any concern for his own safety—a sentiment Cellera understood all too well.

But before Lemone could move, Gohan was already there. He stepped smoothly in front of Lime, creating a barrier between her and Bourbon's rage. His posture was calm but resolute, and Cellera could tell from the set of his shoulders that something had shifted. The normally patient, accommodating Gohan had reached his limit with this situation.

"I apologize for Lime's lie," he said, his voice carrying an edge that Cellera rarely heard from him. His eyes narrowed as he held Mr. Bourbon's gaze without flinching. "But what you're doing isn't right either."

The directness of the challenge momentarily stunned Bourbon before his face twisted into a dismissive sneer. "Who cares what you think?" he spat, looking Gohan up and down with undisguised contempt. "Go home to your mommy!"

"And where is your mom?" Gohan shot back without hesitation, gesturing broadly at the crowd of confused and frightened villagers still locked outside the shelter. "Was she one of the ones you left outside?"

Cellera couldn't suppress the smirk that formed on her lips. In all their years together, she'd rarely heard Gohan confront someone so directly outside of actual combat. The assertiveness in his voice, the unflinching way he stared down a man three times his age—it reminded her of how he had taken charge earlier when they'd gone to save Mr. Lao from Kasdan and Burdwell.

A peculiar jolt of excitement coursed through her as she watched this transformation. The timid boy she'd first met years ago—the one who had hidden behind his father when she and Nappa first arrived on Earth—was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood someone with steel-backed resolve, who confronted wrongdoing directly and without hesitation when pushed too far. The strength of his conviction stirred something unfamiliar within her, a response she couldn't quite name but found herself drawn to. Rather than stepping in as she typically would, she found herself content to let him take the lead, curious to see just how far he would push.

Mr. Bourbon's face twisted with indignation, the remnants of his dignified facade completely abandoned. "You little delinquent!" he spluttered, spittle flying from his lips. He spun toward his guards, jabbing a finger in Gohan's direction. "Shut this kid up!"

"Please, stop!" An elderly man pushed forward from the crowd, his weathered face lined with concern. "He's just a boy. Let us take him home."

"This is MY land and MY shelter!" Mr. Bourbon rounded on the old man, who physically shrank back from the fury in his voice. "If you want in, you'll do as I say!"

The elderly man fell silent, his shoulders slumping in defeated submission. Others in the crowd looked away, unwilling to meet each other's eyes. The pattern was all too familiar to Cellera—fear compelling people to comply even when they outnumbered their oppressor.

She rolled her eyes, growing increasingly irritated with Bourbon's attitude. The way he wielded people's fear like a weapon, the sheer arrogance in his declaration of ownership—it grated on her in a way that few things could.

As the guards began moving toward Gohan, Cellera briefly considered stepping in. She could give this pompous fool something to truly fear, something far more tangible than a false Cell report. Her fingers twitched slightly at the thought of showing him just a fraction of what real power looked like.

"That's enough!"

The commanding voice cut through the tension like a blade, silencing the crowd instantly. Mr. Lao strode forward with a grace that belied his years, stepping between Gohan and the approaching guards. Despite his age, the traditional gi he wore hung on his frame with the familiarity of a second skin, and his stance carried the unmistakable weight of a seasoned martial artist.

"Grandfather!" Lime and Lemone exclaimed in unison, their surprised voices carrying both relief and concern.

"What are you doing here?" Lemone asked, his voice filled with surprise as he stared at his grandfather with wide eyes.

Mr. Lao's expression remained calm, though a hint of knowing humor glinted in his eyes. "When two children leave the shop with such transparent excuses, one tends to grow suspicious." His gaze shifted between his grandchildren with a mixture of exasperation and fondness before settling on Gohan and Cellera. "And I had a feeling these two weren't quite finished lending their assistance to our village."

Cellera's eyes narrowed slightly, her earlier suspicions about the old man's perceptiveness confirmed. He had clearly seen through their intentions from the very beginning.

Mr. Bourbon's face twisted into an ugly sneer, any pretense of civility completely abandoned. "Get this old man out of here!" he barked at his men, gesturing wildly toward Mr. Lao.

"Please, let us help," Gohan said quickly, stepping forward with determination etched across his features. "These men have been nothing but trouble since we arrived."

Cellera moved to stand beside him, her lips curving into a slight smirk. She'd been itching to teach these thugs a lesson since their first encounter at the store. Her fingers flexed slightly at her sides, a familiar warmth beginning to build in her palms. This would provide a perfect opportunity to test her substantially recovered ki control against opponents who posed no real threat.

Mr. Lao glanced back at them, that same spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. "No, I think I've got this one," he said with gentle authority.

Before either of them could protest, Burdwell charged forward with a battle cry that betrayed more bravado than skill. The stocky man barreled toward Mr. Lao with his fist raised, his movements telegraphing his intentions so clearly he might as well have announced them.

The attack ended almost before it began. Mr. Lao pivoted smoothly, his movements fluid and unhurried as his knee connected with devastating accuracy. Burdwell's momentum carried him directly into the strike, the air leaving his lungs in a pained whoosh as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he hit the dirt.

Kasdan and the suited guards rushed in next, attempting to overwhelm the elderly shopkeeper through sheer numbers. But they might as well have been moving in slow motion. Mr. Lao flowed between their attacks like water around stones, each movement precise and economical. Nothing wasted, nothing excessive—just the pure, distilled essence of decades of training.

One by one, they joined Burdwell on the ground. What might have looked like an unfair fight to an untrained observer had proven to be anything but, though not in the way anyone had expected.

Cellera couldn't help but appreciate the old man's technique. Though nowhere near her and Gohan's level, his mastery of the fundamentals was undeniable. Each stance transition, each redirection of force, every counter—all executed with the kind of perfection that only came from years of dedicated practice.

She caught Lemone watching his grandfather with a mixture of awe and pride, while Lime practically bounced with excitement beside him, her small hands clenched into fists as she cheered silently with each opponent that fell.

"Call Mercenary Tao!" Bourbon shrieked, his voice cracking with desperation as he watched his men fall one after another. His face had gone from red to an alarming shade of purple, sweat beading on his forehead as he realized how quickly his advantage was evaporating. "TAO!"

The name sent a jolt of recognition through Cellera. Though she had never encountered the assassin personally, Bulma had told her about Mercenary Tao years ago—about his battles with Kakarot as a child, how he had been left for dead after attempting to kill the young Saiyan with a grenade. According to Bulma, it was Tao who had somehow survived, returning years later with cybernetic enhancements seeking revenge. His defeat had driven his brother Master Shen and the Crane School to enter the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament with the sole purpose of killing Kakarot as revenge.

A tall figure emerged from the shelter's entrance, silhouetted against the artificial lights behind him. The sun glinted off his cybernetic components as he stepped forward with measured, deliberate movements. Long black hair was woven into a distinctive braided ponytail that swung with each step, the pink emblem on his outfit identifying him unmistakably as the infamous assassin.

Even without Bulma's stories, Cellera would have instantly recognized him as a killer. His stance, the calculating coldness that emanated from him despite the cybernetic goggles concealing his eyes, the measured way he held himself—all triggered her warrior instincts. Unlike Bourbon's hired muscle, this man was undoubtedly dangerous.

"What is it, Mr. Bourbon?" Tao's voice carried none of the urgency of the moment, his tone almost bored as he surveyed the scene before him.

"I have a simple task for you," Bourbon replied, a cruel smile spreading across his face as he pointed a stubby finger toward Mr. Lao. "Eliminate him."

If the old shopkeeper felt any fear at facing the notorious assassin, he didn't show it. Instead, he simply adjusted his stance, his expression calm as he prepared to face this new threat. The quiet dignity in his bearing made Cellera's respect for the man grow even further.

"Him?" Mercenary Tao asked, eyeing Mr. Lao with an almost eager interest. A smirk spread across his face as he dropped into his own stance. "I'd be happy to."

The area fell silent as everyone waited in anticipation for the battle to commence. Villagers who had been shouting moments before now held their breath, instinctively backing away to create a wider circle around the two fighters. Even Mr. Bourbon had retreated to what he must have deemed a safe distance, though his eyes gleamed with malicious anticipation.

Gohan's attention was firmly fixed on the impending clash, his muscles tensed and ready to intervene. Cellera could read the concern in his posture, the way his weight shifted slightly forward, prepared to move at any moment. Beside them, Lemone and Lime were biting their lips, their faces reflecting the understanding that this confrontation was on an entirely different level from the previous skirmish.

Yet Cellera felt herself oddly moved by the scene before her. There was something deeply resonant about watching Mr. Lao stand his ground against those who had encroached upon his home, manipulating his neighbors with their schemes and holding those he cared for captive through their manufactured fear. It stirred something within her warrior blood—the instinct to defend what was yours, to face threats to your people head-on, to stand your ground when others would flee.

The fight began without warning or ceremony.

Tao suddenly lunged forward, closing the distance between them with startling speed. His cybernetic fist blurred through the air in a series of strikes, each one aimed at vital points that would have incapacitated a lesser opponent instantly.

But Mr. Lao was far from a typical elderly shopkeeper. His arms moved with practiced efficiency, blocking each punch with measured control. The impacts created sharp cracking sounds that cut through the silence, evidence of the real force behind Tao's attacks.

For several heartbeats, the exchange continued—Tao pressing his advantage with increasingly complex combinations, Mr. Lao responding with defensive techniques that spoke of decades of training. When the shopkeeper finally saw an opening, he countered with two swift punches followed by a kick that forced Tao to retreat a step.

The assassin's expression shifted from confident to calculating as he reassessed his opponent. He twisted his metallic hand with a mechanical whir, and a flash of steel caught the sunlight—a knife had extended from his cybernetic limb, its edge gleaming with deadly promise.

He swung the blade in a vicious arc. Mr. Lao arched backward, the knife passing mere millimeters from his chest. Though he evaded the worst of the attack, the blade's tip caught his cheek, opening a thin line that immediately began to trickle blood.

"Grandpa!" Lime cried out, her voice breaking with fear as she tried to run toward him. Lemone called her name in alarm, reaching for her, but Cellera was quicker. She caught the girl's arm firmly but gently, preventing her from rushing into the combat zone.

Lime turned to her with pleading eyes, her small face crumpling with distress. "That man is going to hurt my grandpa!"

Cellera met her gaze directly, her voice steady and resolute. "Nothing will happen to your grandfather or anyone else," she stated with absolute certainty. "Gohan and I give you our word."

Her words carried the weight of every promise she had ever kept, and Lime responded to that underlying assurance. The tension in the girl's arm gradually relaxed as she remembered Cellera's earlier words about never breaking her promises. For his part, Gohan gave a brief nod of agreement, his eyes conveying his silent commitment to the same pledge.

Back in the center of the clearing, Mercenary Tao gave a short laugh of surprise as he flicked the droplets of blood from his blade. "Not bad, old man!" he called out, a grudging respect entering his voice. "Most people your age would be dead already."

The assassin wielded his blade with renewed vigor, slashing through the air with precise, economical movements. Mr. Lao dodged each attack with narrowing margins, his breathing becoming more labored as the fight continued. Though his technique remained impeccable, the physical toll of facing a cybernetically enhanced opponent was beginning to show.

Gohan's body tensed further, clearly preparing to intervene. Cellera could sense his growing concern, the internal conflict between respecting Mr. Lao's wishes and protecting him from serious harm.

"Wait," Mr. Lao commanded without taking his eyes off his opponent, somehow sensing Gohan's intention. "Stay where you are. This is our village's fight, not yours."

The declaration resonated deeply with Cellera, triggering a memory from Namek. Her father's final words to Kakarot echoed in her mind: "Kakarot... you must kill him. He has to die... by Saiyan hands..."

She understood perfectly why it mattered so deeply to her father that a Saiyan should be the one to defeat Frieza, the same reason it mattered to Mr. Lao that he face Mr. Bourbon and his men himself. This wasn't just about defeating an opponent. It was about reclaiming something that had been taken—dignity, autonomy, the right to determine one's own fate. The people of Chazke Village had been manipulated through fear, made to feel powerless in their own home. For their elder to stand against that, to fight not just for himself but for all of them—there was a profound meaning in that act that would be diminished if outsiders intervened.

"Besides," Mr. Lao added, his eyes never leaving Tao as he shifted his stance slightly, "I know the two of you could handle this easily."

Gohan's expression shifted to confusion. "How can you tell?" he asked, evident surprise in his voice.

"He can sense ki," Cellera stated, confirming her earlier suspicion. Gohan turned to her, his questioning glance prompting her to elaborate.

"I had my suspicions when he let two children he'd never met before handle the situation with Kasdan and Burdwell," she explained. "His request for you to assist with the woodchopping also struck me as unusual. He had no way of assessing your physical capabilities through appearance alone, yet he specifically asked for your help and showed no surprise at the amount you and Lemone managed to chop." Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Given these observations, coupled with his background as a martial arts master, the ability to sense energy seemed the most likely explanation."

Gohan stared at her for a moment, that familiar mixture of amazement and admiration crossing his features. Even after all these years, her deductive abilities continued to impress him.

Their conversation was cut short as the battle resumed with increased intensity. Mercenary Tao charged at Mr. Lao, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. The elderly shopkeeper dodged each swing with diminishing margins, his movements becoming slightly less fluid as fatigue began to set in.

Just as Mr. Lao appeared to create an opening for a counterattack, rearing his right arm back for a powerful strike, Tao seized the opportunity. The assassin's foot connected solidly with the shopkeeper's side, momentarily halting his momentum. Before Mr. Lao could recover, Tao delivered a decisive kick to his chest, sending him crashing to the ground several meters away.

The elderly man struggled to push himself up, his earlier confidence shaken by the sheer force of Tao's enhanced strength. Though his spirit remained unbroken, his body was showing the limitations that came with age, no matter how well-trained.

"Grandpa! NO!" Lemone cried out, his voice carrying a note of horror.

"Yes! Finish him, General Tao!" Mr. Bourbon's triumphant voice rang across the clearing. His earlier fear had vanished completely, replaced by cruel satisfaction at seeing his mercenary dominating the fight.

Something unexpected happened then—Lemone broke away from their group before either Gohan or Cellera could react. He rushed forward to place himself between his fallen grandfather and the approaching assassin, his stance mirroring Mr. Lao's earlier defensive posture despite his obvious terror.

"Lemone, run!" Mr. Lao urged, trying to push himself to his feet. "Get back to your sister!"

"No," Lemone replied, his voice trembling but determined. "I won't let them keep hurting you! I won't let them hurt Lime or anyone else!"

Gohan felt something resonate deeply within him as he watched Lemone standing protectively before his grandfather. The image stirred powerful memories—Piccolo stepping between him and Nappa's devastating attack, taking the full force of the blast to save him. Himself on Namek, outmatched but refusing to back down when protecting Krillin. Cellera charging Frieza despite her own terror, determined to save him from being crushed under the tyrant's foot.

He recognized that same fierce protectiveness in Lemone now—that willingness to place oneself in harm's way despite everything, simply because someone you loved was in danger. In that moment, whatever lingering rivalry existed between them vanished completely. There was only respect for the courage it took to stand against a vastly superior opponent with nothing but determination as a shield.

Tao's face twisted into a cold smile as he regarded the new obstacle in his path. "Lucky me," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "It seems I got a two-for-one deal."

The assassin raised his cybernetic arm as panels slid back to reveal the deadly blaster beneath. The weapon began to charge, energy gathering at its tip with an ominous hum. Tao's expression remained clinical as he took aim, utterly unmoved by the fact that he was about to kill a child.

"No hard feelings," he said without a trace of remorse. "It's just a job."

The Dodonpa wave erupted from Tao's arm with blinding speed, the deadly energy cutting through the air with a distinctive whistle. For the villagers watching, the moment seemed to unfold in horrifying slow motion—the bright beam racing toward Lemone's frozen form, the certainty of tragedy etched on every face.

Then Gohan moved.

One heartbeat he stood beside Cellera, the next he materialized between the incoming attack and Lemone, his palm raised to intercept the deadly beam with the casual confidence of someone who had faced far worse.

The energy struck his outstretched hand and simply dissipated, like water against stone. Golden light briefly illuminated the clearing as the surrounding air stirred with power that made everyone's hair stand on end. As the smoke cleared, he stood completely unharmed, his expression hardened into something rarely seen outside of battle.

"What?!" Tao's shocked exclamation hung in the sudden silence, his mechanical eyes whirring as they struggled to process what had just happened.

From behind, Gohan heard Lemone's sharp intake of breath, followed by a soft, almost nervous laugh. "You're definitely going to have to tell me your training regimen," the older boy said, his attempt at humor barely masking his awe.

A corner of Gohan's mouth turned upward at Lemone's words. Though their earlier competitive tension had long since dissipated, he couldn't help but feel a small surge of satisfaction at the boy's reaction. That feeling only intensified when he glanced back at Cellera, finding her watching him with unwavering confidence. There wasn't a trace of doubt in her expression—only that quiet approval that somehow meant more to him than anyone else's.

"What... what happened?" Tao stammered, his cybernetic components clicking rapidly as if trying to recalibrate after witnessing something impossible.

"I happened," Gohan replied, his voice tense with controlled anger. Golden flames erupted around him, his aura flaring to life with pulsing intensity.

Lemone took a small step back, his eyes widening as the reality of what Gohan was became clear. Beside Cellera, Lime covered her mouth in shock, her earlier fear forgotten as she stared at the transformed boy.

"And you won't lay a hand on anyone else," Gohan continued, his normally gentle voice carrying a steel-like quality that matched the hardness in his teal eyes.

Lemone seized the momentary distraction to help his grandfather to safety, supporting the elderly man as they moved to stand near Cellera and Lime. All four watched as Gohan faced the notorious assassin alone, the contrast between the child's size and the palpable power emanating from him creating a surreal tableau.

"Cocky little kid!" General Tao's mechanical voice carried forced bravado as he gritted his teeth. His earlier confidence had evaporated entirely, though he attempted to mask his growing fear with aggression. "No matter, this will shut him up!"

He raised his blaster arm again, but something in Gohan's stance gave him pause. The assassin studied the boy's face intently, his mechanical eyes focusing and refocusing as if trying to recall something just beyond reach.

"Tell me, boy," Tao asked, a new wariness entering his voice, "what's your name?"

"It's Gohan," came the steady reply, that same hard edge remaining in his tone.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Relief flooded Tao's features, his entire body relaxing slightly. "For a moment there, I thought you might be someone named Goku."

Cellera couldn't help the slight chuckle that escaped her, the sound drawing a confused glance from Lemone. He clearly couldn't understand what about the situation warranted such a reaction, but the answer came in Gohan's next words.

"Close enough," Gohan replied, his stance not wavering an inch. "I'm his son."

The transformation in Tao's demeanor was immediate and absolute. The color drained from the visible portions of his face, and even through his mechanical goggles, raw terror was evident. The cybernetic components of his face seemed to twitch uncontrollably, as if the mere mention of Kakarot's connection had triggered a system-wide malfunction.

"What... what's wrong with you?" Mr. Bourbon demanded from the sidelines, his voice pitched higher with growing concern as he watched his mercenary's confidence crumble. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

Tao's fingers trembled visibly as he screwed his mechanical hand back into place. "I haven't," he managed to reply, his voice strained as he scratched nervously at the side of his head. "But you sure will if you fight that kid!"

The remaining confidence in his posture had vanished completely, replaced by a desperate need to escape. Without another word, Tao strode purposefully toward a nearby pine tree. With a single powerful kick to its base, he snapped the massive trunk clean through—a display of strength that would have impressed the villagers mere minutes ago but now seemed almost pathetic in comparison to what they had just witnessed from Gohan.

"I quit!" Tao announced to no one in particular, hoisting the tree trunk overhead in a practiced motion. He cast one final terrified glance at Gohan before leaping onto the improvised transportation and rocketing away, becoming a diminishing speck against the horizon.

Mr. Bourbon stood frozen in place, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the spot where his mercenary had disappeared. Around him, the villagers began to gather, their previous fear now replaced by mounting anger as they realized how thoroughly they had been manipulated.

"Look how brave they've become," Cellera observed with satisfaction, watching as several villagers began advancing on Mr. Bourbon with determined expressions. The man who had so casually dismissed their concerns and abandoned them at the first sign of danger now found himself facing the collective indignation of those he had exploited.

"Everyone's been too scared to stand up to Mr. Bourbon because of General Tao," Lemone explained, his voice carrying its own note of satisfaction as he helped his grandfather maintain his balance. "But now that Gohan's scared him off..."

"Let's beat the tar out of him!" one villager shouted, rallying others to join in the growing confrontation.

Cellera watched as the crowd's anger mounted, creating an atmosphere thick with the promise of retribution. But before anyone could act on their newfound courage, Mr. Bourbon scrambled across the ground on his hands and knees, his previous arrogance replaced by abject terror as he groveled at Gohan's feet.

"Please!" he begged, clutching desperately at Gohan's pant leg. "You have to protect me from these bloodthirsty villagers!"

Gohan planted his hands firmly on his hips, looking down at the cowering man with an expression that reminded Cellera strikingly of Chi-Chi's most disapproving maternal glare. "They're angry because you cheated them," he stated simply, the golden aura around him casting harsh shadows across Bourbon's face.

"And let's not forget," Cellera added, her voice sharp as winter frost, "you were the first one to abandon them when you thought Cell had actually arrived." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her voice dropping even further as she continued, "You were even willing to kill an innocent man and a child."

Mr. Bourbon flinched under the weight of her accusation, scrambling back a few steps as if her words had physical force behind them. For all his earlier bluster, he seemed to instinctively recognize something dangerous in the coldness of her tone—a threat far more sophisticated than the villagers' straightforward anger.

"I know, I know!" he whimpered, his voice cracking with desperation. "But I can make up for it! I'll do anything! Please!"

Cellera clicked her tongue in disgust. Not even an attempt at a proper apology—just more begging and empty promises.

A small smile spread across Gohan's face then, causing Mr. Bourbon's features to lift with fragile hope. That hope shattered instantly as Gohan raised his hand toward the shelter, golden energy beginning to gather in his palm.

Realizing what he intended, Cellera gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist, lowering his arm. The simple contact sent a small jolt through them both, causing Gohan to turn toward her with a questioning look.

"Allow me," she said, a familiar smirk playing at her lips as she raised her own hand toward the shelter. This would be the perfect test of her recovering abilities.

Energy gathered in her palm, condensing into a concentrated point of light that pulsed with controlled power. She narrowed her eyes slightly, focusing on maintaining precise control over the beam's trajectory and intensity. The blast shot forward with laser accuracy, cleaving the shelter horizontally in half along a perfectly straight line.

The top portion of the structure remained suspended for a breathless moment before slowly sliding sideways, the screech of twisting metal filling the air as it crashed to the ground in a cloud of dust and debris. When the dust settled, the shelter stood bisected—a perfect demonstration of surgical precision rather than raw destructive power.

Lemone stared at the scene with his jaw hanging open. If he had thought his attempts to impress Cellera earlier were misguided, they now seemed downright embarrassing in light of what he had witnessed. Not only had Gohan deflected a lethal energy blast with his bare hand, but he had deferred to Cellera—who had just sliced through reinforced concrete and steel as easily as they had split logs earlier.

What struck him most wasn't just their capabilities. It was the way Gohan had yielded to her touch without hesitation, the natural synchronization in their movements, how they communicated intentions through mere glances. That single interaction revealed more about their relationship than any display of power could.

As the dust settled around the half-destroyed shelter, Cellera studied her palm with a slight furrow in her brow. "That blast should have taken out the whole building," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.

"Cellera!" Gohan's voice broke through her self-critique, filled with such genuine excitement that she looked up in surprise. He had turned to face her fully, his earlier stern demeanor instantly replaced by boyish enthusiasm as he gently grasped her hands in his. "Your ki control—it's responding again!"

A smile spread across Cellera's features at his reaction, the expression lighting her face with rare warmth. The unbridled joy in his eyes at her progress somehow meant more than the achievement itself.

"Yes," she confirmed softly, the warmth in her eyes conveying far more than her words. "Something seems to have changed since our time in the plains yesterday." She glanced at the partially destroyed shelter with a slightly critical eye. "Though I'm still not at full strength yet."

Watching their exchange from a few steps away, Lemone observed with quiet fascination how Cellera's expression had transformed. He had seen her smile several times throughout the day—the polite ones she'd given during their earlier conversations about siblings, the proud one when she'd spoken of Gohan's intelligence, the amused one at his sister's antics. But this was different—broader and warmer than any she'd shown before, as if something had briefly lowered the guard she typically maintained.

He'd initially thought he might have a chance with the interesting, fierce girl he'd encountered in the forest. Now he could only smile at his own naivety. 

Gohan and Cellera seemed to become aware of their hands, still joined between them. They pulled apart quickly, as if the contact had suddenly burned them. Both looked away simultaneously, their faces gradually flushing with matching shades of pink. The synchronized nature of their embarrassment only emphasized the depth of their connection, making Lemone wonder how they could possibly be unaware of what seemed so obvious to everyone else.

"What have you done?!" Mr. Bourbon's anguished cry mercifully drew attention away from their moment as he stared at his ruined shelter. "Do you have any idea how much that cost to build?"

Cellera's eyes narrowed at his pathetic display. "If I could do this while not being at full strength," she stated with clear disdain, gesturing toward the cleanly sliced structure, "imagine what Cell would do to it."

Her words had an immediate effect on the gathered villagers. The righteous anger that had been building began to falter, replaced by renewed uncertainty as they were reminded of the threat that had driven them to seek Bourbon's protection in the first place. Murmurs spread through the crowd, fear once again rising in their expressions as they looked at the destroyed shelter—their one semblance of hope, no matter how false, now lying in ruins.

Cellera cringed slightly as she realized her words hadn't helped the situation as intended. She had meant to expose the futility of Bourbon's scheme, but instead had only reinforced the terror that had made the villagers vulnerable to manipulation in the first place.

She pressed her thumb to her lip, trying to formulate some way to address the crowd that might ease their fears without offering false reassurances. Motivational speeches weren't exactly her strength, especially when directed at civilians who couldn't possibly comprehend the true nature of the threat they faced. But before she could speak, Gohan stepped forward, facing the villagers directly. 

"I know you're scared," he began, his voice carrying a gentle certainty that instantly drew every eye to him. "Anyone would be. Cell is a real threat—not something that can be hidden from behind concrete walls or steel doors."

He paused, allowing his words to settle over the crowd before continuing. "But living in fear, giving up everything you have for a false sense of security—that's exactly what Cell wants. He feeds on fear and desperation."

Gohan's gaze swept across the gathered faces, making brief contact with each person as if addressing them individually.

"Cell's tournament is in days, not hours. You don't need to abandon your lives, your homes, your community right now. You need each other far more than you need shelters that can't possibly withstand what's coming."

A murmur spread through the crowd, but this time it carried notes of thoughtful consideration rather than fear. Gohan had managed to acknowledge the reality of their situation without feeding their terror—a delicate balance that Cellera had to admire.

"Whatever happens at the tournament," Gohan concluded, his voice carrying absolute conviction, "there's always hope. Someone will stand against Cell—perhaps many someones. And until then, the answer is never to let fear rule your choices or to trust those who profit from your panic."

A man near the front of the crowd nodded vigorously. "The boy's right! I heard the World Champion, Hercule Satan, is planning to enter the tournament. If anyone can beat Cell, it's him!"

Several voices rose in agreement, the mere mention of this Hercule individual seemingly bolstering their courage. Cellera caught Gohan's eye, noting his momentary confusion at their reaction. She'd seen advertisements featuring the bombastic champion during her time at Capsule Corporation but had never paid much attention to the man beyond noting his excessive volume and questionable fashion sense.

Lemone and Lime exchanged looks, the younger sibling's expression brightening with renewed hope. Their grandfather nodded in grave agreement, his weathered face reflecting the wisdom to recognize truth when he heard it. Around them, the villagers' terrified murmurs began to shift toward thoughtful consideration.

Cellera watched his impromptu speech with barely concealed amusement. He sounded exactly like those costumed heroes from the action movies she occasionally caught herself watching at Capsule Corp. Yet despite the almost theatrical quality of his words, she couldn't deny their effect—not just on the crowd, but on her as well. Even she found herself moved by his conviction, the unwavering belief that radiated from him like a physical force.

His infectious hope reminded her why they made such an effective team. Where she approached situations with realism and pragmatism that often bordered on blunt, Gohan balanced it with an optimism that somehow never felt naïve. It was a quality she had recognized in him from their earliest days together—that capacity to find hope in even the darkest circumstances, to believe in possibilities that others might dismiss.

It reminded her of their time on Namek, when she had found him calmly meditating despite the looming threats of her father, Frieza, and countless other dangers. His simple faith in Kakarot's arrival had allowed him to set aside fear that would have paralyzed others with less courage or conviction.

The crowd gradually dispersed, their anger toward Mr. Bourbon replaced by renewed determination to face whatever came together rather than apart. Some headed back to reclaim the homes they had abandoned, while others remained to discuss plans for mutual support in the days ahead.

Mr. Lao made his way toward them, moving with the careful dignity of someone managing pain without wishing to show it. Despite the visible cut on his cheek and the way he favored his left side, he offered them a deep, respectful bow.

"It seems I owe you another thanks," he said, his voice warm with heartfelt gratitude. "Not just for saving me, but our village as well."

"Lime!"

The bright, eager voice cut through the tension of the past several minutes, drawing everyone's attention. At the edge of the clearing stood a young girl with bouncing golden curls, her warm green eyes shining as she waved excitedly. Behind her, a small group of children had gathered, watching the scene with curious expressions, hesitantly emerging from whatever hiding places their parents had secured for them during the commotion.

Cellera watched as Lime froze in place, her entire body going rigid for a heartbeat before a transformation swept over her. The girl's eyes widened, sparkling with a joy so pure it was almost tangible. A grin spread across her face, erasing any trace of the earlier fear and tension.

"YUZU!" she cried, her voice carrying such unbridled happiness that it seemed to physically lift her as she bolted across the clearing.

She moved with the reckless abandon that only children can truly manage, launching herself at her friend with such enthusiasm that both girls tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter. The impact sent dust swirling around them, but neither seemed to notice or care. The other children quickly surrounded them, their voices rising in an excited chorus of greetings and questions, eager hands reaching to help both girls up only to be pulled into the growing pile of gleeful reunion.

Cellera felt the corner of her mouth lift in a small smile. Something about seeing Lime reunited with her friends after everything the village had endured struck a chord within her—a reminder of what they were truly fighting for. Not just the fate of the planet in abstract terms, but these specific moments of happiness that made life worth protecting. The children's laughter cut through the afternoon air like sunlight through clouds, making even Cell's looming shadow seem temporarily less absolute.

She glanced at Gohan beside her, noticing how his eyes had softened as he watched the scene. That gentle warmth that defined him, even when transformed into the fierce golden warrior of legend, shone through clearly now.

"It seems our work here is done," Cellera said, turning to face him fully. "We should head back now. It's already afternoon, and we need to return before your mother decides to hunt us both down."

The reminder of Chi-Chi's potential wrath brought a flash of alarm to Gohan's face, but it quickly resolved into a simple nod of agreement. 

"You'll probably be needing these back then." Lemone's voice drew their attention as he approached, carrying the shopping bags Cellera had carefully set aside before the confrontation. 

"Thanks," Gohan said, taking one of the bags while Cellera accepted the other.

Lemone's gaze moved between them both, something contemplative in his expression that hadn't been there earlier. "I've seen a lot of brave people in this village," he said, his voice carrying a new depth of sincerity, "but never anything like what you two just did."

A wry smile crossed his face as he extended his hand toward Gohan—a gesture that carried far more significance than the simple social nicety it appeared to be. It represented the complete evolution of their relationship, from the competitive tension of their first meeting to this moment of mutual respect.

Gohan accepted the handshake without hesitation, his own smile reflecting the shared understanding that had developed between them over the course of just one eventful morning. What had begun as rivalry had transformed into something approaching friendship.

"After seeing you two in action..." Lemone continued, his voice carrying unmistakable admiration as his gaze moved from Gohan to Cellera and back again. "I have to say, your siblings must be the most protected kids in the world."

He paused, that wry smile deepening slightly as he added, "And here I thought I was doing well showing off my wood-chopping skills. I should have known I was outmatched from the start."

There was something in his tone, a subtle layer of meaning beneath the self-deprecating humor that suggested he wasn't talking about combat abilities alone. His eyes flickered briefly between them with knowing amusement, as if privy to a secret the two warriors themselves hadn't yet realized.

Gohan's brow furrowed slightly, not quite catching Lemone's drift. "Your wood-chopping technique is still really impressive," he offered earnestly. "Especially for someone without..."

He trailed off, realizing he'd nearly mentioned Saiyan strength in front of an audience of very attentive villagers.

Cellera, equally oblivious to Lemone's actual meaning, nodded in agreement. "Your skill with the axe shows considerable dedication. That kind of precision only comes through committed practice."

Lemone's smile shifted into something more amused as he looked between them. For all their incredible powers and battle awareness, the pair before him seemed completely blind to what was so obvious to him—and probably to anyone else who spent more than ten minutes in their company.

"Right," he said, barely suppressing a chuckle. "My axe skills. That's definitely what I was talking about."

Mr. Lao approached them, placing a weathered hand on his grandson's shoulder. An understanding passed between them as the elderly shopkeeper glanced at Gohan and Cellera, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the same knowing amusement his grandson had displayed.

"You should get going if you want to make it back on time," Mr. Lao said, offering them a respectful bow. "And I believe we have a village to rebuild."

The activity around them continued as the remaining villagers worked to restore some sense of normalcy. Through it all, the sound of children's laughter provided a hopeful soundtrack—a reminder of why their work mattered.

Mr. Lao studied them for a moment, his keen eyes seeming to look beyond their youthful appearances. "You're going to face him, aren't you?" he asked quietly. "Cell."

The directness of the question caught them both by surprise. Gohan glanced at Cellera, uncertain how much they should reveal.

"We'll be at the tournament," Cellera confirmed simply, neither confirming nor denying their direct participation.

Mr. Lao nodded, understanding the deliberate ambiguity of her response. "Then I wish you luck," he said, his voice carrying a gravity that hadn't been present before. "What you did here today was impressive, but Cell..." He trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished.

Lemone stepped forward, his earlier caution replaced by earnest sincerity. "Show him what you showed us," he said, his eyes moving between them. "And make him regret ever threatening our planet."

"We'll do our best," Gohan promised with a nod, returning the bow to Mr. Lao.

Lime broke away from her friends, rushing over to stand beside her brother and grandfather. "Beat him up good!" she added with the uncomplicated conviction only a child could manage, punching the air with small fists for emphasis.

The trio standing before them—grandfather, grandson, and granddaughter—represented everything they were fighting for: family, community, future. The reminder added fresh resolve to Gohan's determination as he adjusted his grip on the shopping bag.

With final farewells exchanged, Gohan and Cellera took to the skies, the shopping bags secure in their grip as they soared above the village. From this height, they could see the entire settlement below—the villagers returning to their homes, the split shelter standing as a stark reminder of what had transpired, and the children playing near the edge of the forest. Despite the destruction and revelations, there was a renewed sense of purpose visible even from above.

"That went well," Gohan commented as they gained altitude, his golden aura creating a bright contrast against the afternoon sky.

Cellera raised an eyebrow at him. "If by 'well' you mean we destroyed half a shelter, exposed a fraudulent scheme, and revealed our abilities to an entire village, then yes, I suppose it did."

"That speech you gave was quite something too," she added, a hint of amusement coloring her tone. "You sounded just like one of those costumed heroes from the action movies Bulma watches."

Color rushed to Gohan's cheeks. "You really think so?"

"Oh yes." Her smirk widened as childhood memories surfaced. "In fact, it reminded me of the universe's most powerful Saiyan good guy."

"That was five years ago!" Gohan protested, his blush deepening. "And I thought we agreed never to bring that up again!"

"Of course, of course." Cellera's voice carried mock seriousness. "Though I must say, your speech about hope and standing together did have a certain... heroic flair to it."

"Cellera!"

She laughed then—a unreserved, unrestrained sound that made Gohan momentarily forget his embarrassment. It wasn't often that Cellera let her guard down so completely, and something about being the cause of that rare moment of pure joy made his earlier mortification worth it.

"I can see it now," she continued, picking up speed as she flew. "The great Saiyaman, defender of Earth!"

"Let it go!" Gohan called after her, giving chase. "I was five!"

Her laughter carried back to him on the wind as she pulled further ahead. Watching her silhouette against the afternoon sun, Gohan couldn't help but smile. If enduring a little teasing about his childhood superhero phase was what it took to hear Cellera laugh like that, well... maybe he could live with it.

Chapter 29: Chapter 28- Happy Birthday Gohan

Notes:

I MEANT TO EDIT THIS IN TIME FOR GOHAN'S BIRTHDAY YESTERDAY AND I FAILED....
Happy birthday to Goheezy, my best boy, my GOAT!!

Also, chapter 29 is another long one that needs revisions along with future chapters, this will probably be the last chapter for a little bit again, but I wanted to get this out in honor for Gohan's birthday!

By the time Gohan and Cellera made it back to Mount Paozu, mid-afternoon sunlight was streaming through the windows, casting long golden rectangles across the wooden floor. The supplies for Gohan's birthday party, hard-won from their adventure in Chazke Village, were carefully packed in the shopping bags they carried.

As they stepped through the door, the sound of water running filled the home. Chi-Chi stood at the sink, scrubbing away at a mountain of dishes that Cellera assumed must have accumulated from Kakarot and Krillin's breakfast. Upon hearing their entrance, Chi-Chi whirled around, quickly drying her hands on her apron before planting them firmly on her hips.

"What took you two so long?" Chi-Chi demanded, her tone blending maternal concern with unmistakable authority. "I was starting to think something had happened! I was just about to send Goku out looking for you!"

From his seat at the table, Kakarot looked up briefly, offering a casual wave before returning his attention to the plate before him. Beside him, Krillin's curious gaze shifted between the newcomers, clearly eager to hear about their extended absence.

Cellera set her shopping bag down carefully on the counter, mindful of its contents. "The first three villages we tried were completely abandoned," she explained, keeping her tone measured despite the exhaustion that tugged at her. "We finally found supplies in the fourth, but then..." She glanced sideways at Gohan, who had placed his own bag next to hers.

Gohan scratched his cheek sheepishly, a gesture so characteristic of him that Cellera found herself fighting a small smile despite her weariness. "We got a bit sidetracked," he finished, his tone suggesting this was quite the understatement.

Krillin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his eyebrows rose with undisguised interest. "Sidetracked? What exactly does that mean?"

As they took their seats at the table, Chi-Chi placed glasses of water before them, the concerned furrow of her brow softening slightly now that they were safely home. While Cellera began explaining about the ghost towns they'd encountered—villages emptied by fear of Cell's announcement—she caught a silent exchange between mother and son. Something in Chi-Chi's expression made Gohan duck his head momentarily before quickly redirecting his attention back to their story.

Their account of the morning's events unfolded naturally between them, each picking up precisely where the other left off without hesitation or overlap. Cellera detailed their initial discovery of Lime dangling precariously from a branch, while Gohan described his rescue and the girl's indignant reaction. The rhythm of their shared storytelling carried a fluidity born from years of friendship, something Krillin observed with quiet interest as his eyes darted between them.

"So this Lemone guy and his sister led you to their grandfather's store?" Krillin asked, clearly trying to piece together the sequence of events.

"Yes," Cellera confirmed with a slight nod. "Without their guidance, we might have spent hours searching. Most of the region was deserted."

"Their grandfather runs the only shop still open in Chazke Village," Gohan added, his expression growing more somber. "Most people fled after Cell attacked there."

Gohan's gaze drifted to his plate as Cellera continued describing her conversation with Lemone. The same hollow feeling he'd experienced in the forest crept back into his stomach.

Krillin's expression turned thoughtful as he rested his chin on his hand. "Man, the poor kid. Sounds like he had a lot of responsibilities for someone so young."

"He did," Cellera agreed. "Taking care of his sister, helping at his grandfather's store." Her voice carried a hint of respect. "We talked about what it's like being an older sibling. He understood the constant need to calculate risks, even for simple things."

As Cellera spoke, Krillin couldn't help but notice the subtle change in Gohan. The boy's shoulders had tensed slightly, his fingers tightening around his glass while his gaze remained fixed downward. Anyone else might have missed these quiet signals, but he’s known Gohan since he was 4 years old, Krillin had grown adept at reading the usually expressive child.

Something in Cellera's tone when discussing Lemone had clearly struck a nerve with Gohan. Krillin suppressed a sly smile. It seems like the green eyed monster can even effect Gohan. . He'd watched these two grow increasingly self-conscious around each other over recent months – the sudden blushes, the lingering glances when they thought no one was looking.

Something in Cellera's tone when discussing Lemone had clearly struck a nerve with Gohan. Krillin suppressed a sly smile as he watched the usually collected boy fidget with his glass. So even Gohan wasn't immune to jealousy. After everything the kid has been through, it was another boy's attention toward Cellera that finally cracked his composure.

The most amusing part was Cellera herself - the same girl who had so easily read Krillin's growing feelings for Android 18 with those sharp eyes that made him want to sink into the floor. She could decode complex battle strategies and spot emotional vulnerabilities in others with uncanny accuracy, yet remained completely blind to Gohan's obvious reactions whenever another boy showed interest in her. He'd watched these two grow increasingly self-conscious around each other recently– the sudden blushes, the lingering glances when they thought no one was looking – while both remained utterly clueless about what everyone else could plainly see.

"You know," Krillin said with a speculative look, his eyes deliberately shifting between Gohan and Cellera, "that Lemone kid seemed pretty interested in you."

Gohan's head snapped up from his plate, his attention suddenly razor-sharp. At the same time, Cellera straightened in her chair, blinking in surprise.

"What? No, I don't think—" she began, her usual composure momentarily faltering.

The word 'interested' echoed in Gohan's mind, bringing all his confusing feelings throughout the day into sudden, crystal clarity. The strange discomfort he'd felt throughout their encounter with Lemone, the satisfaction when Cellera had praised him instead, the hollow feeling in his chest when they'd connected over being older siblings – they all suddenly made perfect sense.

He'd been jealous.

The realization hit him with the force of one of his father's punches. His emotions surged unexpectedly, power flaring within him before he could control it. The water glass in his hand shattered, sending fragments scattering across the table as water splashed in all directions, halting all conversation.

"Gohan!" Chi-Chi exclaimed, startled by the sudden noise.

Cellera's eyes widened slightly, immediately noticing the spike in his energy – something that rarely happened unless he was angry. She studied his reddening face with confusion, unable to connect his reaction with their current discussion.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concern coloring her tone as she glanced at his hand for potential cuts from the broken glass.

Gohan's face flushed an even deeper shade of red as he stared down at the shattered remains of his glass.

"I'm fine," he managed, his voice sounding strained. "Just... lost control for a second."

Cellera frowned slightly, her observant eyes cataloging this latest peculiarity in his behavior. First the unusual competitiveness with Lemone this morning, then the showing off during wood-chopping, and now this unexpected loss of control over his ki. In all their years together, she'd rarely seen Gohan struggle with energy regulation outside of extreme emotional situations. Even during their most intense training sessions, his control typically remained impeccable.

Her mind worked through possible explanations, turning over each detail of the day's events. The timing seemed significant – the loss of control had occurred precisely when Krillin mentioned Lemone's interest in her. But why would that trigger such a response? The tension between the boys had dissipated by the time they'd left the village, with Lemone even expressing admiration for Gohan's abilities.

Unless...

The thought forming in her mind was interrupted by Kakarot's cheerful voice. "Man, again?" He picked up his own glass, continuing with a note of fatherly guidance, "Gohan, you have to learn to control it—"

His sentence remained unfinished as his own glass shattered in his grip, water spraying across the already soaked tablecloth. Droplets splashed onto Cellera's face, breaking her concentration completely as she blinked in surprise.

Chi-Chi's shoulders began to shake before she spun around, hands planted firmly on her hips. "Not another one! This has got to stop!" she exclaimed, exasperation evident in every syllable. "We've already gone through two sets of dishes and we're on our third table!"

The immediate domestic crisis of shattered glassware and Chi-Chi's mounting frustration demanded everyone's attention, her half-formed theory about Gohan's behavior momentarily forgotten.

As Chi-Chi marched both father and son away from the table to inspect their hands for glass, Gohan stole glances at Cellera who was dabbing at the water with a napkin, wearing that same concentrated expression she had when tackling complex problems. Something about that simple, everyday action accelerated his pulse. How had he never noticed before?

Jealousy.  

The word settled in his mind with surprising weight. That's what he'd been feeling – not concern about their mission, not just protective instincts, but genuine jealousy. The same feeling that had driven him to show off his leap across the gap, that had made him want to prove his wood-chopping abilities. The kind that made his ki flare without warning at the thought of someone else making Cellera laugh, someone else understanding parts of her life that he couldn't share.

"Gohan?" His mother's voice cut through his thoughts. "I asked if you cut yourself."

"No," he replied quickly, returning his attention to the present moment. "No cuts."

He could sense Cellera studying him intently, her scrutinizing gaze attempting to decipher his unusual behavior. For the first time in their long friendship, he found himself hoping she wouldn't figure this particular puzzle out – at least not until he understood it better himself.

Watching the scene unfold, Cellera couldn't quite suppress her smile. For all Chi-Chi's stern words, her gentle examination of their hands revealed the concern beneath her anger. It reminded Cellera of similar moments with Bulma and her father - that particular blend of exasperation and care that seemed unique to their unusual families.

"I swear," Chi-Chi grumbled as she carefully turned Gohan's hands over, checking for tiny glass fragments while doing the same to Kakarot, "is it too much to ask to have one meal where we don't smash glasses or bend silverware?" She shot her husband a pointed look, referencing incidents that clearly predated today's mishap.

Kakarot averted his gaze to the ground. "No, sorry, Chi-Chi."

"Maybe we should use paper cups and plates?" Gohan suggested hesitantly, his voice carrying that cautious tone he often adopted when offering solutions to his mother's domestic frustrations.

Chi-Chi's laughter rang out unexpectedly, the sound startling both Saiyans. "You must get your sense of humor from me!"

Cellera pressed her lips together, holding back the observation that Gohan's suggestion had actually been perfectly logical and would likely save Chi-Chi considerable stress in the long run. Growing up with Kakarot and now hosting the Super Saiyan version of both father and son, disposable dishware seemed less humor and more practical necessity. But given the woman's current mood and clear dismissal of the idea, now didn't seem the time to advocate for it.

Chi-Chi sighed heavily as she finished her inspection, apparently satisfied that neither father nor son had embedded glass in their skin. She stepped back, studying the pair with the wary expression of someone who had learned through hard experience to expect the unexpected.

"I still need to set up for the party," she said, hands finding their way back to her hips in that characteristic pose of maternal authority, "but how can I trust you two not to break anything else until then?"

Her gaze swept the kitchen—puddles expanding across the floor, glass fragments glittering on the table like tiny hazardous stars, water stains darkening the tablecloth. Though exasperation creased her features, resignation softened her expression, suggesting this was merely the latest chapter in an ongoing saga of Saiyan-related domestic mishaps.

Kakarot folded his arms, looking upward in thought before his face brightened with sudden inspiration. "I know! I'll go fishing - that way you can set up without worrying!"

"I'll come too!" Krillin stood from the table, already envisioning a peaceful afternoon by the water.

"I'll join you as well," Cellera added, her tone measured compared to the men's enthusiasm. Though she didn't share their passion for the actual fishing, the tranquil riverside setting offered a perfect environment for working on her expert-level sudoku puzzles or catching up on reading - simple pleasures that had become increasingly precious as Cell's tournament loomed closer.

Gohan brightened immediately, rising from his seat. "I'll grab my rod-"

"Not so fast, young man." Chi-Chi's voice cut through his excitement like a blade. "You've fallen behind on your studies since training with your father. You can join them after you've finished."

Cellera watched as Gohan's expression fell, his shoulders slumping slightly. "But Mom, it's my birthday," he tried, employing that pleading tone that occasionally worked on his mother. "Couldn't I just do my studies later?"

Chi-Chi remained unmoved, her arms crossing firmly across her chest. "Birthday or not, your education comes first. You've had months of nothing but training - a few hours of catching up won't hurt you."

The resignation settling across Gohan's features spoke of a battle long-since accepted as unwinnable. But before he could verbally concede, Kakarot stepped forward, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, and spoke words that no one in the room ever expected to hear from him.

"Your mother is right," Kakarot said, his hand steady on Gohan's shoulder. "It would be best if you finished your studies."

The statement landed like a bomb in the middle of the kitchen. For a moment, complete silence reigned as everyone struggled to process what they'd just heard. Then, chaos erupted.

Chi-Chi's reaction was nearly a scream, her hands flying to her cheeks in shock. Krillin actually stumbled backward, catching himself on the edge of the table. Even Cellera's carefully maintained composure cracked completely, her mouth dropping open as she stared at Kakarot.

She had always thought her father would sooner publicly declare his feelings for Bulma than anyone would witness Kakarot prioritizing studying over anything else - yet here she stood, proven wrong on both counts. The cognitive dissonance was so extreme that for a moment she wondered if she'd somehow misheard him.

Kakarot blinked at their stunned expressions, confusion evident on his face. "What? What did I do?"

"You don't know?" Krillin asked incredulously, gesturing wildly with his hands.

"Are you serious, Dad?" Gohan chimed in, staring at his father as if he'd grown a second head.

"Are you feeling alright, Kakarot?!" Cellera's voice carried genuine concern, her brow furrowing as she studied him for signs of illness or possession.

Chi-Chi rushed forward like a woman possessed, thermometer already in hand. "You must be sick!" She thrust the thermometer into his mouth while pressing her palm against his forehead, her movements frantic with maternal worry. After a moment, she pulled back with a puzzled frown. "Well, you feel normal..."

Kakarot shrugged awkwardly, removing the thermometer from his mouth. "I am fine," he assured them, though his bewildered expression suggested he still had no idea what had prompted their extreme reactions. For a moment, he looked like he might question them further, but instead seemed to decide it wasn't worth pursuing.

He made his way toward the door, a still-stunned Krillin following close behind. They paused in the doorway, turning back when they realized Cellera hadn't moved to join them.

"Aren't you coming?" Krillin asked, his eyebrows raised in question.

Cellera glanced back at Gohan, catching that crestfallen expression he was trying so hard to hide. A distinct pressure built behind her sternum at the thought of leaving him behind on his birthday of all days. She found herself facing an undeniable truth - she didn't want to go without him. The pull to remain surprised her with its intensity - a reaction she couldn't recall experiencing outside of battle situations.

She shook her head, decision made. "You two go on ahead. I'll stay and make sure Gohan finishes his studies so we can join you later."

Krillin's knowing look seemed to pierce right through her carefully maintained façade, as if he could read every unspoken thought behind her decision. The slight quirk of his lips suggested he was holding back a comment that would have undoubtedly left her flustered. But before he could say anything, Kakarot's cheerful voice broke the moment.

"See you later then!" he called out with a characteristic wave as they departed, the door closing behind them with a soft click.

As the door closed, Cellera turned to find Gohan watching her, his expression noticeably brighter than moments before. The simple transformation in his demeanor—from resigned disappointment to quiet joy—sent an increasingly familiar warmth spreading through her chest. The intensity of his gaze, filled with gratitude she hadn't anticipated, made her inexplicably self-conscious.

She glanced away, unsure why a straightforward decision to remain with her friend suddenly felt so significant. When had such a simple choice—staying behind to help Gohan with his studies—become something that made her pulse quicken slightly? It was perfectly reasonable that she wouldn't want to leave her best friend confined to coursework on his birthday. That explanation should have been sufficient, yet some instinct told her there was more to her decision than mere friendship.

The feeling wasn't entirely unfamiliar. She'd experienced similar sensations during their time at Chazke Village and earlier on The Lookout when he'd emerged from the Room of Spirit and Time. These moments of inexplicable awareness had been increasing in frequency lately, and she couldn't easily dismiss them as coincidence.

Gohan didn't linger in the kitchen, instead making his way to the living room, presumably to complete his assignments quickly so they could join the others. His departure gave her a welcome moment to collect herself. She stood motionless, pressing her thumb to her lip as she attempted to organize the conflicting emotions that seemed to arise with increasing regularity whenever Gohan was involved.

Why did his presence—something that had once been as comfortable as her own shadow—suddenly make her hyperaware of herself? What had changed between them? She was still processing Krillin's comment about Lemone's interest in her, still trying to understand why that had triggered such an unusual reaction from Gohan. The puzzle pieces refused to form a coherent picture, leaving her frustrated by her inability to analyze the situation effectively.

"Cellera?"

Chi-Chi's voice cut through her contemplation, startling her back to the present. Cellera quickly lowered her hand from her face, turning to find Gohan's mother studying her with a concerned expression.

"Is everything alright?" Chi-Chi asked, her head tilting slightly as she took in Cellera's distracted state.

Quickly mastering her expression, Cellera nodded. "I'm fine," she assured her. "Just lost in thought."

Chi-Chi studied her for a moment longer, eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing there was more to the story. Eventually, her expression softened into a smile that somehow reminded Cellera of the knowing looks Bulma sometimes gave her.

"Would you mind helping me clean up this mess?" Chi-Chi asked, gesturing toward the broken glass and water still scattered across the table and floor. "Those boys can certainly create chaos in record time."

"Of course," Cellera replied, grateful for the distraction.

As she joined Chi-Chi in collecting the larger glass fragments, Cellera reminded herself that she was supposed to be taking a step back—focusing on her recovery rather than adding to her confusion. Whatever these peculiar feelings were, she could examine them later. Today was about making Gohan's birthday special, not distracting herself with emotions she couldn't categorize.

Still, as she glanced toward the living room where Gohan had disappeared, she couldn't help but wonder if these feelings might be connected to her combat instincts somehow. After all, both seemed equally confusing and increasingly difficult to control.

After helping Chi-Chi clean up the broken glass, Cellera found Gohan on the couch, a workbook balanced in his lap as he stared distractedly out the window. At this rate, he'd never make it to fishing with Kakarot.

Finally noticing her presence, he paused in his absent gazing. "You didn't have to stay behind because of me."

"And leave the Scholar behind on his birthday?" she replied with a casual shrug, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes when his expression instantly lightened at the familiar nickname. Despite his words, the relief in his features made it clear he was genuinely glad she hadn't left with the others.

As she settled beside him on the couch, Cellera noticed how the cushion dipped more under his weight than it had when they last sat here together. His shoulders were broader, too, taking up more space than before. At one point in time, they'd sat next to each other as equals in size; now she was acutely aware of how he'd outgrown her during their time in the chamber. She adjusted her position slightly, finding a comfortable distance that accommodated his new frame.

Gohan passed her one of the many books she'd left at his house over the years - a gesture that had become as natural as breathing between them. This particular volume was an advanced theoretical physics text that examined principles of motion and energy transfer, equations that Cellera had occasionally referenced when refining her combat techniques.

She gingerly took the book from his hands, their fingers brushing lightly against each other. A small jolt of awareness coursed through her at the contact—unexpected and strangely intense. She noticed Gohan's posture stiffening slightly, his pencil pausing mid-equation, and found herself wondering if he had experienced that same peculiar sensation.

Pushing these distracting thoughts aside, Cellera focused on her book, finding comfort in the predictable logic of equations. Unlike the confusing emotions she'd been experiencing lately, these formulas offered concrete answers—clear and reassuringly quantifiable.

They fell into comfortable silence, broken only by Chi-Chi's occasional bustling in the kitchen and the steady scratch of Gohan's pencil.

After about thirty minutes of reading, a yawn threatened to escape as Cellera struggled to stay alert. The combination of her late night preparing Gohan's gift and their adventure in Chazke Village had finally caught up with her. Her eyelids grew heavy, the neat rows of equations blurring as her focus wavered.

Meanwhile, Gohan's attention had long since drifted from his studies. He had resigned himself to missing the fishing trip with his father and Krillin – a small sacrifice that somehow didn't bother him as much as it should have. Instead, his thoughts kept circling back to his earlier reaction to Lemone and the jealousy that had surged through him so unexpectedly at the kitchen table.

He now understood what he had felt was jealousy, but the why of it still puzzled him. What about Lemone specifically had triggered such an intense reaction? He'd never felt this way about Cellera's other friendships before. But watching her connect with Lemone, seeing how easily they understood certain aspects of each other's lives, had created a hollow feeling in his chest that still lingered hours later.

His internal questioning halted abruptly as he felt a slight weight settle against his shoulder. Glancing over, his eyes widened in surprise. Cellera had fallen asleep, her book still open in her lap. Her head had settled against the crook of his arm, her usually alert expression completely relaxed in slumber.

Gohan froze, hardly daring to breathe. Though they'd had moments of closeness before—like when her hand had interlocked with his to pull it away from baby Trunks' grasp, or when she'd bumped her fist against his chest before he entered the Room of Spirit and Time with that quiet "I promise"  before they parted—this was different. Even when he'd taken her hand to uncurl her fingers from her mother's pendant, the contact had been purposeful, the moment fleeting. This unguarded proximity, her weight leaning trustingly against him, represented something entirely new between them.

Yet here she was, completely unguarded, her defenses lowered entirely in sleep. The realization that she felt comfortable enough to drift off beside him sent a flutter through his stomach that was both exciting and terrifying.

He remained perfectly still, afraid that any movement might wake her. Without her usual guarded expression, she looked different somehow. He'd never had the opportunity to study her features so closely before—the way her dark eyelashes rested against her cheeks, how the perpetual slight furrow between her brows had smoothed away completely, the soft rhythm of her breathing. Her pendant—the one she never removed that had belonged to her mother—caught the afternoon light filtering through the window, casting tiny reflections across her face. The sight of her so peaceful, so trusting, made his heart beat in that strange, uneven pattern that had become increasingly familiar whenever she was near.

The afternoon sun cast warm strips of light across the room as Gohan continued working, his movements deliberately gentle to avoid waking her. Gradually, his own exhaustion from their morning adventure began to creep in. His eyes grew heavy as he fought to focus on the equations before him. Just a few more problems...

His head dipped once, twice, before finally coming to rest atop hers. The workbook slipped forgotten from his lap as both children drifted deeper into sleep, peaceful expressions mirrored on their faces.

And that's how Chi-Chi found them later - her son and the Saiyan princess sound asleep on the couch, textbooks scattered around them, completely oblivious to the smile that crossed her face as she quietly draped a blanket over them both.

-

Neither of them had made it fishing with Kakarot and Krillin. Cellera blinked bleary eyes as consciousness returned, registering the unexpected weight of a blanket draped over her. Instead of the crick in her neck she'd been anticipating, her head rested at a surprisingly comfortable angle against... Her eyes flew wide as realization struck - she'd been nestled against Gohan, using him as an impromptu pillow, while his head had come to rest gently atop her own, his golden Super Saiyan hair having reverted to its natural black during sleep.

Alarm shot through her and she jerked upright, completely forgetting how close they were. Her head smacked against Gohan's chin, jolting him awake with a surprised "Ow!" that echoed her own startled cry of pain. While Gohan rubbed his chin and she touched the tender spot on her head, a hot wave of embarrassment washed over her, burning from her neck to her hairline. The evidence was undeniable - she had fallen asleep against him first... but why hadn't he simply moved her away? Or at least woken her up?

Her thoughts raced in disbelieving circles. This made no sense - she was trained to notice an enemy's breathing change from across a battlefield, yet somehow she'd completely dropped her guard, not only falling asleep mid-afternoon but actually using Gohan as support. The strangest part wasn't just falling asleep - it was how deeply she must have slept. Such total vulnerability was something she only permitted at Capsule Corp, surrounded by security systems and her father's protective presence. When had her subconscious decided that Gohan offered the same safety? And why didn't that realization frighten her more than it did?

Their eyes met, and time seemed to stretch between them, the silence growing until it felt almost solid. Her pulse quickened in a pattern she didn't recognize - not the steady drumbeat before battle or the sharp spike of danger, but something that made her skin feel too warm despite the room's comfortable temperature. This sensation made no sense - they sat safely in the Son household with nothing threatening them. Finding herself unable to withstand either the tension or her body's bewildering reactions, Cellera broke first. She practically leapt to her feet, stumbling over half-formed words about helping in the kitchen. Gohan seemed equally affected, suddenly fascinated with retrieving his workbook from the floor, mumbling something about unfinished assignments.

Cellera practically fled to the kitchen, where she found herself impressed by how much Chi-Chi had accomplished during their impromptu nap. Streamers adorned every corner, and the amount of food being prepared was staggering - though with three Saiyans to feed, the spread made perfect sense.

"Is there anything I can help with?" she asked, hoping her cheeks had cooled to their normal color.

"Could you wash the rice?"

Grateful for the task, Cellera focused intently on the familiar motions, trying not to think about how naturally she'd found comfort against him despite his newly developed frame. She nearly jumped at the gentle pat on her shoulder.

"You know," Chi-Chi said softly, her eyes kind but perceptive, "I used to fall asleep on Ox King's shoulders when I was about your age. There's something very comforting about being near someone you trust completely."

Cellera's hands stilled on the rice, unsure how to respond to this unexpected comment. But Chi-Chi just gave her another gentle pat before returning to her cooking, humming softly as if she hadn't just said something that made Cellera's heart race all over again.

Her attempt at distraction proved futile as Chi-Chi launched into stories about Gohan's childhood - though Cellera could hardly blame her enthusiasm given the occasion.

"And that's how we settled on 'Gohan,'" Chi-Chi concluded as she put the finishing touches on an elaborate birthday cake.

Cellera thought Gohan had definitely been spared, considering the alternatives. Between "Einstein" - Chi-Chi's scholarly ambitions showing through even then - and "Ox-junior," his grandfather's well-meaning but questionable contribution, his actual name seemed almost mundane in comparison.

The door opened as Krillin and Kakarot returned, the Ox-King trailing behind them with an armful of gifts. Gohan made his way to the kitchen to join them, greeting his grandfather and welcoming his father home.

"We were waiting for you two," Kakarot said. "But you never showed up."

Gohan scratched his head, a nervous laugh escaping him. "Time just got away from us with all the studying."

Cellera thought to herself it wasn't a complete lie - they definitely had lost track of time, just not quite in the way Gohan implied. While Kakarot accepted the explanation with characteristic ease, she caught Krillin raising an eyebrow in her direction. She deliberately avoided his gaze, suddenly finding the kitchen ceiling fascinating.

Everyone settled around the dining table, which had been transformed during their absence. Dishes covered every available surface - steaming bowls of rice that released clouds of fragrant vapor, platters of glazed meat glistening under the light, and vegetables arranged in colorful, artful patterns. At the center stood an elegant white cake, its frosting sculpted into delicate peaks and swirls, topped with glistening sugar crystals that caught the light like tiny diamonds. Chi-Chi dimmed the lights, leaving only the warm golden glow of birthday candles illuminating their faces, creating a circle of intimate warmth in the darkened room.

"Everything looks amazing, Chichi!" 

“That cake looks delicious!”

“Wow, thanks mom!”

The men praised.

Chi-Chi smiled warmly. "I had help," she said, nodding toward Cellera. "She's quite capable in the kitchen."

Cellera returned their thanks with an awkward smile, the domestic compliment still feeling foreign compared to her usual accolades about battle prowess, even if she had received more of the former variety since her time on Earth.

"Just wait until you see what I brought!" The Ox-King announced excitedly, gesturing toward the impressive pile of presents.

"Dad!" Chi-Chi scolded gently. "Cake first." She turned to her son with motherly warmth. "Go on, Gohan."

"Make a wish first!" Krillin called out.

Cellera watched the ritual with quiet curiosity. She'd read about this birthday tradition, though it seemed oddly redundant given the existence of Dragon Balls. Still, she kept her thoughts to herself, not wanting to disrupt the moment.

Gohan closed his eyes in concentration before releasing the gentlest puff of breath imaginable. Cellera felt relief wash over her as the candles extinguished safely - after their earlier incidents with broken glasses, an uncontrolled Super Saiyan breath could have proven catastrophic for more than just the cake.

Chi-Chi began distributing cake slices around the table. Cellera noticed her piece held a generous portion of strawberries, and she happily went for the fruit first before the cake itself.

She caught another silent exchange between Gohan and his mother - like the one she'd noticed earlier - before Chi-Chi announced, "We have one more person's birthday to celebrate."

Cellera furrowed her brows in confusion. No one else at the table shared a birthday with Gohan. But then Chi-Chi set a familiar sight before her - strawberry shortcake. Not just any shortcake, but the specific one from that small bakery Mrs. Brief frequented, the one dessert that could make Cellera's carefully maintained composure crumble.

She stared at it, perplexed. She'd guarded this weakness carefully, not even telling Gohan about it. Then she caught his expression - slightly guilty but unmistakably pleased with himself as he laughed awkwardly, scratching his neck.

"How did you figure it out?" she asked, impressed despite herself.

"Mrs. Brief told me," he admitted. "That day you had me take Bulma and Trunks home while you chased after Dr. Gero."

Of course - Mrs. Brief, for all her good intentions, never could resist sharing what she considered harmless information.

"This is supposed to be your birthday," Cellera said softly, her gaze moving between the familiar dessert and Gohan's face.

He shrugged, nervousness giving way to evident joy at her surprise. "We haven't celebrated yours these past three years. Why not do it now? Together?"

Something bloomed inside her chest - not the prickling heat of embarrassment, but a gentler sensation that reminded her of rare moments with Bulma, when the woman would include her in family traditions as if she had always belonged there, even before her father and Bulma had become... whatever they currently were. But this felt different somehow - smaller yet more intense, like a concentrated version of that belonging.

"Don't worry," Gohan added with a grin, "no one's going to sing."

Cellera couldn't help but laugh, remembering their conversation years ago at Kame House during Turtle's birthday celebration, when she'd confessed how awkward group singing made her feel.

As their laughter faded, she caught Gohan watching her with an expression she couldn't quite place - something between happiness and something deeper that made her feel strangely self-conscious. When their gazes connected, he quickly found the tablecloth fascinating, a light pink dusting his cheeks as he suddenly became very interested in rearranging the silverware next to his plate.

"Oh yeah," Krillin chimed in, breaking the moment, "didn't Bulma want to throw you some grand party before this whole saving-the-future business started?"

Cellera nodded, recalling how disappointed Bulma had been about canceling her elaborate plans. Though privately, Cellera had been perfectly content with the simple gift she'd received instead - the blue ribbon that had become an essential part of her battle attire.

Chichi's voice rang from behind her as she stuck a single candle into the shortcake. "While we'll forget the singing, you most definitely have to make a birthday wish."

"No escaping this tradition!" Kakarot chimed in, agreeing with his wife.

Chi-Chi lit the candle, and despite Cellera's earlier thoughts about the redundancy of birthday wishes, she found herself drawn into the moment. She stared at the single lit flame, and one wish came across her mind... that what she had made for herself here - a home, a family, people to care for and who cared for her in return - wouldn't come to an end. With that thought, she blew out the candle. While she knew it wasn't the Dragon Balls, she had full hope that this wish would be granted.

As the others gave a quick cheer, Cellera picked up her fork and began to eat the shortcake. Gohan watched as she took the first bite, and though she tried to maintain her usual composed expression, he caught the subtle change - the way the corners of her eyes softened, how they lit up with the same intensity they got when she solved a particularly challenging problem. She quickly began to devour the rest of the cake, though still mindful enough of his mother's presence to maintain proper manners.

While Cellera typically shied away from attention unless she was demonstrating her combat skills, Gohan could tell she was genuinely touched that they'd wanted to celebrate her birthday too. And that brief moment when he'd suggested they celebrate together... he'd seen something in her expression he rarely witnessed - that same soft look she got when she talked about her mother, or when baby Trunks reached for her. That single flash of pure happiness, more than any thank you or gift, made his own birthday feel complete.

"By the way," Krillin said, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth, "with you two being in the Room of Spirit and Time, does that mean you're actually 10 or 11?"

Cellera and Gohan looked at each other, realizing Krillin had made a good point. Cellera thought for a moment before replying, "Earth-wise we would still be 10 as only a day had passed, but physically our bodies are 11." She paused, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. "Or at least, I am. Since Gohan and Kakarot didn't use the full 24 hours, he's a bit over a month short."

Gohan gave her an unimpressed look and a slight pout. "Really? You're going to bring that up now?"

Chi-Chi's hands stilled in their task of clearing plates, her expression growing thoughtful as she looked at her son. "A whole year..." she said softly. "My little boy aged a year in just one day." There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice that made even Cellera's usual composure soften slightly.

Kakarot placed a gentle hand on his wife's shoulder. "He's still the same Gohan," he assured her, showing that perceptiveness he sometimes revealed in quieter moments. "Just a bit taller now."

Cellera almost scoffed at Kakarot's understatement. Gohan had shot up significantly taller than her during their time in the chamber - though watching him happily alternate between his third bowl of noodles and cake, she had to admit Kakarot was right about one thing. He was still very much Gohan.

The moment shattered when Chi-Chi announced it was time for presents. As Gohan began unwrapping his gifts, Cellera felt an unfamiliar anxiety creep through her chest. With each revealed gift, her nervousness grew, her usual confidence crumbling. She found herself unconsciously holding her breath when the Ox-King presented Gohan with an entire telescope, the impressive gift making her own contribution feel increasingly inadequate.

She couldn't understand her reaction. When she'd spent those hours researching and annotating the insect encyclopedia, it had seemed perfect - something uniquely tailored to Gohan's interests despite her own aversion to the subject. Now she found herself fighting the urge to snatch it off the table and hide it away. Only Chi-Chi having seen it earlier and the room full of watchful eyes kept her from acting on that impulse.

Finally, only two wrapped packages remained. Gohan picked them both up with careful hands, but instead of opening them, he held one out to her - a present wrapped in royal blue paper.

"Wasn't this supposed to be your gift?" she asked, confused by the gesture.

He shook his head, a gentle smile crossing his features. "It's for you. I thought maybe we could open our presents together?"

That same warmth from earlier flooded through her chest as she accepted the wrapped package, her fingers trembling slightly against the paper. As she reached for it, their hands brushed momentarily, sending an unexpected current racing up her arm—identical to the jolt she'd experienced earlier when their fingers had touched as he passed her the book. The sensation was so surprising that she nearly fumbled the gift, catching it at the last second. 

A moment of eye contact sent both looking in opposite directions, that simple touch somehow feeling more significant and charged after the incident in the living room. Was this strange reaction merely anticipation about his response to her gift, or did it connect to all the other bewildering sensations Gohan seemed to trigger lately?

As Gohan carefully unwrapped the silver paper, his eyes widened at the title embossed on the leather cover: "The Complete Compendium of Insect Biology and Behavior." Opening it, he found himself smiling at the familiar precise handwriting filling the margins. The annotations were quintessentially Cellera - complex mathematical equations detailing wing-to-body ratios in flying insects, force calculations explaining beetle lifting strength, and intricate statistical analyses of termite mound ventilation systems.

Each note reflected her unique perspective, transforming what could have been simple biological observations into elegantly structured equations and data. Some diagrams even included ki-based comparisons, relating insect capabilities to power levels in a way that made him see his favorite subjects through entirely new eyes.

"I apologize for the limited annotations," Cellera said, her usual confidence wavering slightly. "There wasn't much time to conduct proper research." 

The words were pure Cellera - even in giving a thoughtful gift, she held herself to the same exacting standards that characterized her approach to combat and training.

Gohan looked up from the pages, genuine wonder in his expression. "But you hate insects," he said softly. "You can barely stand being near them."

Her eyes darted away from his as she brushed back a strand of hair, an uncharacteristically shy gesture. "True," she admitted. "I still don't understand your fascination with them." A small shrug lifted her shoulders. "Nevertheless, you like them, and that's what matters."

The weight of her words struck him then - Cellera, who couldn't even look at a caterpillar without tensing and glaring at it, had spent hours researching and analyzing creatures she despised simply because he found them interesting. His smile spread without conscious thought as he clutched the book closer.

"Thank you," he said, his voice carrying more emotion than he'd intended. "I love it."

His words acted like a key, unlocking all her scattered confidence and bringing it rushing back at once. The undisguised delight in his voice transformed her earlier worries about the gift into something almost silly in retrospect. Strangely, she'd confronted Frieza himself with steadier hands than she'd had waiting for Gohan to unwrap her present, yet seeing his smile now made every moment spent deciphering insect anatomy feel worthwhile. The realization that his happiness mattered this much to her should have been alarming, but somehow, it wasn't.

"Now it's your turn," Gohan said, gesturing to the gift in her hands.

Despite her slightly trembling fingers, which she hoped no one noticed, Cellera carefully unwrapped her present. Inside was a sleek black book, the word "Memories" written in elegant white handwriting across its cover. She immediately noticed this wasn't an ordinary book—it was longer, with fewer pages than a typical volume. With a start, she recognized it as a photo album similar to the one she and Chi-Chi had looked through that morning when viewing Gohan's baby pictures. The coincidence felt strangely meaningful, as if completing a circle from the embarrassment of the morning to this moment of shared vulnerability.

Her fingers traced the cover before she opened it. Her eyes widened at the first photograph—a younger version of herself and Gohan sitting in his room, completely absorbed in their textbooks. She recognized those jeans she wore, placing the image shortly after their return from Namek. A wistful smile touched her lips at the memory; it was a shame she hadn't had the chance to wear that fabric again, what with all the planetary threats they'd faced since then and the material's useless practicality for battle. Still, she remembered how she'd secretly enjoyed the casual Earth garment despite her complaints about its impracticality at the time.

Each turn of the page revealed another captured moment. There they were cross-legged on the floor, eyes closed in image training - Chi-Chi must have slipped in unnoticed during their practice. Another showed them by the stream outside the Son house, followed by countless other moments where they'd been completely unaware of the camera's presence. With each photograph, they grew slightly older, their friendship deepening across the preserved memories.

"I know most of the pictures are of both of us," Gohan said, his voice carrying the same nervousness she'd felt earlier about her own gift. "But we left empty pages for you to add whatever other photos you want."

Her fingers paused on an image of their last training session before her father's intervention - her leg extended in a kick while Gohan blocked, neither knowing they wouldn't see each other again for eighteen months. She'd been so absorbed in the memories that she barely registered Gohan's anxious explanation.

"I wasn't really sure what to get you," he admitted, words tumbling out faster as his nerves got the better of him. "With Bulma, you can have pretty much anything, but Mom suggested a photo album to commemorate your time on Earth. She said memories can't be bought, and-"

"It's perfect," Cellera said softly, finally looking up from the album. "Thank you, Gohan." She turned to Chi-Chi. "And thank you as well."

"Of course, dear," Chi-Chi replied warmly. "You're practically part of the family." Something in her tone carried deeper meaning that made Cellera's cheeks warm slightly.

Cellera continued turning the pages, absorbing each captured memory with growing appreciation, until she suddenly stopped at an image she hadn't expected to find. That gentle warmth immediately turned to blazing heat as she stared at the page. She froze, torn between admiration for Chi-Chi's stealth and mortification that neither she nor Gohan had sensed the woman's presence.

"What's wrong?" Gohan asked, leaning over to see what had caused her reaction. His startled yelp and reddening face only drew more attention.

"Everything okay over there?" Krillin asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

Before Cellera could close the album, the others had already crowded around to see what had flustered the usually composed pair. There on the page was their afternoon nap captured in perfect detail - Gohan's head resting atop Cellera's, the blanket draped carefully over them both.

"So that's what you meant by losing track of time," Krillin teased, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I guess some studying methods are more effective than others!" He nudged Gohan with his elbow, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to fluster the two.

"It's not- we were just-" Gohan stammered, his face growing redder by the second.

"Say son," Kakarot said with a grin that matched Krillin's, "is that sunburn on your face or are you blushing?"

Cellera wished the ground would simply open beneath her and swallow her whole. Her mind, typically a reservoir of cutting replies and strategic comebacks, offered nothing but echoing emptiness. For perhaps the first time since learning to speak, her voice completely abandoned her. The embarrassment was so overwhelming it seemed to short-circuit her very ability to form thoughts, leaving her frozen and speechless.

The Ox-King's knowing chuckle only made matters worse. "Reminds me of when Goku and Chi-Chi were young..."

Cellera's mind had completely short-circuited, leaving her unable to form even the simplest retort. For once, she found herself grateful for Trunks' absence - her brother would have been merciless with his teasing, especially given how often he'd tried to provoke similar reactions from her during their year of training.

"You know," Chi-Chi said, a dreamy look crossing her features at her father's words, "it's never too early to think about finding that special someone. Goku and I were only about a year older than you two when we first met." She leaned over to plant a gentle kiss on her husband's cheek.

To Cellera's surprise, a light blush spread across Kakarot's face at the affection. The expression was so similar to Gohan's current flustered state that their relation couldn't be more apparent.

"I knew the moment I laid eyes on him," Chi-Chi continued, her voice carrying that wistful tone she got when recounting their early days, "that he was the one I wanted to marry."

"Mom..." Gohan groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Cellera clutched the photo album to her chest like a shield, her mind reeling. The combination of being caught in such an unguarded moment with Gohan and this open discussion of romance left her completely unbalanced. While she understood the concepts of marriage and romantic attachment well enough - she'd certainly read about them - witnessing such candid displays of affection was entirely foreign to her experience.

Even Bulma and her father's relationship offered no real reference point. Their dynamic centered more on heated arguments and challenging each other, both too proud to show gentler emotions openly. The closest thing to relationship guidance she'd ever received was a brief, awkward explanation of Saiyan mating customs that her father had rushed through, clearly as uncomfortable with the topic as she had been.

The changes in her responses around Gohan had been mounting since their time in the chamber. A cascade of unfamiliar reactions—her cheeks warming without provocation, her heartbeat following patterns unlike anything battle had ever triggered, and the lingering sensation of his casual touches that she couldn't bring herself to dismiss. Most telling was how she'd faced Frieza and Cell with steadier hands than she'd had while watching him unwrap her gift. His happiness had somehow become a priority that rivaled her own training goals—a realization that should have alarmed her warrior instincts but instead felt strangely right.

Even now, she could still recall how her breath had caught at the sight of him emerging from the Room of Spirit and Time, how she'd caught herself admiring how the training had matured his features rather than analyzing his power first. Trunks had needed to nudge her to stop staring, and for once, she hadn't been able to refute his teasing.

This open celebration of finding one's "special someone," combined with all these confusing reactions to Gohan... it all felt overwhelming in a way no battle ever had. At least in combat, she knew exactly what she was feeling and why. These new sensations left her completely adrift, understanding the concept but unable to recognize the actual experience of it happening to her.

"Alright, alright," Krillin interjected with a good-natured laugh, noticing their mounting embarrassment and Cellera's white-knuckled grip on the album. "Maybe we should cool it with the teasing. At this rate, they might explode - and I don't want to deal with Vegeta on top of everything else."

Cellera shot Krillin a grateful look, giving him a slight nod which he returned with a smile. The party continued with renewed cheer, though she and Gohan could barely maintain eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. Still, no one missed how they both held onto their gifts throughout the evening, treating them like precious artifacts rather than simple birthday presents.

As the night wound down, with Krillin and the Ox-King having already departed, Cellera helped Chi-Chi tackle the mountain of dishes and streamers - a task made necessary by feeding three Saiyans. Finally finished, she made her way to the door where Gohan waited, clutching his insect encyclopedia just as tightly as she held her photo album.

Despite the way they'd been studiously avoiding each other's gaze since the photo incident, Cellera straightened her shoulders. She refused to let mere embarrassment prevent her from expressing genuine gratitude, even if her voice emerged softer than intended.

"Thank you," she said simply.

Gohan looked up from studying the floor, a hint of his usual self returning to his smile. "Shouldn't I be the one thanking you for coming?"

The familiar pattern of their banter seemed to ease some of the tension, drawing a small huff of laughter from her. "It was meant to be your day," she continued, "yet you chose to share it."

"I can always have it to myself next year," he shrugged, his earlier nervousness giving way to that gentle teasing she'd grown so fond of. "Besides, I figured the Princess deserved to properly celebrate hers for once."

The nickname brought a smirk to her lips. She noticed his casual mention of "next year" - that characteristic optimism that they'd defeat Cell still shining through. "I'll hold you to that, Scholar."

His answering smirk matched her own. "What's next for you?"

"I'll likely help Bulma with Android 16's repairs," she replied. "Then continue training. I need to regain full control of my ki now that it's responding again."

She also needed to have a more personal conversation with Bulma - one about these confusing reactions to Gohan that seemed to be increasing with each passing day. Perhaps between circuit boards and long nights of coding, she could find a way to broach the subject without revealing too much. The thought made her grip the photo album a fraction tighter, though her expression remained carefully composed.

Kakarot's voice called from across the room, "Your ki is responding again? That's great!"

Cellera nodded, hardly surprised by his enthusiasm. "It is. Though it's still not at full strength yet."

"I've been meaning to ask," Kakarot said, moving closer with that characteristic mixture of curiosity and earnestness, "what caused your ki to become unstable in the first place?"

The question made her pause. Despite their years of acquaintance, she rarely discussed technical combat details with Kakarot. His fighting genius typically manifested in instinctive understanding rather than analytical conversation. But his genuine concern deserved an honest answer.

"It happened during our time in the Room of Spirit and Time," Cellera explained, settling back slightly. "I was trying to master a technique my mother created - Star Breaker. My body wasn't ready for that level of power output, especially after months of pushing beyond reasonable means."

She described her obsessive training, the sleepless nights that had driven her to exhaustion, and her final desperate attempt to prove herself by forcing the technique despite her depleted state.

"The attack consumed what little ki reserves I had left," she finished. "When I regained consciousness a week later, my control was completely gone. I couldn't even form the simplest energy sphere."

Kakarot gave a thoughtful hum, folding his arms as he considered her words. "I've pushed myself plenty of times, but I've never had that happen before." His expression brightened suddenly. "Hey, maybe King Kai will know! I should ask him about it next time."

"Your technique," Gohan interjected, his eyes lighting with genuine interest. "The Star Breaker - how does it work? I don't think I've ever seen you use it."

What should have been a brief explanation stretched into ten minutes as Gohan asked increasingly specific questions about ki manipulation and energy containment. His scholarly brain was clearly fascinated by the technical precision required.

As she finally stepped out into the night air, Cellera caught Chi-Chi's knowing smile from the doorway behind them. The woman had watched their entire exchange with that same speculative look she'd worn during the photo album revelation.

"Finally! I've been waiting for you forever."

Krillin's voice drew Cellera's attention to where he leaned against a nearby tree. She'd sensed his ki signature, of course, but hadn't expected him to be waiting specifically for her.

"You were waiting for me?" she asked, one eyebrow rising slightly.

Krillin gave a short laugh. "Don't sound so surprised. I figured you'd want to hear what I found out from Goku today," he explained, his expression growing more serious. "About his plan for Cell."

Cellera paused, the realization striking her that her initial mission had slipped from mind entirely. Between the celebration, gift exchanges, and unexpected moments, her investigative purpose had faded to background noise. The irony wasn't lost on her—she'd arrived seeking intelligence about Kakarot's plans yet departed with a treasured album instead. Despite her usual insistence on focus, she found no regret in the diversion.

"What did he tell you?" she asked, her expression turning serious as she refocused on the matter at hand.

 

Krillin sighed. "That's just it. He told me he has no idea if we have what it takes to beat Cell." He shook his head in disbelief. "But get this - he didn't want to worry Gohan and Chi-Chi. Said he wanted them to enjoy themselves and spend time with family these next few days."

Cellera was silent, pressing her thumb to her lip as she considered this information. She squeezed the photo album tucked under her other arm, mulling over Kakarot's peculiar behavior.

Surely he had something planned. If he truly believed they had no chance, he wouldn't have made those comments to Korin, nor would he be so cavalier about their situation. Kakarot had always found a way before, even when the odds seemed impossible.

Then again, he was still a Saiyan. With their fate being decided in a martial arts tournament, his warrior blood might be clouding his judgment, making him anticipate the challenge rather than fear it.

"It seems we'll just have to wait for the Cell Games to see," she finally said. "Plan or not, we need to be ready in case we're needed."

She could tell Krillin wasn't happy at the prospect of fighting Cell, and she couldn't blame him - especially after what had happened during their last encounter. His previously confident demeanor had given way to genuine worry.

"I sure hope Goku knows what he's doing," Krillin mumbled, more to himself than to her.

They bid each other goodbye and took to the sky, each lost in their own thoughts about the battle that loomed just days away.

-

As Cellera flew toward Capsule Corp after leaving the Son household, her mind kept returning to the photo album tucked safely under her arm. Beyond the embarrassment of being caught napping with Gohan, something about those captured moments had affected her deeply. Years of shared experiences, chronicled in images she hadn't even known existed.

As she approached the familiar dome of Capsule Corp, a sense of relief washed over her. Android 16's repairs awaited her attention - a technical problem with clear solutions and defined parameters. The thought was comforting after a day filled with emotions she couldn't categorize or control. Working with circuits and code would give her mind something concrete to focus on, something that wouldn't make her heart race unpredictably.

Though technical problems with the android's repairs would offer temporary refuge, Cellera knew these new emotional currents wouldn't simply recede with distraction. The evidence had accumulated beyond dismissal—her physiological responses to his smiles, her unprecedented anxiety over his reaction to her gift, the security she'd found in their closeness. This vulnerability, though rare for her, felt different from the few moments of openness she'd shared with Bulma during her father's absence or even her occasional candid conversations with Gohan. The complete surrender of her guard—falling asleep unaware of her surroundings—represented a depth of trust she'd never granted anyone before.

Perhaps Bulma would know what these reactions meant. The woman's casual references to relationships had always seemed trivial before, but now they took on new significance. The thought of actually asking Bulma made Cellera's stomach twist uncomfortably. How exactly did one broach such a topic without confirming Trunks' relentless teasing about her supposed "crush"?

Still, as she clutched the photo album closer, a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that sooner or later, she would need to understand what was happening. These unfamiliar feelings required answers. With Cell's tournament looming just days away, clarity wasn't merely a personal desire—it was a strategic necessity. She couldn't afford to enter battle with her focus divided, no matter how pleasant the distraction might be.

-

Gohan's bedroom was quiet except for the occasional chirp of crickets outside his window. The party had ended hours ago, but sleep eluded him as his mind kept replaying moments from the day. He sat cross-legged on his bed, the insect encyclopedia open in his lap, fingers tracing Cellera's meticulous annotations. The soft glow of his lamp illuminated pages filled with her precise handwriting—equations that transformed simple biology into something extraordinary.

He couldn't stop thinking about how she'd spent hours researching something she absolutely detested, just because he enjoyed it. Not for combat advantage or strategic necessity, but simply... for him. It was so unlike the practical, tactical Cellera everyone else knew. This gift revealed a side of her few ever saw—one willing to endure discomfort to bring someone else happiness.

Moving the book carefully to his nightstand, Gohan's eyes fell on the photograph his mother had taken earlier that day—the one that had made both him and Cellera turn crimson when everyone else saw it. He'd quietly asked his mother for a copy before bed, a request that earned him a knowing smile but thankfully no teasing.

The image showed them sleeping peacefully on the couch, his head resting atop hers. Despite the embarrassment it had caused at the party, looking at it now filled him with a quiet happiness he couldn't quite explain. What struck him most was seeing Cellera so completely at ease. She never let her guard down like that—not around anyone. Yet there she was, sound asleep against his shoulder, trusting him completely. That trust meant more to him than he could express, even to himself.

His mind drifted back to their dinner conversation and the moment Krillin had mentioned Lemone's interest in Cellera. The words had triggered something in him—a realization so unexpected that his control had slipped completely, shattering his glass in his grip. That loss of control wasn't like him at all. Even during intense training, he'd learned to maintain precise command over his ki, yet a simple comment about Cellera had sent his energy spiking like a novice.

"Jealousy," he whispered into the quiet room, testing the unfamiliar concept on his tongue.

The word seemed to explain so much about his behavior at Chazke Village. The strange competitiveness during wood-chopping, his need to show off by leaping across that gap, the hollowness in his stomach when Cellera and Lemone connected over being older siblings... all of it suddenly made sense.

But why? What exactly had made him jealous? Was it simply that another boy had been talking to her? No, that couldn't be it. Plenty of people talked to Cellera without bothering him. Was it because Lemone could relate to her about being an older sibling? Maybe, but that didn't fully explain his reaction either.

Gohan sat up straighter as understanding began to dawn. What had truly bothered him wasn't just Lemone talking to Cellera—it was how the older boy had looked at her, the obvious attempt to impress her, and worst of all, the possibility that she might be impressed back. The thought of Cellera admiring Lemone's skills or finding him interesting had created a knot in Gohan's stomach that lingered even now.

These confusing feelings were unlike anything he'd experienced before. When his father taught him to fight, or his mother helped him with his studies, they could explain each step clearly. Even mastering Super Saiyan had a kind of logic to it once his father showed him the way. But this—this warm, uncomfortable mixture of emotions—came with no instructions and no examples to follow. For someone who had always relied on clear guidance and understanding, navigating these new feelings without a roadmap felt both terrifying and exciting.

All he knew was that Cellera was his best friend – had been since those frightening days on Namek. But lately, something felt different. She was the person he most looked forward to seeing each day, the one he wanted to share every discovery with. When she smiled at him – not her usual smirk, but those rare genuine smiles – it made him happier than mastering a new technique. The thought of her being upset with him bothered him more than facing any enemy they'd encountered.

Now he found himself noticing things he'd somehow missed before—the subtle curve of her smile when she was truly pleased, how her eyes lit up when solving a complex problem, the way she pushed that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear when embarrassed. It was the way her eyes had widened when she saw her strawberry shortcake. The subtle softening of her expression when she realized he wanted to celebrate her birthday alongside his own. How she'd called him "Scholar" with that teasing smirk.

He thought about what his mother had said—about finding that special someone. Mom had always described how she knew immediately with Dad, how her heart would race whenever he smiled at her, how she'd wanted to be near him all the time. She'd often mentioned being impressed by his father's strength, too—the way he could accomplish seemingly impossible feats with that carefree smile.

The way Gohan felt around Cellera lately seemed... similar in many ways. The quickening of his pulse when she entered a room, how he found himself thinking about her even when they were apart, the way her approval mattered more than anyone else's. And yes, there was something about her strength that captivated him too—not just her physical power, but the determination in her eyes, the way she approached every challenge with unwavering focus. The combination of that fierce warrior spirit with those rare moments of genuine softness made her unlike anyone else he'd ever known.

Was this what growing up felt like? Discovering new feelings that were both confusing and wonderful at the same time? Part of him wanted to explore these thoughts further, to understand exactly what Cellera meant to him now. But as his eyes drifted to the calendar hanging on his wall, reality intruded on his musings.

Eight days until the Cell Games. Eight days until they faced an enemy who claimed he could destroy them all. Whatever these feelings were, he'd have to figure them out later. Right now, Earth needed them focused. Cell was waiting, and they couldn't afford distractions.

But as he finally drifted toward sleep, one certainty remained: whatever happened at the Cell Games, he wanted Cellera beside him. Fighting together, protecting each other—just as they always had since those first days on Namek.

He wasn't sure what these new feelings meant yet, but someday, when Earth was safe again, he'd find out.

Chapter 30: Chapter 29

Summary:

Cellera begins her journey of denial and discovery and Android 16, Gohan and Cellera spend time together. Enjoy the near 17k chapter.

Notes:

I am back! I almost decided to post this tomorrow, but I was too excited and didn't want to wait, plus tomorrow is moving day so i didn't want to get too busy and forget. I apologize for the wait, and we may have some more waiting before chapter 30, but hopefully once I'm settled at my new place I can spend more time writing and less time stressing, especially since my job will let me work from home!

Anyways, I really hope you guys enjoy the time with Gohan, Cellera and 16 here, as i wish 16 had some more development with Gohan in particular, especially given the events that happen in the Cell Games. I also put some hints of my own Saiyan courting headcanons in here that will get explained more as the Cell Games take place!

Thank you to all those who have waited so patiently for this chapter and who are still sticking around! I appreciate you all! And don't forget to follow the tumblr dedicated for this fic and where I can talk to you all and answer questions! (So long as they don't make me spoil anything i have planned for later)

The building's distinctive architecture stood stark against the twilight, its windows mostly dark save for the warm glow of a single lamp visible through the main entrance—a beacon left on for her return.

As she touched down on the front steps, the silence that greeted her confirmed what she'd already suspected. The soft whir of ventilation systems provided the only soundtrack to her entry, a stark contrast to the lively celebration she'd just left behind. Even the usual sounds of Mrs. Brief's late-evening cooking shows were absent, replaced by the peaceful quiet that settled over the compound after the household retired for the night.

The clock in the main hallway read 8:45 PM as Cellera made her way through the dimly lit corridors. Mrs. Briefs would have tucked Trunks into his crib hours ago, likely after his evening feeding and the small bedtime routine she'd established. The thought of her baby brother sleeping peacefully in his nursery brought a small smile to her lips—one of the few constants that remained unchanged despite the chaos surrounding them.

Her footsteps echoed softly against the polished floors as she approached the staircase leading down to the laboratory levels. Unlike the darkened upper floors, faint shadows of artificial light danced along the stairwell walls, accompanied by the familiar symphony of humming machinery and occasional electronic beeps that had become the soundtrack of Android 16's reconstruction.

The sounds grew more distinct as she descended—the gentle whir of diagnostic equipment, the soft clicking of keyboards, and the barely audible muttering that meant someone was deeply absorbed in complex problem-solving. Bulma and Dr. Briefs had been working nearly non-stop since she and Krillin had carried 16's damaged form through these same doors. The android's injuries from his confrontation with Cell had been extensive, requiring not just repairs but complete reconstruction of several core systems.

At the bottom of the stairs, Cellera found exactly what she'd expected. Bulma sat hunched over a sprawling workstation, her usually immaculate blue hair disheveled from countless sessions of running frustrated fingers through it. Circuit boards, diagnostic tablets, and tangled wires created a chaotic landscape across multiple tables, while holographic displays projected Android 16's schematics in three-dimensional detail around her.

Dr. Briefs was notably absent—likely having retired to his workshop or bedroom hours ago, leaving his daughter to tackle the more intricate aspects of the android's neural networks. The older scientist's contributions had been invaluable, but these final calibrations required Bulma's unique understanding of both advanced robotics and the peculiarities of Dr. Gero's programming methods.

As if sensing Cellera's presence, Bulma straightened in her chair with a soft groan, one hand moving to massage the tension from her neck while the other pushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. The movement caught sight of Cellera standing at the foot of the stairs, and despite her obvious fatigue, Bulma's face brightened with genuine warmth.

"You're back late," she observed, setting down her tools and reaching for a nearby cloth to wipe grease and metal shavings from her hands. The concern in her voice was gentle, maternal—the tone that had become second nature between them over the years. "How was the party?"

Cellera descended the final few steps, adjusting her grip on the photo album as she considered how to summarize the day's unexpected developments. "It was enjoyable," she replied, though the simple response hardly captured the complexity of emotions the celebration had stirred within her. "Even if a simple errand became saving an entire village."

Rather than surprise, Bulma's reaction was immediate laughter—the kind of knowing amusement that came from years of friendship with warriors who seemed magnetically drawn to trouble. "Like father, like son," she said with a shake of her head, gesturing toward the chairs where they usually sat during their evening conversations. "Come on, tell me everything. I could use a break from staring at nothing but blueprints and circuit diagrams for the past six hours."

Settling into her familiar spot across from Bulma, Cellera began recounting their adventure in Chazke Village. She described their search through abandoned settlements, their encounter with Lemone and Lime, and the situation they'd discovered at the Bourbon family's fraudulent shelter. Bulma listened with rapt attention, occasionally shaking her head or muttering commentary under her breath.

When Cellera reached the part about Mercenary Tao's involvement, Bulma's expression shifted to one of incredulous annoyance. "Are you serious? Mercenary Tao is still alive?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes with evident exasperation. "I thought after getting his butt thoroughly kicked by Tien at the 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament he might have learned his lesson, but I guess that was too much to hope for."

A slight smirk tugged at Cellera's lips as she witnessed Bulma's familiar indignation. "Unfortunately so. Though after learning that Gohan was Kakarot's son, he no longer posed a threat."

She went on to describe Tao's pathetic retreat—the way his cybernetic face had gone pale with terror, his desperate appropriation of a tree trunk as transportation, and his frantic escape into the sky like some demented lumberjack taking flight. The image still struck her as absurdly comedic.

Bulma chuckled again, taking a sip from her nearly empty coffee mug. "Yep. Like father, like son," she repeated with evident satisfaction.

Setting her mug aside, Bulma's expression grew more curious, her eyes taking on that slightly mischievous glint that usually preceded questions Cellera wasn't entirely prepared to answer. "Speaking of which," she began, propping her chin on her palm with deliberate casualness, "did Gohan like his present?"

The question brought an immediate flood of memories—Gohan's eyes widening as he'd opened the carefully wrapped encyclopedia, the way his face had lit up as he'd discovered her annotations, and most vividly, the heartfelt sincerity in his voice when he'd said those three simple words: "I love it."

"He appeared to," Cellera replied, unconsciously clutching the photo album tighter against her chest as the memory settled over her. "He certainly seemed enthusiastic about the annotations."

"I bet he was," Bulma said, her voice taking on a distinctly sly undertone as she studied Cellera's reaction. "Not many people would put themselves through studying something they absolutely hate just to make someone else happy."

The words hit closer to home than expected. Heat crept into her cheeks as she considered Bulma's assessment. Framed that way, her actions did seem unusually accommodating—a deviation from her typically practical approach to gift-giving. But as she'd told Gohan, it had been about what he enjoyed, and seeing his genuine delight had made every moment of forcing herself through insect diagrams completely worthwhile.

"It was a logical choice," she countered, falling back on the reasoning she'd used to justify the decision to herself. "He has repeatedly expressed interest in insect biology, and I was able to provide a perspective he might not have otherwise considered."

"Mmhmm," Bulma hummed noncommittally, though the corner of her mouth lifted in a knowing smile that suggested she wasn't entirely convinced by Cellera's practical explanation.

Before Cellera could protest further, Bulma's attention shifted to the item still held protectively against her chest. "And it seems like he wasn't the only one who received a gift tonight." Her eyes settled meaningfully on the photo album. "What do you have there?"

Cellera glanced down at the leather-bound album in her hands, running her thumb along its smooth edge as she considered how to explain. "Gohan turned his birthday celebration into something shared," she began, her voice carrying a note of wonder that hadn't quite faded since the evening's events. "Since we never had the opportunity to properly celebrate mine these past few years."

She paused, remembering the surprise she'd felt when Chi-Chi had announced her own birthday cake—strawberry shortcake from the specific bakery that Mrs. Briefs frequented. "He even managed to procure my favorite dessert. Apparently he learned about it from your mother."

Bulma's eyebrows rose slightly at this revelation, though she didn't seem particularly surprised by her mother's tendency to share such details.

"The album itself was a collaboration between him and Chi-Chi," Cellera continued, opening the cover slightly to reveal the elegant script on the first page. "When he presented it to me, he explained that he wanted to celebrate together because, as he put it, 'With Bulma, you can have pretty much anything, but memories can't be bought.'"

A soft laugh escaped Bulma as she shook her head. "He's not wrong about the first part," she admitted with characteristic frankness. Her expression then softened, taking on that gentle quality that emerged whenever she spoke about the people she cared for. "But honestly? That Gohan really is a sweetheart. Do you mind if I take a look?"

The request, innocent as it was, caused Cellera to freeze. Her fingers tightened involuntarily around the album's edges as her mind immediately jumped to that particular photograph—the one that had caused such embarrassment at the party, capturing her and Gohan asleep on the couch in a moment of unguarded vulnerability.

She didn't mind Bulma seeing the other photos, but that image... Despite her earlier resolution to seek Bulma's guidance about these confusing feelings, she found herself facing that same uncomfortable sensation that had plagued her throughout the evening. The knowledge that she needed to address these changes before Cell's tournament warred with her uncertainty about where to even begin such a conversation.

Bulma, with the perceptiveness that came from years of reading people's emotional states, immediately noticed Cellera's hesitation. Without a word, she rose from her chair and moved to stand behind her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder in a gesture of quiet support.

"You don't have to show me anything you don't want to," she said softly, her voice carrying none of the teasing edge from moments before. "At least, not until you're ready."

The understanding in those words, the complete absence of hurt or curiosity-driven pressure, brought a genuine smile to Cellera's lips. In all their years together, Bulma had never pushed beyond Cellera's carefully maintained boundaries, never shown frustration with her need to process things internally before sharing them. She simply waited, with the kind of patient trust that Cellera had come to treasure.

"Your patience never ceases to amaze me, Bulma," she admitted, the words carrying more weight than simple gratitude.

"You're much easier to deal with than your father, trust me," Bulma replied with a wry grin that immediately lightened the mood between them.

Their shared laughter broke the tension, and Cellera found herself opening the album to the first page. If she was careful about which sections she revealed, she could share this gift without delving into territory she wasn't prepared to explore.

Bulma's sharp intake of breath as she saw the first photographs was immediate and heartfelt. "Oh wow! Those were right after Namek," she said, leaning closer to examine the images of two much younger children sitting cross-legged in Gohan's room, textbooks spread between them. "I can't believe it's been five years already."

Six, Cellera's mind automatically corrected, accounting for their year in the Room of Spirit and Time, though she kept the distinction to herself. Instead, she continued turning pages slowly, each photograph marking another milestone in their friendship—training sessions, study afternoons, quiet moments that Chi-Chi had somehow captured without either of them noticing.

As they progressed through the album, Cellera found herself studying each image with new perspective. The gradual changes were subtle but unmistakable—not just in their physical growth, but in the easy comfort that had developed between them. What struck her most, however, was her own expression in each successive photo. In the earliest images from just after Namek, her smiles appeared careful, controlled—the practiced expression of someone still learning when it was safe to show emotion. But as the pages turned, those smiles came more readily in these captured moments with Gohan, though she maintained the same composed demeanor she'd always shown the wider world.

When she reached the page just before that photograph, she smoothly closed the album. "The rest are blank pages," she explained with practiced casualness. "Spaces left for me to add whatever I choose."

Bulma nodded thoughtfully, one hand moving to her chin in a gesture Cellera had come to associate with her processing new information. "I think I have some photos I could print for you," she mused. "What a trip down memory lane though. I can only imagine what he looks like now after training in the Room of Spirit and Time."

"He's taller by roughly five centimeters," Cellera responded immediately, the precise measurement rolling off her tongue before she could consider how instantaneous her reply had been.

Bulma raised an eyebrow at Cellera's instantaneous response, her expression shifting to one of barely contained amusement. The precision of the measurement, delivered without hesitation or need for calculation, spoke volumes about just how closely Cellera had been observing Gohan's transformation.

The realization of how revealing her answer had been struck Cellera immediately. Heat began to crawl up her neck as memories flooded back—the moment Gohan had emerged from the Room of Spirit and Time, how she'd needed to tilt her head back slightly to meet his eyes, the way his new height had made her acutely aware of how he would now be just tall enough for her head to rest perfectly beneath his—

She cut that line of thinking short, grateful when the sound of footsteps on the laboratory stairs provided a welcome interruption. Dr. Briefs descended into view, a steaming coffee mug in hand that suggested he'd been taking his own break in his workshop rather than sleeping.

"Cellera!" he greeted warmly, his mustache twitching upward in a genuine smile. "Good to see you made it home safely. I trust the birthday celebration went well?"

"It did, thank you," she replied, relieved by the change in conversation's direction.

Dr. Briefs took a thoughtful sip from his mug before turning to his daughter. "Ready to continue with the memory chip extraction? Those full body scans won't complete themselves, and we'll need the diagnostic data before we can proceed with the neural pathway reconstruction."

Bulma nodded, though she cast one more knowing glance in Cellera's direction before pushing back from the table. "Break time's over, I suppose," she said with a theatrical sigh, rising to return to her workstation.

As she passed by Cellera's chair, Bulma paused to gently pat her head—a gesture that in her earliest days on Earth might have felt patronizing or dismissive, but had evolved over the years into something Cellera recognized as simply another expression of Bulma's care. Where once she might have bristled at what seemed like being treated as a child, she now understood it as the same affectionate concern Bulma showed to all those under her protection. "Get some rest," she advised softly. "We'll be needing your help tomorrow, and I want that brilliant mind of yours in top shape."

Despite the exhaustion beginning to settle in her bones, Cellera felt her lips twitch with anticipation at the prospect. Working on Android 16's repairs would serve multiple purposes—not only would it provide a much-needed distraction from her increasingly confusing thoughts about Gohan, but she genuinely enjoyed the technical challenges that came with assisting Bulma's projects. Whether it was verifying complex equations, cross-referencing Dr. Gero's programming methodologies, or simply serving as a second pair of eyes on intricate circuit work, these collaborations had become some of her favorite activities at Capsule Corp.

"I'll be ready," she assured Bulma, closing the photo album and rising from her chair.

"Goodnight," she offered to both scientists, who had already become reabsorbed in their work—Bulma pulling up holographic displays while Dr. Briefs began preparing diagnostic equipment with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done this countless times before.

The journey back through Capsule Corp's quiet corridors felt different somehow, as if the evening's revelations had shifted something fundamental in her understanding of herself. The photo album remained clutched against her chest, its weight both comforting and unsettling as she climbed the stairs to her room.

Once safely behind her bedroom door, Cellera moved through her evening routine—showering away the day's activities, changing into comfortable sleepwear, and finally settling onto her bed with the album resting in her lap. The exhaustion from the long day pulled at her consciousness, but she found herself opening the cover one final time, slowly turning through the pages she'd shared with Bulma.

Her fingers traced the edges of each photograph as she progressed through their documented history—five years of friendship, growth, and shared experiences captured in these frozen moments. When she reached the final page before the blank sections, she hesitated for just a moment before turning to the photograph that had caused such embarrassment at the party.

There they were, captured in peaceful sleep on the Son family couch. Gohan's head rested atop hers, her own form curled trustingly against his shoulder, both of them completely unguarded in a way that rarely occurred outside their most private moments. Chi-Chi had somehow managed to photograph them without waking either, preserving this moment of absolute vulnerability and trust.

Cellera found herself studying the image longer than strictly necessary, her fingertips gingerly tracing along its edges as if she could somehow absorb the contentment visible in their sleeping faces. Something about seeing herself so completely at ease, so utterly trusting in Gohan's presence, created a tightness in her chest that defied easy explanation.

Finally, as sleep began to claim her despite her racing thoughts, she closed the album and set it carefully on her nightstand. Tomorrow would bring new challenges—Android 16's repairs, continued preparation for Cell's tournament, and perhaps, if she could find the courage, a conversation with Bulma about these feelings she could no longer ignore.

But for tonight, she allowed herself to drift off with the memory of Gohan's voice echoing in her mind: "I love it." Whether he'd been speaking about the encyclopedia or something deeper, she found the words following her into dreams filled with golden light and gentle smiles.

-

Dawn came early to Capsule Corporation, painting the sky in soft pastels that filtered through the gravity chamber's reinforced windows. Cellera had risen with the sun, drawn by the familiar need to center herself through physical exertion. The routine of training had always provided clarity when her mind felt cluttered, and this morning was no exception. After days of avoiding physical exertion due to her ki control issues, she'd missed this outlet more than she'd realized—the familiar rhythm of movement and power that helped organize her thoughts when nothing else could.

The gravity chamber hummed to life around her as she adjusted the settings to a comfortable but challenging level. Her movements began slowly—basic forms and stretches that allowed her to assess her ki control without pushing too hard. What she discovered brought a genuine smile to her lips.

The energy flowed through her body with increasing ease, each technique responding more naturally than the day before. While her control wasn't yet at the precise level she'd maintained before the Room of Spirit and Time, the improvement from even a few days ago was remarkable. Her ki moved with growing familiarity through channels that had felt foreign and unpredictable since her recovery, though she still found herself making subtle adjustments to compensate for outputs that didn't quite match her intentions.

The wave of satisfaction that washed over her felt like reclaiming a fundamental part of herself. This returning sense of control, of normalcy in at least one aspect of her existence, provided a welcome anchor against the storm of unfamiliar sensations that seemed to have taken residence in her mind and body whenever Gohan was involved.

She transitioned into more complex movements, allowing her body to remember the rhythms of combat while her mind processed the events of recent days. The physical exertion should have cleared her thoughts, organized them into the neat categories she preferred. Instead, she found herself circling back to the same conclusion that had been nagging at her since last night: she needed to talk to Bulma.

Yet every time she considered approaching that conversation, something inside her recoiled. The reaction puzzled her. Seeking Bulma's guidance wasn't new territory—she'd done it before when wrestling with complex emotions. When she was seven and paralyzed by the fear that her father might not want her back after his months away, Bulma had helped her understand that sometimes the strongest people needed to make the first move toward reconciliation. Just days ago, when guilt and self-doubt had threatened to overwhelm her after Cell's perfect transformation, Bulma had provided the perspective she needed to find her footing again.

In every previous instance, approaching Bulma had felt natural, even relieving. So why did the thought of seeking her counsel now create this strange reluctance? This almost-fear that made her stomach twist in ways that had nothing to do with physical discomfort?

Cellera paused mid-form, her hands falling to her sides as she forced herself to examine this resistance honestly. The answer, when it crystallized in her mind, was both simple and terrifying: the topic itself was what held her back. This wasn't about tactical decisions or family dynamics or even personal insecurities she could easily articulate.

This was about relationships in a sense she'd never dared to approach before.

The mere acknowledgment of those words in her own thoughts sent that familiar queasy sensation settling in her stomach like an unwelcome guest. She couldn't help but let out a single, breathless laugh at the absurdity of it all. She had faced opponents who could have killed her with a casual gesture and felt less terror than what gripped her now. The realization should have been humbling, but instead it only confused her further.

Her first instinct was to dismiss these concerns as trivial—surely emotions couldn't be more significant than life-and-death battles? But even as the word formed in her mind, it felt wrong. Trivial implied something of little value or importance, and Gohan was neither of those things. He was...

She shook her head sharply, cutting off that line of thinking before it could take root. This mental spiraling wasn't helping anyone, least of all herself. Bulma was counting on her assistance with Android 16's repairs, and she refused to let her personal confusion interfere with something so important.

With determined effort, Cellera forced her focus back to her training routine, pushing her body through increasingly complex sequences until sweat beaded on her forehead and her breathing came in measured bursts. The physical exertion helped, marginally, though she couldn't entirely banish the knowledge that this conversation with Bulma was inevitable.

Perhaps after they made progress on 16's restoration, when her mind felt more settled and she'd had time to organize her thoughts properly. Yes, that seemed like a reasonable approach—tackle the immediate, concrete problem first, then address the more nebulous concerns when she was better prepared.

The gravity chamber's timer chimed, indicating the end of her session. As she powered down the equipment and prepared to face the day ahead, Cellera tried to convince herself that putting off this conversation was the logical choice. After all, Android 16's repairs were urgent, and her assistance was genuinely needed. These other concerns—whatever they were—could surely wait a little longer.

Yet even as she told herself this, a small voice whispered that she was simply making excuses. That no amount of preparation would make discussing these feelings any easier. But that voice was easily silenced by the prospect of focusing on something she understood: circuits, programming, and the familiar challenge of bringing an ally back to fighting condition.

Understanding the unknown had always been the first step toward mastering it, she reminded herself. But perhaps some unknowns could afford to remain mysterious just a little while longer—especially when those emotions concerned the person who mattered most to her in the world.

The familiar hum of machinery greeted Cellera as she descended into the laboratory, still warm from her training session and feeling marginally more centered than when she'd woken. The scene that awaited her was exactly what she'd expected—Bulma hunched over her computer workstation, fingers flying across holographic displays, while Dr. Briefs stood beside Android 16's prone form making delicate adjustments to what appeared to be circuitry in the android's chest cavity.

Both scientists clutched steaming coffee mugs that suggested they'd been at this for hours, possibly since before dawn. The soft murmur of voices from a wall-mounted television provided background noise to their work, some early morning news program that neither seemed to be actively watching.

"Please tell me you two managed to get at least a few hours of sleep," Cellera said by way of greeting as she surveyed their progress.

Bulma glanced up from her screen, offering a tired but satisfied smile. "A few hours here and there," she replied, gesturing toward the complex array of diagnostic readings surrounding Android 16. "But the good news is that most of the hard work is finally done. All that's left is examining the memory core and uploading it to his replacement chip. After that, major repairs should be complete—just some fine-tuning and calibration left."

Dr. Briefs nodded in agreement, carefully adjusting what appeared to be internal wiring before stepping back to examine his work. "The structural damage was more extensive than we initially thought, but his core systems are remarkably robust. Dr. Gero may have been twisted, but his engineering was undeniably sophisticated."

Before Cellera could respond, a loud, booming laugh erupted from the television, drawing all their attention to the screen. A muscular man with an impossibly large afro and a prominent cleft chin was posing dramatically for a cluster of cameras, his gaudy championship belt catching the studio lights as he gestured expansively.

"—and that's why I'm not worried about this Cell character!" the man was declaring with theatrical bravado. "I've faced tougher opponents in my warm-up exercises!"

A news reporter thrust a microphone toward him, her voice carrying that eager edge that suggested she was hoping for controversy. "Mr. Satan, after witnessing the incredible destruction Cell caused at the news station, are you certain you can defeat him? Many are calling his power supernatural."

The supposed champion—Satan, apparently—snatched the microphone with obvious relish. "Supernatural? Please!" He scoffed, his voice dripping with dismissive confidence. "What you saw was nothing but cheap parlor tricks! Obviously he planted explosives beforehand—any competent martial artist could see through such obvious stagecraft!"

He struck another pose, flexing dramatically for the cameras. "When I get my hands on Cell, I'll make mincemeat out of him! The people of Earth have nothing to fear as long as their champion stands ready to defend them!"

Cellera stared at the screen with growing incredulity. "Who is this... individual?" she asked, her tone carrying that particular blend of disdain and disbelief she typically reserved for opponents who grossly overestimated their capabilities.

Bulma glanced up from her computer screen, rolling her eyes with obvious exasperation. "That's Hercule Satan, the new World Martial Arts Champion. He won the last tournament after Goku decided not to participate."

As if to emphasize Bulma's point, Hercule continued his bombastic speech, now explaining in great detail how he planned to expose Cell's "trickery" through superior martial arts technique. His complete dismissal of ki manipulation as elaborate special effects would have been amusing if it weren't so dangerously delusional.

"I see," Cellera said slowly, watching the man preen for the cameras with mounting irritation. "And is it customary for new champions to behave like complete jackasses in front of the entire world?"

The crude assessment caught Bulma completely off guard, causing her to nearly choke on her coffee as surprised laughter bubbled up. She quickly set her mug down, coughing slightly as she tried to regain her composure.

"Sorry," Cellera added with a slight wince, realizing her language had been less than diplomatic.

"Don't apologize!" Bulma waved her off, amusement dancing in her eyes as she wiped tears from the corners. "It's not like Trunks is around to hear it, so you're in the clear this time. Besides, you're not wrong—the man's ego is almost as oversized as his hair."

Their shared amusement over Hercule's delusions was interrupted by a thoughtful hum from Dr. Briefs. Both women turned to find him studying one of the larger diagnostic monitors with unusual intensity, his typical relaxed demeanor replaced by focused concentration as he stroked his chin in contemplation.

"What's wrong, Dad?" Bulma asked, immediately picking up on the shift in his behavior.

Dr. Briefs didn't immediately respond, his eyes never leaving the display as he processed whatever had caught his attention. "Could you run a second-level diagnostic on the left chest plate?" he requested finally, his voice carrying an edge that made both women straighten with concern.

Cellera and Bulma exchanged a quick glance—Dr. Briefs rarely requested additional scans unless something significant had appeared in the initial readings. Without hesitation, Bulma's fingers began flying across her keyboard, initiating the more detailed diagnostic protocols while Cellera moved to stand beside Dr. Briefs, wanting to see firsthand what had captured his attention so completely.

As the diagnostic scan processed, the monitor's display shifted, rendering Android 16's left chest plate transparent and revealing the intricate machinery housed beneath the protective armor. Layers of circuitry, power conduits, and mechanical components became visible in stunning detail, each element labeled with technical specifications that scrolled along the screen's edge.

But it was a particular cylindrical component, nestled deep within the chest cavity, that immediately drew Cellera's focus. The device bore the unmistakable Red Ribbon insignia—a stark reminder of the organization that had created these androids for destruction.

"A bomb," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the laboratory's ambient noise as the implications settled over them like a dark cloud.

Bulma leaned forward from her workstation, her expression darkening as she absorbed the readings streaming across her secondary monitor. "These neutron signatures..." She paused, cross-referencing the data with known explosive yields. "It's comparable to a nuclear warhead."

Cellera's fists clenched involuntarily as she glanced toward Android 16's still form on the examination table. "Intended for Kakarot, no doubt." The revelation transformed her understanding of the gentle android completely. This wasn't just about creating a weapon—Dr. Gero had turned what appeared to be his most benevolent creation into a walking explosive device.

The fact that such a kind-hearted android had been designed as a suicide bomber struck her as particularly twisted, even by Gero's standards. While his treatment of 17 and 18 had been horrific, there was something especially insidious about programming someone with 16's gentle nature to be capable of such destruction.

"Can it be removed?" she asked, returning her attention to the diagnostic display.

Dr. Briefs adjusted his glasses, studying the bomb's position relative to 16's critical systems with the careful eye of someone who had spent decades working with delicate machinery. "It may take some time," he said thoughtfully, "but it shouldn't prove too difficult. The device appears to be self-contained, with minimal integration into his core functions."

"Worth the effort," Cellera replied without hesitation. "The risk of leaving it is too great. It's entirely possible Gero programmed it to detonate under specific circumstances—perhaps if 16 sustained too much damage or if certain conditions were met."

"Agreed," Bulma said, her fingers already pulling up detailed schematics of Android 16's chest cavity architecture. "Though I have to wonder—did Gero plant similar devices in 17 and 18?"

The question hung in the air as Cellera moved behind Bulma's chair, studying the technical readouts over her shoulder. "Did you notice anything while working on the deactivation remote?" she asked.

Bulma shook her head with obvious frustration. "No, but I was focused primarily on their behavioral coding and core systems—anything that would help make the remote functional. We weren't specifically looking for concealed explosives."

Cellera considered this, recognizing the truth in Bulma's assessment. Their previous work had been concentrated on understanding the foundations of Gero's programming methods, not conducting comprehensive security sweeps for hidden weapons. The oversight was understandable, but potentially dangerous.

"Aha!" Bulma's sudden exclamation drew Cellera's attention back to the main screen. The blueprints of 17 and 18 now filled the display, with Bulma zooming in on their left chest cavities. The computer's analysis highlighted identical cylindrical components in precisely the same location as 16's bomb.

"Looks like Gero was nothing if not consistent in his designs," Bulma observed grimly, her voice carrying a mixture of professional admiration and moral disgust.

Cellera's eyes narrowed as she studied the bomb schematics. The thought of living with such a device embedded in your chest, never knowing what might trigger its activation, created a cold knot in her stomach. Worse still was the uncertainty of whether 17 and 18 even knew about their internal passengers—knowing Gero's twisted psychology, he could have gone either way. He might have informed them, using the threat as another form of control, or kept it as a final surprise.

The parallel to the deactivation remote was obvious and chilling. Even in death, Gero had left behind mechanisms designed to control or destroy his creations.

Perhaps once Cell was dealt with, they could find a way to remove the bombs from 17 and 18 as well. Though she suspected neither cyborg would willingly trust another scientist after what Gero had put them through. Given what she knew about their origins as kidnapped teens, their wariness would be entirely understandable.

But those concerns would have to wait. Right now, their priority was clear—restore Android 16 to full functionality, starting with the careful removal of the explosive device that transformed him from a gentle giant into an unwitting walking bomb.

"How long do you estimate the extraction will take?" Cellera asked, already mentally calculating how this delay might affect their preparation timeline for the Cell Games.

Dr. Briefs studied the diagnostic data one more time before responding. "If we work carefully and don't encounter any unexpected complications, perhaps two to four hours. The device appears to be connected to several monitoring systems, so we'll need to reroute those connections before attempting removal."

Cellera nodded, settling into a nearby chair. "Then let's begin. Every moment we delay is another moment Cell grows stronger."

"Hold it there!" Bulma's voice cut through their analysis of the bomb schematics as she stood up from her chair with sudden purpose. She motioned Cellera over with an urgent gesture. "I'll help Dad with the bomb extraction—I need you to handle the memory core so we can get everything ready to be uploaded to the new replacement chip!"

Cellera paused mid-step, taken aback by the unexpected assignment. Throughout their previous collaborations, her role had typically been limited to verifying equations and cross-referencing formulas—important work, certainly, but more supportive than central to the actual repair process. To be entrusted with such a critical component of Android 16's restoration was both surprising and gratifying.

"Are you certain?" she asked, though her tone carried more surprise than doubt. The challenge didn't intimidate her, but the responsibility was significantly greater than anything Bulma had previously assigned her.

"Of course!" Bulma replied with characteristic confidence, already moving toward the bomb extraction equipment. "It was the job I had planned for you in the first place, actually. And this way we can knock out two birds with one stone—Dad and I can focus on the delicate explosive removal while you handle the memory reconstruction."

Cellera gave a decisive nod, her mind already shifting to accommodate this new responsibility. "In that case, it would be beneficial for you to teach me the upload process as well. If I'm handling the memory core, I should understand the entire procedure."

Bulma paused mid-stride, her expression shifting as if she'd suddenly remembered something important. Before Cellera could ask what was troubling her, Bulma slapped her palm against her forehead with obvious frustration.

"Ah! I forgot!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying a note of self-recrimination. "We were a few materials short of completing the replacement chip, and the only place to source what we need is out near Goku's area. I haven't had a chance to make the trip myself, and it completely slipped my mind to mention it."

Cellera pressed her thumb thoughtfully to her lip, considering the logistics. "If Kakarot is still following his original training schedule, they should be home right now. Perhaps you could simply call and ask him to bring you what you need?"

The suggestion seemed to physically deflate Bulma's shoulders as relief washed over her features. Cellera felt a pang of sympathy—for someone as brilliant as Bulma to overlook something as straightforward as calling Kakarot, whose Instant Transmission made him essentially a teleporting courier service, spoke to just how exhausted she must be.

"Sounds like a plan!" Bulma's voice still carried its usual enthusiasm despite her obvious fatigue. "But first, let me show you exactly what I need you to do!"

Moving to her primary workstation, Bulma pulled up Android 16's memory core architecture on the main display. The complex web of data structures, subroutines, and protocol hierarchies filled the screen in intricate detail, each component color-coded and labeled with technical specifications.

"The process is straightforward in concept, though it requires careful attention to detail," Bulma explained, her voice taking on the measured tone she used when teaching complex procedures. "Your job is to scan through 16's core programming and identify any potentially harmful protocols left over from his original design. Anything that seems designed to cause harm or override his current behavioral patterns needs to be isolated and deleted."

She highlighted several examples on the screen, pointing out the subtle indicators that distinguished malicious code from legitimate system functions. "Look for keywords related to violence, termination commands, override protocols—anything that could spell bad news. Gero was methodical, but he wasn't particularly creative with his naming conventions."

Cellera studied the examples intently, her analytical mind quickly absorbing the patterns and identification criteria. The logic was similar to battlefield assessment—distinguishing threats from neutral elements required careful observation and pattern recognition.

"I understand," she confirmed, settling into the workstation chair as Bulma transferred control of the memory core interface to her terminal.

For the next few minutes, Bulma remained beside her as Cellera began her initial scan of the data files. The work proved absorbing—each protocol required careful examination to determine its purpose and potential threat level. Within the first directory alone, she identified and quarantined three suspicious programs, their deletion requiring precise surgical removal to avoid damaging surrounding code.

"Look at you go!" Bulma remarked with genuine appreciation as she watched Cellera work. "Most people wouldn't have caught those on their first pass—they're deliberately obscured to avoid detection."

The praise carried real weight coming from someone who took as much professional pride in her scientific work as Cellera did in her combat abilities. She found herself sitting straighter in her chair, a small smile touching her lips at the recognition of her analytical skills being applied to an entirely different domain.

"I couldn't help but notice that the protocol labeled 'KillSonGoku.exe' doesn't exactly require sophisticated decryption to identify as hostile," Cellera observed, highlighting the particularly obvious example.

Bulma couldn't help but laugh at the observation. "I told you Gero wasn’t very creative, but he at least makes it easy" she said with amusement. "You've got the hang of this—I'm confident you can handle the rest on your own."

She began moving toward the wall-mounted phone, already mentally composing her request to Goku. "I'm going to give Goku a call about those materials. Take your time with the memory core—thoroughness is more important than speed at this stage."

As Bulma reached for the phone, Cellera turned her attention back to the scrolling lines of code, settling into the methodical rhythm of digital archaeology. Each deleted protocol brought Android 16 one step closer to being the gentle protector she believed he was meant to be, rather than the weapon Gero had originally designed.

Cellera was deep in concentration, examining a particularly complex subroutine buried within 16's combat algorithms, when Bulma's voice carried across the laboratory.

"Oh, hi Gohan!" Bulma's voice carried warmth and familiarity. "Is your dad around? I really need his help with something..."

At the mention of Gohan's name, Cellera's hands froze completely over the keyboard. Her heart had begun that familiar irregular rhythm again as she found herself holding her breath, waiting for the conversation to continue.

"He's not? Well, that's a problem..." Bulma's tone shifted to disappointment before brightening again. "Actually, Gohan, maybe you could help me out instead? I need some materials for Android 16's repairs, and they can only be found in your neck of the woods..."

If Gohan helped with the materials, that meant he would be coming here. Today. Soon, possibly.

The thought sent an unwelcome flutter of nervousness through her stomach, completely disrupting the calm focus she'd maintained throughout the morning. Her hands hovered uselessly over the keyboard as her mind conjured images of him walking through the laboratory doors—how he'd grown taller in ways that made her acutely aware of the changes in him, the way his voice had deepened just enough to sound different when he said her name, how that characteristic gesture of rubbing the back of his neck when embarrassed had somehow become endearing rather than simply familiar.

"That would be perfect!" Bulma continued enthusiastically as she began rattling off the specific metals she needed. "Could you bring them to Capsule Corp when you get a chance?"

Cellera stared at the monitor in front of her, the neat lines of code that had been perfectly comprehensible moments before now blurring together. In an hour or two, Gohan would be walking through these very doors, and she still had no idea how to handle these confusing feelings that seemed to intensify every time she was around him. The memory work on Android 16 was supposed to provide a safe distraction, a way to keep her mind occupied with concrete, solvable problems. Instead, she was about to face exactly what she'd been trying to avoid.

"Thanks so much, Gohan! You're a real lifesaver. See you soon!"

The click of the phone returning to its cradle seemed to echo through the laboratory with unusual finality. Cellera sat motionless for several seconds, her carefully constructed morning routine—training to center herself, focusing on technical work to avoid emotional complexity—crumbling around her.

"Everything okay over there?" Bulma's voice broke through her paralysis, carrying a note of concern.

"Fine," Cellera replied quickly, forcing her hands back into motion over the keyboard. "Just... examining a particularly complex protocol."

The lie came easily, but even as she tried to resume her analysis, every few minutes she found herself glancing toward the laboratory entrance, her concentration fractured by anticipation she couldn't suppress. Each keystroke felt like marking time until an inevitable confrontation—not with an enemy she could fight, but with feelings she couldn't define, couldn't categorize, and couldn't seem to control.

Behind her, she could hear Bulma and Dr. Briefs discussing the bomb extraction procedure, their voices a comforting backdrop of technical expertise. Yet even their familiar presence couldn't ease the nervous energy building in her chest. She'd faced planetary destroyers with steadier hands than she currently possessed while attempting to examine Android 16's memory protocols.

She commanded herself to focus—Android 16 needed these repairs completed. This work mattered. But no amount of mental discipline seemed capable of quieting the persistent awareness that she would see Gohan again, and she still had no understanding of what was happening to her.

The work that should have absorbed her attention completely felt secondary to thoughts of golden hair that caught sunlight in ways that made her want to keep looking, the earnest way he explained things when he was excited about a new discovery, and how her chest felt strangely full whenever Gohan was mentioned.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice wondered if perhaps this was exactly what she needed. Maybe the universe was simply tired of watching her dance around the obvious and had decided to force her hand. After all, she'd never been one to shy away from difficult battles.

The question was whether she was ready to fight this particular war—especially when she had no idea what victory would mean in a battle like this

Dr. Briefs' earlier assessment proved accurate—the delicate operation of extracting the bomb had taken roughly two and a half hours, requiring careful rerouting of monitoring systems before the explosive device could be safely removed and contained. Cellera had also managed to complete her work on Android 16's memory core, though she would have finished an hour sooner if she'd been able to dedicate her entire focus to the task rather than splitting it between the programming and thoughts of Gohan's impending arrival.

Now, with the repairs nearly complete, she stood outside Capsule Corporation's main entrance in the afternoon sun, the warm light doing little to ease the nervous energy that had been building in her chest all morning. Bulma had mentioned that Gohan would probably be arriving soon and had asked Cellera to meet him outside while she and Dr. Briefs put the finishing touches on Android 16's restoration.

She sensed his ki approaching before she saw him, giving her only a few precious moments to steel herself. Drawing on the same discipline that had carried her through countless battles, Cellera forced her breathing to slow, her posture to straighten. She had never been one to flee from a challenge, no matter how unfamiliar the terrain. 

A moment later, Gohan descended from the sky with that familiar grace that had become second nature to him since mastering his Super Saiyan transformation. He touched down on Capsule Corp's front steps with barely a sound, his golden aura fading as his feet met the concrete. As he made his way toward her, Cellera found herself taking in details she hadn't consciously intended to notice.

While he was still dressed casually, his outfit was different from what she'd seen him wear over the past two days. The style remained similar to his previous white shirt—that relaxed cut that Chi-Chi preferred for him—but this one was a true blue with crisp white accents around the collar and running down the center in a clean vertical line. His usual black pants had been replaced with deep navy ones that created a more cohesive look overall.

She couldn't help but notice how the blue brought out his teal eyes, the contrasting colors somehow creating a harmony that she found unexpectedly appealing. The navy pants were a perfect match for his skin tone, creating an overall appearance that was both casual and somehow more... mature than his usual attire.

The observation struck her as both natural and deeply unsettling. She'd caught herself admiring his appearance before—at his birthday party, when he'd emerged from the Room of Spirit and Time—but this felt more detailed somehow, more... thorough. As if her awareness of him was sharpening with each encounter. More disturbing still was the sudden wave of self-consciousness that washed over her as she became acutely aware of her own clothing—her battle armor that had always felt like a second skin.

For the first time in years, her combat gear felt... inappropriate somehow. Not tactically—she could fight effectively in these clothes, move with complete freedom. But standing here in the afternoon sunlight, watching Gohan approach in his carefully coordinated casual wear, she felt oddly out of place. As if she should have chosen something different, something that showed more consideration for—for what, exactly?

The realization that she was admiring his appearance again , combined with this unprecedented concern about her own presentation, sent hairline cracks through the mental preparation she'd spent the last few moments constructing. Her carefully maintained composure began to fracture just as Gohan drew close enough for conversation, leaving her feeling exposed and uncertain in ways that had nothing to do with physical vulnerability.

She had no time to examine these reactions further, however, as Gohan approached with a slightly sheepish smile. In his hands, he held what appeared to be a specialized piece of metal, its surface catching the light with an almost prismatic quality that suggested advanced engineering.

"Sorry it took me so long to find these," he said, extending the materials toward her with an apologetic expression. "I had to search three different mountain ranges before I found the right mineral composition."

As he passed the metal to her, their fingers brushed against each other in what should have been a simple, meaningless exchange between longtime friends. The brief contact sent an unexpected jolt through her, warm and electric in a way that made her stomach flutter with those same butterflies she'd experienced at his birthday party.

Her breath caught, and she had to fight down both the instinctive urge to pull her hand away and the heat that immediately began creeping up her neck. Instead, she forced herself to focus on examining the materials in her hands, using the technical assessment as both a distraction and an excuse to avoid direct eye contact until the warmth in her cheeks subsided and she could trust herself to speak normally.

The metal was exactly what Bulma had specified—a rare crystalline ore with the unique properties needed for Android 16's replacement chip. Its surface held an almost prismatic quality that suggested it would integrate perfectly with the android's complex systems.

"It should be us apologizing to you," she managed to say, though her voice came out slightly less steady than she'd intended. "This was supposed to be your final rest day before you and Kakarot begin your three days of training."

Gohan's expression shifted to something more casual, that easy-going nature that had always been one of his most endearing qualities. "I don't mind," he replied with a slight shrug. "I wasn't doing anything else anyway, and it was better than just sitting around waiting for Mom and Dad to get back."

The comment drew her attention back to his face, though she found herself having to consciously avoid that lingering kind of observation that seemed to be happening more frequently lately. Still feeling somewhat unsteady from their brief contact, she tilted her head slightly in that gesture of curiosity he'd come to recognize over the years.

"I knew Kakarot wasn't home when Bulma called," she said, "but I didn't realize Chi-Chi was gone as well. Where did they go?"

Gohan's mind drifted back to the sweet moments he'd witnessed between his parents throughout the morning—his father's genuine excitement over the elaborate picnic his mother had prepared, his mother's dreamy expression as she recounted their first meeting all those years ago. There had been something almost magical about watching them together like that, not as the parents who worried about his training or studies, but simply as two people who had found something special in each other despite their many differences.

"Well," he began, his hand moving to the back of his neck in that familiar gesture, "Mom had this whole family picnic planned for today. She packed enough food to feed an army—which, knowing my dad, was probably still cutting it close."

Cellera's soft laugh made him smile. "It still might not have been enough," she replied with that hint of amusement he'd grown to love hearing. "Your mother might need to start preparing for two armies if your appetite develops anything like your father's."

The teasing reference to his increasingly Saiyan-like eating habits—she'd witnessed his impressive consumption at both The Lookout and his birthday celebration—drew an embarrassed chuckle from him. He could still picture the way she'd watched him work through that third helping of noodles and cake, and he hoped her expression had been more fond than concerned.

"So why didn't you join them?" she asked, her curiosity evident in the slight tilt of her head.

A fond smile crossed his features as he prepared to explain. "Right when they were loading everything into the car, they started talking about when they first met. You know how they get once they start reminiscing."

What he'd observed that morning had revealed a side of his parents he rarely got to see. His father, usually focused on training or his next meal, had gone completely soft-eyed listening to his mother describe their tournament encounter. His mother, who spent most days worrying about homework or scolding his father's more dangerous impulses, had looked almost like a young girl again as she talked about falling for the strange boy who'd confused marriage with food.

Despite how different they were in everything from life philosophy to parenting approaches, those differences never seemed to diminish what they felt for each other. His father might not be naturally romantic like his mother, but his love for his family was unmistakable. And while his mother's frequent scolding might sound harsh to outsiders, Gohan understood it came from deep worry rather than anger. The memory of how terrified she'd been during his father's illness, how she'd refused to leave his bedside for days, proved that beyond any doubt.

They still had three rest days left for family picnics. Some moments deserved to be private, shared only between two people who'd discovered something precious together. The choice to give them that space had been easy.

"I figured they could use some alone time," he continued, unable to suppress a hint of mischief in his voice. "So I suggested they go without me." He chuckled softly. "Dad even convinced Mom to take Nimbus instead of the car."

The golden cloud held special significance for his family. It had carried his father through countless adventures, and according to family stories, riding Nimbus was where his mother had realized she wanted to marry the peculiar young warrior. Even Gohan had experienced its magic as a small child, marveling at how gently it moved through the sky, as if it understood the precious nature of whoever rode upon it. Back then, when he'd been frightened of nearly everything, Nimbus had somehow never felt scary.

Cellera's expression grew thoughtful as she processed this information. "The Nimbus... If I remember correctly, you mentioned once that only those pure of heart could ride it."

"That's right," he confirmed with a nod. "Though others can ride along if they hold onto someone pure-hearted." His face brightened as the idea struck him. "Maybe I could take you for a ride sometime! I remember you being curious about it."

The suggestion escaped before his brain engaged, and immediately he wanted to disappear. This was definitely the worst one yet - first blurting out that she looked nice when she'd come over in casual clothes, then going on and on about her abilities in front of Lemone. But this? This was way more embarrassing.

He'd basically just asked Cellera to do exactly what his parents had done this morning - and that had been romantic. The picture of his mom with her arms around his dad as they flew off together suddenly changed in his head, becoming Cellera holding onto him instead as they soared through the clouds, maybe even laughing as they flew over the mountains.

He kept replaying the image, and even though part of him wanted to just disappear, another part really liked the idea. He actually wanted to show her that, to share something special with her.

When had everything gotten so... different? When had he started wanting her to notice him more than anyone else?

Things kept popping into his head - how mad he'd gotten watching Lemone try to impress her, how good it felt when she praised him for helping those villagers. Even at his birthday party, when she seemed happy he wanted to celebrate with her, the way she'd looked at him made everything else fade away for hours afterward.

Cellera wasn't just his best friend anymore. She was the person he thought about when he was supposed to be doing homework, the one he most wanted to tell when something cool happened, the one who could make his whole day brighter just by smiling at him.

This was what having a crush felt like, wasn't it? And he couldn't pretend it wasn't happening anymore.

"I didn't realize your father had finally gotten his license," Cellera said, and something in her tone suggested she was deliberately steering the conversation toward safer territory. "Last I heard, both he and Piccolo had failed their tests."

Gohan nodded, grateful for the shift away from what had become unexpectedly charged territory. "He finally passed," he confirmed with a chuckle. "Though Mom had to practically beg the instructors to let him retake it. Apparently his first attempt involved some... creative interpretations of traffic laws."

"Yet they still chose Nimbus over the car for today," Cellera observed with a hint of amusement.

"Mom said it would be more romantic," Gohan replied, then immediately felt his cheeks warm as he realized what he'd just said in the context of their previous conversation.

Before Cellera could respond, the sound of footsteps drew their attention toward Capsule Corp's entrance. Bulma emerged from the building, her expression carrying that particular mix of determination and barely contained excitement that usually meant she had something important to discuss.

Before Cellera could respond to Gohan's awkward admission about romance, the sound of footsteps on concrete drew their attention toward Capsule Corp's entrance. Bulma emerged from the building with that distinctive energy that meant she had news—her stride purposeful, her expression mixing determination with barely contained excitement.

"There you two are!" she called out as she approached, though her voice carried a note of pleasant surprise rather than annoyance. "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost on the way back from—"

Her words cut off abruptly as she got close enough to really look at Gohan. Her eyes widened as she took in his transformed appearance, her gaze sweeping over his increased height and more mature features with obvious amazement.

"Wow!" Bulma exclaimed, coming to a complete stop in front of them. "Cellera was right about how much taller you've gotten! Are you sure you're really Gohan under there? Because you look like you aged three years instead of one."

Gohan scratched his cheek with that characteristic gesture, a sheepish smile spreading across his face. "It's really me, I promise," he assured her, though he couldn't help the way his curiosity sparked at Bulma's comment. The thought that Cellera had been talking about him to Bulma—discussing his appearance, noticing his changes—created a warm flutter in his chest that he tried not to examine too closely.

He glanced sideways at Cellera, catching the light pink flush that had crept into her cheeks at being called out for her observations. She was studying something fascinating on the ground near her feet, her posture slightly stiff in that way it got when she felt exposed. The sight made him want to smile, though he managed to restrain himself.

"This is exactly what we needed!" Bulma's voice broke through his wandering thoughts as Cellera handed over the specialized metal. Bulma turned the material over in her hands, examining its quality with a practiced eye. "Thank you so much for the help, Gohan. I know you're supposed to be resting."

She paused then, her expression shifting to something more speculative as she placed her hands on her hips—a gesture that always preceded one of her spontaneous ideas. "Actually, since you're already here... want to watch us finish fixing up the android? The replacement chip shouldn't take me long to fabricate, and I know how much you enjoy seeing how things work."

Gohan's entire face lit up at the offer, his earlier embarrassment forgotten in the face of genuine excitement. "Really? That would be amazing!" he said, his voice carrying that enthusiasm he got whenever he encountered something new to learn. 

Bulma grinned at his reaction, clearly pleased to have such an eager audience for her work. "Come on then, let's head inside. Dad should have finished the final calibrations by now."

As they made their way toward the laboratory entrance, Gohan fell into step beside Cellera, his curiosity getting the better of him. "How much progress have you made so far?" he asked, turning to look at her with genuine interest.

"The structural repairs were more extensive than initially anticipated," she began, her analytical mind clearly enjoying the opportunity to organize and present their achievements. "Dr. Gero's engineering was remarkably sophisticated, despite his twisted purposes. We had to completely reconstruct several core systems, but his neural networks proved surprisingly resilient."

As she continued explaining their methodology—the painstaking process of memory core analysis, the challenges they'd faced with corrupted programming, the delicate work of replacing damaged circuitry—Gohan found himself hanging on every word. There was something captivating about watching her expertise extend beyond combat into this entirely different domain, seeing how she applied the same precision and strategic thinking that made her such a formidable warrior to technical problem-solving.

The earlier tension that had existed between them seemed to dissolve completely as they fell back into this familiar pattern of shared intellectual curiosity. This was safer ground for both of them—Cellera in her element as a teacher and analyst, Gohan as an eager student with genuine appreciation for complex subjects.

"The most challenging aspect was identifying and eliminating hostile protocols," Cellera continued as they approached the laboratory doors. "Dr. Gero had embedded numerous termination commands throughout the system, including—" She paused, her expression growing more serious. "Including an explosive device comparable to a nuclear warhead."

Gohan's expression shifted instantly from admiration to alarm, his steps faltering slightly. "A bomb? Inside Android 16?"

Seeing his reaction, Cellera was quick to reassure him. "We successfully removed it," she said firmly, her voice carrying that calm authority she used to defuse panic in crisis situations. "Dr. Briefs handled the extraction personally. Android 16 is no longer a walking weapon."

The implications of what she was saying settled over Gohan like a cold weight. The idea that someone like Android 16—a being designed purely for destruction—had been created with such a horrific failsafe was deeply disturbing. It spoke to the depths of Dr. Gero's cruelty in ways that went beyond simple villainy.

"That's..." he began, then stopped, shaking his head. "I can't imagine living with something like that inside you, never knowing if or when it might activate."

"Neither can I," Cellera agreed quietly, her voice carrying a note of genuine sympathy that spoke to her growing empathy for beings whose origins paralleled her own in uncomfortable ways.

They reached the laboratory entrance, and as they stepped inside, Cellera found herself observing Gohan's reaction to the bustling workspace rather than focusing on her usual assessment of their progress. The space hummed with activity—diagnostic equipment maintaining its steady rhythm in the background, holographic displays casting colored light as they projected complex schematics into the air, and the familiar scent of ozone and heated metal that had become comforting to her over the past few days.

Gohan's eyes darted from one piece of equipment to another with unconcealed wonder, his natural curiosity evident in the way he tried to absorb every detail. Advanced computers whose capabilities far exceeded anything he's seen before, specialized tools whose purposes would take hours to explain, and monitoring systems tracking dozens of variables simultaneously. It was like watching someone discover an entirely new world, and Cellera found herself seeing the laboratory through fresh eyes as a result.

When his gaze finally settled on Android 16's prone form on the examination table, she noted the shift in his expression—from excitement to something more contemplative. The android lay motionless, connected to various monitoring systems and diagnostic equipment that tracked his vital functions during the repair process.

Cellera moved to stand beside Gohan, noting how his curiosity seemed to override any nervousness he might have felt about being near one of Dr. Gero's creations. "You haven't actually seen any of Gero's androids besides the doctor himself and Android 19, have you?"

Gohan shook his head, his gaze never leaving the motionless form on the table. 

"He's different from 17 and 18," Cellera said quietly, her voice taking on a thoughtful quality as she recalled her previous encounters with the gentle giant. "The only aggression I've witnessed from him was directed at Cell. Even during our confrontation with the others near the highway, he seemed more interested in observing the local wildlife than participating in any conflict."

A slight smile touched her lips as she remembered his fascination with Capsule Corp's indoor garden. "He spent quite a bit of time in the atrium when we first brought him here. Bulma found him sitting perfectly still while a family of sparrows built a nest on his shoulder."

Gohan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "That seems pretty strange for something created specifically to kill my dad."

"It does," she agreed, her voice growing gentler as she considered the implications. "But I think it demonstrates something important—despite his original programming, he was still able to make his own choices about who he wanted to be."

"So he shouldn't be targeting Dad anymore?" Gohan asked, glancing between Cellera and the android with a mixture of hope and lingering concern.

"If I followed Bulma's instructions correctly during the memory transfer, he shouldn't retain that directive," Cellera replied, then paused before adding with quiet certainty, "And I know I didn't miss anything." Despite the morning's earlier distractions—thoughts of Gohan's arrival and her own confusing reactions—she was confident she had fulfilled the technical work with her usual precision.

"Behold!" Bulma's triumphant voice cut through their conversation as she approached from her workstation, holding up a small component like a trophy. "The fruit of our labor!"

Cellera and Gohan leaned in to examine the tiny chip resting in Bulma's outstretched palm. The device was surprisingly small, its surface covered with intricate circuitry that seemed to pulse with barely contained potential.

"It's so small," Gohan remarked, studying the microscopic pathways etched into the crystalline substrate. "How can something that tiny contain an entire personality?"

"Small but mighty," Bulma replied with the satisfied smile of someone who had just solved an impossible puzzle. "This little thing is essentially what gives him consciousness, memory, everything that makes him... him."

She moved toward Android 16's prone form with the careful precision of a surgeon, holding the chip with specialized tweezers. "Now I just need to place it in the cranial chamber and..." She made a final delicate adjustment, sliding the component into place with a soft click. "Voilà!"

Almost immediately, a low mechanical whir filled the laboratory as various systems came online. Android 16's eyes slowly opened—not the harsh red glow they'd seen during combat, but a softer, more thoughtful expression that somehow managed to convey warmth despite their artificial nature.

He sat up with fluid grace, his movements economical and smooth as his gaze swept methodically around the room. Cellera could almost see his processors working as he catalogued his surroundings, cross-referencing the laboratory against his stored memories of Capsule Corporation.

"Do you remember what happened?" Cellera asked, watching him carefully for any signs of confusion or hostile programming that might have survived their cleaning process.

Android 16 turned to face her, and she was struck again by how his expression managed to be both neutral and somehow gentle at the same time. "You and Krillin brought me here for repairs after my encounter with Cell," he said, his voice carrying that same measured cadence she remembered.

He stood from the examination table and faced their small group, offering a slight bow that spoke to programming far more sophisticated than simple combat protocols. "I am grateful for your assistance."

Dr. Briefs laughed warmly, clearly pleased to see his work functioning so smoothly. "Think nothing of it! Though we couldn't have finished without Gohan here—he brought us the final components we needed when we thought we might have to delay the entire project."

Android 16's attention shifted immediately to Gohan, and Cellera noticed how the young Saiyan's posture stiffened slightly under that intense mechanical gaze. But she felt no concern, trusting both her own careful work on 16's programming and, more importantly, the gentle nature she'd observed in him before his injuries.

"H-hello," Gohan managed, his voice carrying just a hint of nervousness despite his best efforts to appear calm.

The android's eyes remained fixed on him for several long moments, clearly accessing whatever data files contained information about Kakarot's family. The analysis seemed to yield limited results beyond the obvious genetic connection to his former target.

After what felt like an eternity but was probably only seconds, Android 16 spoke again. "I would like to run a field test in the nearby forest to assess my body's functionality and ensure all systems are operating within normal parameters."

"Don't see why not," Dr. Briefs said with a casual shrug, adjusting his glasses as he reviewed the diagnostic readouts one final time. "Everything looks good from a technical standpoint."

Android 16 turned back to Cellera and Gohan, his request carrying the weight of someone who understood the value of witnesses. "Please accompany me. Your assistance may be required if any complications arise."

Without waiting for their response, he began moving toward the laboratory exit, his heavy footsteps echoing against the polished floor.

"Might as well go with him," Bulma said with a shrug, though her casual tone didn't quite hide her own curiosity about how her repairs would function in the field. "He should be fine, but since we essentially just performed the android equivalent of brain surgery, it's probably wise to keep an eye on him for the first few hours."

Cellera nodded, falling into step behind the android. "I'll monitor for anything that might need adjustment." She glanced at Gohan, catching his eye as he moved to join them. His small nod carried determination mixed with lingering caution, but she could see his natural curiosity beginning to override any concerns about spending time with one of Dr. Gero's creations.

As they prepared to follow Android 16 into the afternoon sunlight, Cellera found herself wondering what this field test might reveal—not just about the android's restored capabilities, but about the kind of being he would choose to be now that his original programming no longer bound him to a path of destruction.

The forest clearing opened around them as they followed Android 16, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above in shifting patterns of light and shadow. The peaceful sounds of nature surrounded them—birds calling from hidden perches, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, and the distant murmur of a stream that wound its way through the woods.

Android 16 came to a stop beneath a massive oak tree, its ancient branches spreading wide overhead. His blue eyes lifted to where a family of blue jays had built their nest among the higher boughs, and something in his expression softened as he observed their movements.

With deliberate slowness that seemed almost reverent, 16 extended his finger toward the birds. The gesture was so tender, so at odds with his imposing frame, that it took Gohan a moment to process what he was witnessing. One of the blue jays, after a moment's cautious observation, fluttered down to perch on the android's outstretched digit. The small bird tilted its head with curious fearlessness, studying this unusual visitor who posed no threat despite his obvious strength.

Gohan found himself unconsciously mimicking the bird's head tilt, watching the scene unfold with growing amazement. There was something almost magical about the moment—this being designed for destruction showing such careful tenderness toward something so fragile.

"You were right," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the peaceful interaction. "He really doesn't seem like he'd hurt anyone."

"He reminds me of you in some ways," Cellera replied, her gaze still fixed on Android 16 and his avian companion.

The unexpected comparison made Gohan turn to look at her, genuine curiosity replacing his wonder at the scene before them. "Really? What makes you say that?"

Cellera was quiet for a long moment, her thumb moving to her lip. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a thoughtful quality that suggested she was revealing something she'd been considering for some time.

"You're both gentle despite being so powerful," she said, her words growing softer until they were almost a whisper. "That quality... it's always drawn me to you."

The words settled between them, and Gohan just stared at her. She'd complimented his abilities plenty of times before, but this was completely different.

Now that he knew what his own feelings were, hearing her say that changed everything. She didn't just respect his gentleness or understand why he fought the way he did. She was drawn to that part of him. Whether she meant it the same way he was starting to feel about her, he had no idea, but knowing she found something appealing about him made him want to grin like an idiot.

"I should check on 16," she mumbled, already moving toward the android who had attracted the attention of several deer emerging from deeper in the woods.

As Cellera hurried away, Gohan remained where he stood, watching the way she moved. When she'd pushed that strand of hair behind her ear just now, looking all embarrassed and flustered, he'd found himself thinking the same thing he had back at Chazke Village when she'd done it after he'd complimented her to Lemone.

She really was pretty when she did that. Pretty and endearing in a way that made him want to see her get flustered again, just so he could watch her do it. It reminded him of when they'd found Cell's molt and she'd tried so hard to maintain her composure while clearly wanting nothing to do with the bug shell. The way she tried to hide her discomfort but couldn't quite manage it—there was something about seeing those little cracks in her usual confidence that he found incredibly appealing.

Standing there in the dappled sunlight, watching Cellera interact with Android 16 while deer gathered around them with trust born of the android's obvious gentleness, Gohan found himself still replaying her words from earlier. The memory of her saying she was drawn to his gentleness kept surfacing despite his attempts to focus on 16's field test.

Gohan shook his head slightly, trying to regain his focus. This wasn't the time for such realizations, not with Cell's tournament only two days away. Yet he couldn't completely banish the warm feeling her words had sparked as he moved to join her and Android 16, who currently had a deer nuzzling against his palm.

"How is your body functioning? Do you need any adjustments?" Cellera asked, her voice taking on a professional tone rather than the softer one she had used with Gohan moments ago.

"My repairs are satisfactory," Android 16 responded, his voice carrying a gentleness that seemed at odds with his imposing frame. "Diagnostics indicate I am at one hundred percent functionality."

They watched as the deer pushed its head under 16's hand, coaxing him to resume the gentle petting. The sight was almost surreal—this being designed for destruction showing such tender care for something so fragile.

Gohan found himself drawn into the peaceful scene, wanting to understand this enigmatic android better. "Do you like animals?" he asked.

16 nodded, his expression softening marginally. "Yes. They put me... at ease."

"I like animals too," Gohan offered, encouraged by the response. "All sorts of things interest me, actually."

"Particularly insects," Cellera interjected with a slight smirk, "though I'll never understand the appeal."

Gohan rolled his eyes at her playfully before turning back to 16. "I'm hoping to be a scholar someday."

"That is a fine goal," the android stated simply. "You will make an exemplary scholar."

Cellera and Gohan exchanged glances, recognizing that Android 16 wasn't particularly inclined toward lengthy conversation. His attention remained fixed on the forest creatures gathering around him, as if their simple presence fulfilled something essential within his programming—or perhaps his soul, if such a thing existed in artificial beings.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Gohan decided to address the question that had been weighing on his mind since they'd arrived. He trusted Cellera's work on 16's programming completely, but there were still so many things they didn’t know about the android’s inner workings.

Were you really created to kill my father?" he asked directly.

"That was my only directive," 16 confirmed with surprising candor. "Though I can find no trace of that order now." His eyes shifted briefly to Cellera, a knowing look that acknowledged her hand in this change

"I loathe conflict," he continued, his voice carrying a depth of emotion that seemed remarkable for an artificial being. "As a weapon, I was declared defective and stored away. I had no other purpose."

Gohan felt a pang of recognition at the android's words. The parallel Cellera had drawn between them became clearer—they were both reluctant warriors, beings of great power who found no joy in violence. Yet there was something deeply troubling about how 16 spoke of himself, as if his worth could only be measured by his capacity for destruction.

"That's no reason to shut you down," Gohan said, his voice carrying genuine sympathy. "Being gentle doesn't make you defective."

Android 16 turned his gaze toward the treetops, where birds continued their songs in blissful ignorance of the weight of their conversation. "Dr. Gero once told me he made me in the image of his deceased son, who was bold and daring. But I am not." His voice remained steady, but resignation crept into his tone. "A war machine that shuns war... is nothing but a failure."

Before Gohan could voice his disagreement, Cellera stepped forward, her dark eyes blazing with unexpected intensity.

Before Gohan could voice his disagreement, Cellera stepped forward, her dark eyes blazing with unexpected intensity.

"Don't say such things," she said, her voice carrying a heat that surprised even Gohan. He'd seen her passionate before—typically when annoyed or in battle—but this was different. This was pure conviction born from personal experience.

"Gero may have based you on his son, but that's not who you are," she continued, her words growing stronger with each sentence. "You have your own mind, your own feelings." She paused, her expression softening slightly as she watched him gently stroke the deer's coat. "Your gentleness with these animals—that's you, not programming."

Gohan watched her with growing admiration, recognizing the deeper meaning behind her words. This wasn't just about Android 16—this was about her own journey from weapon to protector, her rejection of the path that both Frieza and typical Saiyan nature had tried to force upon her.

"You chose to be different," Cellera said, her voice carrying absolute certainty. "So did 17 and 18. You all had the power to destroy, but you chose something else instead." Her voice grew firm again, that royal bearing asserting itself as she delivered her final point. "That's what defines you—your choices, not what Gero wanted you to be."

Even Android 16's usually stoic expression showed surprise at her vehemence. The forest around them had gone quiet, as if nature itself was listening to her words.

Feeling emboldened by Cellera's passionate defense, Gohan stepped forward. "I don't like conflict either," he admitted, finding courage in her example. "But Cellera taught me long ago that the things you hold precious are always worth fighting for." He turned to meet her eyes, finding strength in her gaze. "Especially when you have the power to protect them."

Cellera's expression shifted to surprise before settling into a nod of approval that made him stand a little straighter. Her words from their first real battle—about how sometimes fighting was the only choice, how he had things worth protecting and needed to use his power for them—had shaped him into who he was today.

The profound moment was suddenly interrupted by the sharp crack of a twig, followed by gruff voices approaching through the underbrush. Android 16's head turned sharply, his sensors clearly detecting something the others had yet to notice.

"Someone is coming," he stated, his voice dropping to a lower register. "They are armed."

As if responding to Android 16's warning, the deer around them suddenly grew restless. Their ears flicked nervously as they registered the approaching threat. Within moments, a trio of doe had bolted from the clearing, their white tails flashing as they disappeared into the denser woods beyond, leaving only the braver animals still gathered near the android's protective presence.

Less than a minute later, three men emerged from the underbrush, their heavy footsteps disturbing the forest's natural rhythm. All wore camouflage clothing with bright orange safety vests, rifles slung across their backs in a display that immediately identified their purpose. The contrast between their gear and the peaceful sanctuary they'd just invaded felt almost obscene.

"Poachers," Cellera said quietly, though her voice carried the same contempt she typically reserved for cowards and those without honor. 

Beside her, Gohan's expression had shifted to something far more serious. The transformation was subtle but unmistakable—his posture straightening, his jaw setting in a way that suggested he found their presence as offensive as she did.

 

The stockiest of the three men—clearly their leader given how the others positioned themselves slightly behind him—stopped short when he spotted the unusual gathering in the clearing. His gaze swept over them with obvious skepticism before his mouth twisted into a dismissive smirk.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he said, his voice carrying that particular brand of arrogance that came from underestimating one's opposition. "You kids playing some kind of costume party in the woods?"

His harsh laugh grated against the peaceful atmosphere they'd been enjoying moments before, and Cellera felt her irritation spike. She had little patience for such arrogant fools who thought they could intimidate their way past any obstacle.

The lanky man beside their leader—a wiry individual with a prominent scar running across his chin—nudged his boss with obvious excitement. "Hey, check it out," he said, nodding toward the deer that had instinctively pressed closer to Android 16 as if seeking his protection. "They're just standing there like sitting ducks. We could bag at least three before they scatter."

The casual way he discussed killing the trusting animals sent a wave of disgust through both Cellera and Gohan.

Gohan stepped forward, his voice carrying an edge that hadn't been there moments before. "Hunting deer? The season doesn't start for months."

The leader's eyes narrowed at the challenge, his false joviality evaporating. "Look, kid, mind your own business," he snapped, clearly not accustomed to having his activities questioned by children.

Before the situation could escalate further, Android 16 took a single deliberate step toward the intruders. The heavy thump of his foot against the forest floor carried an authority that transcended words, momentarily causing the two followers to instinctively step backward. Only their leader held his ground, though Cellera noticed the slight tightening around his eyes that suggested he was reassessing the situation.

"You will leave the animals alone," Android 16 stated, his voice completely devoid of emotion yet somehow carrying immense weight. There was something almost elemental about his presence—like a force of nature itself had risen to defend the forest's inhabitants.

The leader's jaw tightened as he realized his easy hunt had become complicated by unexpected interference.

"I don't think so, big guy," the leader said, his voice taking on that particular smugness that came from someone who thought they held all the cards. He tilted his head with an arrogant smirk, as if he'd just delivered a winning argument. "See, we got full authorization to be here. Corporate contract and everything."

The obvious lie was so blatant that Cellera couldn't suppress a soft chuckle. It was common knowledge that this forest was designated public land, strictly protected from hunting activities regardless of season. Their ignorance of local regulations immediately marked them as outsiders—probably operating far from their usual territory to avoid recognition.

"Something funny to you, little girl?" The leader's attention snapped to her, his earlier triumph curdling into irritation as he fixed her with what he probably imagined was an intimidating glare.

Cellera met his gaze without flinching, her slight smirk never wavering. He had taken the bait exactly as every prideful fool before him had done. These types were so predictable—challenge their authority and they'd abandon all rational thought to defend their wounded ego.

"Quite," she replied with deliberate calm. ""Your lie is rather transparent."

The observation hit its mark perfectly. The leader's face flushed red with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. "I ain't lying, you little—"

"This is Capsule Corporation private property," Cellera interrupted smoothly, gesturing toward Android 16. The android now bore the distinctive Capsule Corp logo on his chest where Dr. Briefs had replaced the damaged Red Ribbon insignia during repairs.

She caught Gohan's confused glance at her deliberately false statement, but pressed forward with her strategy. "You're claiming to have obtained an official contract for hunting here?" Her head tilted in apparent curiosity, though her tone carried just enough challenge to keep the leader engaged.

The poacher stepped closer, accepting her provocation without hesitation. He folded his arms and lifted his chin with renewed confidence, clearly believing he was about to vindicate himself. "That's right. Official authorization from the environmental department. Real professional operation—they even paid us good money upfront."

Cellera nodded as if accepting his claims at face value. "How much?"

"Five thousand each," he replied immediately, stepping closer as his false bravado returned. His proximity was clearly meant to intimidate—looming over her with a threatening smirk. "That's fifteen grand total for the whole operation."

"Impressive," Cellera said with deceptive admiration. "However, there seems to be one problem."

The leader leaned in closer, his arrogance making him reckless. "And what's that?" he challenged, daring her to find fault with what he considered a perfect fabrication.

"I lied."

The two words dropped into the forest clearing like stones into still water. The silence that followed was profound and damning, broken only by the rustle of leaves overhead as the full implication settled over the group.

Cellera watched with deep satisfaction as comprehension dawned across the leader's features. His face cycled through several shades of red before settling on an ugly purple as he realized he'd been completely outmaneuvered—and by someone who appeared to be barely a teenager.

"You... WHAT?!" he sputtered, his voice strangling on his own outrage.

"You just confessed to trespassing and poaching based on my lie," she continued with clinical precision, her voice carrying that same calm authority she might use to explain a tactical error to a defeated opponent. "If you actually possessed legitimate authorization, you would have corrected me immediately instead of fabricating an entire corporate contract on the spot."

Cellera regarded his outburst with the faintest hint of a smirk, watching his composure deteriorate with obvious satisfaction. "Considerably more intelligent than you would appear, evidently," she replied. "I find myself wondering if this level of incompetence extends to your alleged hunting skills as well."

The humiliation was more than the leader's pride could bear. Being completely outmaneuvered by someone who appeared to be a child, having his lies exposed in front of his men, watching her stand there with that infuriating expression of superiority—it shattered what little self-control he had left.

His hand shot to the rifle across his back, bringing the weapon forward with practiced speed and aiming it directly at her chest. Instead of the fear he was expecting—the wide eyes, the stepped-back retreat, the pleading that usually came when a gun was pointed at someone—Cellera merely stared down the barrel with the same icy composure she might show an annoying insect.

Her complete lack of reaction left all three men visibly unsettled. They exchanged confused glances, clearly baffled by her behavior. Most people would have at least flinched, shown some sign of self-preservation. Instead, she stood perfectly still, as if his weapon posed no more threat than a pointed finger.

Just as Cellera began to raise her hand—intending to demonstrate exactly how ineffective his rifle would prove against her—she felt a sudden, sharp spike of energy. Before she could complete the motion, another hand had already wrapped around the weapon's barrel.

Gohan had moved with fluid speed that spoke of perfect ki control, positioning himself between the rifle and Cellera without disturbing so much as a leaf on the forest floor. But what struck her most wasn't his speed—it was the expression on his face.

She had witnessed Gohan's anger before, seen the burning fury that accompanied his protective rages on Namek and Earth. This was different. Instead of the wild fire she was accustomed to seeing in his eyes, this anger was cold, controlled, and somehow far more dangerous.

"I'd rather not fight," Gohan said, his voice carrying that same measured calm he'd used moments before. But now there was something underneath—an icy edge that made the poacher step back involuntarily, allowing Gohan to place himself between him and Cellera. "But I don't appreciate people threatening my friends."

The rifle barrel began to bend in his grip, twisting into a useless U-shape with a series of soft metallic groans. The poacher stared in shock at his ruined weapon, his face draining of color as the impossible became reality before his eyes.

Cellera found herself transfixed by the change in Gohan. His swift movement to her defense, the controlled warning in his voice, the way he'd positioned himself as a shield—it sent an unfamiliar buzzing through her system. Most surprising was the complete absence of wounded pride. She felt no indignation at his intervention, only a strange anticipation and an unexpected desire to let him continue taking charge.

Something about his protective display felt... right. Like pieces of a puzzle she hadn't known she was missing suddenly clicking together.

"J-just what the hell are you people?" the shortest of the three men stammered, his voice trembling with genuine fear as he stared at the destroyed rifle.

Android 16 studied the trembling men carefully, his advanced sensors registering their elevated heart rates, spiking adrenaline levels, and the rapid shallow breathing that spoke of genuine terror. Their fear was palpable, radiating from them in waves that his sophisticated systems could measure with clinical precision.

"You have two options," he said finally, his voice carrying that same emotionless authority that had characterized his earlier warning. "You may leave this forest now and cease your illegal activities, or we can escort you to the proper authorities."

The threat, delivered without malice but with absolute certainty, proved more effective than any amount of shouting or posturing could have been. The poachers exchanged terrified glances, their earlier bravado completely evaporated in the face of powers they couldn't understand or counter. Faced with the choice between retreat and facing more of whatever had just destroyed a rifle with casual ease, they chose the path of self-preservation.

Without another word, they fled the clearing like startled rabbits, abandoning their weapons and equipment in their haste to escape. The sound of their panicked retreat—crashing through underbrush, stumbling over fallen logs, and shouting incoherent warnings to each other—gradually faded into the distance until only the forest's natural symphony remained.

As silence settled over the clearing once more, the natural world began to reclaim its peaceful rhythm. Birdsong filtered down from the canopy above, a gentle breeze rustled through the leaves, and the deer that had scattered during the confrontation slowly emerged from deeper in the woods. They approached Android 16 with that same trusting calm they'd shown before, as if recognizing that the danger had passed and their protector remained unchanged.

Android 16 extended his hand to them with the same careful gentleness he'd displayed earlier, stroking their soft coats as if nothing unusual had occurred. Yet despite his outward focus on the animals, his sensors remained locked onto the two young warriors who had just provided him with a fascinating glimpse into human—and Saiyan—behavior.

His advanced scanning systems had detected the brief but unmistakable energy surge that had accompanied Gohan's movement. Unlike the gradual buildup typical of prepared combat, this had been an instantaneous spike triggered not by personal danger, but by a threat to Cellera. The data was remarkable for several reasons, not least of which was how dramatically it exceeded his original projections.

Android 16's files on Gohan contained detailed information about the boy's past encounters, his power levels, his tactical capabilities. But the readings he'd just obtained suggested that either his data was severely outdated or the young half-Saiyan had undergone dramatic growth in a remarkably short time. The power that had flared for that brief moment when he'd moved to protect Cellera was only a fraction of what 16 suspected he was truly capable of—a conclusion that recalibrated his entire assessment of Earth's defensive capabilities.

More intriguing than the raw power, however, was how completely that intensity had vanished the moment the threat was neutralized. Gohan's energy signature had returned to its baseline readings almost instantly, yet something in his positioning remained subtly protective. Even now, as he knelt to examine the abandoned poaching equipment, 16 noticed how his gaze occasionally drifted in the direction the men had fled, as if ensuring they weren't returning.

"Why come all the way out here?" Gohan said as he picked up the twisted remains of the rifle, his voice carrying that gentler quality that seemed to be his natural state. His fingers worked methodically to disable what remained of the firing mechanism, ensuring the weapon could never be used to harm wildlife again. "There's legal hunting areas way closer to town."

Cellera moved to join him, collecting the other abandoned equipment with efficient movements. "Agreed," she said simply, though 16's audio sensors detected a slight breathiness in her voice that suggested she was still processing what had just occurred.

Android 16 filed away his observations with growing fascination. His sensors had detected the brief but unmistakable energy surge that accompanied Gohan's protective movement—not gradual preparation for combat, but an instantaneous spike triggered by a threat to Cellera specifically. The power readings exceeded his original data significantly, suggesting the young half-Saiyan possessed capabilities far beyond what his files indicated. More intriguing was how completely that intensity vanished once danger passed, yet something in Gohan's positioning remained subtly protective.

Cellera's response proved equally noteworthy. Despite being entirely capable of handling the threat herself, she had made no move to stop his intervention. Her pupils had dilated when Gohan spoke with that controlled edge, and she'd allowed him to take charge without protest—a fascinating deviation from her typically independent nature.

Dr. Gero had programmed him to identify emotional bonds as weaknesses to exploit. But what he'd observed demonstrated the opposite: when someone Gohan cherished was threatened, his power amplified exponentially. This wasn't vulnerability—it was tremendous strength born from having something precious worth protecting.

As Gohan finished dismantling the last of the abandoned weapons, Android 16 looked down at him with that careful attention he gave to important observations. "Your compassion extends beyond just people," Android 16 observed. "You used your strength to preserve life, not end it."

"Power doesn't have to be about destruction," Gohan continued, glancing toward Cellera with a small smile that she returned without hesitation. The brief exchange carried years of shared understanding, battles fought together, a friendship forged in the crucible of conflict but tempered by moments of peace like this one.

Android 16 considered the comment carefully. In his original programming, such observation would have been irrelevant data—a human child's naive perspective on power and its proper applications. But now, freed from the directive to destroy, he found meaning in Gohan's actions that resonated with something deeper than mere code.

Android 16 nodded slowly, processing what he had just witnessed. Through their actions—bringing him here for repairs, removing his destructive programming, now defending the innocent alongside him—they had demonstrated possibilities he had never been programmed to consider.

"I believe I now understand why you fight," he said, his typically monotone voice carrying a note of genuine insight.

Cellera tilted her head slightly, her expression curious. "And what conclusion did you reach?"

"You fight to protect what you value," he said with quiet certainty. "Not for glory or destruction, but because there are things... people... worth protecting."

He turned his gaze specifically to Cellera, calling up the data files that had shaped his original understanding of Saiyan nature. "My programming indicated that Saiyans show no mercy to the defeated and eliminate potential threats without hesitation. Yet your actions contradict this data completely."

His mechanical eyes seemed to study her with newfound understanding. "You destroyed the remote that would have deactivated Android 18. You brought me here for repairs despite the risk I might pose. You removed my directive to destroy Goku, giving me the freedom to choose my own path." His voice carried an unmistakable note of gratitude. "You gave us both a chance to be something other than what we were designed to be."

Cellera shifted slightly under his direct scrutiny, unused to having her choices examined so openly and analytically. But there was no judgment in Android 16's assessment, only a mechanical curiosity that somehow managed to convey appreciation.

"Everyone deserves that chance," she replied, her voice carrying unusual softness for such a public declaration. "The opportunity to choose their own path, regardless of how they began."

Android 16 processed her words alongside everything he had observed about her behavior patterns, her tactical decisions, her relationships with others. The picture that emerged was of someone who had transcended whatever conditioning had shaped her original purpose. She had chosen to become something different, and now she extended that same opportunity to others.

"Dr. Gero never permitted such thinking," 16 observed, his voice taking on a contemplative quality as rare for him as emotional expression. "But he is no longer here to forbid it."

For the first time since his reactivation, something that might have been a smile flickered across Android 16's features. It was subtle—barely more than a slight softening around his optical sensors—but unmistakable to those who knew how to read artificial expressions. His massive shoulders relaxed fractionally, his posture shifting in ways that suggested some invisible restraint that had bound him for years had finally been severed.

The change was profound in its simplicity. Where once he had stood like a weapon waiting for activation, now he carried himself like a being with genuine autonomy. The difference was subtle but fundamental—the physical manifestation of true free will taking root in circuits that had never been designed to accommodate it.

A comfortable silence fell over the clearing as the implications of their conversation settled among them. Birds returned to their perches overhead, small woodland creatures ventured back into the open space, and the gentle sounds of the forest resumed their ancient rhythm. It was as if nature itself recognized that a moment of significance had passed, some fundamental shift in the balance between creation and destruction.

Android 16 took one last look around the peaceful clearing, his sensors recording not just the visual data but the sensory experience of wind through leaves, the songs of birds, the soft warmth of sunlight filtering through the canopy. These weren't tactical details to be catalogued for future use—they were simply beautiful, worth preserving for their own sake.

"This place," he said quietly, his voice carrying a note of wonder that suggested he was discovering the concept of aesthetic appreciation in real time. "I would like to return here someday."

"You can," Gohan assured him with a smile that lit up his entire face. "Once Cell is defeated, you'll have all the time you want to explore places like this."

"And you'll be free to choose whatever purpose feels right to you," Cellera added, her words carrying the weight of a promise backed by absolute conviction.

Something passed across Android 16's features—perhaps as close to hope as his mechanical expressions could manage. The concept was new to him, this idea that the future could hold possibilities beyond the narrow parameters of his original design.

"Freedom to choose," he repeated slowly, as if testing how the words felt when spoken aloud. "I would like that very much."

As they prepared to leave the clearing and return to Capsule Corporation, Android 16 cast one final glance around the peaceful sanctuary they had just defended. The deer continued to graze peacefully, birds sang from their hidden perches, and sunlight continued its gentle dance through the leaves—nature carrying on in its eternal cycle, oblivious to the profound moment of understanding that had just taken place among three unlikely companions.

But Android 16 would remember this place, this moment, this first taste of true choice. And somewhere in his sophisticated neural networks, a new directive began to take shape—not one programmed by Dr. Gero or anyone else, but one born from his own growing understanding of what it meant to live rather than merely exist.

As they walked back toward Capsule Corporation together, Android 16 found himself analyzing not weaknesses to exploit, but strengths to protect. The bond between Gohan and Cellera, the trust they had shown him, the peaceful sanctuary they had just defended—these were things worth preserving, worth fighting for.

Perhaps, he thought as they emerged from the forest into the afternoon sunlight, this was what having a purpose truly meant.

 

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of The Princess and the Scholar