I. A Time of Peace
Audiobook: www.youtube.com/watch?v=oV5k6Eah0Pc
The ground rumbled beneath his boots. Vegeta strode forward through the dust cloud, his face impassive. Before him, Frieza let out a roar, concentrating energy between his hands.
“Vanish, you filthy monkey!” the tyrant roared, unleashing his attack.
Vegeta did not hesitate. With a single movement, he deflected the blast with the back of his hand and buried his fist into Frieza’s stomach. The tyrant’s scream was cut short instantly; his body disintegrated under the overwhelming force, erased as if he had never existed.
Vegeta reset his stance, as if taking down Frieza had been nothing more than a warm-up.
Suddenly, the silhouette of Cell emerged before him. He advanced slowly, wearing a smirk of superiority, every step heavy with confidence. His voice resonated deep and defiant.
“Vegeta… do you still believe you can surpass me?”
The prince did not flinch. Without transforming, he stood his ground, taking a fighting stance. His gaze pierced through him with a mixture of pride and defiance.
Cell raised a hand, preparing an attack. The air trembled around him. Vegeta tensed his muscles, ready to lunge forward…
“Simulation terminated,” a metallic voice announced.
Suddenly, the battlefield vanished, replaced by the cold metal of an enclosed room. Bulma took a deep breath as she manipulated the control panel, and the glowing display dropped sharply from 500G. Vegeta inhaled sharply, instantly feeling the oppressive pressure dissolve.
Bulma pulled her hand from the button and spoke into the intercom.
“That’s enough, Vegeta. You said you’d come to the theater with me today, remember? It’s been years since the last battle. The world is at peace; you don’t need to be doing this every day.”
Vegeta remained silent for a few moments, still standing in the center of the room, his chest heaving. Finally, his deep voice broke the air:
“Peace is an illusion. Kakarot is still training, and I won’t make the mistake of falling behind.”
Bulma pressed a hand to her forehead and sighed.
“Yes, yes… whatever you say. Now go get showered; you’re coming to the theater with me, understood?”
Vegeta closed his eyes for a moment and huffed in annoyance. Then he relaxed his fists.
“Hmph… Fine. Just so we’re clear, I’m only doing this because you insist.”
Bulma smiled. She had secured a silent victory.
“Of course, Prince. As always.”
Earth was enjoying a time of peace. Five years had passed since the 28th World Martial Arts Tournament. In all that time, no threat had arisen to trouble its inhabitants. It was a strange calm, as if the world had decided to forget what danger meant.
In another wing of the building, Trunks worked alongside his grandfather. Dr. Brief, retired but tireless, continued to participate in key projects. Grandfather and grandson were adjusting details of the new training system, while Bulla, sitting on a toolbox, watched them with interest.
“With these upgrades, Dad will notice the difference,” Trunks murmured, without taking his eyes off the monitor.
Bulla leaned back heavily on her hands.
“Great... But I wonder what creepy monsters he’ll make me fight next time.”
Meanwhile, Goten was leaving campus with a sigh of relief. The final exam of the term was over, and the summer holidays stretched out before him like an open horizon. With a smile of newfound freedom, he called for the Flying Nimbus, which descended from the clouds with the same liveliness as ever.
“Let’s go, old friend!” he exclaimed, jumping onto the golden cloud.
The wind whipped against his face when, halfway through his journey, a loud rumble caught his attention. A black sports car tore down the highway at top speed. Inside, three thugs guarded a haul of stolen cash while the police were hot on their heels. From the air, a helicopter tried to block their path… until one of the thieves thrust a bazooka out the rear window.
“Seriously…?” Goten scoffed.
The projectile shot straight for the helicopter. In the blink of an eye, Goten flew down on the Nimbus, launched himself into the air, and deflected the missile with a clean kick, causing it to explode high in the sky. Without wasting time, he spun in mid-air and dove after the fleeing car.
He landed hard on the hood, crushing the bodywork. The vehicle screeched, skidded sideways, and came to a dead stop amidst sparks and smoke, leaving the three thieves dazed inside.
The police swarmed the criminals while Goten, with a calm expression, climbed back onto the Nimbus before anyone could ask for explanations.
As the flying cloud rose into the air, Goten reached into his pocket and sent a quick message:
‘I’m running a little late, I’m on my way.’
In a matter of minutes, a yellow trail crossed the sky toward West City. From above, Goten spotted the imposing building of Capsule Corporation, surrounded by gardens and shining domes.
Trunks was waiting for him at the exit, looking confident.
“Always arriving in style, huh?”
“Heh, sure,” Goten laughed, jumping down. “Better enjoy it while the Nimbus still lets me ride.”
They soon headed to their usual café, where they toasted with ice-cold drinks. Their faces reflected their maturity, though their eyes retained the same old spark.
“Free at last!” Goten exclaimed. “My brain was about to melt.”
“Don’t complain so much,” Trunks laughed. “I have to deal with projects that dictate my dad’s mood. Believe me, that’s almost worse than an exam.”
The talk drifted into everyday matters, but it wasn’t long before they returned to what always united them.
“Are you still training or have you gone rusty?” Trunks asked, flashing a challenging smirk.
“Me, rusty?” Goten laughed defiantly. “Don’t worry, I’ve still got plenty left in me.”
“We’ll have to test that someday,” Trunks replied, leaning his elbow on the table defiantly. “Though speaking of training… what would happen if we tried to fuse right now?”
Goten almost choked on his drink.
“Pfft!” he spluttered, laughing. “And what if we end up turned into a bag of bones or a barrel on legs? We looked ridiculous enough back in the day!”
“Heh, and all in front of Piccolo and the rest,” Trunks added, stifling his laughter. “Though admit it, when we finally got it right… we were unstoppable.”
“Yeah…” Goten murmured, his gaze drifting for a second. “We were really strong.”
Trunks nodded, looking at his glass.
“Shame it wasn’t enough.”
The silence lasted barely a second, until Goten broke it with a forced laugh.
“Well, but now we’re adults! Maybe this time we’d nail it on the first try!”
Trunks arched an eyebrow, skeptical.
“Oh, yeah? Want to bet?”
At Kame House, Krillin enjoyed the calm with Android 18, while Marron walked with her uncle Android 17 along the shore, leaving footprints that the sea washed away one after another. The breeze, the sun, and the laughter painted a picture of peace that Krillin valued more than any treasure.
A short distance away, Master Roshi rested in his hammock. He held an open magazine, though he barely looked at it. After a long yawn, he looked up at Krillin.
“You know… you should go back to shaving your head. Eighteen looks just as young and beautiful as ever, and those gray hairs aren’t doing you any favors.”
Krillin chuckled softly, rubbing his head.
“I guess you’re right, Master… but I’m used to it now.”
Eighteen looked away, not bothering to intervene, as if the conversation had nothing to do with her.
In Satan City, Mr. Satan moved through the cheering crowd during the inauguration of a new stadium in his honor. The crowd roared his name, convinced that the world remained safe thanks to him. A few steps away, Mr. Buu walked happily with an ice cream in each hand, waving to the children with the innocence of a giant.
The champion raised his arm in his usual pose. By this point, playing the hero was as natural as breathing.
“The peace of the world remains in good hands!” he shouted, and flashes enveloped him.
Beside him, Mr. Buu happily licked his ice creams, oblivious to everything happening.
“Buu! Say something for the press!” Mr. Satan whispered, keeping his smile frozen.
“Mr. Satan is great! And vanilla too!” Mr. Buu replied, without looking up.
The audience burst into laughter. Mr. Satan’s shoulders slumped slightly, defeated, but he eventually joined in the laughter.
On Mount Paoz, the calm felt tense. Pan threw combinations of punches in the yard, while Videl and Gohan discussed in low voices near the entrance.
“You shouldn’t clip her wings, Gohan,” Videl said firmly. “Pan has a natural talent. If she wants to train, we should support her.”
“It doesn’t bother me that she trains,” Gohan replied, arms crossed. “But next year she’ll have more responsibilities. If she doesn’t start taking her studies seriously, she’ll have a hard time catching up later.”
Pan, oblivious to the conversation, landed a final punch with a radiant smile.
At that moment Chi-Chi appeared, with a motherly but firm expression.
“That’s enough, you two. Balance is the most important thing. Let her train, yes, but let her study too. A good education is essential.”
Gohan stared at her in disbelief until he finally snapped:
“What?! But you wouldn’t let me train for even a minute when I was a kid!”
Chi-Chi shook her head.
“Oh, Gohan, don’t be so dramatic. Maybe I was tough, but I always gave you room to breathe. Besides… there’s no need to be so strict. Listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.”
Videl let out a laugh, covering her mouth to hide it. Gohan, with a hand over his forehead, sighed loudly.
Pan, without noticing a thing, bent down to pick up her towel, satisfied with her training.
Chi-Chi watched her tenderly.
“Look at her… so responsible. She reminds me of myself when I was young.”
The wind rustled the leaves in the yard and the scene froze in that silent pride.
At Kami’s Lookout, Piccolo sat motionless in meditation. The wind gently brushed against his cape while he kept his eyes closed. The stillness of the Earth kept him alert.
“It’s too quiet…” he murmured, “and that is never a good sign.”
A few meters away, Dende was talking with Mr. Popo while they tended to the celestial garden.
“These flowers were the favorites of the previous Kami,” Popo commented warmly, stroking the petals.
Dende nodded with a serene look.
Piccolo opened one eye, watched them for a few seconds, and then sank back into his concentration.
Peace enveloped the Earth, yet beyond the horizon lingered traces of something time could not fully erase.
