Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Deep within Frieza’s command vessel, far from the clean precision of the main tactical decks, a separate chamber pulsed with a different kind of energy. An energy full of chaos but also full of... personality as one might say. The doors slid open with a heavy mechanical sigh. And a voice immediately echoed from within, “…We’re finally being summoned, aren’t we?” Confident. Bright. Completely unshaken by the scale of the empire they served. The Frieza Force officer didn’t react. He stepped inside.

At the center of the chamber stood Captain Ginyu. Still and perfectly composed. He wore the standard Frieza Force armor, but it sat on him differently—not awkwardly, but deliberately, like everything about him had been arranged to project control. His build was solid, powerful without being exaggerated. His posture straight, hands folded calmly behind his back. His skin was a muted purple tone, smooth and unmarked. His head bore two short, curved horns that angled backward like a crown that had been simplified into something more functional. His expression was calm and measured. But his eyes… never stopped assessing. He's not just merely scanning.

To his left, leaning lazily against a console, was Jeice. He looked relaxed, almost bored, but it was the kind of boredom that never truly dropped his awareness. His most striking feature was his long, wild white hair, thick and voluminous, flowing back like it refused to obey gravity or discipline. It framed a sharp, angular face with red-tinted skin and narrow eyes that always seemed half amused. He rolled one shoulder slightly as the officer entered “…Oh? That sounds serious,” he said casually, as if they were being invited to a meeting rather than a battlefield. But his gaze was already sharp. Already calculating.

Burter stood a short distance away, arms crossed loosely. He was tall. Lean. Built for motion rather than weight. His skin carried a deep blue tone, almost cool under the chamber lights. His features were sharp, clean, and his expression carried an effortless confidence—like speed was not something he used, but something he was. He tilted his neck slightly, stretching once. A subtle blur of movement followed, like his body corrected itself faster than the eye could fully track. “Another mission?” he asked. 

A heavy laugh filled the room before the officer even fully looked toward him. Recoome stood like a wall given personality. Massive. Broad-shouldered. Towering in a way that made the space feel smaller just by his presence. His armor strained slightly under his build, but not in a way that suggested discomfort—more like inevitability. Like the armor had been designed around the fact that he would always be this large. His orange hair was styled upward in thick, exaggerated locks, and his grin was wide, almost theatrical. He cracked his knuckles slowly. “…Finally,” he said. “I was starting to think they forgot what I was built for.” There was no threat in his tone. Only anticipation.

Guldo stood slightly apart from the others. Small. Compact. Almost easy to overlook at first glance. His body was shorter than all of them, with a rounder frame and pale green skin that gave him a slightly unnatural look under the lighting. His eyes were wide and unblinking, as if he was always already watching something no one else could see. He didn’t move when the officer entered. He didn’t acknowledge him immediately. Only after a moment did his gaze shift. Slowly. “We’re being deployed,” he said flatly.

It was not a question, but a confirmation. His voice carried something unsettling in its calmness. Like he had already heard the answer before it was spoken. Captain Ginyu finally stepped forward. 

The room adjusted around him without realizing it. Even the air felt more structured. “You guys are being assigned two anomalies,” the officer said.

A hologram flickered between them.

Two signatures appeared.

One clustered together, although not very closely.

One faint and far from the latter. Like they're laying low.

Ginyu studied them in silence. Jeice leaned in slightly. “That first one’s obvious. Combat type.” Recoome grinned. “Good.” Burter smirked faintly. “Fast fight, maybe.” Guldo said nothing. Ginyu’s eyes stayed on the second signature. The quieter one. “…And this?” he asked. The officer hesitated. “Unknown. It appears to follow after our operations are complete. No direct engagement. No sustained presence.”

Jeice tilted his head. “So… hiding?”

Burter frowned slightly. “Or tracking.”

Recoome chuckled. “Or scared.” The other laughed but Guldo blinked once. “…Or waiting,” he said.

Silence followed.

That landed slightly heavier than it should have. Ginyu finally spoke. “Two targets,” he said. “One visible. One not, well almost.”

A pause.

Then a faint smile appeared on Guldo's face. “I prefer visible targets.” Jeice grinned at this. “Called it.” Burter rolled his shoulders. “So we’re going in?”

“Soon,” Ginyu said. His eyes flicked once more to the faint anomaly, wondering just what plans does that poor soul have. Then, he turned to the grouped "anomalies", “We will handle the clustered signatures first, and I have a feeling I know who one of them is.” he said.

Recoome cracked his neck.

Guldo quietly stared at the hologram.

Jeice smirked wider.

And Burter blurred slightly in place, barely contained energy.

Ginyu turned toward the exit.

“As for the other one…” he added softly, almost as an afterthought, “…we will observe.”

A pause.

Then,

“If it survives long enough to matter.” The other let out an evil chuckle after this. The doors opened. And the Ginyu Force stepped forward, heading to the direction of their first target, ready to begin their assigned mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The terrain stretched out in uneven slopes of green and stone, broken only by scattered formations that looked half-grown rather than carved. No village structures. No signs of settlement. Only the faint impression that something had once passed through—and been erased before it could settle. They had been moving for hours. Following nothing except instinct, radar signals, and the uneasy pattern Raditz couldn’t stop noticing. Then, Krillin slowed mid-flight. “…Hey,” he said quietly. From Raditz’ arms, Bulma looked up immediately. “What?” He pointed downward. At first, it looked like nothing. Just open ground. But Gohan felt it too. A pressure. Not energy exactly, but impact.

Chiharu’s gaze sharpened slightly. “…Something’s there.” Raditz didn’t respond immediately. His eyes narrowed as he angled downward. “Land,” he said. No hesitation this time. They descended carefully, spacing out as they touched down across the ridge. The air here felt wrong in a different way than the villages. It's like something already happened. Gohan stepped forward first, scanning the ground. “There’s signs of movement,” he said. “Recent.” Krillin crouched slightly. “Footprints?” Bulma shook her head, already looking at her radar. “No… I’m not picking up anything major nearby, but- wait.”

Her grip tightened. The beeping stuttered. Just once. Then steadied again. “…Something’s interfering,” she muttered. Raditz’s head tilted slightly. That was all the warning he needed.

A sound cut through the air. Not loud, but heavy. A pressure drop, like the sky itself had shifted weight.

Everyone froze. Krillin whispered, “Okay… I really don’t like when the air does that.”

Then, a voice, cold and amused, echoed from ahead.

“…Pathetic.”

The group turned sharply. And there he was. Hovering slightly above the broken terrain like it belonged to him. Massive. Brutal. Unmistakably not Namekian.

His pink, armored body caught the light in harsh angles, the spikes along his frame jagged like they were meant more for intimidation than function. His face was twisted into something halfway between boredom and cruelty, as if everything he saw was already beneath him by default.

And below him is a small figure. Barely conscious. Collapsed near the ground, trying to move but failing to get far.

Krillin’s breath caught. “That’s a kid.” Bulma’s expression tightened instantly. “He’s injured.” Gohan stepped forward half a pace without realizing it. Chiharu’s eyes narrowed. “He’s being hunted.” Raditz didn’t speak, but his eyes held recognition and his posture changed. He stepped forward and called out, “Dodoria.”

Dodoria’s gaze shifted slightly. And stopped on them. “Oh?” he said slowly. “More of them.” A grin spread across his face. “But you don't look like Namekians.”

Krillin frowned, and even though he's nervous, he tried to joke, “Well, we're not green, so...” 

Dodoria landed heavily, the ground cracking slightly under the impact. Dende tried to move again. Dodoria raised a hand lazily. “Don’t.”

The word alone pinned the air down. Dende froze. Gohan’s fists tightened. “Leave him alone,” he said.

Dodoria looked at him like he was mildly inconvenienced.

Then laughed. “You think you can order me?”

The air snapped tighter. Bulma took a slow step back. “Okay- nope- this is one of those situations where we are NOT qualified—” Raditz moved forward slightly. Just one step. But it changed everything. Dodoria’s eyes flicked to him, and down to the tail swinging behind him,  “Saiyan?” he said, tone shifting. “You’re the traitor Raditz aren’t ya? Heh, I must say your name has been passed around the past few months.” He said then chuckled.

That got attention.

An unsettling pause followed.

Then Dodoria smiled wider. Then looked at the other people behind Raditz and assessed them. Four people, five if you include Raditz. A female, a bald male and two children, who he noticed, both have tails. He stared for a few seconds, a brow raised.  “Oh. This is interesting.”

Krillin muttered, “No it’s not. It’s never interesting when they say that.”

Dende tried to crawl again. Dodoria’s foot came down beside him.

BOOM.

Dende flinched back. Dodoria is keeping him from escaping with a single stomp of his foot. “You’re not going anywhere,” Dodoria said casually. Gohan snapped. “HEY!” He moved. But Raditz was already gone. Dodoria barely shifted but the ground beneath him cracked wider. Now the air changed. Dodoria’s grin faded slightly. “…Oh.” Raditz stood in front of him now.

Unmoving. Tail flicking once behind him like it's waiting who or what moves next. “You’re in the way,” Raditz said flatly.

A beat.

Then Dodoria laughed again but this time, it had weight behind it. “Ohhh… this is better.” He cracked his neck slightly. “I was wondering when I’d run into something that wasn’t already broken.” Krillin whispered, “I hate this planet.” Bulma whispered back, “We’re not on the planet’s side right now.”

Dodoria raised a hand slightly. Energy gathering. “Let’s see what a Saiyan can actually do.” And that was when Gohan moved again. Chiharu followed immediately. Krillin hesitated—

Then cursed under his breath and joined in. All three stood in a fighting stance, a few meters behind Raditz. It wasn’t that Dodoria was overwhelming them yet, it was that he didn’t need to. Every second spent waiting for the other to start something. But right now, the objective wasn’t victory. It was to get the little Namekian to safety, and they all know that without even exchanging words.

Gohan moved first without thinking.

A burst forward, ki flaring instinctively, but Raditz’s voice cut through immediately. “Don’t engage him.” That didn’t sound like fear. It sounded like calculation.

Krillin hesitated mid-step. “W-WAIT, WHAT?!”

Bulma already had her hand up. “GUYS—FOCUS!” she yelled, her grip tightening around the Dragon Radar as it pulsed erratically in her hand.

Dodoria, for his part, barely reacted at first. His attention wasn’t locked on them the way theirs was on him. Instead, his gaze kept flicking back toward Dende, who was still trying, and failing, to drag himself farther away from the open space. That detail changed everything.

Chiharu noticed it first. “…He’s not prioritizing us,” she said quickly. “He’s prioritizing the kid.”

Raditz’s eyes flicked toward Dende for the first time. Injured. Barely conscious. Dragging himself backward in slow, collapsing movements. “She’s right,” Raditz said.

Dodoria lifted a hand slightly, energy beginning to build again—but not aimed at them yet. Like he was deciding whether they were worth interrupting his current task. Bulma swallowed. “Okay, here's the plan. We do NOT get into a prolonged fight here. We grab the kid and we go.” Krillin pointed. “I mean, I feel like we already agreed that's what we're gonna do in the first place...” Gohan’s gaze stayed locked on Dende. “He can’t move like that…” Chiharu stepped slightly forward, eyes narrowed. “…If he takes another hit, he won’t survive long enough for anything else.”

Raditz’s eyes shifted once toward Dende, confirming it without hesitation. Injured, unstable, and barely conscious—exactly the kind of target that made everything else irrelevant to someone like Dodoria. “Bulma,” Raditz said. She didn’t waste time. “Radar. I know.” Her fingers moved quickly, recalibrating as she checked the readings again, the beeping sharpening into something more unstable. A Dragon Ball signature—close. Too close. Her eyes widened slightly. “…He’s close to one. Very close.” Krillin groaned. “Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? Must be why that dude's after a little kid.”

Raditz ignored that completely, already shifting his weight. “We take him,” he said. Gohan blinked. “Take him?” 

“Not fight,” Raditz corrected immediately. “Extract.” That single word reframed everything. Bulma nodded once, fast. “Okay. you guys can work with that. You blind him, create a gap, and move the kid out.” Krillin raised a hand immediately. “Just to be clear, I am extremely in favor of the ‘moving out’ part.”

No one responded to that.

Dodoria’s posture shifted slightly, like he was finally noticing that the situation was no longer static. The air between them tightened again, pressure building in slow response to awareness rather than aggression.

Raditz crouched slightly. “Now.” And then everything broke.

Gohan moved first, not toward Dodoria but outward, releasing a controlled burst of ki that scattered across the terrain like a flare designed purely to disrupt focus. “HEY!” he shouted, and Dodoria’s head snapped toward him instantly, attention finally shifting away from Dende.

That was the opening. Krillin and Chiharu soon followed, surrounding Dodoria to distract him. Gohan sent a blast his way and Dodoria moved to block it, making an X across his face. Chiharu lunged forward to give him a kick in the spine, but Dodoria endured, although he winced in pain. He turned around to Chiharu, growling, but saw Krillin in front of him instead. The bald man sent a strong punch straight to his chest, sending Dodoria a few feet away from them, this seems far enough for Raditz. 

He disappeared then reappeared beside Dende. The kid flinched weakly as Raditz grabbed him without hesitation, lifting him cleanly off the ground before Dodoria could fully recover from Krillin's hard ass punch.  And then he was gone again, bringing Dende with him. Then reappeared just a few meters away from the trio who are still trying to subdue Dodoria.

Dende barely had time to register that he’d been moved before everything tightened into place around him. Raditz immediately checked his condition, while Bulma was already pulling out a capsule device. “I can stabilize him, but I need cover,” she said quickly. Raditz nodded, "We got this. Just stay out of sight." He then turned to stand up to join the distraction while Bulma tries to heal Dende. At this, Dodoria groaned. “You’re not leaving,” his voice called out, slower now, heavier Raditz turned slightly, still holding position at the edge of the group. “Yes,” he said simply. “We are.”

For the first time, Dodoria’s expression tightened. With that, Raditz nodded at the trio, grabbed Bulma while Gohan went to Dende's side and carries the barely conscious Namekian child gently. Krillin and Chiharu moved to gather around protectively. Dodoria moved, standing up slowly and stretching his neck. Then, he lunged forward. The ground behind them ruptured under the force of his launch, air collapsing inward before snapping outward in a violent surge that chased them almost immediately. 

“GO!” Raditz snapped, already moving.

They didn’t scatter.

They shifted, tight formation breaking just enough to avoid becoming a single target, but not enough to lose each other. Raditz took point without needing to say it, his movements sharp and direct as he cut forward just above the ground, skimming the uneven terrain instead of climbing, angling toward where the land dipped and rose in jagged layers. “Stay low!” he called back. Gohan adjusted instantly, dropping even further as he followed, boots nearly grazing the surface between bursts of flight, one arm steadying Dende as much as possible without slowing their pace. The child’s breathing was shallow, uneven. Still alive, but barely stable.

Behind them, Dodoria didn’t chase like someone tracking prey. He chased like something that expected to catch it. A blast tore past them, not aimed to hit, but to force movement. The explosion ripped through the air ahead, scattering debris and forcing Krillin to veer sharply, his footing stuttering mid-hover as he corrected. “OKAY—HE’S PLAYING WITH US, I DON’T LIKE THAT!” Krillin shouted. “He’s herding!” Chiharu corrected, her voice tighter now as she adjusted her path mid-flight, dipping lower between two rising rock formations. “He’s trying to force us into open ground!”

Raditz heard that and immediately changed direction. He went downwards slightly. The terrain ahead broke into a series of deep, uneven ridges, natural trenches cutting through the planet’s surface like fractures. Without slowing, Raditz dropped into one of them, his ki pulling tight as he disappeared beneath the ridge line, cutting himself from direct sight. “IN!” he ordered. No one questioned it, and immediately followed.

He dove first, barely controlling the descent as he followed the drop, boots skimming the slope before he pushed forward again, with Bulma’s arms wrapped around his neck and clutching the radar close. Krillin followed less cleanly, half-falling, half-catching himself in short bursts of flight. Gohan adjusted last, lowering carefully so Dende wouldn’t take the impact, then accelerating again the moment they leveled out. Then Chiharu went last.

The moment they disappeared beneath the surface line, Dodoria fired. The blast tore across the ridge above them, missing by meters but collapsing part of the upper edge. Rock and debris rained down into the trench, forcing them to weave and duck instead of maintaining speed. “He’s not losing us!” Bulma yelled over the noise. “He doesn’t need to see you,” Raditz replied, already shifting again. “Your energy is enough.” That was worse.

Krillin groaned. “Great! Love that for us!” Another impact shook the trench, closer this time. Dodoria was adjusting—tracking, correcting, narrowing. They weren’t escaping. They were being contained. Chiharu glanced upward briefly, then forward again, her movement tightening to stay within the trench’s limited space. “We can’t stay in a straight line,” she said. “He’ll predict it.” Raditz nodded once. “We split angles.” Krillin immediately panicked. “SPLIT? WHY IS THAT ALWAYS THE WORST OPTION?!” “Not fully,” Bulma snapped. “Just stagger movement, break his targeting pattern!”

Gohan shifted slightly, tightening his hold on Dende as he dropped even closer to the ground, using the trench wall as partial cover. “I’ll take rear for a bit,” he said. “Draw focus.”

“No,” Raditz said instantly.

That wasn’t a suggestion.

A blast struck the trench wall ahead of them, forcing another sharp turn. The path split naturally now—two diverging routes, one narrow and jagged, the other wider but more exposed. Raditz didn’t slow. “Narrow path,” he said. Bulma didn’t even argue this time. “Less line of sight,” she muttered. Krillin followed, shoulders nearly clipping the rock as he forced himself through. “I hate this path. I hate this path so much.”

They pushed into the tighter passage, movement restricted, speed reduced—forced to rely on shorter bursts instead of sustained flight—but visibility almost gone. The walls rose higher around them, cutting off Dodoria’s direct angle.

For half a second—

Silence.

Then...

The pressure returned.

Closer.

Much closer.

“He’s above us,” Chiharu said quietly. It wasn't a guess. It's a fact. They can feel him. A shadow passed over the ridge line. Then, they feel an impact.

Dodoria didn’t fire this time. He landed. Right above them.

The force of it shook the entire trench, cracks splitting down the walls as fragments broke loose and fell inward. The confined space amplified everything—sound, pressure, presence, until it felt like the terrain itself was closing around them.

Krillin’s voice dropped. “…He’s adapting way too fast.”

Raditz looked up. Then forward again. “Follow me.”

Before anyone could ask, he changed direction again. Not deeper in, but upwards. Straight toward one of the jagged walls. For a split second, it made no sense. Then he struck it. Hard. Not to break through but to destabilize.

The already-weakened structure gave instantly. Cracks spread fast, spidering through the rock face as the earlier blasts finally gave way. The ridge groaned, shifted, and then collapsed. Stone and earth cascaded downward, not toward them—but across the trench behind them, sealing the path they had just come through in a violent landslide. Dodoria’s energy flared on the other side. Blocked. Not stopped, but delayed. “MOVE!” Raditz said. And they did. No hesitation left now.

Bulma clutched the radar, eyes flicking between terrain and readings as she skimmed forward. “There’s a cluster ahead—rock formations, maybe caves—if we reach that, we can break detection!” Gohan nodded, breath steady despite everything, keeping low as he followed the uneven ground. “Then that’s where we go.” Dende stirred weakly in his arms. Behind them, the rubble shifted. A pulse of energy tore through part of the collapse, light bleeding through the fractures as Dodoria began forcing his way through, not going around.

Krillin didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. “He’s still coming, isn’t he?” No one answered Because they all already knew And ahead, the terrain didn’t open into sky It opened into shadow. Jagged rock formations rose ahead in uneven clusters, their bases fractured into narrow openings—some barely wide enough to pass through, others descending into deeper, darker tunnels that cut into Namek’s surface like veins.

Bulma saw it first. “There—!” she pointed, already angling toward the largest opening. “That cluster-there’s depth there. If we break line of sight and suppress output, we might actually might lose him.”

“Might,” Krillin echoed weakly. “Love that word. Very comforting.”

Raditz didn’t respond. He was already moving lower. Closer to the ground than before, his energy pulled in tight, controlled, as he tightened his hold on Bulma and  cut toward the entrance without overshooting it. No hesitation. No second pass. He slipped inside the opening in one clean motion. The others followed.

One by one.

Krillin, glancing back once—just once—before forcing himself inside.

Chiharu, silent, controlled, already adjusting to the confined space.

Gohan came last.

He lowered instead of dropping, absorbing the shift from open terrain to enclosed ground so Dende wouldn’t take the impact. The moment his feet touched stone, he moved again, deeper into the tunnel, away from the entrance, away from the light.

For the first time since Dodoria moved, nothing hit behind them. There was no blast, no roar, no sudden shock chasing after him. Just silence, hanging in the air where the attack should have been. Krillin bent slightly, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, “Okay- okay—tell me he didn’t just… let us go.” 

“He didn’t,” Raditz said flatly. Of course he didn’t. Bulma was out of Raditz’ hold and already checking the radar, her hands moving quickly but more controlled now. “We’re off his direct line… readings are stabilizing… whatever he’s doing, he’s not firing blindly.”

“He won’t,” Chiharu said quietly. “Not in terrain like this.”

Raditz glanced back toward the entrance. Then upward. Even through layers of rock, he could feel it. Faint. But present. “He’s above ground,” he said. “Tracking.” Waiting for a clearer angle. Or a mistake.

Krillin let out a slow breath. “Great. So we’re… hiding. From that. Awesome. Love that for us.”

“Can you stop that?” Bulma said, clearly irritated. “I've had enough of your sarcasm.” Krillin turned to her, hands on his hips, "It's my coping mechanism, deal with it!" She only rolled her eyes and looked up briefly, then back at the radar. “If we move carefully, keep our kis low, and don’t cluster too tightly, we might be able to throw off his read long enough to lose him.”

“Might,” Krillin repeated again, softer this time. No one argued it. Because that was all they had right now. A might.

Behind them, the cave stretched deeper—branching paths, uneven drops, narrow corridors that twisted out of sight. It wasn’t a straight escape.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, there's a faint shift. Dende’s fingers twitched slightly against the ground. Everyone noticed. Bulma turned immediately. “He’s waking up—?” Chiharu stepped closer, her gaze sharp but quiet, observing without crowding. Raditz didn’t move—but his attention locked in. Dende’s breathing hitched once. Then again. His eyes opened. Wide. Disoriented. Fear hit instantly.

His body recoiled, pressing back against the stone as his gaze snapped from one unfamiliar face to another. Strangers. All of them. His chest rose sharply as panic tried to take hold. “…F-Frieza—” he whispered, voice trembling. “Th-they—my village—”

“We know,” Gohan said quickly, steady but gentle. “Well, we  figured since you were running away from that guy. We got you out now.”

Dende froze. He wasn't completely reassured but he's listening. Krillin seems to notice his fear and raised his hands slightly. “We’re not with them. Promise.” Bulma crouched a bit, keeping her distance. “We came from another planet—Earth. We’re here for the Dragon Balls.”

That—

That caught his attention.

“…Dragon Balls? You guys know about those?” Dende repeated, confusion cutting through the fear.

Krillin nodded. “Yeah. Seven of them. Actually we have one of ours back on Earth but… well long story short we couldn’t really use it now. They’re small orange orbs with numbered stars on them, made by our very own Planet Guardian, Kami. You gather them, they summon a humungous dragon, grant a one wish at a time… then they scatter and turn to stone for a while.”

Dende blinked.

Once.

Twice.

“…They scatter…?” he echoed.

Bulma tilted her head slightly. “Yeah. And they recharge over a specific period of time. That’s how ours work.”

A brief pause.

Then Dende nodded slowly.

“…Ours do that too.”

That landed softer than expected. Krillin exhaled lightly. “Oh. Okay—good. So at least that part’s the same.” But Dende didn’t look relieved. If anything, he looked more uncertain. Gohan noticed. “…But?” Dende hesitated, not entirely trusting the gang yet. Then spoke carefully. “…They’re not the same.”

Silence.

Bulma leaned forward slightly. “What’s different?” Dende looked between them again, as if still deciding how much to say. “…Our Dragon Balls were created by the Grand Elder. Guru,” he said. “They are… much larger than the ones you described.” Krillin frowned. “Larger how?” Dende lifted his hands weakly, spacing them apart. “…About this size.” Basketball-sized. Maybe even a boulder. Bulma’s eyes widened slightly. “…That’s… looks like it’s not easy to carry.” Dende shook his head faintly. “They’re heavy.”

That alone complicated things. But he wasn’t done. “…And when they are gathered,” Dende continued, “they summon Porunga.” Gohan blinked. “…Porunga?” “The dragon,” Dende said. “He is a very large dragon. I don’t know how much different he is from yours but he’s large.” Krillin let out a small breath. “Okay… big dragon. Got it.” Dende’s expression didn’t change. “…And stronger.” That shifted the tone. Bulma’s focus sharpened. “Stronger how?”

A pause. He seems to hesitate.

Then...

“He can grant more than one wish…”

Krillin straightened. “Wait—more than one?” Bulma’s voice followed, tighter now. “At the same time?” Dende nodded. “Yes.” Gohan’s eyes widened slightly. Bulma didn’t move—but her mind was already racing, recalculating everything. More than one wish. That wasn’t just an upgrade. That was a complete shift in stakes. Dende’s gaze lowered slightly, voice quieter now. “…Freeza knows,” he said. “That’s why they’re taking them. They’re going from village to village… collecting them.” Krillin swallowed. “Yeah. We noticed that part.” Dende didn’t respond right away. His eyes stayed lowered for a moment longer, his small hands tightening slightly against the stone beside him.

Then—

“…Why?”

His voice was quiet, but clear enough to cut through the air. There was no anger in it, only uncertainty, like he was trying to find something solid to stand on. The single word made them pause. Gohan blinked, caught slightly off guard. “Why what?”

Dende looked up at them, his expression firm now, no longer just cautious. “…Why do you guys want them?” he asked. There was no accusation in his tone, but there was no trust either. Silence settled between them, not heavy, but careful, like something fragile had been placed in the space and no one wanted to be the one to break it. Dende’s gaze moved from one face to another, studying them the same way they had studied him earlier, weighing something in his mind. “You said you’ve used Dragon Balls before,” he continued. “So you already had your wishes.” A small pause followed, thin but noticeable. “…So why come here?”

Krillin opened his mouth to answer, then hesitated. Bulma didn’t speak either. Because the truth wasn’t simple—and Dende could tell. His eyes narrowed just slightly before continuing. “…Frieza wants them for power,” he said. “For control. To make himself stronger… maybe even wish immortality for himself.” His voice didn’t rise, but it sharpened, like a blade finding its edge. “…So what do you want?”

That question landed harder than anything before it. Gohan’s expression shifted first, an honest look showing he's not offended of what Dende said. “…We’re not here to take anything from your people,” he said. “We came because… our friends died.” The words came out quieter than the rest. But they didn’t waver. Krillin looked down slightly, jaw tightening. “…A lot of them. I know people die everyday but like, they way they died just doesn’t sit right with us.” Chiharu exhaled slowly, crossing her arms—not closed off, but steadying herself. “The Dragon Balls on Earth… they can’t fix what happened anymore. Not right now.” She glanced at Dende, then held his gaze. “So we came here hoping yours could.”

Dende didn’t respond right away. He simply watched them, his gaze sharp and searching as it moved from one face to another, as if peeling back layers, looking for something hidden beneath their words. A lie. A crack. Anything that didn’t hold. “You want to try and bring them back,” he said at last. Gohan nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

Silence followed, but it felt different now—less like a wall, more like a held breath.

Dende’s posture shifted almost imperceptibly, some of the tightness easing from his shoulders. It wasn’t trust, not yet, but it was no longer suspicion alone. It was something closer to understanding. “…Frieza doesn’t care about life,” he said quietly. “He destroys villages just to take one Dragon Ball.” His eyes flicked toward the cave entrance for the briefest moment, as if the memory itself lingered out there in the dark, before settling back on them. “…But you risked your lives to save me.” It wasn’t asked like a question. It didn’t need to be. Krillin scratched the back of his head, shifting under the weight of the observation. “Yeah, well… leaving you there wasn’t really an option.”

Dende studied him for a moment longer, then turned his attention to Gohan, then Chiharu, and finally the others, his gaze steady and deliberate, as though measuring something he hadn’t quite decided on yet. The quiet that settled over them again wasn’t as sharp as before, but it lingered, cautious and unfinished. “…I don’t trust you,” Dende said finally. The words were blunt, but there was no edge of hostility in them—only honesty, clear and unguarded. Krillin winced faintly. “Yeah… that’s fair.” Dende’s gaze softened just slightly. “But… you’re not like them. I can feel it.” He paused, as if weighing the last of his doubt, before continuing. “…So I will help you.”

Something shifted then—not all at once, not completely, but enough to be felt. Chiharu smiled, small but certain. “That’s all we need.” Gohan nodded beside her, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. Above them, faint but persistent, Dodoria’s energy still lingered, like a storm that hadn’t decided whether to break or pass. But now, they weren’t just running anymore. They had a direction.

Even if trust hadn’t caught up yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind moved low across Namek’s fractured terrain, dragging long shadows over jagged stone and shallow water basins that mirrored the dim green sky above. The landscape lay quiet, almost eerily so, as if the planet itself had learned to hold its breath.

A figure cut through that silence anyway. Fast but never careless.

Vegeta came to a stop at the edge of a ridge, his boots scraping lightly against stone as his momentum carried him half a step forward before he stilled completely. His gaze swept the horizon, not wandering, not searching blindly, but tracking. Always tracking. Below him lay what had once been a village. Now, it was nothing more than scattered debris and shallow craters carved into the earth. The destruction was recent. The ground hadn’t settled; the scars were still raw. Smoke no longer rose, but the violence lingered, etched into every broken surface.

He didn’t react. Didn’t comment. But his eyes narrowed slightly. “…Too slow,” he muttered, the words quiet, absent of frustration. He stepped forward without hesitation, descending the ridge and landing lightly among the ruins. His gaze flicked across the terrain, sharp and efficient, piecing together what had already happened. Multiple blasts. Overwhelming force. No resistance worth noting.

His eyes shifted—

Then stopped.

A single indentation marked the ground, deeper than the others, cleaner, more precise. Vegeta crouched slightly, two fingers hovering just above it without making contact, as if the shape alone told him everything he needed. “…Dodoria,” he said under his breath. Recognition came easily. Predictable. Brute force with no refinement, no restraint.

Which meant—

His gaze lifted, scanning outward.

“…Frieza’s still spreading his forces,” he concluded quietly.

For a moment, he said nothing more. Then his expression sharpened. Because there was something else. Faint but present. Vegeta closed his eyes briefly, not to rest, but to focus. Energy signatures drifted at the edges of his awareness like scattered fragments—most fading, most irrelevant. Then he found them.

A cluster.

Moving together.

Not scattered like survivors. Not rigid like soldiers.

It is also familiar, almost every single energy.

His eyes snapped open. “…Hn.” Recognition settled quickly. “So they’re here as well… no doubt looking for the Dragon Balls of this planet the same way I am. Wonder how they knew about it. or even got here.” he muttered, his voice low, almost thoughtful. His gaze narrowed as he tracked their direction. They were moving carefully, avoiding open confrontation. Smart—but not enough. “…And they’re heading the same way.”

That made things simpler. And far more interesting. Vegeta straightened slowly, the corner of his mouth lifting into something sharper than a smile—interest edged with competition. “…Good.” The word lingered for only a moment before it gave way to decision. He turned from the ruined village without another glance. Whatever had happened here was already finished. What mattered lay ahead. With a sharp burst of energy, he launched into the air, his form cutting cleanly through the green sky as he accelerated forward—fast, precise, deliberate.

Below him, the dead village shrank into the distance, swallowed by the horizon. Ahead waited something far more valuable—targets he recognized, rivals moving toward the same prize in a race already set in motion. Vegeta’s voice carried faintly through the wind as he pushed forward. “…Let’s see how far you get.”

And just like that, the hunt narrowed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The wind came back slowly. Not all at once—just enough to remind them the world was still moving. Water rippled again. Grass lifted. Sound returned in quiet layers. But the tension from the chase hadn’t left. It clung. Sat heavy in their lungs. They had broken line of sight. They had dropped their ki. They had survived.

For now.

Krillin bent forward slightly, hands on his knees as he exhaled hard  “Okay… okay… I think we lost him…”

“Not far enough.” Raditz didn’t relax. Not even a little.

His arms hung loose, but his posture stayed sharp, angled toward where they came from. His tail flicked once—tight, controlled—before settling again. Chiharu stood a few steps away, near the edge of the rocky cover they’d taken. Silent. Watching. Listening. Gohan stayed close to Dende who was trying his best to stay conscious.

Bulma checked the radar again. “…The signal’s still ahead,” she said quietly. “But if we move now, we risk-”

“Not yet.” Raditz cut in. Low. Certain. Krillin straightened. “What? Why not? We just got away-”

“That wasn’t an escape.”

A beat.

Then—

The air shifted.

Again.

Every instinct in Raditz’s body locked. Chiharu’s head turned. Gohan stiffened. Krillin’s breath caught.

And then, an oh-so-familiar voice chimed in, “…You’re sloppy.”

The voice came from behind them. Close. Too close.

They turned to see who it is. He stood on the ridge above them, outlined against Namek’s green sky like he’d chosen the angle on purpose. Arms crossed. Expression unreadable. Watching. It's like he's been there for a while, waiting for them. This creeps them out.

Raditz’s eyes narrowed instantly. Recognition it as he clenched his fists, settling himself in front of the group as some sort of protective barrier, gaze not leaving the Saiyan Prince. “…You,” Raditz said. His gaze shifted to him and lingered. “So you’re alive.” his tone flat, coming out just confirmation.

Bulma blinked. “Wait-you know this guy?!”

Raditz didn’t answer. Krillin did, “That’s Vegeta. The same Vegeta Goku just fought back on Earth…” The name settled heavy. Gohan’s eyes widened slightly. Bulma went still. Dende looked between them, confused—but uneasy. Chiharu didn’t move.

Vegeta stepped down from the ridge.

There was no theatrics in his landing, only a precise, deliberate drop.

His gaze moved across them.

Gohan.

Krillin.

Bulma.

Chiharu.

Dende.

Then back to Raditz.

“You brought strays.”

Krillin bristled. “Hey—!” Raditz lifted a hand. Not to defend but to silence him before he could say anything that could trigger the other Saiyan's wrath. Vegeta noticed. Of course he did. He rolled his eyes at that. “You dropped your ki,” Vegeta continued, tone almost casual. “Split your movement. Broke pursuit.”

He paused, just for a beat, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Wouldn’t even faze Dodoria.”

Krillin’s stomach dropped. “You know that guy? And what? You were just watching that whole time?!”

“Yes and yes.” He answered with no hesitation. Gohan’s fists tightened.

“That was Dende’s village—”

“I know what it was.” He interrupted, his voice cold and unmoving, no empathy at all

“They’re all doing the same thing.” Dende flinched. Bulma frowned. “Collecting the Dragon Balls…” Vegeta’s eyes flicked to her. “…And failing.”

Silence. Krillin straightened. “Look, we’re not with them if that’s what you’re thinking-”

“I’m aware. Raditz is with you guys after all and I know he is definitely not working under Frieza. I just fought him back on your ball of dirt planet.” Vegeta shifted slightly, uncrossing his arms. He wasn’t just watching anymore. He was deciding. “And now, you’re after the Namek’s Dragon Balls as well,” he said. Not a question. No one answered. His gaze flicked briefly to the radar in Bulma’s hand. Then back. “…And you don’t understand them.”

That one struck—quiet, but precise.

Dende’s eyes widened, just a fraction.

Krillin’s brow knit as he glanced over. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vegeta ignored him. “Frieza’s forces are sweeping the planet,” he continued. “Village by village. They take the Dragon Balls. They move on.” Dende’s grip tightened. Gohan glanced at him. Vegeta noticed. “You’re all too slow to beat them alone.”

A pause.

Then—

“So you won’t.” Chiharu blinked. “…What?”
Vegeta stepped forward, once, then again, stopping just short of her. “You’ll work with me.”

The silence was immediate.

Krillin let out a short laugh. “Yeah, okay—no offense, but you don’t exactly scream ‘team player.’”

“No offense taken.”

“Good, because we’re not just teaming up with someone we can’t-”

“You don’t have a choice.”

The interruption was sharp enough to stop him cold. Gohan’s gaze sharpened. Raditz didn’t move. Chiharu’s eyes flicked once—calculating. Dende looked between them. Vegeta’s expression didn’t change. “If I wanted you out,” he said, “I would’ve done so already.”

No one argued.

Because they couldn’t.

“…You need someone who knows how this works,” Vegeta continued. “Someone faster than Frieza’s forces. Someone who understands what you’re dealing with.” His eyes flicked—briefly—to Dende. Then back. “…And I need what you have.”

The radar.

The Namekian.

Their numbers.

Krillin’s jaw tightened. “So what, we just trust you?”

“No. You don’t.”

That threw him. Gohan stepped forward slightly. “Then why should we agree?” Vegeta looked at him. Really looked. Measuring. “…Because you’ve already seen what happens if you don’t. And if you did not already figure it out, I worked for Frieza before. That means I know how his army works.”

Dodoria. The village. The chase. Dende’s fear.
It all hung in the air, heavy and unspoken, like something no one wanted to touch.

“Temporary,” Vegeta added. “Until we get what we want.” Raditz finally spoke. “…And after that?” Vegeta’s smirk returned. “Then we stop pretending.”

Silence.

Krillin glanced at Gohan. At Bulma. At Dende. At Raditz. Chiharu didn’t look away from Vegeta. Not once. The choice wasn’t clean, but it was real. Raditz exhaled slowly. “…Fine.” Krillin snapped toward him. “Wait—seriously?!” Raditz didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on Vegeta. “Temporary.”

Vegeta held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a small nod. It was agreement, not trust—never that—but something far more dangerous. Movement came before comfort. There was no regrouping. No discussion. No space to sit with what they had just agreed to—what they had just become. Vegeta didn’t wait.  He was already ahead of them, cutting across Namek’s uneven terrain like direction itself bent around him. His path wasn’t random. It wasn’t reactive. Every shift in his trajectory felt chosen—precise adjustments over jagged rock, shallow water, rising plateaus—like he wasn’t navigating the planet, but using it.

And they followed.

Not because they trusted him.

Because standing still wasn’t an option anymore.

Wind rushed past them in uneven bursts as they moved low across the surface, their paths weaving between towering stone formations and long stretches of open ground that offered no cover. The air was thicker here—humid, unfamiliar—and it clung slightly with every breath, making movement feel just a fraction heavier than it should have. Water below them rippled violently in their wake, breaking the green reflection of the sky into scattered fragments. The sound came in pieces—wind, shifting terrain, the faint hum of energy they were trying their best to suppress.

Even now, they weren’t fully relaxed. Couldn’t be.

A few feet behind Vegeta, Krillin grumbled, “I can’t believe we’re working with this dude of all people. And I also can’t believe you agreed to working with him Raditz! I mean, that's ridiculous! We just fought him like a month ago and we got hospitalized for days. Chichi was in a coma for almost a week!”

Raditz rolled his eyes, “Well, it’s not like I want to work with him. We don’t have another choice. And he’s right, he knows Frieza’s army like the back of his hand. He worked closely under Frieza, since he’s the prince of Saiyans.” At this, Bulma and the twins’ eyes widened. “He’s a prince? Of an entire race?” Bulma questioned, eyebrow raised. She’s currently on Raditz’ back as they flew.

“Yes, but as you know, our race was almost wiped out. A number of us were kept as slaves.” Chiharu scoffed, “A prince huh. He doesn’t act like it.”  Raditz smirked at his niece's comment, “Well, Saiyans aren’t exactly nice. Call us… barbarians if you may.”

Somehow, Vegeta heard that part of their conversation but chose not to react. Just frowned, eyebrows narrowed as he glared ahead.

Bulma adjusted her grip on the Dragon Radar, her fingers tightening slightly as the device gave a sharper, more insistent pulse. Her eyes flicked down—then forward—then back again, trying to balance speed with precision. “…The signal’s getting stronger,” she called out, her voice strained just enough to show the effort it took to keep up physically and mentally. “It’s not just one reading anymore—it’s moving. Fast.”

She hated that part.

A stationary target was something she could control. Something she could calculate.

This—

This was variables stacking on variables.

Vegeta didn’t slow. “Of course it is.”

Krillin frowned mid-flight, shifting slightly to avoid clipping a jutting rock formation. “Okay, I’m starting to really hate when you say things like that—what does that even mean?”

“It means,” Vegeta replied, his tone flat and unwavering, “you’re already behind.”

That hit harder than the wind. Gohan’s eyes narrowed slightly as he adjusted his hold on Dende, keeping him steady without slowing down. “You mean Frieza’s forces got there first?”

Vegeta didn’t answer right away. Then, “Yes.” Simple. Certain.

Bulma’s stomach tightened. “…Then we’re too late?”

“No.”

The word cut clean through the rising tension. Vegeta glanced back only briefly, but it was enough for them to notice the shift—no concern, no urgency, only expectation.

“They’ve already taken it,” he said. “Which means they’re transporting it.”

A beat passed.

Then—“We intercept.”

That changed everything. The direction didn’t shift—but the intent did. Krillin felt it immediately, his body tensing in a different way now. “…You say that like it’s easy,” he muttered, though he pushed himself forward anyway, forcing his speed to match the others. “It is,” Vegeta said. Krillin made a face. “Wow. Cool. Love that confidence. Hate everything else about it.”

Raditz said nothing.

But he adjusted.

A subtle increase in speed. A slight shift in angle. Just enough to move closer to Vegeta’s path without falling directly behind him. Not following—aligning.

His eyes stayed forward, but his awareness didn’t.

It stretched outward.

Tracking.

Measuring.

His tail flicked once behind him—tight, controlled—before settling again, though not completely still. “…How many?” Raditz asked, voice low but clear. Vegeta’s smirk was faint. Barely there. “Enough to matter,” he said. “Not enough to stop me.” That answer didn’t satisfy anyone. But it told them enough. Chiharu moved just behind Gohan and Dende, her pace steady despite the uneven terrain below them. Her focus wasn’t locked onto the direction they were heading.

It moved.

Constantly.

From the horizon, to the flanks, to the ground below, reading space the way others read opponents. “They’ll expect resistance,” she said quietly. Vegeta didn’t look at her. “They expect nothing,” he replied. “That’s why they lose.” That wasn’t arrogance. It was familiarity. And somehow, that made it worse. Dende shifted slightly in Gohan’s arms, his breathing still uneven but more stable than before. His gaze stayed forward, but it wasn’t focused on the path.

It was fixed on something deeper. Recognition. “That Dragon Ball,” he said softly. “…it came from a village near here.” Gohan looked down at him, tightening his hold just slightly. “Do you know how many they had?” “…Three,” Dende answered. His voice grew quieter. “If they took one… they may return for the rest.”

That settled heavily over the group. Krillin swallowed. “…So this isn’t just us catching up to them.”

“No,” Bulma said, her voice tightening as she stared at the radar. “This is us trying to beat them to the next one.”

Raditz’s gaze sharpened slightly at that. “Then we don’t chase the one they already have,” he said, voice low, thinking as he moved. “We move where they will be.” Vegeta’s smirk deepened—just a fraction. “Now you’re thinking.” Krillin groaned. “Awesome. Love that for us. Predicting the movements of a genocidal space tyrant’s army mid-flight. Totally normal Tuesday.” 

No one laughed. Bulma scolded, “Again, can you stop with the sarcastic remarks, Krillin? It’s not helping.”

“It’s a coping mechanism, Bulma! Pretty sure I've already said it earlier or are you going de-” he was interrupted by the radar pulsing again.

Sharper this time. Closer.

Bulma’s breath caught as she adjusted it, angling the screen to cut through the glare of Namek’s sky. “…Wait-hold on…this one-” Her fingers moved quickly, recalibrating. “There’s another reading. Not the moving one. A second one, stationary.” That made Vegeta slow down. The shift was immediate. Intent narrowing. “Where.” he demanded. Bulma pointed ahead, slightly east of their current path. “There—past that ridge cluster. It’s faint, but it’s there. Not moving.” Dende’s head lifted weakly. “…That’s another village.” Gohan’s grip tightened. Krillin cursed under his breath. “Which means—”

“They haven’t reached it yet,” Chiharu finished, already adjusting her direction. Raditz adjusted his hold on Bulma and followed without hesitation. Vegeta veered first. No discussion. No vote. Just a sharp change in trajectory that cut through the air like a blade—and this time, they didn’t question it. They surged after him. The terrain shifted as they pushed forward—rock formations tightening into jagged clusters, the ground rising into uneven plateaus that forced sharper, more deliberate movements. Wind tore harder at them now, funneled through narrow gaps that howled as they passed. Bulma’s voice cut through the rush. “If they’re hitting villages in sequence, then they’re mapping this out. We’re not the only ones thinking ahead—” “They’re not thinking,” Vegeta said.

“They’re following orders.”

A beat.

“Which makes them predictable.” Krillin frowned. “Yeah? Then what’s the play here, genius? We just swoop in, grab it, and leave before they notice?” “…No.” That single word dropped heavy. Raditz’s eyes flicked toward him. Vegeta’s gaze stayed forward. “We take it,” he continued, “before they arrive.” Gohan’s brow furrowed. “…And the villagers?”

Silence followed—brief and measured. Then Vegeta said, “They survive if we’re fast,” spoken without comfort, only certainty.

Dende’s hands tightened slightly against Gohan’s gi. Chiharu noticed. Her gaze flicked to him—just for a second—before returning forward. “Then we don’t give them time to get there,” she said. Raditz exhaled once. Their pace increased. Enough to feel the strain begin to creep into muscle and breath again. Enough to blur the line between controlled movement and something more desperate. Ahead, the ridge cluster rose into view—tall, uneven stone pillars jutting upward like broken teeth, casting long shadows across the ground below. Beyond them—

Movement.

Faint.

Distant.

But there.

Raditz saw it first.

“…We’re not alone.” He claimed. Vegeta didn’t slow. Of course he didn’t. His smirk returned. “Good.” Krillin squinted, trying to make it out. “…That doesn’t sound like a ‘good’ kind of claim—”

Bulma’s radar beeped again. Louder this time. “They’re close,” she said, voice tight. “Both signals - closing distance.” Gohan shifted Dende slightly higher, steadying him as his own focus sharpened. “Can you sense how many?” he asked quietly. Raditz didn’t answer immediately. His awareness stretched outward again—past the wind, past the terrain, past the noise. “Seems like a small unit,” he said finally. Vegeta’s eyes gleamed. “Perfect.” Chiharu’s stance shifted mid-flight—subtle, but ready. Krillin grimaced. “I swear if this turns into another chase—” “It won’t,” Vegeta cut in.

A pause.

Then—

This one already has strong cinematic structure, so I focused on smoothing pacing, tightening dialogue transitions, and removing repetition while keeping that escalating dread.

“Not for them.” That was the only warning they got.

As they cleared the ridge, the village came into view—small, Namekian, quiet. Too quiet. And above it, movement.

Fast. But not chaotic. Not scattered. Controlled. Five signatures. Raditz felt it first. His expression shifted immediately—not fear, but recognition. “…No,” he muttered. Vegeta stopped mid-air. That alone made everyone else hesitate. Krillin blinked. “Wait, why are we stopping—?” Vegeta’s eyes narrowed, locked onto the descending figures, perfectly aligned as they dropped through the air in formation. For the first time since they’d met him, his expression wasn’t bored. “Frieza doesn’t trust his own men anymore,” he said quietly.

Gohan frowned. “What does that mean?” Raditz’s jaw tightened. “It means he sent them.”

A beat passed.

The figures came into full view—five of them, descending like they had all the time in the universe. Confident. Precise. Wrong. Krillin squinted. “…Why do they look like—are they—posing?” They were. Even mid-descent, their formation held like choreography carved into instinct. Chiharu’s eyes narrowed. “…What kind of enemy—”

“The kind that doesn’t lose,” Vegeta cut in, his tone flat and heavy.

Dende instinctively shifted closer to Gohan. Bulma’s grip tightened on the radar in her hands. “Who are they?” she asked. Silence held for a moment.

Then Vegeta spoke.

“The Ginyu Force.”