Living on Earth for the first time in my life made one thing clear:
I wasn't alone anymore.
For all the distance between us, for all the years I spent serving Vegeta and Frieza, my little brother was alive — breathing the same air as me. That thought alone made my chest feel lighter. So the first thing I did after meeting him was shed the last piece of my old life.
The Saiyan armor.
Kami had shown me how peaceful this planet could be. Master Roshi had offered me shelter, training, and—strangely enough—patience. Wearing armor tied to Vegeta and Frieza felt… wrong. So I asked Roshi for a gi like Goku's, something simple and free. When I slipped it on, it felt strange at first — soft, flexible, nothing like the heavy plates of Saiyan armor. But comfortable.
By the time I stepped outside, Roshi was lying on his back with a nosebleed.
Again.
I sighed and crouched down, wiping his face clean before setting him on his favorite lounge chair. A few minutes passed before he groaned and blinked back to consciousness.
"You know," he said suddenly, sitting upright, "you didn't have to change clothes right in front of me. Not that I'm complaining, mind you — just surprised!"
I stared at him, genuinely confused. "Why would that surprise you?"
He sputtered. "W-Well, a young woman shouldn't just—just reveal herself to a man so casually!"
"Why?" I asked flatly.
He froze, mouth slightly open. "…How do I even begin explaining…?"
Roshi cleared his throat like he was preparing a lecture. "On this planet, it's considered modest and respectful for a woman to keep herself covered—especially around men who aren't family."
I raised a brow. "My people don't concern ourselves with that. Clothing is armor — protection from weapons or weather. Nothing more."
I gestured to my tail. "Before we developed battle armor, Saiyans transformed on full-moon nights. We often ended up naked after reverting. No one cared."
Roshi went very still, absorbing that cultural shock.
Then: "…Transformed?"
I studied him carefully. "Did Goku never transform in front of you? Into a giant ape?"
"I've never met the boy before today," Roshi admitted. "But Gohan — my old student — once found a strange child alone in the forest. Wild thing, hard to control… until an accident mellowed him out. But ape? No, he never mentioned that."
A cold knot settled in my stomach. If Grandpa Gohan died from an Oozaru rampage… Goku might have killed him without ever knowing.
"If he transformed," I said quietly, "it wasn't intentional. Goku can't control the form. A Saiyan exposed to the full moon becomes a monster driven by instinct."
Roshi's face paled. "How strong does he become?"
"That's… difficult to explain without context."
I knelt, touching the ground with my palm. "Saiyans use scouters to measure battle strength. A number. Not perfect, but useful."
"Like a scale?" he asked.
"Exactly. An average, untrained human? Around five. You, with your martial arts techniques… maybe fifty."
He blinked. "That low?"
"That impressive," I corrected.
He swallowed. "And Goku?"
"In his Oozaru state?" I stood and inhaled. "Watch."
I released my ki—slowly, carefully. The ground trembled. Dust lifted off the sand. Roshi's sunglasses shook against his face.
"This," I said, "is five hundred."
Roshi staggered back, clutching his cane.
"F-Five hundred?! That's—That's ten times—!"
"Oozaru multiplies a Saiyan's power by ten. Goku's transformed state is around this level."
He stared at me, sweat beading on his forehead.
"…If that boy ever rampaged near a city…"
"It would be destroyed," I finished.
Silence hung between us. Heavy. Real.
Roshi finally exhaled, long and shaky.
"This is far beyond King Piccolo… and that monster almost ended humanity."
"Goku is still pure-hearted," I said softly. "He doesn't mean harm. But ignorance can be dangerous."
He nodded slowly, the shock settling into determination.
"We'll need to make sure he never sees the full moon again… not until he learns control."
I glanced toward the horizon where Goku and Bulma had departed on their Dragon Ball hunt.
"When he returns," I said, "I'll teach him everything he needs to know. About his heritage. About his power. And how to control the things that could destroy him."
Roshi looked at me thoughtfully.
"And what about you? What do you want?"
I looked down at my hands — once drenched in blood for Vegeta and Frieza, now wrapped in soft cloth instead of armor.
"…Peace," I said. "A life that's mine. Even if I have to fight Vegeta someday to keep it."
The old man nodded, as if he understood more than he let on.
As the breeze rolled across the sea, I felt something I hadn't felt since I was a child on Planet Vegeta:
Hope.