The argument at Capsule Corporation had been going on for nearly an hour.
Goku wanted to wait, to let Frieza come to them, to face the tyrant at his absolute strongest. It was the Saiyan way—never back down from a challenge, always seek the greatest battle possible.
Vegeta wanted to train obsessively, to ensure that when Frieza arrived, he would be the one to claim victory. His pride demanded nothing less than personally destroying the monster who had enslaved his race.
Piccolo advocated for caution, for gathering intelligence, for understanding exactly what they were dealing with before making any moves.
Kenpachi listened to all of this with growing impatience.
"You're all idiots," he finally said, cutting through the debate with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
The room fell silent.
"What did you call us?" Vegeta demanded, his aura flickering dangerously.
"Idiots. You're sitting here arguing about what to do when an enemy gets stronger, instead of just... stopping him from getting stronger." Kenpachi scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Seems pretty simple to me."
"And how exactly do you propose we do that?" Piccolo asked, his tone skeptical. "Frieza is somewhere in deep space. We have no ships capable of reaching him, no way to track his location—"
"I can track him."
Another silence, this one tinged with confusion.
"Explain," Vegeta said flatly.
Kenpachi tapped the side of his head. "Felt his energy signature when his soldiers were here. Faint, but distinct. Cold, twisted, like frozen malice given form." His grin sharpened. "I can still feel it. Distant, but there. Moving away from Earth, but not fast enough to lose."
"You can sense him from here?" Goku's eyes widened. "That's incredible! Even I can't sense someone that far away without Instant Transmission, and that requires knowing exactly where they are!"
"Reiatsu sensing works differently than your ki sensing," Kenpachi replied with a shrug. "Once I've felt someone's spiritual pressure, I can find them again. Distance doesn't matter much."
"So you can locate Frieza," Piccolo said slowly, understanding dawning. "But that still doesn't solve the problem of reaching him."
"Actually, it does."
Kenpachi rose to his feet, his hand falling to Nozarashi's hilt with familiar ease.
"There's a technique. Shinigami use it to move between dimensions, between worlds. It's called a Senkaimon normally, but I never bothered learning the proper method." His grin became something feral. "I just tear through space directly. Messy, but effective."
"You can teleport?" Goku asked, practically bouncing with excitement. "Like my Instant Transmission?"
"Something like that. Less precise, more violent. But if I can feel where someone is, I can get to them." Kenpachi's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "And right now, I can feel Frieza. Sitting in his little spaceship, getting stronger by the minute."
The implications hung in the air like a death sentence.
"You want to go to him," Vegeta said, his voice strange. "You want to hunt him down before he can power up."
"Why wait for a fight when you can start one early?"
"But—" Goku started, looking conflicted. "If you beat him now, he won't be at his strongest. Where's the challenge in that?"
Kenpachi laughed—a sharp, barking sound that held no humor.
"You think I'm doing this for the challenge? Nah." He shook his head. "I've been listening to you people talk about Frieza for the past hour. Destroyed planets. Enslaved races. Killed billions for fun. This isn't an opponent—it's a rabid animal that needs to be put down."
"That's... surprisingly pragmatic of you," Piccolo observed.
"Don't get me wrong. If he was just strong and wanted to fight, I'd let him power up. Give him every chance to become something worth cutting." Kenpachi's expression hardened. "But from what you've told me, Frieza doesn't fight for the joy of it. He fights to dominate. To torture. To prove he's superior to everyone else."
He spat on the ground.
"That's not a warrior. That's a bully with too much power. And I hate bullies."
The room was silent as the others processed this unexpected depth from the battle-hungry Shinigami.
Finally, Vegeta spoke.
"You're going to kill him."
It wasn't a question.
"Yep."
"Permanently."
"That's the plan."
Vegeta was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Good. Make sure nothing remains. Frieza has been resurrected once—we can't allow it to happen again."
"Vegeta!" Goku looked shocked. "You're okay with this? With not even giving Frieza a chance to fight back?"
"Frieza never gave anyone a chance, Kakarot. He destroyed our home world, murdered our families, enslaved the survivors." Vegeta's voice was cold, ancient hatred simmering beneath the surface. "If Kenpachi wants to end him before he becomes a threat again, I won't stand in his way."
"But—"
"Goku." Piccolo's voice cut through the Saiyan's protest. "Think about it. If Frieza returns at full power—or stronger than before—how many people will die before we can stop him? How many planets will burn while we're 'having a good fight'?"
Goku fell silent, conflict warring across his features.
"I know you want every opponent at their best," Piccolo continued. "It's part of who you are, and normally I respect it. But Frieza isn't like Vegeta or Beerus. He doesn't grow stronger to test himself—he grows stronger to hurt others. There's no honor in giving him that chance."
The Saiyan looked down at his hands, struggling with the argument.
Finally, he sighed.
"You're right. I know you're right. It just feels... wrong, somehow."
"It's not wrong," Kenpachi said, surprising everyone with the gentleness in his voice. "It's just different from how you usually do things. And that's fine. You keep being the guy who gives everyone a fair fight."
He turned toward the door, spiritual pressure beginning to build around his form.
"I'll be the guy who kills the ones who don't deserve one."
The space outside Capsule Corporation rippled and tore.
Kenpachi stood at the center of the disturbance, his reiatsu flaring wildly as he forced reality to bend to his will. This wasn't a clean technique—not like the precisely controlled Senkaimon that other Shinigami used. This was brute force applied to the fabric of space-time, tearing a hole through dimensions through sheer power.
"Are you sure about this?" Goku had followed him outside, still looking uncertain. "Going alone, I mean. We could come with you—"
"No."
The refusal was absolute.
"This is my hunt. My kill." Kenpachi's eyes found Goku's, and there was something ancient in that gaze. "You're too soft for what I'm about to do, Goku. You'd try to give him a chance, try to find the good in him. And there IS no good in Frieza."
"You don't know that—"
"I do." Kenpachi's voice was flat. "I've met his type before. Not in this world, but in my memories. Beings who exist only to cause pain, who find joy in suffering, who would burn the universe down just to prove they could."
The tear in space widened, revealing a swirling vortex of distorted reality.
"Some people can be saved. Some people can be redeemed. But some people are just broken, and the kindest thing you can do is end them quickly."
Goku had no response to that.
"Tell Vegeta I'll bring back proof," Kenpachi said, stepping toward the vortex. "Something he can look at and know that Frieza is never coming back."
"What kind of proof?"
Kenpachi's grin was sharp and cold.
"His head."
And then he was gone, the tear in space sealing behind him with a sound like reality sighing in relief.
Aboard the Frieza Force flagship...
Frieza had emerged from the regeneration tank three days ago.
His body was restored—perfect, pristine, every cell operating at peak efficiency. But more importantly, his power had returned. That familiar, comfortable strength that had made him the undisputed emperor of the universe for decades.
But it wasn't enough.
Not anymore.
"Again," he commanded, standing in the center of the ship's training arena.
Tagoma—his strongest remaining soldier—attacked with everything he had. The warrior moved with impressive speed, his fists carrying enough force to shatter mountains.
Frieza blocked each strike with a single finger.
"Pathetic," he sighed, flicking Tagoma away with casual contempt. "Is there no one on this ship who can actually challenge me?"
"My lord," Sorbet ventured hesitantly from the observation deck, "perhaps you should try training in one of your transformed states? The stress of maintaining those forms might accelerate your growth."
Frieza considered this. "An interesting suggestion. Very well—we'll try your method."
His body began to shift, muscles expanding, bones restructuring. His first transformation. His second. His third.
And then, finally, his true form—the sleek, compact body that represented his natural state, unburdened by the artificial restraints of his other forms.
"Now then," he said, his voice smooth and deadly, "let's see what I can achieve."
He began to train in earnest, pushing his body harder than he ever had before. The ship's training systems—designed to challenge armies—were reduced to scrap within minutes. Tagoma and the other elite soldiers were beaten unconscious repeatedly, only to be revived and beaten again.
And through it all, Frieza's power grew.
It was intoxicating. For the first time in his life, he understood what the Saiyans must feel—that rush of breaking through limits, of becoming more than you were before. Every hour brought new heights, new possibilities, new depths of power he had never imagined.
At this rate, he thought, allowing himself a cold smile, I'll surpass even that wretched Super Saiyan within months. Perhaps weeks, if I push harder.
He was so focused on his training that he almost missed it.
Almost.
But even absorbed in his own growth, Frieza's survival instincts were razor-sharp. And when something changed in the ship's atmosphere—when the very air seemed to grow heavy with an unfamiliar pressure—he noticed immediately.
"What is that?" he demanded, his training ceasing abruptly.
"My lord?" Sorbet looked confused. "What is what?"
"That PRESENCE." Frieza's eyes darted around the training arena, searching for something he couldn't quite identify. "Something just changed. Something—"
The wall exploded.
Kenpachi emerged from the dimensional tear like a monster from a nightmare.
The transition had been rough—traveling through folded space without proper technique was like being dragged through broken glass—but he barely noticed. His attention was fixed entirely on the figure at the center of the room.
Frieza.
The tyrant was smaller than he expected. Compact, sleek, almost elegant in his final form. But the power radiating from him was unmistakable—a cold, crushing force that would have driven lesser beings to their knees.
Kenpachi just grinned.
"Found you."
Frieza's expression shifted from shock to outrage in an instant. "Who are you?! How did you get aboard my ship?!"
"Name's Kenpachi Zaraki. And I walked." Kenpachi drew Nozarashi, the battered blade singing as it cleared its sheath. "Well, more like tore a hole through space, but close enough."
"You... tore a hole through space." Frieza's voice was flat with disbelief. "To reach MY ship. To reach ME."
"Yep."
"Why?"
Kenpachi's grin widened. "Because you're planning to go to Earth and hurt my friends. And I decided I didn't want to wait for you to get there."
Frieza stared at him for a long moment.
Then he began to laugh.
It was that cultured, sophisticated laugh that had preceded countless atrocities—the sound of someone who found the very concept of being challenged absolutely hilarious.
"You came HERE? To stop ME?" Frieza's laughter grew louder. "Do you have any idea who I am? I am Frieza, Emperor of the Universe! I have destroyed civilizations, conquered galaxies, ended species with a wave of my hand!"
"Good for you." Kenpachi's tone was utterly unimpressed. "You done talking?"
The laughter cut off abruptly.
"You dare—"
"Yeah, I dare. And I'm getting bored." Kenpachi raised Nozarashi, spiritual pressure beginning to build around his form. "So let's skip the monologue and get to the part where I kill you."
Frieza's expression twisted with rage—an ugly, primal fury that stripped away his veneer of sophistication.
"KILL me? You think you can KILL me?!" His aura exploded outward, the sheer force of his power shattering the walls of the training arena. "I am the most powerful being in the universe! I am IMMORTAL! I am—"
Kenpachi moved.
The first cut took Frieza completely by surprise.
One moment, the strange intruder was standing across the room. The next, he was there, that battered sword carving a line across Frieza's chest that drew blood and something that might have been a scream.
"What—" Frieza gasped, clutching the wound. "How—"
The second cut came before he could finish the question.
This one was deeper—a diagonal slash across his back that severed muscle and grated against bone. Purple blood sprayed across the ruined training arena, and Frieza found himself stumbling, actually STUMBLING, like some common soldier.
"You're slow," Kenpachi observed, appearing in front of him again. "Powerful, sure. But you've never actually had to fight for your life, have you?"
"I am FRIEZA—"
The third cut took off his left hand at the wrist.
Frieza screamed—a high, keening sound that held nothing of his usual composure. He stared at the stump where his hand had been, at the purple blood fountaining from the wound, and something in his expression shifted.
Fear.
Real, genuine, absolute fear.
"You—you can't—this isn't—"
"This is exactly what's happening." Kenpachi's voice was cold, utterly devoid of his usual battle-joy. "You thought you were invincible. Thought nothing could touch you. But you're just flesh and blood like anyone else."
He raised Nozarashi, the battered blade gleaming with Frieza's blood.
"And flesh cuts real easy."
Elsewhere on the ship, alarms were blaring.
Sorbet watched the destruction of the training arena through security feeds, his face pale with horror. The soldiers around him were frozen, unable to process what they were seeing.
Lord Frieza—their emperor, their god—was being dismantled by a scarred giant with a broken sword.
"We—we have to help him," Sorbet stammered. "Someone has to—"
"Help him HOW?" Tagoma demanded, having recovered enough to make it to the observation deck. "That thing just walked through solid metal like it was paper! Its power level is—" He checked his scouter and went pale. "That's not possible. That reading can't be right."
"What does it say?"
"It keeps climbing. Every second, it gets higher. And it was already beyond anything I've ever seen when it started."
On the screen, another of Frieza's limbs was removed.
The emperor's screams echoed through the ship's speakers.
Kenpachi was thorough.
He had promised Vegeta proof, and he intended to deliver. But more than that, he wanted to make absolutely certain that Frieza could never threaten anyone again.
So he took his time.
The right hand went next, then the tail. Each cut was precise, surgical, designed to disable rather than kill. Kenpachi wanted Frieza conscious for what came next—wanted him to understand exactly what was happening and why.
"Please—" Frieza gasped, reduced to a limbless torso lying in a pool of his own blood. "Please, I'll give you anything—money, power, planets—"
"Don't want any of that."
"I'll leave Earth alone! I'll never return! I'll—"
"You're right." Kenpachi crouched down, meeting Frieza's terrified eyes. "You won't return. Because in about thirty seconds, you're going to stop existing entirely."
"No—NO—I am FRIEZA! I am the EMPEROR OF THE UNIVERSE! You can't do this to me! I WON'T LET YOU—"
"You don't have a choice."
Kenpachi stood, raising Nozarashi for the final blow.
And in that moment, something happened.
Frieza's eyes went wide—not with fear, but with desperate, manic determination. His power, which had been steadily declining as blood loss took its toll, suddenly SURGED.
"I REFUSE!" he screamed, and golden light exploded from his mutilated body. "I REFUSE TO DIE LIKE THIS!"
Oh, Kenpachi thought, watching the transformation begin with mild interest. So that's the golden form they mentioned.
Frieza's body was regenerating—or trying to. Golden energy poured from his core, attempting to restore his severed limbs, to heal his countless wounds. His power level skyrocketed, climbing higher and higher as he forced his body through a transformation it wasn't ready for.
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Golden Frieza howled, his voice distorted by the incomplete transformation. "I'LL DESTROY YOU AND EVERYONE YOU'VE EVER—"
Kenpachi took off his eye patch.
The golden light vanished.
Not slowly, not gradually—it simply ceased to exist as Kenpachi's unleashed spiritual pressure crashed down on Frieza like a collapsing star. The emperor's transformation shattered, his body crumpling under the weight of power that made his golden form look like a candle next to the sun.
"That was cute," Kenpachi said, his reiatsu continuing to build. "You almost had me worried for a second there."
Frieza couldn't respond. He couldn't even breathe. The pressure crushing him was beyond anything he had ever experienced—beyond his father, beyond Beerus, beyond any force in the universe he had ever encountered.
"Here's the thing about power," Kenpachi continued, raising Nozarashi. "It doesn't matter how much potential you have if you never get the chance to use it. You could have become the strongest being in existence, given enough time. But time just ran out."
"W-wait—"
"Drink, Nozarashi."
The transformation was instant—battered blade becoming massive cleaver, power multiplying exponentially as Shinigami and zanpakuto united. The ship groaned around them, reality itself bending under the weight of unleashed potential.
Frieza looked up at the monster looming over him and knew, with absolute certainty, that he was going to die.
"Please," he whispered, all pretense of pride abandoned. "Please, I don't want to die."
"Nobody does." Kenpachi raised the massive blade. "But some people need to."
The cleaver fell.
The Frieza Force flagship drifted through space, silent and dead.
Kenpachi stood in the ruins of the training arena, Nozarashi returned to her sealed form, Frieza's head gripped loosely in one hand. The emperor's expression was frozen in terror—a fitting end for a being who had inspired that same terror in countless others.
Around him, the ship was quiet. The soldiers had fled, those who could, and the rest had been... dealt with. Not killed, necessarily—Kenpachi had no interest in slaughtering weaklings—but thoroughly incapacitated.
It's done, he thought, looking down at Frieza's severed head. The monster's dead.
He had expected to feel satisfaction. Triumph, maybe, or at least the warm glow of a job well done.
Instead, he felt... empty.
This hadn't been a battle. Not really. Frieza had never had a chance—not against Kenpachi's centuries of combat experience, not against power that had challenged a God of Destruction. It had been an execution, quick and brutal and utterly one-sided.
Is this what heroes feel like? he wondered. This... hollowness?
Perhaps, Nozarashi's voice echoed in his mind. But you're not a hero, Kenpachi. And that's not why we're here.
Then why are we here?
Because some things need to be done, regardless of how they feel. You killed Frieza not for glory or enjoyment, but because he would have hurt people you care about. That's not heroism—it's just... being a good person.
Kenpachi considered this for a long moment.
Then he snorted.
A good person, huh? That's a new one.
Don't let it go to your head.
Wouldn't dream of it.
He tore another hole in space—easier now, with practice—and stepped through, leaving the dead ship and its dead emperor behind.
The tear in reality opened above Capsule Corporation with a sound like thunder.
Kenpachi descended from the rift, landing heavily in the courtyard where, hours ago, he had left to hunt a tyrant. The others were waiting—Goku, Vegeta, Piccolo, and several others, their expressions tense with anticipation.
"You're back," Goku said, his eyes immediately falling to the object in Kenpachi's hand. "Is that...?"
Kenpachi tossed Frieza's head at Vegeta's feet.
"Proof," he said simply. "As promised."
Vegeta stared down at the severed head of his childhood tormentor. The face that had haunted his nightmares for decades, the monster who had destroyed everything he had ever known—reduced to a trophy, discarded like garbage.
"You actually did it," he breathed. "You actually killed him."
"Wasn't hard." Kenpachi's voice was flat, none of his usual enthusiasm present. "He was strong, sure. Started some kind of golden transformation at the end. But he never had a chance."
"Golden transformation?" Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "He achieved a new form?"
"Started to. Didn't get to finish." Kenpachi shrugged. "I put him down before it could complete."
Goku looked at the severed head, his expression complicated. "Was it... did he suffer?"
"Some. Not as much as he deserved, probably." Kenpachi met Goku's eyes. "I'm not a torturer. I just wanted him dead and gone. Mission accomplished."
Silence fell over the group.
Then, slowly, Vegeta began to laugh.
It started as a chuckle—a sound so foreign coming from the Prince of All Saiyans that the others stared in shock. But it grew, becoming something full and genuine and cathartic, until Vegeta was laughing so hard tears streamed down his face.
"Dead," he managed between laughs. "He's actually DEAD. After all these years, after everything he did—some random swordsman from another dimension just walked up and cut his head off."
"Vegeta?" Goku looked concerned. "You okay?"
"I'm BETTER than okay, Kakarot!" Vegeta's laughter finally died down, replaced by a grin that was almost manic. "The monster who destroyed my planet, murdered my people, enslaved me for years—he's GONE. Forever. And I didn't even have to lift a finger."
He turned to Kenpachi, and there was something in his expression that might have been gratitude.
"I owe you," he said simply. "More than I can ever repay."
"You don't owe me anything." Kenpachi waved dismissively. "I didn't do it for you. Did it because Frieza was the kind of trash that needed taking out."
"Regardless. If you ever need anything—anything at all—you have my word as the Prince of All Saiyans."
Kenpachi considered this, then nodded. "Sure. I'll keep that in mind."
The celebration that followed was subdued but genuine.
News of Frieza's permanent demise spread quickly through the Z Fighter network. Bulma produced champagne from somewhere, Goku inhaled enough food to feed an army, and even Piccolo seemed to relax slightly.
But Kenpachi remained apart from the festivities, standing alone on the compound's roof, staring up at unfamiliar stars.
"You're not celebrating."
He didn't turn at Goku's voice. The Saiyan had, predictably, found his way up here again.
"Nothing to celebrate," Kenpachi replied. "I killed an evil guy. That's just... what you do with evil guys."
"You saved a lot of people. Frieza would have killed millions if he'd made it to Earth."
"Probably."
Goku settled beside him, cross-legged and quiet for once.
"You know," the Saiyan said after a while, "I've killed before. Beings that couldn't be reasoned with, couldn't be redeemed. It never gets easier."
"Didn't expect it to."
"But it's still the right thing to do. Sometimes." Goku's voice was unusually serious. "I spent a long time thinking everyone deserved a second chance. And most people do. But some people... some people just use that chance to hurt more people."
"Like Frieza."
"Like Frieza." Goku nodded. "He was given a second life today, and the first thing he did was start training to kill everyone I care about. There's no redemption in that."
"No." Kenpachi was quiet for a moment. "There isn't."
They sat in silence for a while, two warriors from vastly different worlds, united by their understanding of violence and its necessary applications.
"So what now?" Goku asked eventually. "Frieza's gone. The immediate threat is over. What's next for you?"
Kenpachi considered the question.
What WAS next? He had come to this universe by accident, had found opponents worth fighting, had even started making something that resembled connections with the people here. But there had to be more—more challenges, more growth, more battles that would push him beyond his limits.
"Training," he decided. "My Bankai's still not fully under control. And there are probably more threats out there—beings like Frieza, or worse."
"Definitely worse," Goku agreed cheerfully. "There are twelve universes, each with their own fighters. And beyond that, who knows? The multiverse is infinite."
"Infinite opponents." Kenpachi felt his grin returning, the hollow feeling from earlier fading. "Sounds perfect."
"Right?!" Goku bounced to his feet, excitement replacing his earlier solemnity. "And someday, there might be a tournament—all the strongest fighters from all the universes, competing to see who's the best!"
"You mentioned that before."
"Because it would be AMAZING! Just think about it—warriors from dimensions we've never even heard of, techniques we can't imagine, power levels beyond anything we've encountered!"
Kenpachi let Goku's enthusiasm wash over him, feeling something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.
Hope, maybe.
Or anticipation.
"Tell me more," he said. "About these other universes. What kind of fighters do they have?"
Goku's eyes lit up, and he launched into an animated description of the little he knew about the multiverse—about angels and gods and warriors who might rival even Beerus in power.
And Kenpachi listened, his grin growing wider with each revelation.
The hunt for Frieza had been necessary, but unsatisfying. A chore, not a battle. But out there, somewhere in the infinite expanse of the multiverse, there were opponents waiting.
Real opponents.
Worthy opponents.
He just had to find them.
In the void between universes, something stirred.
It had felt the death of Frieza—a tiny ripple in the cosmic order, barely worth noticing. But it had also felt something else. Something that shouldn't exist in Universe 7.
A soul from another dimension entirely. A power that operated on different principles than ki or divine energy. A being that had torn through the walls between worlds through sheer force of will.
Interesting.
Perhaps it was time to take a closer look at this little universe. Perhaps there was something there worth... investigating.
The presence shifted, attention focusing on the tiny blue planet where the anomaly resided.
Yes. Definitely worth investigating.
End of Chapter 5
Next Chapter: "The Universe Stirs—New Challengers Approach!"