"Hello, Mom?"
"Gohan, you're with Denim, right?"
"Yeah. We're near South City like Uncle Yamiru said, keeping an eye out for those androids—"
"Found any?"
"...No."
Flying through the air, Gohan answered the call on his smartwatch. He could faintly hear Aunt Tights chatting in the background before Bulma's cheerful voice cut in:
"Everyone's at the Lookout right now! You two should come—something fun's about to happen! Oh, and your Uncle Yamiru's probably returning from Other World soon..."
"Got it, Mom," Gohan replied obediently.
Hanging up, he turned to his companion. "Mom wants us at the Lookout. Your mom and the others are all there. And your dad's coming back too."
"...Huh?"
Denim' lazy flying posture instantly stiffened. His face scrunched up like he'd bitten a lemon.
"...The good times are over," he lamented dramatically.
Gohan rolled his eyes. "Come on! Your dad isn't even that strict! You're just too lazy—"
"Says the workaholic," Denim sighed with world-weary wisdom that somehow fell flat due to him lying horizontally midair. "The rest of you are the abnormal ones."
"You're acting all profound, but you're literally a year younger than me..."
"Proof I spent an extra year philosophizing before being born."
"...Can't argue with that."
With identical sighs, the duo accelerated in perfect sync—their flight speeds matching down to the decimal as they shot across ocean waves and island chains toward their destination.
———
Mid-Flight
BOOM!
An explosion echoed from a town below, accompanied by a faint but familiar energy signature.
The boys froze midair, exchanged glances, then dove toward the rising smoke.
"Feels like a Saiyan's ki," Denim mused lazily.
"Yeah..." Gohan rubbed his chin. "Similar to Uncle Raditz, but definitely not him..."
"You think it's—?"
Their eyes met. They plunged downward.
———
Town Streets
Doors were bolted shut. Terrified citizens peeked through curtains as smoke poured from the local crime syndicate's headquarters.
CRASH!
A mangled security bot went flying through a shattered wall, its cockpit glass spraying outward along with the pilot's fading screams.
Inside the damaged building, a lean but imposing figure strolled through gunfire and smoke.
TAT-TAT-TAT!
Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the shimmering white aura surrounding him. His spiked black hair barely swayed as he walked.
The figure emerged—Vegeta, dressed in an Earth-style shirt and leather pants, one hand casually pocketed. Most strikingly, a tiny black-haired girl perched on his shoulder, her chubby cheeks and wide innocent eyes contrasting with the handful of smoking bullet casings she juggled like toys.
KABOOM!
Vegeta kicked through another wall, revealing a panicked crime boss behind an oak desk—a sweaty man clutching a grenade with trembling hands.
"Y-you—stay back!" the man stammered, pulling the pin. "Or I'll—!"
Vegeta kept walking.
In desperation, the boss lobbed the grenade—only for the little girl to catch it midair with a delighted giggle. She hugged it to her chest like a teddy bear.
BOOM.
The explosion made her baby-fat jiggle. She waved away the smoke with a tiny pout as papers fluttered around the now-catatonic gangster.
"Hand over the money," Vegeta said flatly.
"O-okay! Okay!" The crime boss moved like a puppet, mechanically pulling out credit cards with shaking hands. "The p-password is—"
A finger beam pierced his forehead before he could finish.
Outside the shattered wall, Gohan and Denim hovered midair, gulping at the scene.
---
Streets Below
"So it really is you, Uncle Vegeta," Gohan greeted awkwardly.
"And you're a bad guy, huh?" Denim added lazily, eyeing the tiny girl on Vegeta's shoulder—who looked half his age. She blinked sparkling eyes at him.
"I'm Temada! Four years old!" she chirped.
"Uh, Denim. Seven."
"Son Gohan. Eight." Gohan's tone was noticeably more polite. He waved at the girl, who giggled and waved back.
"Are you Daddy's friends? Yay! He's so grumpy, he has zero friends!" She gasped. "He doesn't even know who Mommy is—"
Both boys broke into a cold sweat.
"Enough nonsense!" Vegeta barked, glowering at the duo. "What do you want? If you're looking for Raditz, we split up ages ago. Now scram!"
Denim immediately lost interest, but Gohan held him back.
"W-we just sensed your energy and came to check," Gohan explained. "The martial arts tournament's coming up... Want to join? Our dads, Piccolo, Krillin—everyone will be there. It'll be like a reunion—"
"Tch! Why would I care?" Vegeta scoffed. Privately, he knew his pride couldn't compensate for the gap between himself and them—especially that damned Yamiru.
His brooding was interrupted by tiny hands squishing his cheeks.
"You're so rude!" Temada scolded, stretching his face sideways. "They invited us nicely! No wonder you're friendless!"
Vegeta shook her off. "Annoying brat! Don't think I won't spank you!"
"WHY ARE YOU YELLING SO LOUD?!" she wailed, pressing her forehead against his, tears welling up. "Mean Daddy!"
'Why did I think raising a child would 'temper my spirit'?!' Vegeta seethed, every ounce of regret flooding back.
"It's a date then! See you there~ Bye!"
The boys took off as Temada—now miraculously tear-free—waved cheerfully. Vegeta pointedly looked away, his scowl deepening.
"Uh... bye..." Gohan and Denim flew off, exchanging glances. The sheer absurdity of Vegeta's parenting style left them torn between secondhand embarrassment and laughter.
Their mirth trailed behind them like a comet's tail, soaring all the way to the distant Lookout.