Vitelli sat in a ranch office filled with faint hay and livestock smells. Across from him lounged a plump, genial ranch owner.
Vitelli was there on Bulma's behalf, finalizing the acquisition.
But "finalizing" was generous—the owner was doing a one-man enthusiastic presentation while Vitelli mostly listened and nodded.
"…So those are basically the clauses, Mr. Vitelli. The contract transfers all the livestock, equipment, land ownership, and employee contracts together. Capsule Corporation already agreed on the price with us!"
The owner rubbed his hands, grinning like a practiced businessman.
Details were ironed out quickly.
In high spirits, the owner offered to show Vitelli around the huge ranch.
They walked the open grasslands, herds of cattle and sheep grazing lazily. Fences stretched into the distance, with modern barns beyond.
The owner looked over land he'd run for decades, weariness and nostalgia flickering in his eyes. He began reminiscing about his family's achievements across generations, how they'd grown a tiny ranch into something like this.
Vitelli caught the faint sadness and asked:
"If you love this ranch so much, why sell it?"
The owner sighed. His smile dimmed into a wistful look.
"Ah… two reasons."
He raised two thick fingers.
"First, for my daughter."
His face softened with helpless affection.
"She grew up and found her own path. Didn't want to inherit the ranch—said dealing with cows and sheep all day was boring. After college she went alone to East City and became a teacher at… what was it… right, Orange Star High School."
He chuckled quietly.
"She's busy, far away. Barely comes back to West City all year. Her mom and I… miss her. So we figured we'd sell the ranch, buy a place near East City, and be closer to her. See her more."
Vitelli nodded. That was warm, at least.
"And the second reason?"
The owner's wistfulness vanished. He scratched his nose, eyes squinting into happy slits, and lowered his voice bashfully:
"The second reason… Capsule Corporation paid too much. I honestly couldn't say no! Hehe…"
Vitelli nearly tripped.
He'd expected hardship or some tragic necessity—
But no. A lovesick dad who got an offer he couldn't refuse and decided to move near his kid.
He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
After the tour, Vitelli prepared to leave.
"Since the contract's signed, there are a few remaining procedures. I won't take more of your time."
"Ah yes, yes! Safe travels, Mr. Vitelli! Please send my regards to Mrs. Brief!"
The owner escorted him to the gate.
Then, in front of the owner's shocked, ghost-seeing stare, Vitelli casually rose into the air—
whoosh—
and flew off into the sky.
Vitelli headed for West City Hall to process the transfer.
But it was far more annoying than he'd imagined.
Forms, documents, proofs, window after window of bureaucratic questions—
His overwhelming power was completely useless here.
Just as his patience ran dry, an official handed him another thick stack of papers to fill out.
Vitelli stared at the pile—almost half a foot high—silent for three seconds.
Then he set the stack down and said politely:
"…I'm leaving."
And walked out immediately, ten times faster than he'd come in.
"Let Bulma handle this mess. She can send professionals."
He muttered to himself.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Earth—
Beep beep beep.
Vegeta flew at blistering speed across the planet's skies, Dragon Radar in hand.
The blips on the screen pulsed closer and closer.
"It's here!"
He halted midair, looking down.
Below was a vast blue ocean.
The signal came from deep underwater.
Without hesitation, he inhaled and plunged into the freezing sea, diving fast toward the radar's mark.
The light faded, pressure rising, but none of it mattered to him.
Guided through coral reefs, he spotted it—an orange sphere half-buried in sand, with three red stars.
"Found it!"
He snatched it up.
All seven Dragon Balls were now complete.
Vegeta burst up from the ocean, back into the sky.
Water streamed off him, but he didn't care. He stared at the ball in his hand, shaking with excitement.
Then, as the thrill settled, his eyes drifted.
He remembered how he, Nappa, and Raditz had been hunted by Frieza's forces not long ago, barely escaping.
Back then it was dangerous, but he had still felt proud, even triumphant that Frieza hadn't killed him.
But all that pride had been crushed the moment he met Vitelli.
That short, despair-inducing clash—
Vitelli's unfathomable power—
had shown Vegeta true helplessness for the first time.
A mere elite warrior… how could he?!
"Heh… hehehe… HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
Vegeta burst into manic laughter, the sound echoing over the empty sea, heavy with emotions too knotted to name.
He glared at the Dragon Ball as if it were revelation itself.
"So that's it!!! That's how you got so strong, Vitelli!"
He shouted to the wind, expression twisting wildly.
"An elite warrior, that's all you are! No wonder I couldn't beat you—so you relied on these things! That woman said you knew a way to get stronger—this must be it! Hahahaha! This is your secret!!!"
He vented until he finally calmed down.
"Now…"
His eyes sharpened again.
"Find a hidden place. And wish immediately!"
He shot off over the sea, scanning for an uninhabited island.
At the moment Vegeta's emotions flared—
On Kame House, Master Roshi was lounging on a beach chair reading the latest swimsuit magazine, when he suddenly toppled off with a thud.
He jolted upright, eyes blank, staring toward Vegeta's direction in shock.
"Master Roshi?!"
Krillin sprinted out, trembling, eyes wide with fear as he sensed the distant pressure.
"T-that… that's the guy who fought Goku… What a terrifying ki!"
He looked to Roshi for reassurance.
Roshi's face was tangled with emotion. At last he gave a long sigh and muttered, shaking his head:
"I'm old… I really am. These kids… they're like monsters now. I can't even understand the world anymore."
Krillin swallowed hard.
"Does that mean… Goku… lost?"
Vegeta ignored those tiny, irrelevant signals.
His mind was fixed on wishing.
Soon, an island appeared—dense green trees, no signs of humans.
"This is it!"
Vegeta landed on the beach.
With reverent excitement, he carefully arranged the seven Dragon Balls on the sand.
He steadied his breathing, then faced them and shouted with all his might:
"I want to become stronger than Vitelli!!!"
Silence.
Only the hiss of wind through palm trees and gentle waves on shore.
The Dragon Balls lay there, unmoving.
A seagull, startled by the sudden roar, screeched and flapped away.
Vegeta: "…"
His excitement froze solid.
Was that Earth woman lying to me?
He frowned, then rejected the thought.
No. She had no reason to. Something's wrong.
He slapped a palm into his fist.
"Right! The arrangement must be wrong! Or the wishing posture! That won't stop me, Vegeta!"
He rearranged them with painstaking seriousness—first into a neat pattern.
He inhaled and yelled again:
"I want to become stronger than Vitelli!!!"
The Dragon Balls: "…"
Vegeta's forehead veins began to throb.
Still undeterred, he rearranged them into a straight line…
Up on the Lookout—
Kami and Mr. Popo watched Vegeta's frantic "ritual."
Kami's face was dark with disbelief. He twitched at the mouth and pointed at his head.
"Mr. Popo… this Saiyan prince… is something wrong with him?"
Mr. Popo stared blankly at Vegeta's relentless rearranging.
After a beat, he nodded once.
"Kami is correct."
Back in West City—
Bulma was in her room staring helplessly at the mountain of forms Vitelli had dumped on her desk, feeling her brain melt.
She sighed and muttered:
"Such an idiot… can't even fill out a few dozen forms… useless man… if he ever proposes without ninety-nine roses…"
She paused, remembering Vitelli's allergy to hassle, and casually amended:
"No! Nine! If he doesn't bring me nine roses and a romantic proposal, I'm not marrying him!"
She conveniently ignored that roses were everywhere on Earth and easy to get.
With Vitelli's emotional intelligence, she'd probably have to buy the roses herself, stuff them into his hands, and then make him kneel and hand them back before anything "romantic" happened…
As her thoughts drifted further into a future wedding and family life—
BOOOOM!
A huge sonic boom shook the window glass.
Bulma jumped, yanked out of her daydream.
Frowning, she went to the window.
A figure slammed down onto the manor lawn, blasting up grass and dust.
It was Vegeta.
"Seriously!"
Bulma shoved open the window and yelled down.
"Could you land more quietly?! You nearly scared me to death! So? You got all the Dragon Balls? Hand them over."
She reached out.
Vegeta snorted, clutching the balls closer instead of giving them up.
"Enough talking, woman. Tell me—how do I make a wish with these things?!"
Bulma blinked, realizing he meant to keep them.
She was about to answer when a breeze flickered—
Vitelli appeared beside her, arm naturally slipping around her waist.
He looked down at Vegeta with an easy smile.
"From that tone… you're planning to use them yourself?"
Vegeta's eyes narrowed with smug certainty.
"So what if I am?! I know your secret now, Vitelli! You got this strong by wishing on these things, didn't you?! Otherwise how could an elite warrior be stronger than Prince Vegeta?! It makes no sense!"
Vitelli looked like he didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
He shrugged dramatically.
"Sure, sure. Think whatever you want. Go ahead and use them."
Vegeta froze for a second. He hadn't expected Vitelli to admit it so casually.
"Hmph! Then tell me how to use them! You dare?!"
Bulma cut in, exasperated:
"Are you an idiot? You summon Shenron. What did you think? Just yell at the balls?"
Vitelli choked back laughter.
So he really did try yelling at them.
He cleared his throat.
"Simple. Put all seven on the ground, shout 'Come forth, Shenron, and grant my wish,' then tell him what you want."
Vegeta glared, half-doubting, but did it.
He set the balls on the lawn.
Then he looked up at Vitelli, voice edged with challenge:
"You're not worried I'll surpass you after I wish?"
Vitelli and Bulma exchanged a look, shrugged in perfect unison, and said:
"Be our guest."
Even gesturing in sync like, go on, show us.
Vegeta ground his teeth, forcing his focus back to the Dragon Balls.
He stared at Vitelli like he wanted to burn that "arrogant" face into memory.
Then he turned to the balls and shouted:
"Come forth, Shenron! And grant my wish!!!"
WHOOOOOM—!!!
The Dragon Balls erupted in blinding golden light!
West City's sky plunged straight into unnatural darkness, like night falling in an instant.
Seven pillars of light shot upward.
A dragon's roar shook heaven and earth.
A colossal green dragon coiled out of the light, radiating majesty. It lowered its head, red eyes sweeping the tiny mortals below.
"Summoner of Shenron! Speak your wish! Any wish, and I shall—uh?!"
Mid-sentence, Shenron's eyes landed on Vitelli.
His entire body stiffened.
The mighty tone did a full 180 into panicked humility.
"Y-your Excellency Lord Vitelli, honored God of Destruction! What command brings you to summon this humble dragon?!"
Vegeta's excitement petrified into pure shock.
He whipped around, eyes nearly popping out of his skull, staring at Vitelli.
"G-g-God of Destruction?! You… you're a God of Destruction?!"
Vitelli waved a hand like, no big deal.
"Ahaha, you're too polite, Shenron. Don't do that. I'm just a trainee. Nowhere near official yet."
He pointed at the frozen Vegeta, grinning.
"Don't mind me. He's the one who summoned you. That short guy right there."
Bulma watched Vitelli's fake humility and pinched his cheeks hard.
"Stop smiling like that. It's gross!"
Vitelli mumbled through squished cheeks:
"Mmmph… how am I smiling… this is totally a gentle smile…"
Bulma rolled her eyes.
"That smile has three parts smug, three parts indifferent, three parts sleazy, and one part mockery. Ugly!"
Vitelli: "…"
He pulled her close and ruffled her blue hair, laughing.
"Wow, doing a pie chart on me? And that accurate?"
Vegeta watched them flirting as if Shenron and he didn't exist, and fury shot up his spine.
He forced himself to focus on the dragon again.
Arms crossed, he demanded skeptically:
"You said you can grant any wish. Is that true?!"
Shenron glanced nervously at Vitelli.
Seeing no objection, he resumed his majestic posture and nodded.
"Then listen well!"
Vegeta inhaled and roared his ambition to the sky:
"My wish is—make my power greater than that so-called God of Destruction Vitelli!!!"
Silence.
Shenron: "…"
His huge dragon face went blank.
His red eyes blinked. A bead of sweat seemed to form.
After a long moment, he spoke again, sheepish:
"Sorry… that wish is… not realistic. Please choose another."
"W-what?!"
Vegeta froze, then barked:
"Say that again! You said any wish! Why can't you do this?!"
Shenron shook his head, voice almost pitying now.
"Choose another, Saiyan. That wish… cannot be granted."
"N-not possible?!"
Vegeta's faith cracked—but he refused to give up.
He spat out a backup plan:
"Then give me immortality!!!"
Shenron looked even more helpless.
"Sorry… that also can't be done. I can only either speed up your healing, or extend your natural lifespan somewhat. You may choose one."
Two wishes denied in a row.
Vegeta exploded.
"That's not possible, this isn't possible—what can you do?! What are you even good for?!"
He pointed at Shenron, shaking with rage.
"I get it! You're all in on this together! You're all lying to me! You can't grant wishes at all—you're just teaming up to humiliate Prince Vegeta, aren't you?!"
Shenron stared down at the near-melting Vegeta, wearing the most humanly exasperated expression a dragon could manage.
He sighed.
"I have not deceived you. It's just that… your wishes are… too absurd. Choose something simple and realistic. Money? Power? Influence?"
"Heh… what use is that trash…"
The light completely left Vegeta's eyes.
He muttered like a broken man, feeling the entire universe laughing at him.
He didn't look at Shenron anymore.
Didn't look at Vitelli or Bulma.
He stomped once—
And shot into the sky like a comet, vanishing in an instant.
Only a furious, defeated silhouette remained.
The air went awkward.
Vitelli rubbed his chin and looked up at Shenron.
"You can still grant wishes, right? Then… make the guy who just flew off six centimeters taller. Consider it consolation."
Shenron almost cried with relief.
"As you wish, Lord Vitelli!"
His eyes flared red.
Then his great body broke into seven streams of light, scattering across Earth to sleep for a year.
Bulma watched the Dragon Balls disappear, shaking her head regretfully.
"Tch… I was going to wish Mom a few years younger… What a waste."
Vitelli squeezed her hand gently.
"It's fine. A year passes fast. We'll wish again next year. Come on, I'll help you with those forms."
Hand in hand, they headed inside.
High in the sky, Vegeta flew aimlessly, humiliation and fury gnawing at his core.
Suddenly, a faint warmth spread through his body.
He felt an invisible force tug lightly at his limbs and torso—
Then his viewpoint… seemed a little higher?
"???"
He halted midair, looked down at himself, and checked his height again.
He had… grown a bit?
Vegeta snorted, trying to ignore it.
He closed his eyes to sense Nappa and Raditz, preparing to meet up.
But on that perpetually grim face—
His tightly set mouth twitched.
And without him realizing—
The tiniest smile curved upward.
(A one-pixel curve.)