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They found out Broly could go super saiyan when he was four and Tarble was seven. Bardock had achieved super saiyan himself about a year earlier and was still cagey about how it had happened beyond the fact that it seemed to be triggered by extreme rage, and, for once, no one pressed him about what had been going on, that he had gotten so angry. They had, however, assumed that that was it for their secret ace in the hole against Frieza. If anger caused you to become Legendary, then it didn’t matter how strong the boy became – and at times it felt like his power level was growing daily – Broly was never going to achieve it. The boy seemed to have been born without the ability to feel true rage, and the flickery green aura he was sometimes able to manifest would likely be as close as he ever got to his birthright.
It was thanks to Tarble that these beliefs were proven false. Or, more accurately, it was Tarble’s fault. To be honest, no one was particularly surprised by that; Tarble was growing up to be quite the troublemaker when it suited him to be. Which was not to say that the event itself was not surprising. Paragus had, in point of fact, spit his drink all over Bardock when, during a planning session in his room with said saiyan, Toma, and Celipa about… something he couldn’t remember, Paragus had heard a tapping outside his window and looked up to see Tarble hovering there looking shell-shocked, his arms and tail wrapped around Broly’s chest, and Broly with his hair spikey and purple-blue, his eyes teal, and the grumpiest expression anyone had ever seen on the brat. The boys were surrounded by a green orb of energy, and Tarble had waved hesitantly when he saw they had the adults’ attention.
After the panic had died down, Bardock started helping Broly learn to control his new form and Toma instituted a new rule about doing scouter readings on the room before the airlock was opened to dump trash into space. Tarble got off lightly – sure, he had almost gotten himself and Broly killed, but that was pretty par for the course with saiyans. He had survived, Broly had survived, and, most importantly, Broly had gotten so angry at the thought of losing his best friend that he had achieved his birthright. Things were looking up.
When Broly was eight and Tarble was eleven, they discovered that Broly had not, in fact, achieved his birthright yet, because apparently ‘super saiyan’ and ‘legendary super saiyan’ were two rather extremely different things.
This time it was not Tarble’s fault. Not entirely. The saiyans had grown a little careless, a little overconfident – and with a string of recent victories they’d had, not to mention having two super saiyans on their side, well, anyone would have been cocky, let alone a race with a tendency towards pride.
But they had been careless, they had been sloppy, and they paid for it. Bardock had been off working with a saiyan female on another ship who was showing the potential to become super saiyan, and, while he was away, the Ginyu Force had attacked. They’d been planet-side, on a small moon they’d apparently used as a base once too often. They’d done their best, Broly had done his best – he’d even managed to knock out Captain Ginyu himself – but, when you got right down to it, he was only eight and, for all his power, the Ginyus had years of experience on him, and were used to working together. Burta and Guldo had tag-teamed him, the psychic holding Broly in place just long enough for the speedster to put ki-restraints on the little boy.
That really should have been it; the Resistance should have been down nineteen members, including its mascot nee crown prince and its ace in the hole. The saiyans had been growing stronger, and most of the adults had power levels at least brushing five digits at this point, but while all of them gained strength each time they achieved zenkai, few gained as much from each episode as Bardock did. They were outmatched and they knew it. They prepared to die with what honour they could.
Then Tarble, who had been kept away from the fighting as much as possible, had come out of hiding to attack Recoome.
With a stick.
There had been absolute dead silence on the battlefield for a moment. Then Recoome had grabbed Tarble by the tail. The large man didn’t just squeeze, he crushed, and Tarble had shrieked in absolute agony as bones shattered in the Ginyu’s grip.
The second shriek didn’t really register until it became a roar, and everyone turned in time to see the ki suppressors and Broly explode in a burst of green.
Broly had stood there for a moment after he transformed, yellow-green hair moving gently in the green aura surrounding him, two feet taller and covered in muscles, blank white eyes staring presumably straight ahead. Then Recoome must have shifted his grip, because Tarble had let out another shriek. Broly’s head had snapped towards the taller alien then, his expression like ice.
Little was ever said about the following battle, other than that it was over quickly. Saiyans were born warriors, and each warrior present was well used to death, but even they found something unsettling about the cold, almost clinical manner with which Broly had dispatched the remaining Ginyus. After he was done, he had turned to the saiyans, and everyone had taken an involuntary step back. They knew now of the rage that accompanied a newly awoken super saiyan, and which accompanied the form until mastery was attained. How much worse, they wondered, would be the rage of the Legendary Super Saiyan, for there was no doubt as to what this form could be. Indeed, fury and power seemed to radiate from the boy in cold waves.
But Broly had simply lifted Tarble with shocking delicacy in his newly-huge hands and arms, carried him gently to the medical facilities on the ship, and carefully amputated the once prince’s mangled wreck of a tail. He had laid his friend on one of the medical cots, waited for Rutaba (who passed for ship doctor) to arrive, and then wandered off. No one tried to stop him. Shortly afterward, the ship had taken off, using far more caution and sense than they had in awhile, and Broly apparently abandoned his ultimate form, as his presence and power no longer permeated the ship.
An hour or so later, after Bardock had been sent for and Tarble seen to, Paragus had returned to his quarters to find Broly there. He was sitting in a corner, curled up on himself, staring in front of him where Tarble’s mangled tail lay on the floor. He didn’t move as his father cautiously came and crouched in front of him. He didn’t even look up until Paragus said his name, and then he revealed the tears leaking steadily from his eyes.
“It was too damaged,” he whispered, “I could tell, even with a tank, it wouldn’t- so I- I-” And he broke down sobbing, the little boy who, until today, had never been in a real battle; the peaceful saiyan who had never killed.
And Paragus, not knowing what else to do, silently held his son, stroking his tail and not knowing what to say. Things were changing too quickly, and he had no point of reference in this strange new universe. So he rocked his son and assured him that Tarble would grow a new tail and that they had both been very strong.
Bardock returned several hours after all this. His first action was to go and see Tarble. Miraculously, the boy had sustained no serious injuries beyond those to his tail, and the tail’s removal had greatly reduced the stress on the young royal’s system. He had just woken up when Bardock came in.
“I hear you did something damn stupid,” the commander of the Resistance growled with no introduction, “And, while it sounds like you were very saiyan, I thought you were smarter than that! What the hell were you thinking, if you were thinking at all?!”
Tarble sat up, his face pale and serious. “We need Broly. The Resistance needs its secret weapon a lot more than it needs a mascot. And… it was the Ginyus, Commander Bardock. Without Broly, we’d all have died, and Frieza would have gotten the flagship and everything about the Resistance on it. The Resistance would have been over. So…” he shrugged.
“So you thought attacking the Ginyus yourself would prevent this because…?”
“I knew they’d hurt me bad if I did that. Broly doesn’t like it when I’m hurt.”
Bardock raised an eyebrow. “And you knew he could turn into something other than super saiyan… how?”
“I didn’t,” he shrugged again.
Bardock growled, rubbing his forehead. “Then why the hell did you do it?!?”
Tarble tilted his head to one side, considering. “Because he’s Broly. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me, because then…” he waved a hand, looking for the right words, “…we wouldn’t be together. And that would be wrong.”
His expression was so serious and earnest that Bardock couldn’t help giving a snort of laughter. “Well don’t you two sound like an old mated couple.” He laughed at Tarble’s look of indignant disgust.
“Ew, Bardock, I’m eleven! That’s gross!” He pushed himself off the cot at that point, took two steps, and fell over, his missing tail affecting his balance. He climbed to his feet, staggered over to Bardock, and grabbed hold of one of his thigh guards. “Take me to Broly.”
Bardock gave the should-be prince a bemused look. “And who are you to give me orders, brat?”
Tarble glared up at him. “I’m the one who just risked his life and sacrificed his tail to help save the Resistance! Now take me to Broly! Please,” he added, dropping his eyes, “I need to let him know I’m okay.”
The scarred saiyan chuckled and scooped up the boy, putting him on his shoulders. “We’ll get there faster this way, but after this you walk. And don’t go risking your life like that again – that’s an order. I have no intention of finding out just how badly Broly would take your death.”
“Yes, Commander Bardock.”
OoOoOoOoO
Broly had fallen asleep, exhausted by his transformation and experiences, but he was waking up when Bardock and Tarble arrived at Paragus’s room. He was calm until Tarble hopped to the floor and overbalanced while walking over to him. Tarble didn’t bother getting to his feet, choosing the greater stability crawling provided to close the distance to his friend. “Hey, Broly, I’m okay, you don’t need to cry!”
“B-but I cut off your tail!” the younger boy sobbed.
“It was crushed anyway,” the older boy soothed, crawling into Paragus’s lap as well, much to the man’s discomfort, “I’m just glad the brute grabbed my tail instead of my head – I can always grow a new tail!” he laughed and ran his fingers through Broly’s bangs, gently grooming. “You saved my life, Brol – you think I’m gonna get mad over a tail? I didn’t even know it was you who cut it off until just now – I passed out while you were carrying me. And isn’t that wild?! You achieved the Legendary – it wasn’t super saiyan the prophecy was talking about after all! What was it like?”
Broly had stopped crying as Tarble groomed and Paragus continued to stroke his tail, but he shivered a little at the mention of his new form. “Scary. It felt angry and cold and clear and like I could do anything I wanted and no one could stop me.” He shivered again and moved closer to his father and Tarble, forcing the other boy to move from his bangs to the longer hair falling loose on his shoulders. “I never want to use it again.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Tarble said confidently, “You mastered the super saiyan rage and now you use that form when you don’t feel like turning on a light – you can pull this off.”
“I don’t want to pull it off!”
“Then I’ll keep putting myself in situations where you have to go Legendary until you learn to control it properly.”
Tarble’s matter-of-fact response made Bardock snort, but Broly pushed away from him and glared. “You wouldn’t!”
The tail-less saiyan looked him dead in the eye. “You know me better than that.”
Broly’s lower lip trembled. “Why? Why do you do this? You’re breakable – why don’t you ever act it?”
“Why would I need to?” Tarble gave him a friendly smile, then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially behind one hand. “My best friend happens to be the Legendary Super Saiyan, you know. I’m not scared of anything.”
Bardock snorted again, and Paragus with him this time, reminding Broly that he and Tarble weren’t actually alone. Turning slightly red, he switched to telepathy.
‘But why not?’
Tarble grinned and responded in kind. ‘ ‘cause I know you’ll never let anything happen to me, same as I’ll never let anything happen to you. I trust you with everything – I could be brave today because I knew you’d have my back. And that’s why I know you’ll master this, too. That’s why you’re the Legendary.’
Broly scowled and spoke aloud again, folding his arms. “I don’t wanna be the Legendary!”
Tarble laughed. “And I don’t want to be short, but I don’t think the gods are going to listen to either of us in these matters. C’mon!” crawling from Paragus’s lap, he pulled Broly after him. “I’m starving! Let’s go to the mess hall and sneak food!” And he stumbled off across the room.
Broly wiped his nose, then got up and trailed after him. “They’d give us food if we asked, Tarble.”
“Yeah, but it’s more fun to sneak it!”
Bardock walked over to stand by Paragus, who had moved to wipe at his tear-drenched armor with a corner of the blanket from his bed. “Those two never cease to amaze, do they, Paragus?”
The other man snorted. “No. And with his propensity for finding trouble, you’d think Tarble was your son rather than King Vegeta’s.”
Bardock put his chin in his hand and smirked. “The brat does seem to have my flare for tactical genius, doesn’t he?”
“Dammit, that wasn’t a compliment!”
And so the two men squabbled while the boys snuck into the mess hall and had a slightly less secret feast than they thought it was.
A few months later, at their request, Tarble and Broly were dropped off on an isolated, unpopulated planet. And when the Resistance returned to retrieve the boys several months after that, it was to the sight of Tarble proudly waving his newly regrown tail and, standing next to him, the Legendary Super Saiyan, smiling and laughing happily and completely in control.