Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

She died.

It was slow. It was painful. It was cancer.

Lonely, too. Her parents’ personalities had flipped overnight, avoiding her like she was already gone. In truth, they didn’t know how to handle it—and they weren’t close to begin with. She had always been a mistake, the product of an affair no one talked about, not even her mother.

They didn’t hate her. Just… forgot to love her. Their indifference left no room for resentment. If anything, she felt worse for her grandmother, the one person who tried to make sense of a senseless situation.

Her only regret, in the end, was how she lived. The bitterness she let fester. The quiet hope that always seemed to be dangled just out of reach with each new treatment. She wished she had laughed more. Explored more. Cried less. Loved louder. If she could do it again—even with the tumor—she thought maybe she’d choose to live with joy instead of waiting for it to come.

But when she opened her eyes again, it wasn’t a hospital ceiling or the blank face of her doctor staring back at her.

It was a woman with soft features and long black hair, cradling her gently. Beside her, a man with wild, spiked hair and an impossibly warm smile leaned in curiously.

“What’s her name?” a young boy asked, peeking over the woman’s shoulder. His dark eyes were bright, and something about him felt familiar.

“Lime, I guess,” the man said with a sheepish laugh. “I mean, that’s all you ate while you were pregnant, right? Suits her.”

Lime?

Seriously?

She couldn’t help the dismay that curled up inside her at the thought. She hated sour things. That craving had nothing to do with her.

“I wanted to name her Marie Curie,” the woman—Chi-Chi, she realized—pouted. “After the scientist.”

Oh no.

Suddenly, “Lime” didn’t sound so bad.

The man—Goku, she was sure now—laughed again, a carefree sound that vibrated through her tiny body as he gently picked her up.

“Goku, be careful! She’s a girl—she’s delicate,” the woman chided, though her tone was fond.

Goku didn’t look worried in the slightest. “Don’t worry! I’ve got her. I dunno why, but I’ve got a feeling she’s gonna grow up strong.” His grin widened, full of pride for a future that hadn’t even happened yet.

A sharp spike of realization hit her like a punch to the gut.
Goku.
Chi-Chi.
Gohan.

No. No, no, no.

This was Dragon Ball Z.

She had been reincarnated into a world that treated death like a revolving door and featured planet-destroying maniacs as regular Tuesday problems.

This can’t be happening.

“Hey, Lime! I’m your big brother, Gohan!” the boy beamed proudly, leaning closer to her bundled form. His energy—ki, he called it—flickered cheerfully around him.

Ki?

Was that like chakra? Her thoughts were getting fuzzy. Her new baby brain felt like it was overheating from too many concepts at once.

She blinked up at the blurry figures around her. Animated. Yes, it all felt… drawn, somehow. Stylized. She was in an anime.

She was in Dragon Ball Z.

Oh no.

Her face must have contorted in sheer horror, because Goku glanced down and blinked. “Uh… Chi-Chi? I think I broke her.”

“What do you mean you broke her?!” Chi-Chi snapped, snatching the baby back from his hands.

At least… at least they cared.

And despite the panic surging through her, that thought wrapped around her like a blanket. They cared. They loved her.

She’d never had that before.

Maybe… just maybe… she could handle this insane new world, even with all its chaos and danger.

But not now.

Her little body was exhausted. Baby brains weren’t meant to process reincarnation and Super Saiyan family trees.

For now, she would sleep. Maybe she’d wake up and this would all be a fever dream. But if not… she’d try to live this life better than the last.

Maybe this time, she’d even smile.

It wasn’t a dream.
That was Lime’s first thought as her sleepy eyes focused on the wooden beams of the ceiling above her crib.
Definitely not a dream. Definitely not Earth—as in, her old Earth.

She gave a mental sigh. Or would have, if her underdeveloped lungs could manage anything more complex than a mewl.
Her tiny limbs flailed with limited coordination, her neck refused to cooperate, and her grand view of the universe consisted of a side table and a wall.
A thrilling life, truly.

The struggle is real, she thought dramatically.
I feel so gangsta. Wait—gang-sta. Chika in the hood, where you at, homeboy?

Then again, not the time for delusions of street cred.
Focus, Lime.

She tried calling out, to experiment with this baby voice box. The first attempt came out as a whimper. The second—a wail. She startled herself with the sheer volume and felt a flicker of guilt, even as a familiar voice rushed in.

“Lime? What’s wrong?” Gohan’s voice rang with worry as he dashed in.

She hadn’t even heard his footsteps. The kid was fast.

Before she could wonder further, Chi-Chi stormed in, apron swaying, eyes wide with maternal panic. “Is she hungry again? Gohan, hand her to me!”

She scooped Lime into her arms with practiced care, frowning at the baby’s crumpled face. “There, there. Mommy’s here.”

Despite her childhood annoyance with Chi-Chi’s voice in the show—always scolding, always fretting—Lime couldn’t bring herself to dislike her now. The woman was warm, attentive, protective in the way only a truly devoted mother could be.

Chi-Chi pressed a bottle to Lime’s lips and the baby drank greedily. One bottle. Then another. Then another.

“Third one…” Gohan said, blinking in astonishment.

“Fourth,” corrected Chi-Chi, laughing. “Oh my goodness, she’s definitely a Saiyan.”

The ground shook with laughter as the Ox King entered the room, filling the doorway with his massive frame. “Just like her father!”

Lime nearly choked.

Wait… right. I’m a Saiyan. I keep forgetting that part.
This means flying, fighting, maybe even going Super Saiyan if I live long enough…

Her thoughts darkened slightly.

It also means enemies. Cell. Buu. Beerus.
Crap. I’m going to need a stress nap.

⸻

Six Months Later

Life at the Son house was… loud.

Between Chi-Chi’s shouting matches with Goku and her endless concern for Gohan’s studies, there was always some kind of energy in the air. But it wasn’t unpleasant. If anything, it felt… alive.

Gohan doted on Lime endlessly, often reading to her, even though she couldn’t understand a word. Sometimes he’d talk about school or complain about training with Piccolo, and Lime would gurgle in reply. They had a rhythm already—brother and sister.

And then there was Goku.

Lime had always liked Vegeta best in her past life. The edge, the tragedy, the hair. But Goku—Goku in person was something else. He was sunlight. Playful, cheerful, impossibly warm. When he held her, the world felt just a little less dangerous.

“Let’s go outside, Lime!” he’d grin, scooping her up and taking off into the sky.

They soared over trees, rivers, and mountains, the wind rushing past as Goku pointed out every animal they passed. She’d once seen a dinosaur just lounging by a lake. A dinosaur. Jurassic World could eat its heart out.

Back on the ground, Chi-Chi fussed over her constantly, especially when it came to clothes. The monkey onesie was her favorite—likely a nod to her Saiyan bloodline. Goku loved it too, so much so that Chi-Chi bought extras in case of accidents.

Lime had favorites too—the bunny and the dog onesies. They were warm, soft, and somehow comforting. Like armor made of fuzz.

Despite her best efforts to remain neutral, she was starting to love it here. She wasn’t just surviving. She was being cherished.

⸻

She could crawl now, a major victory. Talking was still a work in progress, but she was determined.

Then one day, she overheard something. Chi-Chi was on the phone in the kitchen, humming happily as she chopped vegetables.

“Congratulations, Bulma! Don’t worry—I won’t say a word to Goku. Everyone’s going to be surprised… Yes, yes, I remember how Saiyan babies eat. I’ve had plenty of practice with Gohan!”

Lime’s tiny brain clicked into overdrive. Trunks. Trunks had been born. That meant… this was the Android arc. Cell. Time travel. Future devastation.

If Trunks is born now… does that mean there’s a future version of me too? Did I survive? Did Goku ever meet me in that timeline?

She felt dizzy just thinking about it.

“Mom, Lime’s ki feels weird again,” Gohan’s voice said, a touch of worry bleeding through.

“I have to go, Bulma. Talk soon!” Chi-Chi ended the call and rushed to Lime, scooping her up.

She sniffed. “Doesn’t need changing…”

But Lime clung to her shirt, trembling slightly.

“I don’t want to lose this,” Lime thought. “I don’t want to lose any of you to the androids.”

Her little heart ached, and before she could stop it, the sobbing began.

Wailing, raw and desperate.

“Baby? Shhh, did you have a nightmare?” Chi-Chi soothed her, bouncing her gently.

But the ache in Lime’s chest refused to fade.

Gohan tried funny faces. Chi-Chi hummed lullabies. Nothing helped. She felt that familiar, sharp pain of stress blooming behind her eyes.

Then, he came.

“Hey, hey, Lime—don’t cry,” Goku said softly, taking her from Chi-Chi’s arms and lifting her until she looked into his kind, goofy face.

Her sobs caught in her throat. His hands were warm. She grabbed them instinctively, like they were the only thing tethering her to calm.

“You have a bad dream?” he asked, voice gentle.

She looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

He held her close, pressing her to his chest. That same radiant warmth surrounded her again, seeping into her bones like a lullaby.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, rubbing her back.

And for the first time in hours, she relaxed.

In his arms, the future didn’t seem so terrifying.

Not with a family like this.

Chapter Text

The morning sun cast a warm glow through the paper-panel windows of the Son family home, stretching across the worn wooden floors and into the quiet living room. It was one of those rare moments of peace in a household typically bursting with energy — Goku and Gohan had gone out fishing, leaving Chi-Chi alone in the kitchen with bubbling pots and humming stove flames.

Lime sat on the living room carpet, her tiny hands patting the floor rhythmically as she stared at the empty doorway. The silence was strange, unnerving even, for someone used to the chaotic chorus of Saiyan appetites and maternal nagging.

She sighed, her baby body feeling sluggish and bored — she needed something to do, anything. Crawling forward with determined little motions, she made her way toward the familiar sound of pots clinking and the smell of seasoned broth. When she reached Chi-Chi’s feet, she tugged gently at the hem of her skirt.

Chi-Chi glanced down and immediately softened, setting her spoon aside and wiping her hands on her apron.

“Hm? Feeling a little lonely, sweetheart?” she asked, already bending down to scoop Lime into her arms. It had become a bit of a routine — whenever the boys were gone, Lime would always come seeking her out. And Chi-Chi, for all her intensity, never failed to melt at her daughter’s need for comfort.

“There we go. My little sweetheart,” she cooed, kissing Lime on the forehead and walking over to the couch. “How about we read a story, huh?”

Chi-Chi gently plopped down and adjusted Lime on her lap, then reached for a worn, hardcover book from a nearby shelf. The book looked ancient — the spine cracked, the pages faded a soft yellow with time.

Lime tilted her head curiously. She’d always loved books in her previous life, especially when bedridden. A warm nostalgia settled in her chest. Maybe this would be a fairytale… something cozy. Something familiar.

Chi-Chi opened the book and began to read in a gentle, well-practiced voice.
“The cranial nerves are twelve in number. The first is the olfactory, which is for smell…”

Lime’s expression deadpanned.
Was this… an anatomy textbook?

Where was Cinderella? Or even The Very Hungry Caterpillar?!

“Next is the optic nerve, for vision… followed by the oculomotor, which supplies—”

Panic flared in Lime’s brain. No, no, no. This woman was trying to raise another Gohan! She was going to go full-on Tiger Mom. She could already feel flashcards and ten-hour cram sessions looming in her future.

She needed a distraction. Fast.
Her baby brain scrambled, a flicker of brilliance igniting as she pointed upward and blurted, “Ma!”

Chi-Chi paused mid-sentence, blinking as if she’d been struck by lightning. Then —

“You said your first word!” she cried, eyes sparkling with pure maternal joy. “I’m your first word! Gohan’s first word was ‘Daddy,’ but my little girl said ‘Ma!’”

Chi-Chi immediately began twirling her around the room, holding Lime securely as she danced, practically singing with pride. “Oh, I have to call your grandfather! Gohan and your dad are going to be so surprised! My baby’s first word — and it was meeee!”

Lime was dizzy and mildly nauseous from the sudden movement, but she tolerated it with a resigned inner sigh. At least Chi-Chi had stopped reading about cranial nerves. That was a win.

The celebratory twirling eventually stopped, and Chi-Chi set Lime back down in her lap, beaming from ear to ear. Her eyes sparkled with playful intelligence — the same look that made Gohan freeze in fear before a study session.

“Now,” she said sweetly, brushing Lime’s bangs aside. “Can you say ‘Otorhinolaryngologist’?”

Lime’s tiny face contorted into a wide-eyed expression of absolute horror.
‘DAFUQ?!’

Chi-Chi burst out laughing. “Oh, I’m just teasing. Though, if Gohan could say ‘photosynthesis’ by the time he was two, I think you can manage a few syllables, my genius baby.”

Despite her love for all things study-related, Chi-Chi’s affection for Lime wasn’t purely academic. She’d grown incredibly protective of the little girl. She wasn’t trying to mold Lime into Gohan 2.0 — not exactly. Deep down, Chi-Chi just wanted her daughter to thrive in a world that could be both wonderful and terrifying.

There was a tenderness in the way she cradled Lime, a desperation almost, like someone who had seen what danger could take and would fight fate itself to keep her child safe.

“You know,” Chi-Chi whispered as she tucked Lime’s blanket over her small legs, “I don’t need you to be a fighter like your father or your brother. Just be happy. That’s enough for me.”

The words hit deeper than they should’ve. Lime blinked up at her mother, the weight of past and present colliding in her tiny chest.

Chi-Chi smiled again, softer now, stroking her hair. “Of course, if you want to learn math and science, I have a whole curriculum ready…”

Lime groaned internally.
The struggle was real.

She had become something of a staple in their daily chaos—especially when it came to Goku’s unorthodox idea of childcare.

The cliffs overlooking the valley were a familiar spot: remote, vast, and typically reserved for intensive, world-saving training. Today, however, it was apparently also a daycare.

Lime sat bundled in a small blanket, a sippy cup nearby and an expression of barely contained awe stamped across her chubby face.

Her big, dark eyes locked onto the towering green figure standing a few feet away.

Piccolo.
Green skin, crossed arms, and that eternal scowl. Lime’s gaze drifted up to the unmistakable antennae poking from his forehead. She was utterly mesmerized. A real-life Namekian. And not just any Namekian—the badass former demon king himself.

Beside her, Goku smiled broadly, completely oblivious to the tension in the air.
“This is Lime!” he said cheerfully, resting a hand behind his head.

Piccolo didn’t even blink. His arms remained crossed, his mouth twisted in irritation.
“Goku,” he grumbled, his tone dry and dangerously close to a growl, “why did you bring a baby to our training session?”

“Ahh, well, Chi-Chi needed to go shopping and she said I should watch her,” Goku replied with a sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his head. He reached down and tickled Lime under the chin. “Besides, she’s a good girl, aren’t you, Liiime?”

Lime squealed, involuntarily giggling despite herself. Goku, please, she thought, don’t make me look uncool in front of Piccolo!

She glanced at Piccolo again. A single bead of sweat rolled down his temple. For a second, she thought he might be imagining the consequences of defying Chi-Chi.

“Are you telling me,” Piccolo said, his voice lower, dangerously calm, “that while we’re preparing for a potential extinction event, you’ve decided to babysit?”

“Yep!” Goku said brightly. “Well, technically I’m training while babysitting. It’s multi-tasking.”

Piccolo slowly blinked. Then sighed. Loudly.
“So… is Gohan going to be watching her?” he asked, desperate to move past this lunacy.

“Nope! I figured we could just leave her here,” Goku said, completely nonchalant as he plopped Lime down at the edge of a rocky cliff.

Piccolo’s eyes widened. “Goku, you can’t leave a baby on the edge of a cliff.”

Lime’s own eyes darted downward. A pit opened in her stomach. The drop was dizzying. Thank you, she silently agreed with Piccolo. Someone here has common sense.

“She’ll be fine!” Goku waved dismissively, already flying up into the sky. “Gohan! Let’s get started!”

And then he was gone—just like that.

Piccolo watched him ascend, his scowl deepening. Then, slowly, he turned to Lime. Their eyes met. For a second, the wind whistled through the canyon like a solemn funeral tune.

“You have my condolences, kid,” he muttered before floating up after Goku.

Lime’s mouth dropped open in utter betrayal.
Don’t. Leave. Me.
Her expression morphed into a crying-face emoticon incarnate.

She turned her gaze back to the sky. She could barely make out the movements—just blurs of motion and bursts of ki. Still, she kept her focus, watching as best she could. Watching Gohan.

Her heart swelled. He looked so small against Piccolo’s towering frame, but he held his own. He ducked, dodged, punched. She couldn’t see the strikes clearly—only flashes of energy.

Wait… she thought. Wasn’t there a trick to this?

Lime closed her eyes.

Don’t follow with your eyes. Feel it. Sense it.
Her heart slowed. Her senses sharpened—not supernatural, not Saiyan, not psychic—but focused. She could almost track the rhythms now: the bursts of power, the ripple of motion. It was like hearing music instead of watching dancers.

A grin tugged at her lips. Watching a fight like this in real time is… awesome.

And yet, she felt her body slump slightly. The adrenaline and excitement were fading. Her baby limbs refused to cooperate.

Damn… my baby stamina…

Her eyes drooped. Her head leaned to the side. The sounds of training faded into background static as she slowly dozed off.

She fell asleep to the quiet hum of energy, her tiny body curled on the blanket, the wind tugging gently at her hair. And far above, two warriors clashed beneath the sun—while a pint-sized observer dreamed of flying.

The sun was just beginning to dip beneath the horizon when Gohan’s voice rang through the house like a triumphant trumpet.

“Hiya, Mom! Look what I caught for you down at the pond—just in time for dinner!” he shouted, proudly hoisting up a large fish nearly as long as he was tall.

Lime startled awake in Goku’s arms, blinking rapidly. Her tiny face scrunched as she registered two things in quick succession: One, she was being carried. Two, her carrier was soaked with sweat and smelled unmistakably like pond slime and raw fish.

Ew.

She wrinkled her nose and tried to squirm, but Goku, oblivious as ever, cheerfully plopped her on the dinner table like she was part of the side dishes. A half-second later, his shirt hit the table beside her, followed by his gi top and pants—all of which smelled suspiciously like a bait bucket.

“Pew!” she muttered, wriggling as one of the sleeves flopped over her head.

“More fish. That’s great,” Chichi said dryly, her tone lacking the enthusiasm one might expect from a hungry family woman.

Lime, meanwhile, was buried under laundry that smelled like a swamp. She began a slow, determined crawl toward freedom, her little fingers clawing her way through sweat-drenched cotton.

“Pew, Gohan, let’s take a bath,” Goku said, already peeling off his undershirt. “Chichi, can you give this a wash? Easy on the starch, okay? We worked up quite a sweat today.”

At last, Lime’s head emerged from beneath the pile, her hair mussed and eyes blinking against the kitchen light.

“HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!”

Chichi’s shout made everyone freeze. Lime froze too, her hands above her head like she’d been caught mid-escape.

“What did I do?” she muttered in baby babble, wide-eyed.

Chichi stomped toward the trio, arms locked across her chest, fire in her eyes. “Let me get this straight,” she began. “You expect me to cook and clean your fishy clothes while you and Gohan relax in a warm bath?”

Her voice rose with each word. “Do you even care what kind of day I had? First, I got chased halfway home by a wild boar, and then I had to walk the rest of the way because we don’t have a car!”

Lime winced and slowly sat down, trying to shrink into her blanket. Glad I’m not Goku right now…

Goku scratched his head. “Chichi, I’d drive you if I could—but you know I don’t have a license yet.”

Lime blinked. Can’t he just teach her how to fly? She used to be a martial artist. Or, better yet—why can’t he just learn to drive? Even Videl figured it out.

Chichi slammed her ladle on the table. “It’s time you got one, Goku! I don’t know why you have to be the only man alive who doesn’t own a car or a license!”

Goku turned to Piccolo, who had the misfortune of sitting on a nearby stool, looking unusually tense. “You can’t drive, can you?”

“Leave me out of this!” Piccolo snapped, his composure cracking under the heat of Chichi’s domestic fury. For a Namekian who once ruled the world with an iron fist, he looked distinctly outmatched.

Lime stifled a laugh, her tiny hand covering her mouth. You think Frieza was bad? You’ve clearly never been on the wrong side of Chichi’s frying pan.

Chichi took a deep breath and composed herself, crossing her arms with a huff. “I want both of you to put your training on hold and go to driving school tomorrow. It’s about time you two learned something useful for a change.”

“SAY WHAT?!” Piccolo’s voice reverberated through the kitchen.

Lime perked up. Wait… this sounds familiar. A faint memory stirred—Goku and Piccolo… driving school? Giant trucks? Screaming instructors? She crawled to Chichi’s leg, eager to watch this family comedy unfold.

“Come on, Chichi, do we have to?” Goku whined.

“Listen, all I’m asking is that you get your driver’s licenses. It’s not like I’m asking you to save the world,” Chichi said, her tone sugar-sweet. Then, she added ominously, “And if you don’t, you’ll be cooking your own meals from now on.”

She turned on her heel and scooped Lime up, her tone instantly softening. “Let’s go have a nice warm bath, Lime.”

“Maaa!” Lime chirped happily, waving at the stunned faces of Goku and Piccolo as she was carried off like a princess.

Well, she thought smugly, I know who wears the pants in this family.

⸻

One Day Later…

“FAILED THE TEST!? What do you mean failed the test?!” Chichi’s voice exploded through the house.

Lime winced. She was seated on the floor with Gohan, stacking blocks and watching the verbal demolition unfold in real time.

“You’re telling me neither of you muscle-heads got your license?!”

Goku scratched his head, looking sheepish. “Yeah…”

Piccolo said nothing. He just nodded. Once.

Chichi clutched the wall and fainted with theatrical flair. Lime gasped.

Gohan gave her a sympathetic pat on the head.

Piccolo looked like he wanted to sink into the floor.

Goku blinked innocently. “Maybe we could… try again next week?”

Lime shook her head slowly and returned to her block tower.

All’s well that ends well, she mused, but next time I’m hiding during driving lessons.

She had been crawling around the kitchen floor, minding her own business, when she saw it.

Beady little eyes locked with hers.

She froze.

Its shell glinted under the kitchen light, thick and armor-like. It twitched. Its antennae flicked side to side like twin radar dishes, scanning the terrain. Her small body tensed, instincts flaring.

Then—panic.

She scrambled, making a mad dash to the nearest hiding spot she could find: a crumpled blue carrier bag. She dove in headfirst. Save me! her mind screamed, heart pounding like a war drum in her tiny chest.

It was a cockroach. A big one. A mother—

Her adrenaline ran dry. Baby stamina, after all, had its limits.

She let out a small yawn, eyelids drooping. Maybe… maybe she’d nap now.

⸻

Meanwhile, Gohan picked up the blue carrier bag from the kitchen floor without a second glance. Unaware of its hidden passenger, he slung it over his shoulder.

“We should get moving,” said Piccolo, arms crossed, expression grim.

“Yeah, just grabbing the lunch Mom packed,” Gohan replied, stepping outside.

Piccolo gave a solemn nod. “I guess today’s the day.”

“The androids,” Goku added from behind them, a grin stretching across his face, eyes sparkling with the thrill of the upcoming fight.

Unnoticed, the bag shifted ever so slightly. A tiny snore escaped from within

Chapter Text

“Hey! Goku, down here!” a voice called out.

The voice roused Lime from her nap, her tiny body squirming inside the darkness of the blue carrier bag. She let out a groggy sigh. Urgh, can’t a baby get some sleep around here?

She blinked into the fabric of the bag, suddenly disoriented. Where the hell am I? Why is it so dark? Then she felt the gentle sway of movement. Oh… right. Still in the bag.

Voices filtered through the canvas around her—familiar ones.

“What took you guys so long?” asked a woman’s voice, casual and teasing.

“That’s Bulma,” Gohan said, sounding pleased.

“It is Bulma,” Goku echoed.

Lime paused. Bulma? Her tiny limbs wriggled as she tried to adjust herself. Is she visiting?

“You guys have all been working out, haven’t you?” Bulma continued, her tone amused.

“Bulma, what in the world are you thinking, coming out here?” Goku asked, concern lacing his voice.

“I came to watch you fight, silly. Don’t worry, I’ll only stay for a bit—then I’ll head home.”

Wait—fight? Lime frowned inwardly. What fight? Is Mom around?

From her cramped quarters, she twisted and pushed against the sides of the bag. The onesie was not designed for stealth maneuvers.

“Outrageous,” came Krillin’s voice. “Who would’ve guessed? Bulma and Vegeta?”

“Well, speaking of—where is Vegeta?” Piccolo asked.

As the warriors exchanged conversation, Lime grunted and attempted to turn over. C’mon… just a little…

“Hey, Gohan,” Krillin said, “what’s in the bag?”

“Huh?” Gohan turned, frowning as the bag jostled slightly. He bent down and unzipped the top. A sleepy pair of baby eyes stared up at him, half-lidded and unamused.

“LIME!” he yelped.

Lime winced. Ugh, my ears! Baby ears here—be considerate, Gohan!

Goku moved in swiftly, plucking his daughter from the bag with warm, careful hands. He blinked down at her, a sheepish smile forming on his face. “Lime… What are you doing here?” he muttered, dread creeping into his voice. “Oh man… Chi-Chi is definitely going to kill me.”

Tiny Lime looked around, blinking at the sudden exposure to sunlight and fresh air. She saw familiar and unfamiliar faces staring back: Tien, Piccolo, Krillin, Yamcha, Bulma—with baby Trunks in her arms—and of course, her brother and father.

Great, she thought, I just baby-crashed the upcoming battle with the androids.

“Oh, so this is Lime,” Bulma said with a chuckle. “Chi-Chi’s right—she’s a little troublemaker.”

Lime gave her a tiny frown. Hey! I’m innocent. All mischief should be blamed on that purple dinosaur—what’s his name? Barney or something?

His name is Icarus, came the familiar voice in her head.

Who names a dinosaur Icarus? Lame.

Probably Gohan, the voice replied.

Well, he got his “naming gene” from Mom, she huffed mentally.

Lime was snapped out of her internal banter by a flash of reflected sunlight. Krillin’s bald head. Shiny…

“Uh, Goku?” Krillin asked, scratching his cheek. “Whose baby is that?”

“I was gonna wait until after the androids showed up to introduce her,” Goku said with a grin, “but I guess now’s as good a time as any.” He raised Lime slightly in his arms. “Guys, this is Lime—my daughter.”

There was a beat of silence, then the group collectively cooed, murmured, or smiled in surprise. The pride in Goku’s voice warmed Lime unexpectedly. Her little heart fluttered. The way he said that… it’s like I’m the best thing that ever happened to him…

Yamcha leaned in. “She looks a lot like Chi-Chi.”

“Gonna be a real cutie when she’s older,” he added with a grin.

Lime narrowed her eyes. Back it up, perv. I’m still in diapers. Don’t think I forgot how you hit on my mom back in the day.

Her gaze drifted over to the squirming infant in Bulma’s arms—baby Trunks. His lavender hair gleamed in the light, and his tiny fists opened and closed as he stared back at her, suspicious and curious.

So this is Trunks, Lime mused. Cool kid when he’s older. I wonder if Goten will still be born? Hope I didn’t mess up the timeline too bad by existing…

“Bulma, what time is it?” Gohan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“09:30,” Bulma replied.

“Bulma, it’s dangerous. You should get out of here,” Goku said, gently shifting Lime into her arms. Bulma juggled the two babies awkwardly—her own son on one hip, Goku’s daughter on the other. “You can take Lime with you too. Those androids are going to be here in half an hour.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Relax! I just want to see what these things look like, then I’ll go.”

Lime caught Trunks giving her a look. She smirked.

Mama’s boy.

You’re a Mama’s girl, the voice in her head replied smugly.

Damn right, Lime shot back proudly.

“You don’t make sense sometimes,” the voice added, annoyed.

And you shouldn’t even exist, so zip it!

She leaned forward slightly in Bulma’s arms, sticking out her tongue at Trunks. “BOO!”

Trunks blinked, startled, then his face crumpled. A shrill wail erupted from his tiny lungs as Bulma winced and tried to calm him.

Heh, Lime smirked to herself.

You’re just on another level, the voice deadpanned.

Thank you.

That wasn’t a compliment!

As the Capsule Corp car hummed in the air, Lime sat strapped in the baby seat, her tiny face pressed against the glass as she stared out. Her eyes landed on a familiar, garishly loud vehicle barreling across the field like it owned the planet. Yajirobe was behind the wheel, lounging back with the swagger of someone who thought they were a big deal.

To Lime, he looked like a low-budget pimp from a B-movie—only without the soundtrack. He should be blasting Beyoncé… or Drake, she thought bitterly. But no. This world didn’t have her R&B or Hip-Hop. There was no smooth bassline, no soul-rattling vocals, no weekend playlists.

The realization hit like a ki blast to the chest.

I’ll never hear Beyoncé’s voice again.

And that was just the beginning.

No anime. No Tokyo Ghoul, Attack on Titan, or Naruto. No haunting Yuki Kajiura scores. No movie nights with Mamoru Miyano’s dramatic voiceovers or tearjerking monologues. No Disney World. Not even a dumb Instagram reel to scroll through. Just martial arts, alien invasions, screaming men with gravity-defying hair, and romance so bland it could be used as a sedative.

Lime’s tiny fists clenched in her lap. Videl and Gohan? Snoozefest. No drama, no challenge, no spice. Just textbook first crush turns into lifelong partner. Where were the sharp-tongued, whip-smart women with sass and killer timing? She missed characters like Felicity Smoak or Michelle Jones—girls who could fire off a one-liner like they were born with it.

Then it hit her—hard.

I never even got to finish the Avengers ENDGAME.

Her lip trembled.

I never saw the last AVENGERS movie. She’d waited two whole years for that film. TWO. YEARS.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and she didn’t even notice the sudden explosion nearby as one of the androids fired at Yajirobe’s car, sending it spiraling out of the sky in a plume of smoke.

Bulma glanced over from the pilot seat and noticed Lime sniffling, her expression instantly softening. “Oh, Lime… I’m sure Mister Yajirobe is fine,” she said in a syrupy tone, mistaking the tears for baby fear. “Don’t cry, sweetie.”

But Lime wasn’t listening. She was mid-existential spiral, venting internally to the ever-present voice in her head.

Avvvvengers…

Oh, come on, the voice said dryly. Think of the bright side.

Bright side? Lime echoed with a mental scoff. What bright side could possibly exist here?

Well, the voice said, you won’t have to watch Ben Affleck butcher Batman trying to outdo Christian Bale.

There was a pause. A long one.

Then a sniffle. A pause.

Okay… Lime admitted grudgingly. That does make me feel a little better.

Batman had always been her favorite. She’d grown up on him, along with Spider-Man and the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. If there was any silver lining to being reborn in a world of ki blasts and yelling, it was that she had avoided the cinematic disaster that was Batman v Superman.

She blinked away the tears and looked up, just in time to catch the end of Bulma’s conversation with someone over the comms.

“—Gohan went to pick him up. I’m sure he’s fine. After all, he fought Vegeta with the rest of the guys,” she said reassuringly, then turned back and began strapping Lime in properly.

“Aww, look at that. You’re feeling better already.” She beamed, clearly proud of her assumed maternal instincts. “I’m getting good at this parenting thing!”

Lime raised an eyebrow at her. Huh? What you talkin’ about, Willis?

Bulma just smiled, adjusting the controls on the dashboard as the Capsule Corp hovercar zipped away from the wreckage.

Lime sighed and looked up at the sky. She had a second life in a chaotic universe filled with aliens, gods, and existential dread—but at least, thank Kami, no one was calling Ben Affleck the Dark Knight.

Chapter Text

The Capsule Corp hovercar hummed through the skies, slicing over the distant mountains as smoke rose on the horizon—the telltale signs of a world on the verge of chaos.

Lime sat strapped in her baby seat like an unwilling hostage to fate, small limbs bundled in an oversized onesie, her sharp mind utterly trapped inside the helpless form of an infant. Her frustration simmered just beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure which was more uncomfortable—her current existence as a literal baby or the knowledge that she was riding in what amounted to a ticking time bomb.

Doctor Gero’s going to destroy this damn car, she thought grimly. And I’m stuck inside like a chew toy in a blender.

She cast a quick look toward the two adults up front: Bulma, cool as ever, piloting like a caffeine-deprived maniac, weaving through the air like she was auditioning for Fast & Furious: West City Drift. Yajirobe, meanwhile, sat in the passenger seat munching on what looked like a stick of beef jerky and holding her aloft with one hand, studying her like she was some exotic bug in a jar.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked on baby Trunks,” said the voice in her head—a mental hitchhiker who refused to be evicted.

Shut up, Lime muttered mentally, focusing instead on the conversation unfolding between her so-called guardians.

Yajirobe peered at her critically, squinting his eyes before flipping her upside down like a confused chimp examining a coconut. “Hmm… She looks a lot like Chi-Chi,” he mused aloud, turning her side to side as if trying to read tea leaves from her eyebrows.

What the fuck, man? I am not a rotisserie chicken, Lime thought furiously, limbs flailing in protest.

“I see Goku there too,” Bulma added from the front seat, her voice softer. “Especially her eyes.”

There was a pause then—a rare moment of quiet. Lime, ever perceptive, didn’t miss the shift in Bulma’s tone. Something thoughtful entered her voice as she added almost to herself, “I wonder if we’ll ever see those two again… from the future, I mean.”

Lime’s body stilled. Her head snapped toward the woman, wide baby eyes narrowing in suspicion. Two? What two?

“The Saiyan boy and the girl with the motorcycle helmet,” Yajirobe said, stuffing another bite of food into his mouth like the whole world wasn’t about to end. “Korin mentioned ’em. That boy? Took out Frieza in one clean shot. One shot! Like slicing through melted butter with a ki-sword. Goku barely survived that fight on Namek—and this kid just poof, game over.”

Lime’s breath caught.

Two time travelers? she thought, the gears turning in her mind. Everyone knows about Trunks. But… a girl? With a helmet?

The idea hit her like a ki blast to the chest. Wait… what if that’s me?

Her heart—or whatever equivalent her baby body could manage—thumped hard in her chest. Could there really be a future version of her out there? One who survived the android apocalypse? One who grew up in this insane universe and didn’t get vaporized?

She swallowed, the weight of possibility pressing down on her tiny form. A motorbike, a helmet, maybe even a sword like Trunks. Was I— am I—some kind of warrior too?

Despite herself, the thought thrilled her.

Maybe I’ve got a badass scouter. Maybe I lead resistance missions. Maybe I’m like the snarky, sharp-tongued, sword-wielding rebel who rides out of the smoke just to kick ass and sass the androids.

Or maybe she was dead.

She winced.

No, no. Don’t go there. Think positively. Future me is alive. And cool. And definitely doesn’t wear pink frills.

She stared out the window as the world blurred by in streaks of green and brown, smoke pillars dotting the horizon like tombstones. Her mind couldn’t help but wander—what would her future self be like? Did she remember this moment? Did she have scars from battles yet to be fought? Did she look at Trunks as an ally… or something more?

She couldn’t tell. Not yet.

But one thing was certain: if there was a future Lime, then this wasn’t just a second chance at life—it was a chance to matter in a world that chewed people up and spit them out in clouds of ash and ki.

Her fingers clenched slightly in her lap, barely perceptible.

One day, she’d find out.

And Kami help the androids if future Lime really was riding a motorbike with a plasma cannon strapped to it.

Experiencing death for the second time was bad enough—but being blown to bits by a ki blast? That was a whole new level of trauma. Daaaamn you, Akira Toriyama! If I could speak, I would’ve screamed it to the heavens. Instead, all I could do was feel the raw, searing energy barreling toward the ship, lighting the sky red.

And then—warmth.

A solid body wrapped around me, arms shielding me from the blast. Was it Daddy?

No. This presence was different. Fierce, fast, and oddly familiar.

Smoke and wind roared around us, making baby Trunks bawl his lungs out next to me. My own cry stuck in my throat as my eyes—still far too big for my face—fixed on the tattered black coat and cracked yellow helmet of my savior. The visor had shattered, and bits of the helmet still sparked faintly with static.

“I liked this helmet,” the woman muttered casually, handing the squirming, tear-soaked baby Trunks to Bulma like she did it every day. Her voice was calm. Almost playful.

Bulma didn’t even process the words. “Oh my god—thank you! Thank you, both of you!” she cried, hugging the babies like they were about to disappear again.

The woman removed what was left of her helmet and—whoa.

Her hair was dark and tied back in a neat bun, but strands of her fringe fell to frame the sides of her face. There were faint scars on her cheeks and burn marks along her collar. She looked tired… and strong. And strangely enough—like me.

I stared at her, momentarily forgetting how close I’d come to becoming baby paste.

Future Me tilted her head, catching Trunks mid-glower as he glared in Vegeta’s direction. “Wow, Trunks, you were such a crybaby,” she commented under her breath with a smirk. She glanced at me for just a second and winked.

Trunks shot off toward his father without acknowledging her. My gaze followed him instinctively. After watching my dad train a few times (even in my baby state, I’m observant), I’d developed an uncanny knack for tracking fast movement. I didn’t miss the flicker of pain that passed over Future Me’s face as she watched Vegeta.

“Remember this,” she whispered, barely audible. “I would’ve hated Vegeta if I didn’t know what happens later.”

Wait, what? Did she just say that out loud? Are you serious, lady? What if Piccolo heard—

Yep. Green antennae turned toward her, sharp eyes narrowing. The cogs were clearly turning as he looked between me and her. The resemblance must’ve clicked.

“Lime, you okay?” Gohan called gently as he floated over.

Future Me passed me into his arms with an ease that startled me. He held me like I was precious cargo. “Thanks!” he told her.

She mock-saluted him with a grin and a wink. “Anytime, big bro.”

Krillin landed beside them, catching the tail end of their interaction. “She said it was Doctor Gero,” he reported, drawing the group’s attention again.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at Trunks. “You lied. You said Gero was killed by the other androids.”

“I think next time we travel back in time to save our loved ones from annihilation, we should bring along a few selfies of said androids,” Future Me quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Trunks ignored her. “History changed after our first trip. We had no way of knowing this would happen.”

“Well, he mentioned 17 and 18,” Piccolo said, glancing toward her with a small frown. “Those were the ones you warned us about, right? What do they look like?”

Future Me opened her mouth with enthusiasm. “Well, Android 17 is tall, dark, and has those James Dean bad boy eyes—”

“… stop.” Trunks groaned and quickly took over, giving them proper descriptions before she could go into full fangirl mode.

I blinked. My future self was… an eccentric. But kind of a badass? I might’ve laughed at her references—if I hadn’t noticed the scars running across her knuckles like a road map of pain. What happened to her hands? A meat grinder?

“Do they absorb energy?” Piccolo asked, arms crossed.

“No,” Trunks said. “They have infinite power.”

“Infinite?” Vegeta repeated, stunned. “As in, they can go on forever?”

Future Me tilted her head. “I mean, yeah, that’s what infinite means,” she deadpanned.

Trunks gave her a sharp look. She shut up with a sheepish smile.

Wow. They had an interesting relationship.

“But what about Goku?” Trunks asked, scanning the group. “He should’ve been here with you guys.”

“He came down with the virus you warned us about,” Krillin said, tone somber.

Trunks stiffened. I caught the way he whispered something to Future Me—but she didn’t take her eyes off me.

Vegeta turned to Bulma. “Doctor Gero’s lab. Where is it?”

“In the mountains near the Northern Capital, I think,” Bulma said thoughtfully. “Unless he moved it.”

Piccolo nodded. “So your plan is to beat Gero to the lab and destroy 17 and 18 before they’re activated?”

Vegeta scoffed. “I’m not a coward. I just want to fight something worth my time. The ones today were boring.”

“Don’t do it!” Trunks shouted. “Destroy the androids like Piccolo said! We need Goku!”

Vegeta sneered. “You think I’m waiting for Kakarot? I’ve become a Super Saiyan. And since we both are, I should be stronger—I’m royalty. You won’t get in my way.”

And just like that, he blasted off.

Future Me turned to Bulma and shrugged. “He’s a ray of sunshine, huh?”

Bulma giggled, despite herself.

Piccolo folded his arms. “Vegeta’s stronger now. Maybe he should handle it.”

Trunks growled. “I can transform too, but I still couldn’t beat them. I won’t let my father die again!” He flew off after his father.

Future Me tilted her head, grinning. “Cat’s outta the bag.” She glanced at me and Gohan. “And he says I have no filter.”

“Father? What’s going on?” Bulma asked, confused.

Piccolo sighed heavily. “No use hiding it now. That boy is Trunks—the one you’re holding.” He turned to the girl in the black coat. “And I’m guessing you’re Lime.”

She put her hands on her hips. “Ding, ding, ding, give the green man a prize.”

Gohan and Krillin both gawked. “You’re Lime?!”

“Good to see you too, big bro,” she smiled at Gohan. Just for a moment, her eyes softened—so much tenderness, it nearly broke my tiny heart. Then it vanished as quickly as it came.

Bulma looked down at the baby in her arms. Trunks had stopped crying. I glanced at my tiny reflection in her capsule ship’s window—round cheeks, wide eyes, confused expression. I was still trying to figure out how this future me even existed.

Everything was loud, hot, buzzing with tension.

But then baby Trunks yawned beside me, and suddenly, I felt it too.

Fatigue.

My lids drooped. My body went limp in Gohan’s arms.

Damn… baby stamina.

The silence inside Dr. Gero’s lab was suffocating.

Trunks stood tense, his sword ready, watching as the old scientist fumbled with the control panel. Androids 17 and 18—the ones—stood motionless inside their pods. A nightmare dressed in the perfection of machinery. Every second Gero wasted brought the future closer to ruin.

Future Lime stood a few feet away from Trunks, arms folded and leaning casually against a broken support beam. Her dark eyes were trained on the pods, but her posture was deceptively relaxed—masking the coil of dread in her chest. She knew this moment. Knew it too well.

“They always wake up,” she muttered under her breath. “Even when you beg them not to.”

Gero ignored her, typing rapidly. Then he said the words Lime had hoped not to hear.

“They’re ready.”

There was a hiss of steam. The pods slid open.

Android 17 stepped out first, stretching with a bored, elegant grace. Android 18 followed, brushing imaginary lint off her shoulder. They didn’t look like killers. But Future Lime knew better.

Trunks reacted instantly, yelling at Gero to shut them down. The old man shouted back in defiance, insisting that they would follow his commands.

Then Android 17 turned to him and smiled.

It wasn’t a kind smile.

With a swift, almost casual motion, Android 17 crushed Dr. Gero’s head between his hands, the sound of cracking metal echoing through the lab like a gunshot. The scientist’s body slumped to the ground.

Trunks flinched. Krillin cried out. Even Piccolo’s eyes widened.

Future Lime sighed quietly. “Yup. That’s about right.”

She pushed off the wall and took a few steps toward the Androids as Trunks raised his hand, charging an energy blast.

“We can’t let them wake up 16,” he said grimly.

Lime turned to him. “Trunks—wait—”

But he had already fired.

The lab exploded in a burst of light and smoke. The ground trembled. The mountain shook. Dust blanketed everything.

When it cleared, the Androids were standing on the rubble—untouched.

And in the shattered remains of the final pod, a hulking figure stirred. Android 16.

Lime let out a sharp exhale through her nose. “Well. That did nothing.”

Krillin stammered, “They—they survived?”

“Of course they did,” she said dryly. “That’s the whole problem with sentient murder-bots: they’re hard to delete.”

Android 18 looked down at the remains of the lab and then at her brother. “Should we wake him up?”

Android 17 smirked. “Why not? It’s not like we have a time limit.”

Before anyone could stop them, Future Lime strode forward, planting herself between them and Android 16’s panel.

“Hi,” she said, flashing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “How about we not make this situation worse?”

17 tilted his head. “And who are you?”

She raised her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Just a cautionary tale wrapped in sarcasm. Look, I get it—”

18 narrowed her eyes. “Move.”

Lime held her ground. “Why? So you can add another walking disaster to your Goku-killing fan club?”

Trunks started forward. “Lime—”

17 moved first, shoving her aside—not too roughly, but enough to get her out of the way. Lime stumbled and caught herself, biting her tongue as Android 18 pressed the button.

Steam hissed again. The chamber cracked open. Android 16 stepped out, towering and silent, eyes scanning the scene with eerie calm.

Krillin whispered, “What is he?”

“A headache,” Future Lime muttered.

17 turned to the group of fighters. “We’re going to Goku’s house.”

Trunks shouted, “You can’t! He’s sick—he’s no threat to you!”

17 didn’t answer. Neither did 18. The three Androids launched into the sky, a trail of smoke behind them.

Future Lime watched them go, face unreadable. Then she turned to Trunks, eyes narrowing slightly.

“You destroyed the lab,” she said softly. “But didn’t stop the Androids. That’s… about right.”

“You said nothing would change,” he said. “But I had to try.”

She didn’t respond to that. Just looked at her gloved hands—scarred and tense.

Piccolo approached. “They didn’t even flinch.”

“They never do,” Lime replied.

Krillin looked over at her. “Why didn’t you fight them?”

“Because I’ve already fought them,” she said, her voice low. “I’ve fought them again and again. And they always win. Or worse, they change.”

Gohan stepped up beside her. “Then we need to fight them together.”

She looked at him, surprised by the determination in his face. Then she gave a half-smile.

“You’re going to be dangerous when you grow up.”

Trunks was still staring at the sky, fists clenched.

“I’ll stop them,” he said. “No matter what it takes.”

Future Lime gave him a look that was unreadable, somewhere between pride and regret