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Prologue
Planet Tinarria – years before present day
A once-prosperous world, now scorched and quiet. The smoke still curled upward like ghosts refusing to leave. Buildings were nothing but twisted black skeletons, craters stretched across the surface like claw marks, and the bitter scent of burning tech and blood hung in the air.
King Bardock hovered above the ruined landscape, arms crossed, tail flicking in agitation. He hated scenes like this. Not just the destruction—but the cause. This planet hadn’t been at war.
It had been a testing site.
“We’re late,” muttered Tora beside him, visor glowing red as he scanned the remains of a buried facility. “Whatever Frieza’s bastards were doing here… they covered their tracks.”
“No,” Bardock said, narrowing his eyes. “They didn’t. Look closer.”
Beneath the ash, what remained of a sleek, cold lab was cracked open like an egg. Scorch marks, shattered tanks, ruined data cores. Whatever they'd been building, it had exploded from within.
Bardock landed, boots crunching on glass and stone. As he walked through the debris, a faint sound reached him.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Water from a busted pipe, landing on something not metal… something soft.
He turned sharply, stepping through a fallen wall. And there— beneath collapsed scaffolding with broken wires sparking around her— was a small child.
She was curled in on herself, silent and unmoving. Her short black hair was streaked with dust and grime, but even through the filth, Bardock could see the tuft of white near her temple, clumsily tied with a scorched ribbon.
One of her eyes, barely open, flickered blue. The other brown. A tear traced down her soot-stained cheek.
“…The hell?”
He moved closer, kneeling slowly.
The girl didn’t cry. She didn’t speak.
But when he reached out to touch her shoulder—
FWOOM.
A sudden pulse of energy slammed into the air around her, enough to knock Bardock back a step. Dust exploded outward. Lights from broken panels around her flickered wildly before dying for good.
“…A Saiyan?” he muttered, stunned. He looked again— then saw it.
A tail, trembling, half-wrapped around her leg.
“No record of this one,” Tora called out, approaching carefully. “No pod. No ID tag. Nothing. Could be a hybrid or… some failed experiment they tried to destroy.”
Bardock stared, expression hard. The child still hadn’t spoken. But her tiny hands were clenched. Her breathing, sharp and scared. And that energy… it was unstable. Trembling just beneath the surface.
Not rage. Not fear. Just… raw, chaotic potential.
“…She’s not a failure,” Bardock said gruffly.
He pulled off his cloak and carefully wrapped her in it, lifting her into his arms.
“She’s coming home with me.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Tora asked, voice uncertain. “We don’t know what she is.”
“She’s a child,” Bardock snapped. “That’s all I need to know.”
The girl stirred faintly in his arms, her head leaning into his chest. For the first time, a tiny hand reached up… clutching the fabric of his armor.
Bardock’s expression softened just slightly.
“…You’ll be safe now, little one.”
He looked to the sky.
“I don’t know who you are. Or what they tried to make you into. But from now on, you’re safe.”