DragonBall Z: Secrets of the Saiyans.

The morning light filters through the laboratory windows as Bulma sets down her coffee mug, her hand lingering on the cool ceramic. She stares at the small device on her workbench—a prototype she had been tinkering with before her world tilted off its axis. Before the test. Before the quiet confirmation that had been sitting in her chest ...

The morning light filters through the laboratory windows as Bulma sets down her coffee mug, her hand lingering on the cool ceramic. She stares at the small device on her workbench—a prototype she had been tinkering with before her world tilted off its axis. Before the test. Before the quiet confirmation that had been sitting in her chest like a second heartbeat for the past three days. Her fingers brush absently over her still-flat stomach. The communicator on her wrist chirps, and she taps it without thinking. Tights's face flickers into view, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, eyes wide with barely contained excitement. "Bulma! Thank goodness you picked up. You're not going to believe what we found." Bulma blinks, pulling herself back to the present. "Tights? I thought you were in Michigan with that professor of yours." "We are! That's why I'm calling. Professor White—he's my boyfriend's father, remember?—he discovered this cave system near the Upper Peninsula. And Bulma, the drawings inside..." Tights leans closer to the camera, lowering her voice. "They're of Great Apes. And Super Saiyans." The word hits Bulma like a jolt of static. She straightens, her hand falling from her stomach. "Saiyans? On Earth? That doesn't make sense. The Saiyans didn't come here until Goku, and even then-" "I'm telling you, they're here. Thousands of years old, carved into the stone. Professor White thinks it might be evidence of ancient alien contact. But I thought of you immediately. You're the only person I know who actually knows a Saiyan." Bulma's mind races. Ancient drawings of Saiyans on Earth. Great Apes and Super Saiyans. If this is real, it could tell her more about what her child might become. What Vegeta might become. What she has unknowingly brought into the world. "I'll be there some time tomorrow," she says, already reaching for her jacket. "Send me the coordinates." "Already done. And Bulma? Bring that Saiyan boyfriend of yours. He might recognize something." The line goes dead before she could say a word. Bulma stands alone in her laboratory, the hum of machinery filling the silence, one hand pressed against her stomach as she stares at the coordinates blinking on her screen. Bulma glances toward the door of the lab. where the hallway leads deeper into the Capsule Corporation compound. Vegeta is probably training in the gravity room, as always. Still trying to become a Super Saiyan like Goku. She should tell him. She should tell him about the pregnancy, too.

The walk to the hangar feels longer than usual. Bulma keeps her hands shoved in her jacket pockets, resisting the urge to press them against her stomach. The morning air is cool against her face as she crosses the compound, her boots echoing against the concrete. "Why did it have to happen to a beautiful woman like me," she mutters under...

The walk to the hangar feels longer than usual. Bulma keeps her hands shoved in her jacket pockets, resisting the urge to press them against her stomach. The morning air is cool against her face as she crosses the compound, her boots echoing against the concrete. "Why did it have to happen to a beautiful woman like me," she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. Of all the timing. Of all the people. She's carrying the prince of Saiyans' child, and he spends his days trying to break Goku's records in a metal box. The ship her father built for Goku looms ahead, its sleek hull gleaming under the morning sun. She climbs the ramp and enters the control room, where the hum of the gravity generator tells her Vegeta is deep in his training. She can feel the vibration through the floor—150 gravities, maybe more. She knocks on the inner door. The generator hums to a stop. A moment of silence, then Vegeta's voice, sharp and irritated: "What is it, woman? I'm busy." "I need to tell you something. It's important." "Unless it has something to do with Kakarot, I don't want to hear it. Now go away. I have better things to do." Bulma's jaw tightens. She pulls a small remote from her pocket and kills the power to the ship. The lights flicker, the systems sigh into silence. A beat. The door slides open with a hiss. Vegeta stands there, bare-chested, sweat glistening on his muscular frame, his dark eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "What do you think you're doing?" "You can hear what I have to say, or the ship stays off. Your choice." He crosses his arms, jaw working. "Fine. What is it?" Bulma takes a breath. She tells him about Tights's call. About the ancient cave drawings in Michigan. Great Apes and Super Saiyans carved into stone, predating any known Saiyan arrival on Earth. Vegeta listens in silence, his expression unreadable. When she finishes, he turns away, grabbing a towel from a nearby bench. "Ancient drawings. Superstitious nonsense." "Or evidence that Saiyans were here long before you think." He pauses, glancing back at her. Something flickers in his eyes—curiosity, perhaps, buried beneath layers of pride. "Fine. I'll come. But only because if there's any truth to this, it concerns my heritage." He doesn't notice the way she holds herself, the secret she carries. He just brushes past her, heading for the exit, already dismissing her as he plans their departure.

The next morning arrives gray and overcast, the kind of sky that makes long flights feel even longer. Bulma pilots her personal jet out of the Capsule Corporation compound, the engines humming smoothly as she climbs through the clouds. Vegeta sits in the back, arms crossed, staring out the window with the kind of silence that fills a cabi...

The next morning arrives gray and overcast, the kind of sky that makes long flights feel even longer. Bulma pilots her personal jet out of the Capsule Corporation compound, the engines humming smoothly as she climbs through the clouds. Vegeta sits in the back, arms crossed, staring out the window with the kind of silence that fills a cabin like lead. She steals glances at him in the reflection of the cockpit glass. The hard line of his jaw. The way his brow furrows even in rest. She tries to imagine him holding a child—their child—and the image won't form. It's like trying to picture a storm cradling a bird. She takes a breath and breaks the silence. "So. How's my dad's gravity generator working out for you?" Vegeta doesn't turn. "It serves my needs." "I'm glad to hear that." She keeps her voice light. "Dad has his way with machines. Not as good as me, of course." He says nothing. The silence stretches. She tries again. "What's your dad like?" A pause. Then: "He was a fool." "Well. That's..." She trails off, unsure how to finish. The clouds roll past. She grips the yoke a little tighter. "Do you ever—" "What." She swallows. "Wanted children." Vegeta shifts in his seat. She can feel his gaze on the back of her head now, sharp and suspicious. "Why would you care if I did?" She forces a shrug she hopes looks casual. "You know. To continue your legacy and all that." A short, humorless laugh escapes him. "What a foolish thing to want. Children just slow you down and make you weak." The words hit her like a punch to the chest. She doesn't answer. She can't. Her throat has closed up, and if she speaks now, she'll betray everything. She turns her face toward the window, angling her head so he can't see her eyes. The clouds blur as they streak past. She blinks rapidly, focusing on the horizon, on the instruments, on anything but the weight settling in her stomach. Behind her, Vegeta says nothing. He doesn't notice. He never notices. The plane hums on, carrying them both toward Michigan, toward answers neither of them is ready for.