Heading to Namek

Bulma's spaceship was parked in the clearing behind Kame House, its hull gleaming with a cold metallic sheen beneath the moonlight. It had originally been the single-pilot spherical Saiyan pod Son Goku had ridden in as a child. Bulma had taken it apart and rebuilt it, then taken it apart again, spending a full month converting it into a medium-sized spacecraft. Its body had been extended to thirty meters, with a Gravity Chamber module added to the rear. Its exterior bore Capsule Corp's signature blue-and-white paint scheme. Rather than a warship bound for Namek, it looked more like an elongated luxury camper.

"Don't touch that spot! That screw is loose!" Bulma's shriek came from atop the ship. She was perched on the side of the hull, wrench in one hand and welding torch in the other, her hair a complete mess like a bird's nest. Three streaks of engine oil stained her face, and her glasses sat crookedly on her nose. She looked exactly like a mechanic who had just crawled out of a junkyard.

Below the ship, Krillin, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Master Roshi, and Chi-Chi stood in a neat row, each carrying several bags and boxes.

"Are you moving house or going to war?" Bulma pushed up her glasses and looked down at the pile of luggage stacked like a small mountain.

Chi-Chi stuffed a blue cloth bundle into Ji Ming's arms. Its stitching was crooked, and the patched buttonholes were a different color from the rest of the fabric, clearly mended more than once. "Five changes of clothes, cold medicine, stomach medicine, bandages, and adhesive bandages—Mom split half the Senzu Beans for you and sewed them into the inner pocket. Make them last." Every time she named something, she pressed down hard on the bundle. A thin sheen of tears filled her eyes, but her voice remained steady.

Ji Ming accepted the bundle and held it to his chest, nodding without a word.

Meanwhile, Krillin was hauling a military backpack nearly as tall as half a person into the ship. Aside from a few martial arts uniforms, it was stuffed with a large bag of glowing ore gathered from an undersea cavern—apparently his backup energy plan. Beside him, Tien Shinhan silently stacked training equipment in the cargo hold: barbells, resistance bands, weighted leg straps, every piece of iron gear needed for high-intensity training in the Gravity Chamber. Chiaotzu carried two boxes of rice balls larger than his own head and carefully placed them on a storage rack, letting out a simple, silly laugh.

Holding the bundle Chi-Chi had given him, Ji Ming opened the inner layer and felt the amount of Senzu Beans inside, quietly doing the math. Chi-Chi had divided nearly all the Senzu Beans she had into small portions—half for herself, half for him. When he looked up, Chi-Chi had already turned away, pretending to organize something. Yet her fingers were clenched tightly around the edge of her apron, her knuckles white.

"Mom."

Chi-Chi's shoulders trembled, but she did not turn around.

"I'll eat my meals on time."

Chi-Chi's back stiffened for a moment. Slowly, she turned around. At last, she could no longer hold back her tears, but she smiled as she tapped her daughter on the head—then realized she had hit the wrong child. Laughing and crying at once, she pulled Ji Ming into her arms and vigorously wiped her face with the edge of her apron.

"You're four and a half, not fourteen, not twenty-four. You're Mom's son." She held Ji Ming's face in her hands, her rough fingertips covered in thin calluses from years of labor. "No matter how strong you are out there, when you come home, you still have to drink the porridge Mom makes. Hear me?"

Not far away, Vegeta watched the touching scene, and the corner of his mouth twitched. It was impossible to tell whether it was a sneer or something else. Then, carrying his own equipment bag over his shoulder, he boarded the ship without looking back.

A moment later, Ji Ming let go of Chi-Chi and looked up. Bulma had also just straightened from the pile of luggage. Her eyes swept over and landed squarely on his face.

"Kid, come here for a second."

Ji Ming walked over. Bulma pulled out a palm-sized tablet terminal from her pocket and shoved it into his hands. Its screen was lit up with a string of shifting star-map coordinates and densely packed notes.

"These are Namek's coordinates?" Ji Ming asked.

"My dad used the observatory equipment and checked for several nights before locking them down. They should be accurate enough. The ship's navigation system already has them logged. Also—" Bulma bent closer, serious light shining behind her lenses. "You know what that bastard Vegeta is like. He blew up two of my three Gravity Chambers. The one on this ship is the fourth-generation model I just built. Do me a favor and keep an eye on him. Don't let him blow up the spaceship too."

Ji Ming looked at the screen flickering with blue light in his hand, then at Bulma's eyes, full of trust despite her complaints. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "I'll try."

Bulma vigorously ruffled his hair. "What are you laughing for, you little grown-up?"

Everyone had boarded. The hatch closed.

Son Goku was the last to enter the ship. Barefoot, with a flat little bundle slung over one shoulder, he carried nothing but two changes of training clothes and the rations Chi-Chi had forcibly stuffed in. He paused at the hatch and looked back at Mount Paozu. Moonlight traced the mountain ridge in a silver-white curve. The massive rock at the summit where he often sat lost in thought now looked like a tiny period beneath the moonlight.

Chi-Chi stood at Kame House's entrance and did not chase after them again. She only raised a hand and waved toward the ship. Son Goku raised his hand and waved back. Then he turned and entered the cabin, and the hatch boomed shut behind him.

"Takeoff!" Bulma pulled down the ignition lever from the pilot's seat.

The ship's engines gave off a deep, dense roar, like a colossal beast rumbling thunder inside its chest. Pale-blue particle flames burst from the rear thrusters, blasting scorched earth several meters into the air. Dark-red embers flickered in the night.

The ship slowly rose, accelerated, then accelerated again—

Then it became a straight streak of white light and pierced the river of stars overhead.

Space.

Real space.

Ji Ming stood before the observation window, his forehead nearly pressed against the cold glass. Outside, Earth rapidly receded. At first, it was a blue curve filling his entire vision, then it shrank into a blue-and-white marble, then into a pinprick of light, and finally vanished among the stars.

Deep space rushed toward them—black, absolute, an utterly pure black without a trace of impurity, scattered with countless stars. They were not the gently twinkling stars of Earth's night sky, but innumerable burning suns, bright almost to the point of violence, like diamonds crushed across black velvet.

Krillin stood beside him, starlight from the window reflecting off his bald head. His round eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open. After a long while, he finally managed to squeeze out, "So this is what space looks like... I thought it'd just be pitch-black with nothing there."

"What, you thought it was a cave?" Ji Ming did not even turn around.

"Pretty much."

Ji Ming said nothing more. His mind was repeatedly reviewing every detail of the Namek arc: the size of Frieza's forces, the combat strength of each form, the locations of the Dragon Balls, the highlands where the Elder lived, the Ginyu Force's arrival time—every piece of information rapidly rearranged itself like puzzle pieces in his consciousness. Comparing the coordinates Bulma had provided and the ship's speed against the advance rate of Frieza's forces in the original story, he estimated that they would reach Namek in about six days.

Six days.

The Gravity Chamber, sparring, breaking through the Saiyan threshold. Every plan had already been scheduled down to the minute. Vegeta could no longer waste time obsessing over why. Before reaching Namek, he had to cross that wall.

"Ji Ming."

Ji Ming turned around. Bulma was leaning against the cockpit hatch, holding a cup of steaming coffee. Her expression was unusually serious. The excitement from their departure had faded, replaced by a quiet scrutiny. She took off her glasses, wiped the lenses with the hem of her shirt, then put them back on and studied the child standing before the observation window.

The ship was still accelerating, and a constant, even vibration ran through the floor. On the holographic star map above the console, the marker for Namek had become a red arrow that kept moving forward.

"You told me to scan Namek's atmospheric composition ahead of time." She paused, set the coffee cup on a nearby instrument panel, and folded her arms. "A four-year-old kid bringing it up that professionally... honestly, I've built a time machine and met all kinds of aliens, but you still scare me. Is there anything you're hiding from me?"

"Yes," Ji Ming said.

Bulma's eyelid twitched.

"But I'm not an enemy."

The silence lasted several seconds. Then Bulma let out a breath and picked up her coffee again, only to realize her hand was trembling slightly. She did not know whether it was the ship's vibration or something else. The calm honesty with which this child had answered yes—calm that no child should have possessed—somehow put her at ease instead.

"Fine." She leaned over and flicked Ji Ming on the forehead. "After the battle, you have to explain everything clearly to me. What I hate most is when mysterious stuff gets piled up halfway through and then abandoned unfinished."

Ji Ming rubbed his forehead and nodded. Then he turned his gaze toward the Gravity Chamber. At that moment, a dull impact sounded from behind the heavy metal door, followed by Vegeta's low roar.

Bulma's face instantly darkened.

"My fourth-generation Gravity Chamber—!! You backwoods savage!!" Bulma stomped toward the Gravity Chamber.

Ji Ming followed behind, the corners of his mouth curving slightly.

Inside the Gravity Chamber, Vegeta lay flat on his back, his chest heaving violently, blood still streaming from his nose. The gravity was set to sixty times normal. While doing his third set of squats, his vision had suddenly gone black, and he had crashed to the floor together with the barbell, the back of his head striking the ground with a dull thud.

"I was only gone for three minutes." Ji Ming crouched beside him, his tone even.

"Cut the crap." Vegeta raised an arm to cover his eyes, his chest still rising and falling hard. His voice was rough, as though it had just been dragged out of his chest. Then he took a breath, and his breathing gradually steadied, though a faint tremor entered his voice—almost imperceptible, but Ji Ming caught it clearly.

"...Something to protect."

"Hm?"

"That question you asked me last time—what I need to protect." Vegeta repeated it under his breath, so quietly that the hum of the machinery nearly drowned him out. Yet the muscles in his arm tightened faintly with an emotion he refused to voice. "I've thought about it."

"And?"

"Not yet." Vegeta moved his arm away and stared at the metal framework on the ceiling, his eyes dry but clear. "But since you told me to find it, then I have to find the answer before we reach Namek. Otherwise, if I really run into Frieza, what's the difference between a Saiyan who doesn't even know what he can protect and a pile of breathing meat?"

Ji Ming looked at Vegeta's face, streaked with sweat, blood, and exhaustion, and fell silent for a moment. Then he pressed a hand against the muscle beneath Vegeta's shoulder—there were tiny tears in the tendon from the sixtyfold gravity, slightly swollen and twitching faintly beneath his fingertips.

"You strained this spot. Don't increase the weight for now. Rest for a few hours. After muscle tears under high gravity, if you time the recovery right, the gains will be more efficient."

Vegeta did not say thank you. He never did. But this time, he closed his eyes and nodded. The movement was so slight it was nearly impossible to notice, but Ji Ming noticed it.

Ji Ming rose to leave the Gravity Chamber when a hoarse voice suddenly came from behind him.

"Hey. Kid."

He stopped.

"When you turned Super Saiyan, what were you thinking about?" Vegeta still lay on the floor with his eyes closed. His tone sounded like an interrogation, yet also like he was asking for guidance on something he would never admit was guidance. But buried deep in the trailing edge of his last word was a trace of earnestness.

Ji Ming was silent for a moment. He thought of Chi-Chi holding him as she cried until her face was a mess, and of Son Goku sitting on the stone steps, looking up at the moon.

"Someone needed my protection. Not because I could fight, but because I was there."

Only the resonance of the engines remained in the Gravity Chamber. Vegeta said nothing, but the rhythm of his breathing shifted slightly. When Ji Ming stepped out and closed the door, the final faint hiss of escaping air through the gap seemed to carry Vegeta's nearly inaudible murmur—he was turning that question over in his mind again.

Bulma stood before the control console, watching the surveillance feed from inside the Gravity Chamber. Vegeta was still lying on the floor, completely motionless. Her fingers hovered over the control screen, paused over the "Forced Shutdown" option. She hesitated for several seconds before ultimately leaving it untouched.

"If that guy really cuts loose in front of Frieza, he'll probably be even more reckless than before." Bulma frowned worriedly at the screen.

Ji Ming leaned against the bulkhead with his arms folded, closed his eyes, and quickly worked through the remaining training schedule.

"...That's still not reckless enough. Once the Ginyu Force arrives, that's when he'll really go crazy."

The cabin fell quiet for a moment. The spacecraft tilted slightly along the edge of the planetary orbit, its hull giving a low mechanical groan as its structures shifted. Then the heavy engines shut down, and it entered plasma cruise mode. On the holographic navigation map, the target marking Namek remained steadily fixed directly ahead.

A storm in the cosmos was brewing at the far end of deep space.