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Chapter Text

The first sounds to reach Issei Hyoudou's ears were a series of digital beeps. A constant, rapid chirping, accompanied by the sloshing of liquid.

Why does that sound familiar? he thought, trying to open his eyes. He became acutely aware of a weight surrounding his entire body, a sensation like being submerged deep underwater. He let out a breath in surprise, feeling bubbles strike his nose as they floated upwards. What in the world…?

With considerable effort, he managed to open his eyes. The world slowly swam into focus as light struck them, feeling as if he were seeing for the very first time.

"Well, would you look at that! Our boy finally opened his eyes!" a muffled, masculine voice called from beyond the container Issei found himself in. His whole body felt heavy, not just from the liquid he was suspended in, but as if he were profoundly exhausted. With weary eyes, he looked forward to see a man place a hand on the glass, turning to the side to beckon someone over. "Come look, dear! Our boy is finally stirring!"

What… is this…? Issei's mind raced. The man looked nothing like his father—far too muscular, with jet-black hair and dark eyes.

"I knew our son was strong! This has to be some kind of record, right?!" a softer, excitable voice called out. A woman with equally dark hair and eyes rushed into the room, a toothy grin on her face as she placed both hands on the glass, smooshing her face against it to stare at Issei. "It's only been two weeks! This means our son is strong!" Her exclamation drew a chuckle from the man, presumably her husband.

"Close, but the record is 24 hours, unfortunately!" he laughed as she pouted. "You didn't expect our boy to be on par with Prince Vegeta now, did you?"

Vegeta…? The name stirred a deep memory. He knew that name from somewhere… he'd read it before! Wait, don't tell me…!

Issei mustered all his might and forced his eyes open completely, finally taking in the world around him. Through the liquid and the glass, he could see the room was made of rough-hewn stone, a far cry from the comfortable home he knew. Glancing down, he found his hands were far smaller than he remembered. He tried to move them, but they refused to obey, managing only a faint twitch. The same was true for his feet; his attempts to kick them in frustration resulted in little more than a weak shudder. The reality of his situation began to dawn on him.

His last memories were of someone dying, being killed on his first-ever date with a stunning girl who had massive breasts—

Is this… reincarnation?! he thought with a surge of excitement, his eyes widening. Wait a second, they said Vegeta, right? And this machine I'm in… I swear I've seen it somewhere before—

"Look at that! He's already trying to kick and move around!" the man laughed, crossing his arms with a proud smile. "Our boy will be a fine Saiyan when he's ready to leave that capsule!"

"It should be soon, right? I mean, he's already looking around and moving!" the woman said, her Saiyan tail swaying behind her in delight. "I want him out now! We have to get him a head start on all the other runts!"

I can't believe it. Issei could only blink in dumbfounded amazement, his eyes locked onto the swaying tail. I've actually been reborn?! As a Saiyan in— Oh, crap!

Before he could finish the thought, a wave of pure exhaustion crashed over him, and his eyes fell shut.

"Eh?! Hey, don't close your eyes yet!" the woman exclaimed. The man shook his head.

"Give him another day or two, and we'll see about getting him out," Issei heard his new father say as his consciousness began to fade. "We'll have the helper look after him if he does. We have a mission to…"

Issei's world went dark.

The next time Issei regained consciousness, everything was different.

He collapsed to the floor in a fit of coughing as the nursery capsule hissed open, liquid splashing around him. "Good. You can hold yourself up," a voice grumbled, deeper than his new father's had been.

Issei coughed again, clearing the residual fluid from his throat, and looked up. His vision focused on a familiar-looking man with spiky black hair. Goku? No, wait, that's—

"Can you walk?" the man asked, his arms crossed as he stared down at Issei with a firm, assessing look. "The name's Bardock. From today forward, you'll be in my and my wife's care."

"Wha—?" was all Issei could blurt out, his voice hoarse and unused. Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet, bracing his hands on his knees as he adjusted to the simple act of standing.

"I won't beat around the bush, kid," Bardock began, uncrossing his arms. "Your parents died on a mission. They succeeded, but it cost them their lives."

What? But I didn't even get to know them that well yet— Issei could only stare up in shock, the words not fully registering.

"They went down like true Saiyan warriors, fighting to the last to see the mission done," Bardock continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "That leaves you without a guardian. Fortunately for you, my wife was friends with yours. They had an agreement to look after the other's kid if something happened."

Issei didn't know what to say, his gaze dropping to the floor as the reality of his situation crashed down upon him. During his unconscious state, his thoughts had been dormant; this was only the second time since his rebirth that he could truly process everything. The implications were staggering.

"Come with me." Bardock's voice snapped him back to the present before his mind could spiral further. The older Saiyan was already at the door, looking back at him over his shoulder. "Best not to dwell on things. Let's put those legs to work." Without another word, he turned and stepped outside.

Issei found his nerve and took a step, then another. Finding his footing stable, he broke into a stride to catch up with Bardock.

"You'll be staying with my family for the time being," Bardock stated without looking at him. "Since you're fresh out of the capsule, you'll be given three days to be evaluated for what kind of missions you can handle. While you're with us and not on assignment, you will help my wife around the house. Understood?"

"I, um, yes sir?" Issei responded. "Wait, evaluation?" he asked, looking up at the man and realizing he was barely knee-high to him. Just how old am I?

"That's right," the scarred warrior grunted. "Your power level will be measured, and you'll go through strength and reflex tests to determine your mission grade." Bardock finally shot Issei a glance. "Your parents were proud of you. Wouldn't shut up about how fast you woke up."

"How long ago was that? How old am I?" Issei asked.

Bardock shrugged. "A few weeks, if what they told me was correct."

"Oh..."

Issei's mind raced. Saiyans aged very differently from humans. If what they said was true, Prince Vegeta was only 24 hours old when he got out of his pod. This is so wild...!

"When will I be evaluated?"

"Tomorrow. My wife already set everything up." Bardock looked up in thought for a moment. "I suppose you have a name. Do you know it? Your parents refused to tell us until you were out of the capsule."

They never said it, at least not when I was awake, Issei thought with a spike of panic. He didn't know his name, and he didn't want to make one up. Maybe he could... "...Issei," he ventured.

"Issei?" Bardock turned his head fully to look at the kid beside him, a puzzled expression breaking his usual stern demeanor. "Really? That's a weird name. Then again, your parents were weird..."

"...Will you tell me about them?" Issei asked, hoping to divert attention from his non-Saiyan name. "Like, what kind of missions they took? How strong they were—"

"I suppose I could tell you a few stories. I went on a few missions with them." A smirk slid onto Bardock's face as he stared ahead. "Want to hear about the time they took on a nest of giant snakes?"

"Hell yeah!"

Bardock's smirk only widened at Issei's immediate, eager response.

Chapter Text

The next day arrived much sooner than Issei expected. After being brought to his new home, he had been given the room Gine and Bardock had set aside for their future son. Overwhelmed by his first hours outside the capsule, Issei had passed out instantly. By the time he woke, it was already morning, and Bardock had departed for his next mission, leaving Gine with a palpable sadness.

He helped his new "step-mom," as he'd begun thinking of her, with her morning chores before his evaluation. He couldn't help but steal glances when she wasn't looking, still struggling to believe where he was. He had actually been reborn after he—

He cut the thought off, refusing to dwell on the traumatic event that led him here. Instead, he focused on Gine.

Maaan, that little battle skirt really hugs her ass nicely~ he thought, a mental image of Gine striking a sexy pose flashing in his mind. Despite his physical "age," he was still the same Issei at heart, even if his current body was incapable of acting on his desires. It'll get fixed as I get taller~ He giggled inwardly.

"Whatcha laughing about, boy?" a rude, unpleasant-looking Saiyan grunted from his station by a terminal. The man had greasy hair and a massive bald spot. This was his examiner. "Stay still. We're about to take your power level reading, you runt."

Issei bit his tongue, stifling the urge to talk back. If this were a normal human, he would have, but this was a Saiyan warrior on Planet Vegeta. He knew exactly how they operated. Even as one of them, he couldn't afford to mouth off to someone potentially stronger.

"Alright, let's get a look at your Power Level," the Saiyan grunted, tapping a screen and lowering a device from the ceiling. "What you've got will determine your standing and what missions we give you from the start. Considering you're from low-class parents who died like idiots, I'm not expecting much." He spoke dismissively, not noticing Issei's expression darken as the stand-scouter began its reading.

The man watched the numbers climb. "20... 50... 90... 200? What?" Not bothering to look at Issei, he grabbed the machine's screen, staring in disbelief as the number continued to rise. "What? 300?! No, wait now it's... 550?!"

"This thing must be brok— what?!" His head snapped up, his voice dying in his throat as he stared in shock and horror. Issei's ki flared around him, a visible aura of energy that cracked the ground beneath his feet. "Wai—"

On pure instinct, Issei released his pent-up rage in a surge of power. The man never got to finish his word. The young Saiyan raised his hand, ki gathering into a blazing orb before blasting outward.

Nearby Saiyans could only stare in shock—and some with amusement—as the examiner was sent flying through a wall, crashing in a bloody heap into the next building as the energy beam carried him. Issei stepped calmly through the hole he'd created with the man's body, his ki still raging around him.

"I may not have known them well..." he said, his voice eerily calm despite the storm of emotions. He lifted his head, standing over the man as he weakly tried to push himself up, blood flowing down his face as he scowled. "But no one talks bad about my parents and gets away with it." Issei leveled his hand at the man's face, which was now twisted in fear.

"W-Wait, I— AGH!"

Issei blinked in surprise, his rage vanishing as the man was sent flying, tumbling unconscious down the road. A single pebble clattered to the ground next to where he'd been.

"Damn, a solid 550!" a chuckle reached his ears. Looking over, Issei saw someone he never thought he'd meet standing in the road, lightly tossing another rock in her hand. Her other hand rested on her hip, a confident smirk on her face. "Not bad, kid. Not bad at all! Name's Fasha." She let the rock fall and tapped her scouter, which had just read his power level, turning it off. "You got some fight in ya. I like that."

Issei could only stand there, watching as she strode up to him, towering over his small frame. His eyes were firmly locked on her chest, accentuated by her form-fitting armor.

Whether Fasha cared or noticed, she didn't let on. Instead, her smirk widened, a glint of approval in her eyes as she placed a hand on his head. "Normally, there's a whole process for this, but fuck that. I'm not letting anyone else get this fresh meat. From now on, you're on my team, kid!"

"Eh?!"

Issei arrived back home late into the night, much to Gine's worry. Covered in bruises and scrapes and a massive swollen eye, Gine could only stare in slight shock as Issei gave her a sheepish smile.

"Mrs. Gine, can you help me with something?"

Chapter Text

Two weeks had flown by in a blur of grueling training sessions, each one more intense than the last. Issei had been thrust into Fasha's world without mercy—sparring until his tiny body ached, learning the intricacies of ki control, and absorbing every scrap of Saiyan tactics she threw at him. It turned out her "team" was a ghost of what it once was. Her old squadmates had bitten the dust on some backwater mission months ago, leaving her solo. But when she'd laid eyes on him after that explosive display at the evaluation center, she'd decided he was the one. "You're raw, kid," she'd said with that trademark smirk, ruffling his hair a bit too roughly. "But I'll mold you into the perfect teammate. Someone who can watch my back on jobs that need more than just me."

Issei had nodded eagerly at the time, but now, hurtling through space in his cramped Saiyan pod, he wasn't so sure. He'd picked up some crucial intel during those weeks, piecing together the timeline of this universe from overheard chatter and Fasha's offhand comments. Raditz, that long-haired brute from the stories he vaguely remembered, was only three years old right now. That meant Kakarot—Goku—wouldn't even be born for another seven years. Seven whole years to train, to get stronger, to prepare for the storm that was Frieza and the inevitable destruction of Planet Vegeta. It was a sliver of hope in this brutal new life, but it also meant he'd have to survive long enough to see it through. And survival meant playing the part of a loyal Saiyan warrior.

His pod hummed softly as it sliced through the void, the stars streaking by like distant memories. Issei stared out at the approaching planet, a blue-green orb dotted with swirling clouds. According to the briefing, it was a primitive rock—no space travel, just a bunch of warring nations squabbling over territory. But it was loaded with rare minerals and resources that the Frieza Force could strip and sell to the highest bidder. Easy pickings for a pair like them, or so Fasha had claimed.

A crackle from the communicator snapped him out of his thoughts. "Hey, kid. Scouter says you're already awake in there. Excited for your first real mission?"

Fasha's voice was laced with amusement, broadcasting from her own pod a short distance ahead. Issei could picture her lounging in her seat, that confident grin on her face, her armor hugging her curves in ways that still made his inner pervert do backflips—despite his current pint-sized body.

He hesitated, his mind swirling with doubts. He knew what this mission entailed: invasion, conquest, probably a whole lot of death. The old Issei—the one from Kuoh Academy—would've balked at the idea of hurting innocents. But here? In this body, in this world? Refusing meant death, or worse. Still, the thought gnawed at him. Am I really gonna become a monster just to survive?

"Yeah... sure," he replied, his voice coming out half-hearted, lacking the usual fire.

A chuckle echoed through the comms. "What's with the mopey tone, runt? This is what Saiyans live for! Blowing shit up, taking what's ours. You'll love it once we hit dirt."

Issei forced a grin, even though she couldn't see it. "Just... thinking about stuff. Like, what if these guys put up a fight?"

"Oh, they will. That's the fun part." Her tone shifted, turning playful. "Tell you what—if you do well down there, handle your share without me babysitting... I'll give you a little reward when we're done." She purred the last word, drawing it out in a way that sent a shiver down his spine.

His eyes widened, cheeks flushing despite himself. Reward? From Fasha? Oh man, don't get ahead of yourself, Issei—body's still too small for that kinda fun. But hey, motivation's motivation! "Y-Yeah? Like what?"

"Use your imagination, kid. Now buckle up—we're on final approach."

The pods pierced the atmosphere like meteors, flames licking their hulls as they plummeted toward the surface. They touched down in a forested valley, the impact cratering the earth and sending wildlife scattering in panic. Issei popped the hatch, stepping out into the crisp air, his tail flicking behind him. The planet smelled earthy, alive—nothing like the sterile confines of Vegeta. Fasha emerged from her pod a moment later, stretching with a satisfied groan that made Issei's gaze linger a second too long.

"Alright, let's get to it," she said, tapping her scouter. "Scans show a major settlement a few clicks east. Warring factions mean they're divided—easy to pick off. You take the outskirts, soften 'em up. I'll hit the center. Meet back here when the planet's cleared for the purge crews."

Issei nodded, but as they blasted off in opposite directions, the weight settled in his chest. Cleared. That means... killing everyone. He flew low, skimming treetops, his ki suppressed to avoid early detection. Below, he spotted villages—huts clustered around rivers, people going about their lives. Farmers tilling fields, kids playing. It hit him like a gut punch. These aren't soldiers. They're just... people.

He started small, blasting unmanned structures—storage barns, empty watchtowers. Explosions rocked the landscape, flames blooming like deadly flowers. Screams echoed up from below as panic spread. Issei gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep going. Just destroy things. Not people. Maybe they'll run, hide... survive somehow. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. The Frieza Force didn't leave survivors.

A group of armed locals burst from the trees, spears and crude energy weapons in hand. They fired wildly, bolts sizzling past him. Issei dodged effortlessly, his power level far outstripping theirs. He could end them in an instant, but instead, he unleashed a ki wave at the ground, cratering it and sending them tumbling. Run. Just run away. A few did, scrambling back into the woods. But one stubborn fighter charged, yelling defiance.

Issei hesitated—too long. The alien's blade grazed his arm, drawing blood. Pain snapped him back, and on instinct, he countered with a palm strike, ki-infused. The impact caved the warrior's chest, sending him flying into a tree with a sickening crack. He didn't get up.

Shit... I didn't mean to... Bile rose in Issei's throat, but there was no time to dwell. More were coming—drawn by the chaos. He pushed on, demolishing bridges, toppling walls, always aiming to scare rather than slaughter. But the body count crept up anyway—stray blasts catching runners, collapsing buildings trapping the slow.

Then, in the ruins of what looked like a fortified outpost, he found him. A towering alien warrior, skin like polished obsidian, muscles rippling under armored plates. Horns curved from his forehead, and his eyes burned with fury. Issei's scouter beeped: Power Level 2,500. That's... that's as strong as Fasha! How the hell am I supposed to—

The alien didn't give him time to think. "Invader! You'll pay for this desecration!" He lunged, faster than Issei expected, a massive fist slamming into his guard. The force sent Issei skidding back through dirt, carving a furrow.

Issei shook it off, ki flaring as he powered up. His own reading climbed to 550—way outmatched on paper. But something inside him clicked. Don't think, just fight! He charged, unleashing a barrage of punches. The alien blocked most, but Issei slipped a knee into his gut, eliciting a grunt.

They traded blows in a whirlwind—Issei dodging a sweeping kick that splintered a nearby tree, countering with an energy blast that scorched the alien's shoulder. Pain lanced through Issei's side as a backhand connected, cracking ribs. He tasted blood, vision blurring, but he pressed on, weaving through attacks with surprising agility.

"You're just a child!" the alien snarled, grabbing Issei's arm and hurling him into a wall. Stone crumbled around him as he impacted. "Why fight like a demon?"

Issei coughed, pushing rubble off. He's right... I should be getting wrecked. But... I'm keeping up. Adrenaline surged, and he realized: his Saiyan blood was thriving on the edge. He blasted forward, ki exploding in a aura that cracked the ground. A point-blank energy wave forced the alien back, singeing his armor.

The warrior roared, channeling his own power—a crimson beam erupting from his palms. Issei met it head-on with his own ki blast, the energies clashing in a blinding standoff. Muscles screamed, sweat poured, but Issei held, inching the beam back. Come on... push!

With a yell, he overpowered it, the combined force detonating against the alien's chest. The warrior staggered, smoke rising from his wounds. Issei didn't let up—closing in with a flurry of strikes: elbow to the jaw, kick to the knee, palm to the solar plexus. The alien blocked desperately, but cracks showed. A final uppercut sent him crashing to the ground, gasping.

Panting, Issei stood over him, hand raised for the killing blow. But he paused, conflict raging. End it. That's what Saiyans do.

The alien looked up, blood trickling from his mouth. "Why... why are your people doing this? What have we done to deserve annihilation?"

Issei lowered his hand slightly, voice quiet. "I'm... just following orders. For now."

The warrior's eyes widened, then he let out a weak, bitter laugh. "For now... heh. Then you're no better than a slave." Another laugh turned into a cough, blood spraying. His body went limp, eyes glazing over.

Issei stared down, fists clenched. Slave... yeah. But not forever. He turned away, the weight heavier than before, as distant explosions signaled Fasha's progress. The mission wasn't over yet.