Disclaimer: The events depicted in this chapter are fictitious. Any similarity to any person living or dead is merely coincidental.

A/N: Many sorry for the late instalment! Also, you'll notice that the format of this chapter is a little different than usual, but I kind of like it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this read!

Last time on Fight to Survive:


"Vegeta," Bulma called out in a heavy breath as she embraced the fall, her voice hushed and desperate.

"What?!" the Saiyan prince spun around, preparing himself for another verbal onslaught, but instead was greeted with an unexpected sight.

He turned around just in time to see Bulma fall to her knees, and all traces of anguish from their recent spat was forgotten in an instant. He stayed frozen for a few moments, his eyes widening with worry as she knelt there motionlessly. She didn't cuss nor did she scream out in pain, and what truly set his panic mode into full swing was the sight of her sitting in a watery pool of her blood.

"Fuck…"


Vegeta's visual perception narrowed, and like a tunnel vision, zoomed into a single focus point that was Bulma. Nothing else mattered. He stood there frozen, some 40-metre away, his senses triggered and heightened; gauging, contemplating, strategising.

Wait, he paused, what am I strategising for?!

Another pang sliced through her body and Bulma finally released the scream that was hitched in her throat, snapping the Saiyan prince out of his momentary daze. Blood shot up to his head, activating his limbs and he sprang into action, heading towards his damsel in distress and clumsily sliding down on the dirt and blood until he was in her face.

"Bulma?" he called, gripping her arm in an attempt to pull her up, but she wouldn't budge.

She looked up at him, her eyes teary, bottom lip red and swollen from biting, cheeks flushed, and expression filled with pain. Vegeta took in her dishevelled sight and noticed that she was clutching her chest, the area just above her heart and he cringed. Is she hurt? Did someone shoot her?

"H-he's coming," she heaved out, her breaths short and quick, and voice laden with terror.

Vegeta's eyes widened at her remark and quickly got up, whipping around and facing skyward as he spread out his senses. His teeth grinded tightly against each other, and eyes darted aimlessly across the sky as he tried to detect the life force of his enemy, of Frieza. And in this tiny time frame, it dawned on him that he had never been more afraid than he was now. If he had no choice, if he had to fight, if he had to die this day… his exhaustion be damned.

"Goddammit, Vegeta!" Bulma shrieked as she clenched on his wrist and practically dragged him down to the ground; the surprise in which he allowed her to do so didn't even hit neither of them because, "The baby is coming!"

The Saiyan prince stared at her detachedly, registering everything that was happening in an excruciating slowness that was unlike him. The baby is coming. He swallowed hard and let his eyes skim down the length of his woman, from her frightened eyes to her bulging stomach. She looked like she was about to pop, but wait. The baby is coming. His brows furrowed deeply and he thought to himself, Well, well, Vegeta, what are you going to do? Oh, you are so screwed, aren't you? Thinking of running away again? Oh, no, you don't. Don't just stand there and do something, Veg-.

"-eta! Snap out of it and help me!" Bulma groaned.

A passing second felt like an eternity and when he finally came to, he wasted no time and swooped her into his arms, carrying her into the house and placing her onto the makeshift hospital bed that was the dining table. Bulma moaned in agony, her mouth contorted into a painful cry while projecting a string of lewd profanities which would make even his father's spirit cringe. And as he watched her squirm and writhe in the kind of the pain that he would never wish upon her – a pain that was so unlike the one she usually got herself into or the one he inflicted unto his victims, a pain that he put inside her and allowed it to grow – it made him sick to the stomach.

It was at this point that Vegeta believed if he had no choice, if he had to fight, if he had to die of exhaustion by the end of this ordeal… the boy had better be a worthy opponent.


Hour 3.5 – Anger

Intermittent contractions came and went, each one coming in longer phases than the last where sharp pain would slice through her body with abandon. When that happened, they were usually accompanied by profanities and insults of which would be hurled at the man in question, the man who put the pregnant woman in all this agony.

Vegeta snarled in sheer contempt, clenching and unclenching his fists to contain the rising anger that was boiling beneath his skin.

"Stop pointing fingers for the pain you're going through, you said the boy isn't due in two weeks!"

Bulma retorted without hesitation, letting out all the pain and frustration onto him through tears and angry, hurtful words. Too bad for her there were no objects within her arm's reach to throw at him.

"Excu-use me if my calculation's wrong! Even if this was two weeks later, I'd still be enduring the same kind of pain and call you a monkey vegetable ass. Besides, the baby's due now, does it really matter?!" she yelled even though her throat was parched and on the verge of being sore.

"Tch. So much for a scientist!" Vegeta spat, folding his arms and angrily turning away, ignoring the insult she'd thrown at him. He even went as far as to remove himself from her side to prevent her from reaching out to him whenever a contraction came.

In the meantime, Bulma was far from being needy. If anything, her disdain for her significant other at this given point in time was just as great, if not greater.

"So much for being his father, he's exactly like you, impatience being one of-UNGH!"

Vegeta smirked, turning back to face her as he shamelessly observed her ordeal in a sick delight, "He's not even born yet and already shutting you up."

"You… shut up," she groaned through gritted teeth, "I… hate you."


Hour 6.5 – Anxiety

Bulma's breathing pattern was frantic; sometimes it would come off as spasmodic and other times it would simply hitch in her throat. Though, to either adult, one thing was for certain – the more pain she was experiencing, the harder the delivery process was going to be.

Simply put, the discomfort brought on a different kind of pain like no other thus, as a result, was causing Bulma the most unbearable moment in her life. Moreover, this particularly threatened her emotional control, throwing it off and allowing it to catapult in all directions – starting with pointless anxiety.

"Vegeta. I can't…" she panted, her breaths coming in and out harsh and unsteadily, "I can't do this. The pain, I don't think it's normal."

Vegeta, who nearly dozed off for the millionth time next to Bulma, jerked awake when she accidentally swung a hand against his face. He shook his head to keep focused, taking a moment to register her words and concentrate on her.

"Of course it wouldn't be normal for you," he reasoned in a half-slur, wiping the sleep off his face and then glancing at her weary face. He blinked, lashes heavy and eyes hooded, and added as-a-matter-of-factly, "You're giving birth to a Saiyan."

Bulma, whose brows were now pulled together and eyes stinging with hot tears, listened intently to the unspoken meaning behind those words. A whimper escaped her lips and she began to sob, and Vegeta realised a moment too late that he should have kept his mouth shut.

"You're right," she gasped, her breathing pattern from being frantic was now bordering hyperventilation, "My baby's not human. Oh, my God!"

At this, Vegeta dropped his forehead to the table, sighing inaudibly. Her wails proceeded to echo throughout the cave, and the Saiyan prince could do nothing but roll his eyes and allow her to claim his hand once again for another bout of tight squeezing.


Hour 10 – Worry

The woman's screams filled the cave, ricocheting violently off the walls like stray bullets that had been fired from a machine gun.

"This is…" Vegeta stammered, his weary mind scrambling for the right words to say, to make sense of what was going on, but all that could come out was, "This is not normal."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said!" he snapped, slightly more aggressive than attempted to, and as soon as he realised this, his voice softened, "I've never witnessed a Saiyan birth, never mind a Human one, but as far as I can remember… as far as I can…"

He trailed off, suddenly unsure of how he should continue his tale. As far as he could remember, he knew nothing of the matter at hand, and thus, could not provide Bulma with any useful information. As far as he could remember, his privilege of comprehending the tradition and culture of his race, including childbirth and proper parenting, was denied at a young age. As far as he could remember, he could not.

Bulma, in spite of her discomfiture, noticed the falter in Vegeta's demeanour and somehow was aware of his internal plight. She tried her damnedest to endure and sober up from the pain and placed a hand on top of his. She squeezed his fingers, channelling into him a sense of reassurance through a firm and tender grip. Dark eyes glanced up at her, confused but calm, and found themselves staring at a gentle smile off her coral-coloured lips; the one smile that he normally found a detached solace in.

"It's alright. I don't know much either. We'll go through this together, a Saiyan and Human birth."


Hour 15 – Love

Bulma had fallen asleep. She was sure of it even though she didn't know when she had dozed off.

Was it the time when his royal majesty barked at Dende to replenish her energy, again and again? Or was it after that, when Vegeta had placed his palm on her damp forehead to wipe her sweat away and push her matted hair back, uncharacteristically shushing her in his quiet way as he murmured softly into her ear?

"Rest," he said, his eyes hooded, red, and intense. A simple word, a silent gesture, and yet, in that one breath alone, Vegeta had told her that she would pull through, that everything was alright, that he was here for her. This deduction overwhelmed her even more, touching her heart and pushing her to tears. She had cried herself to sleep.

She woke up possibly no more than five minutes later, eyes puffy and cheeks sticky with dried tears, when another contraction came. Her eyes flew open with alarm and she clamped her teeth down onto her bottom lip, groaning behind her throat to contain the surge of excruciating pain.

Bulma took deep and greedy intakes of air to steady her frantic breathing. Eventually the pain passed and she could finally let out a sigh of temporary relief. Quietly, she turned to look at the sleeping man beside her and a small, weary smile tugged at her lip, with deep creases bracketing the rim of her mouth that was formed from overexerting her vocal chords. She shifted slightly to caress his face. Her movements were gentle and almost featherlike as her fingers ran over his brows and sifted through his jet black hair. She made sure not to wake him up.

'Rest…' she told inwardly, taking in another deep breath before closing her eyes once more.


Hour 19 – Hopelessness

Her cervix finally dilated to its full expected length and Bulma knew it was her cue to push. She found her leverage from Vegeta's hand, squeezing it with everything she had and began to push. Her teeth grinded against one another, her eyes expelling tears of struggle, and her lungs burned as she held her breath.

Several more hours of sweat, tears, and further pain encompassed the little family. In this duration, Bulma had nearly given up a handful of times, and with the contractions coming closer together, she had even cried herself to sleep twice. And when she reawakened, she would groan and sob, completely overwhelmed from the aftereffects of overexertion.

Perhaps this was what she meant by 'encouragement' before, Vegeta thought, gripping back her frail hand as he overlooked his peers in a somewhat protective manner. As far as he could see, Bulma was doing well but she was also progressively getting weaker. He didn't want to exhaust Dende either, as his healing powers were to be used sparingly. The boy was only allowed to step in at his cue, and that was usually when the next contraction hit Bulma.

Another groan escaped Bulma's lips, and thinking that perhaps this was it, Vegeta told Dende to dispense his powers while he watched and waited expectantly for the baby. However, several moments passed and the infant did not seem to have budged; and, if he recalled correctly, the boy had not been making even the slightest movement for hours now. Why wouldn't he come out?

"Something… something's not right," Bulma finally said, her words choppy as her breathing came out in heavy pants, snapping Vegeta out of his trance.

Indeed, something had gone terribly wrong. As far as her knowledge on childbirth was concerned, situation like this was uncommon but not unheard of. In addition, without the proper equipment, there was no way for them to check on the infant's status.

As such, Bulma followed her intuition and was expecting the worst. The baby was supposed to be out by now. She should have been relieved of the cargo and hearing his welcoming cries. But he was still inside her, and somehow, she just knew that her baby was already fighting for his life.

If her assumption was right, her child was currently starving for oxygen, strangled by his own umbilical cord.

"Ve-geta," Bulma grunted weakly through gritted teeth, reaching out for his wrist with a pleading grip. "We have to get him out surgically."

In spite of his frayed and weary condition, the prince had not realised that he was shaking his head until he mouthed the word 'no' repeatedly, which gradually became audible as he persisted on. "That's not happening."

"There's no other way," Bulma cried, insistent and pleading, "We have to do it now or he'll die!"

"No!" Vegeta reasserted his refusal, "You don't have the energy to endure the pain!"

Bulma gave out a frustrating wail, on the verge of hysteria. The prince became quiet and deeply contemplative. If he agreed to this, he had no doubt that he'd be the one slicing her up. Without epidural or painkiller, Bulma would feel the raw pain induced by his hand. He should know. He'd sliced his victims up in a similar manner and needless to say, he was quite familiar with the pain they were subjected to. And, no matter the circumstance, this was the last thing he'd want to be doing to Bulma.

"Vegeta," she sobbed weakly, the grip on his hand tightening, her eyes red with tears and filled with an underlying desperation that he had not seen in her before, and he knew that he had to give up this battle and give way to his son to take over.


Hour 22.5 – Powerless

Despite his prevailing reluctance, Vegeta eventually yielded and complied with Bulma's plea as long as she guided him through the process. Her step-by-step instructions were easy and straightforward to follow, moreover, Dende was there to provide instant healing; but those weren't the reasons why he had agreed to this.

He formed a tiny ball of energy on the tip of his finger, ready to make an incision on her lower abdomen that would be wide enough for the boy to fit through. His exterior was calm but his heart was pounding like a drum behind his rib cage. He even made sure that Dende was by her side the entire time. Meanwhile, Bulma braced herself for the raw pain which she would be feeling soon, but for the sake of her son, she would endure no matter how excruciating it'd be.

This was the reason why Vegeta had agreed to her wishes; for her sake and ultimately, that of their child. By acknowledging this, he had come to accept that he was going to repay his son for what he had almost done to him months ago. He was going to save him and give the boy the life he had nearly stripped him off.

A life, for a life.

But right now, everything was happening too quickly and it was imperative that they moved just as fast and precise as time because every second that ticked by meant the baby's and Bulma's lives. Saying so, Vegeta finally gathered his steel courage and created the incision. Bulma let out a painful, muffled shriek through the fabric she was biting on, but with every scream she released, Dende was there to heal her. However, the little Namekian's energy was draining as quickly as he was expelling it, and Vegeta was certain that without an epidural or Dende, the pain would progressively become too unbearable.

The kid had better not pass out now! Vegeta cried in his head as he sensed Dende's energy plummeting to an insubstantial level.

Little by little, more and more, blood was beginning to flow out of Bulma. It was a clear indication that Dende's miracle work was starting to wane, but thankfully, with Vegeta's precision skills, the baby was successfully removed. Amidst the chaos, Bulma happened to get a glimpse of her child and, just as she was expecting, the boy looked slightly bruised and nearly blue, and the cord was indeed wrapped around his little neck.

Vegeta sliced the cord away and quickly untangled it from the baby's throat, removing everything else that Bulma had described earlier. As he did so, Dende gave Bulma a fraction of his energy to seal her wound. Knowing exactly what he must do, the little Namekian then expelled everything that he had into the infant right before he saw a glimmer of darkness and passed out, healing the baby just enough to sustain him.

Despite the blood, Vegeta held the child close to him and approached Bulma. She looked extremely worn out and clearly was about to lose consciousness. To say that the Saiyan prince was suffering from a surge of panic was clearly an understatement. Contrary for being notoriously known to be able to overcome any trial and tribulation, he was nearly at his wit's end for experiencing something that was clearly out of his aptitude. A fleeting thought came to mind, and he swore that he would never subject Bulma nor himself to such life-threatening situation that was known as pregnancy again.

The boy was quiet and still but after several heart-stopping moments, he finally expelled the long-awaited cry from the top of his lungs. Bulma, with eyes closed, sobbed with a shaky chuckle as an overwhelming relief and joy washed over her. Vegeta looked down at the boy, absolutely unsure of what he was supposed to do with him, and decided that he should hand him over to Bulma. But she stopped him, feathering a finger over the baby's skin before glancing at the first-time daddy with a weak smile and distant gaze.

"Let him live," she managed to breathe out. Her focus was beginning to waver and she was getting sleepier by the second. Then slowly but surely, she seeped into unconsciousness, leaving father and son to fend for themselves.


Vegeta tried reaching out for Bulma but quickly retracted his hand for he was afraid the baby would slip out from his grasp. His eyes were now wide with a mixture of fear and dread, as was his heart. He watched as Bulma's hand simultaneously relaxed, fell, and dropped with a careless thud as she blacked out.

"Heal her!" Vegeta whirled around and snapped at Dende, the brewing panic slowly transforming into desperation; but all he found was the languid body of an unconscious Namekian. "Get up, boy!"

The Saiyan dropped to a knee on the hard tiled floor, one arm jostling the little green alien while the other clinging on to his fussing new born.

"Dende," he croaked uncertainly.

Two hard shakes and Vegeta knew that Dende wasn't going to regain consciousness anytime soon. So out of solutions, he backed away, falling unceremoniously on his hind, and scooted backwards until his back hit the wall.

Minutes felt like an eternity.

His eyes were stuck on Bulma's comatose form like glue, making sure that her chest was still moving, that she was still breathing. But she was weak, and she was getting weaker. If Dende didn't wake up sooner, he was afraid to even imagine the worst.

A shaky breath escaped his chapped lips. What's the worst that could happen? He scoffed inwardly. Besides, there isn't anything in this universe which I cannot tackle alone. I have survived like this for 20 odd years, never truly accompanied by another. Surely, if the worst were to happen...

He nodded to himself, as though that simple gesture could reassure him. Surely, I could survive it too.

Pausing in mid-thought, he glanced down at his son and then looked up at Bulma, the ceiling light casting a direct glare into his eyes.

'Maybe I should wake her up now, lest she slips awa-' Vegeta groaned and shook his head, dragging in a deep breath. He blinked fervently to will those ill thoughts out of his cotton-picking mind and corrected himself '…lest she remains in this indefinite comatose state. Who knows when she'll wake up?'

'But Dende,' he paused, turning his head towards the boy on the floor. He had continuously shared his energy with Bulma, unknowingly healing the baby who had been on the verge of asphyxia.

'What if I woke him up first? The kid would be able to heal Bulma and her chances of surviving would naturally be much higher. Yes, that would strategically be the wiser choice but…' he trailed off.

Dende wasn't moving. The kid was completely depleted of energy, not an ounce of it left in his tiny body. He had spent too much of it healing Bulma and the baby and as a result, passed out from overexertion.

Vegeta clenched his eyes, grunting through gritted teeth as he repeatedly knocked the back of his head against the wall to stay awake; because if he didn't, one of them may not be able to survive long enough should he succumb to an indefinite slumber. And he was certain who that little one would be. That frightening thought lingered in his mind, and he reminded himself that his responsibility here was not yet over, gripping onto to the weeping bundle in his arms. Just how many minutes had it been since his son was born? He looked down at his hands and observed his cargo.

Minutes felt like an eternity.

In all his life as an elite soldier, as an underprivileged prince of a forgotten race, and as a man with nothing but his name and tattered armour on his back, he had only taken lives not help them, and certainly not creating one and bringing it into this world. The sudden twist in his nature was tolerable at best, never mind being stranded on a barren planet with the loudest woman he had met; but in the year that followed, he had eventually come to terms with the fact that the very same woman had taught him how to feel, how to care for someone else other than himself.

Saying so, anxiety attacked his senses and, as his mind clicked and limbs returned to function, he quickly jumped to his feet and made a beeline for the main bathroom.

The second he stepped into the bathroom which he and Bulma shared, he contemplated between using the bathtub and the average-sized basin. His body and mind may be tired but he would not allow his train of thought to derail no matter the circumstance. It was unbefitting of a warrior of his calibre.

After much deliberation and strategising, he went with the average-sized basin as it was inarguably the better choice to fit his tiny son in. The bathtub would take him longer to finish the job anyway. So, wordlessly like a soldier on a mission, he marched forward, pushed the sinkhole cover down, and filled the basin with warm water.

Once the water level reached a certain margin, Vegeta cut the supply off and dipped his blood-covered son into the warm liquid, slowly, legs first. He breathed steadily and mind focused as he did his first parenting job, uncertain if he was even doing it right. All he understood at this point in time was that blood should not be on this tiny frame.

This isn't hard, he thought as he motivated himself, deploying an unusual level of measured strength that he had never before accomplished onto the child's delicate body. This is just like you tending to a really bad battle injury where the open wound is crying and screaming at you to clean it, bandage it, and shut it up. It's painful but nonetheless a simple 3-step procedure, you can't even fuck it up.

While his mind bickered with himself, his hands moved on their own accord. It would seem as though he knew what he was doing but anyone who truly knew the Saiyan prince would understand that his pride would never allow him to be terrible at even the simplest task. Even Vegeta knew that this was fact but the reality of his situation only made him wonder – never before had he imagined that he, the prince of all Saiyans, would see the day he delivered his own offspring and cleaned up after him, too.

'You fought well' was one of the fleeting thoughts he had as he fussed over the new born.

The child eventually quietened, no doubt soothed from the gentle motion of his father's hands mixed with the calming sensation of lukewarm water. Once Vegeta was done washing, he wrapped the infant with the next available towel he could get his hands on and retreated into the bedroom. He gently placed the baby in the centre of the bed and, with wonderment and confusion, stared at him with an indescribable sense of curiosity.

A minute flitted by and only then did he realise that the child had already fallen into a deep sleep. He frowned and quickly climbed into bed, passing out the second he closed his eyes but not before mentally agreeing with his kid that sleep was the best thing one could have right now.


Light blue brows deepened, drawing a painful expression on the pale face of which they belonged. A light groan followed suit and soft lashes fluttered open to reveal a pair of dazed sapphire eyes.

Bulma was disoriented all over, both mentally and physically, but she wouldn't succumb to the numbness again. She pushed herself up slowly, minding the soreness of her body and the slight ache in the wound that delivered her baby. Gently, she manoeuvred herself down the dining table and nearly stumbled upon an unconscious Dende.

She thought of moving the boy to the couch but after seeing him sleeping away in a somewhat comfortable position, simply let him be. A slight jolt of pain shot through her lower abdomen and she quickly massaged the closed wound with care, wincing every now and then as her fingers rubbed over the still tender flesh. With every wince, her heart beat quicker and thus, blood pumped a little faster, causing her to feel slightly lightheaded.

Bulma took a seat on the nearest chair she could find, closing her eyes as she tried to regain better focus. The wound may have been healed but it was clear she had yet to fully recover from blood loss. Moments dragged on but once she felt slightly better, she got up, made her way across the kitchen and into the master bedroom, and stopped dead in her track by the sight before her.

She gripped on the door frame as soon as she saw what the room contained, her mind racing with demanding questions; her heart simultaneously pounding and fluttering; and her breathing hitching in her throat.

She bit her inner cheeks and raised a palm to her chest, containing the overwhelming emotions that were gushing within her. Never before, she thought, a smile creeping to her face, have I imagined seeing this.

'Let him live,' she remembered telling him moments before she succumbed to the darkness.

Laying sprawled upon the king-sized bed were the universe's only two Saiyan princes, one extra-large and the other extra-small, both sleeping tranquilly on their backs. Vegeta's lips were slightly parted and a weary expression lined his features, though the lack of his signature scowl made him look calm as he slept. Bulma approached him first, running a soft hand over his forehead to wipe away the light sheen of sweat before planting a kiss on his cool skin. She looked down at him endearingly before glancing up to take in her baby for the first time.

Tucked neatly in his own little space beside Vegeta was Bulma's new-born, all cleaned up and clumsily wrapped in a little towel. She studied the fabric and the way it was draped over the infant, and bit back the urge to chuckle. Instead, she smiled warmly at the duo before quietly taking her place on the other side of the bed, wedging the babe in between Vegeta and herself.

Upon feeling movement, and possibly born with a higher sensitivity level just like his father, the baby stirred. He mewled a little before Bulma rested a palm on his little chest to soothe him, shushing him softly with a light lullaby to follow. Much to her delight, the babe calmed down and went back to sleep, and she leaned in to gently nuzzle her nose against the boy's head.

She took in his scent and then exhaled with a relief of which she could not describe. She pulled her baby close, embraced him as tightly as possible, and shifted so that he was lying on his stomach on her chest. The baby's head rose and fell with every breath she took, and it would seem as though he liked this new position as he did not even once showed discomfort. She started rubbing the small of his back, humming inaudibly, allowing the vibrations of her chest to further soothe the tiny Saiyan cargo.

Never before, she thought again as she beamed at her baby with an unparalleled maternal pride, have I felt so contented. This feeling is so unreal and yet so real. This feeling is so precious, so much so that it brings me happiness and frightens me at the same time.

Bulma dipped low to kiss the boy on his head. But if I were to lose this feeling… if I were to lose my little boy…

She clenched her eyes, pulling the boy closer to her as she put a halt to her train of thought, derailing it for she did not want to imagine what would happen should she lose this feeling, or worse, lose her baby.

"We'll always protect you," she whispered her promise into fine lavender hair, her palm resuming its gentle rubbing on the baby's back. Wordlessly, she turned to her left and, taking in the peaceful, sleeping man beside her, gave him wistful smile as though he was awake and watching over them. She glanced down at the spaces between them, her free hand moving in for his fingers and gave them a reassuring squeeze. Sighing deeply, she glanced back up with a smile and whispered, "… Won't we, Vegeta?"


A/N: I have no experience in giving birth. Everything written in this chapter was sourced through Google and friends who are mummies.

Special thanks to precious jade for giving me pointers in the delivery process and helping me go through them in the editing stage. She's an awesome mummy! Also, Sadezanobia for making sure Vegeta did not get OOC!

PS: If you noticed, this chapter is a little shorter than usual. But, oh well.

PSS: I feel bad for making use of Dende in this chapter. But his turn to shine will come in later chapters! I will do the boy justice!

Hope you enjoyed Chapter 23! Do review!