June 1990 - Little Whinging, Surrey
Andrew was five years old when his parents finally told him the truth.
It started innocently enough—another argument about the tail. His mother wanted to schedule the surgery, his father kept making excuses to postpone it, and Andrew had locked himself in his room, refusing to come out.
"I won't let you cut it off! It's mine!"
The house fell silent. Then he heard whispers, urgent and worried. Footsteps on the stairs. A soft knock.
"Andrew," his father's voice came through the door, unusually serious. "Can we talk? Really talk? There's something… something we should have told you a long time ago."
Ten minutes later, Andrew sat on the living room couch between his parents, his tail wrapped protectively around his waist. His mother's eyes were red-rimmed, his father's jaw tight with tension.
"You're old enough to know," James Chen began, running a hand through his greying hair. "Andrew, you… you're not our biological son."
Andrew's heart skipped. He knew this, of course—he'd been reborn, placed with this family—but hearing it confirmed was different.
"We found you," Margaret whispered, taking his small hand in hers. "Five years ago, in the woods outside of town. There was a… a craft. Not a plane, not anything we'd ever seen."
"A pod," James continued. "Spherical, made of some kind of metal that our tools couldn't scratch. It had crashed in a clearing, tore through trees like they were paper. We were hiking, heard the impact, and when we got there…"
"You were inside," Margaret's voice cracked. "Just a baby, couldn't have been more than a few weeks old. Naked except for… for your tail. And you were crying, but you were alive. Impossibly alive. That crash should have killed anyone inside."
Andrew's mind raced. A Saiyan pod. He'd arrived in a Saiyan pod, just like Goku. Which meant…
"There was something else," James stood, walking to the antique cabinet in the corner. He pulled out a box, hidden behind photo albums. "We kept it. The authorities never knew about you—we were young, desperate for a child after Margaret's miscarriages. We took you home, registered you as ours. But we kept this."
He opened the box.
Inside was a device—alien technology, clearly Saiyan in origin. A scouter, though damaged. And beneath it, a small cloth with a symbol Andrew recognized instantly: the crest of the Saiyan elite.
"There was writing on the pod," Margaret said. "We couldn't read it, but we took pictures before we… before we hid the pod in our storage unit. We were afraid someone would take you away if they knew. That the government would—"
"Can I see the pictures?" Andrew interrupted, his voice barely a whisper.
His father nodded, pulling out an old photo album. The pictures were grainy, taken with a cheap camera in 1985, but clear enough.
The pod bore Saiyan script. Andrew couldn't read it in his current body, but the memories from his past life—the knowledge of Dragon Ball lore—filled in the gaps.
A low-class warrior child, sent to conquer Earth. Standard Saiyan protocol.
But there was something else. Another detail in one of the photos that made his blood run cold.
A second, larger pod crater about a hundred meters away, partially obscured by trees.
"Was there… was there another pod?" Andrew asked carefully.
His parents exchanged glances.
"We don't know," James admitted. "We didn't search—we were terrified, desperate to get you home. But the impact pattern… yes, there might have been. Why?"
Because in Dragon Ball, Goku's brother Raditz came to Earth looking for him. Because if Andrew was replacing Goku in this merged timeline, then somewhere out there…
I have a brother. A Saiyan brother who might come looking for me.
"Andrew?" His mother's worried voice broke through his thoughts. "Sweetheart, we know this is a lot. But you need to understand—it doesn't matter where you came from. You're our son. We love you. We've always loved you."
Andrew looked at his parents—these kind, normal humans who'd found an alien baby and chosen to raise him as their own. Who'd protected his secret for five years.
"I love you too," he said, and meant it. "Both of you. And… thank you for telling me. For keeping me."
"Your tail," James said softly. "We understand now why you fight so hard to keep it. It's part of who you are. Part of where you came from. We won't try to remove it again."
Margaret pulled him into a hug, and Andrew felt his tail unwind, relaxing for the first time in weeks.
But his mind was already racing ahead.
Raditz. My brother might be out there. And if he comes to Earth…
He needed to get stronger. Faster than he'd planned.
He needed to find Master Roshi.
Two Weeks Later - Wisteria Walk
Andrew had been searching for Violet for three days.
He'd seen her exactly seven times since they were three years old—always brief encounters at the park or shops, always cut short by her aunt or uncle. But something had changed recently. She'd stopped appearing altogether.
It was pure luck that he spotted her that afternoon, walking behind her enormous cousin Dudley and his gang. She looked smaller than she should, swimming in a grey shirt that was clearly a hand-me-down, her messy black hair pulled back with a rubber band.
"Violet!" he called out, jogging to catch up.
She turned, and those brilliant violet eyes widened in recognition and something like joy.
"Andrew!"
"Oi, Potter!" Dudley wheeled around, his piggy face scrunched in anger. "You're not supposed to talk to anyone!"
"Says who?" Andrew stepped between Violet and Dudley's gang. He was small for his age, but something in his stance—some instinct buried in Saiyan DNA—made him fearless.
"Says me!" Dudley shoved him.
Andrew didn't budge. Didn't even sway. Five-year-old Dudley's strength was nothing compared to the dense muscle structure of a Saiyan, even a child.
Dudley's eyes widened in confusion. He shoved again, harder. Andrew might as well have been made of stone.
"Leave her alone," Andrew said quietly, and for just a moment, something flickered in his eyes—a hint of gold that was gone before anyone could really see it.
Dudley, for all his bullying, knew when he was outmatched. He stumbled backward.
"F-freak! Both of you are freaks!" He ran, his gang scattering with him.
Andrew turned to Violet, who was staring at him with wide eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"How did you… he's way bigger than you."
Andrew shrugged, hiding his tail's excited twitching under his shirt. "I'm stronger than I look. Are you okay? I haven't seen you in forever."
Violet's expression shuttered slightly. "I'm fine. Just… busy."
But Andrew could see the shadows under her eyes, the way her clothes hung loose, the healing bruise on her arm that she tried to hide.
"You're lying," he said softly. "They hurt you, don't they? Your aunt and uncle."
Violet's eyes went wide with panic. "No! I mean, I'm just clumsy, and—"
"I won't tell anyone," Andrew interrupted. "I promise. But you can tell me. You can trust me."
Something in his voice—ancient and knowing despite his five years—made Violet's defenses crumble. Tears welled in those violet eyes.
"They hate me," she whispered. "They say I'm a freak. That my parents were freaks. They make me sleep in the cupboard and I'm not allowed dinner if I make things… happen."
"Make things happen?"
Violet bit her lip, then glanced around. They were alone on the street. She pointed at a stone on the ground, concentrated, and—
The stone lifted six inches into the air before dropping.
"Magic," Andrew breathed, genuine wonder in his voice. "Violet, that's amazing!"
"It's freakish," she said miserably. "It makes them angry."
"It's not freakish. It's special. You're special." Andrew took her hand. "Listen, I'm special too. Different, but special. Want to see?"
Before she could answer, he checked that they were truly alone, then carefully pulled his tail out from under his shirt.
Violet gasped. "You have a tail! A real tail!"
"Yeah. My parents told me I'm… I'm from somewhere else. Not from here. And I can do things too." He held out his palm, concentrated the way he'd been practicing in secret, and a tiny spark of golden ki appeared, flickering like a firefly. "See?"
Violet's face lit up—the first real smile he'd ever seen from her. "We match! We're both special!"
"Yeah," Andrew grinned back, tucking his tail away again. "We match. Hey, want to be friends? Like, real friends? We could meet up, practice our… our specialness together."
"Really? You'd want to be friends with me?"
"Are you kidding? You're the coolest person I've ever met."
Violet launched herself at him in a hug that nearly knocked him over. Andrew hugged back, careful of his strength, and felt her shaking with silent sobs.
"I'll protect you," he promised quietly, the words coming from somewhere deep and primal. "I'm going to get stronger, and one day, I'll make sure no one ever hurts you again."
Violet pulled back, wiping her eyes. "Promise?"
"Promise. Saiyan's honor."
"What's a Saiyan?"
Andrew grinned. "I'll tell you everything. But first, are you hungry? My mom made way too many sandwiches…"
As they walked toward the park, Andrew's mind was already working. Three years. He had three years before his family's planned move to Japan. Three years to lay groundwork, to start training, to prepare both of them for what was coming.
Three years to be the friend that Violet Potter desperately needed.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a thought whispered: When Raditz comes, will he recognize me? Will he try to make me destroy this world?
Andrew glanced at Violet, chattering excitedly about a dream she'd had about flying.
Let him try. This is my planet now. These are my people. And I'll be strong enough to protect them all.
Starting with her.