We see a black-haired boy walking down a desolate street, where no pedestrians or cars could be seen or heard. He walked and stopped, almost as if playing along the sidewalk. His appearance was relatively ordinary—not too tall, not particularly handsome. He wore a school uniform with broken buttons and the insignia of I.E. Maisi. Every step he took showed pain on his face, revealing his exhaustion.
"Honestly, my life is a real 'beauty.' I've been betrayed, I have a ridiculous name… Sole. Who even gets called that? Is this some kind of joke from fate, and that's why I ended up like this? No one seems to care about me. Isn't there a single soul who worries about me? And the worst part is the loneliness—not even a ghost waiting for me at home. Truly fascinating, isn't it?" thought our protagonist, frustrated.
One hour and thirty minutes earlier…
We find our protagonist sitting alone at a cafeteria table, happily eating a delicious hamburger. He read Dragon Ball manga on his phone, his fingers scrolling with excitement—until his expression shifted into a frown.
Note: Sole dislikes his name and prefers to be called Sol.
"Ugh, terrible. Why doesn't Goku just beat that fool Moro? Calm down, Sol… maybe Vegeta can handle him. I hope Goku wins in the end. If I were him, I'd never let anyone bring me down." Sole said with enthusiasm, imagining Moro defeated at his feet. "Ki is amazing—vital energy used by Dragon Ball fighters to perform miracles. It's even measured in units. I wish I had it; it would be so useful. If I were a Saiyan, I'd be invincible."
As he muttered to himself, like someone missing a few screws, people gave him strange looks and began to move away. But Sole didn't care. From the crowd, a nervous-looking boy approached him. Average height, about 1.60 meters, skinny, with black glasses.
—"Sol, I need your help. I accidentally spilled Roi's food. I was distracted, so I ran away," said the scrawny boy, who clearly knew our protagonist.
Sole looked at his friend and replied: —"Don't worry, Pedro. I'll be with you, my friend. Just avoid Roi until the end of classes. Remember, it's already the weekend—I doubt he'll stay mad until Monday."
He finished his hamburger, but suddenly froze, fear flashing across his face. —"Sh*t… Pedro, get ready!" Sole said, rising from the table.
—"I can't believe it… Pedro," said a tall boy in a messy school uniform. He looked strong, with a hostile face—the bully of Maisi School.
Pedro turned slowly, realizing the voice came from Roi, the one he had tried to avoid. Seeing Pedro's fear, Sole stepped in front of him, glaring at Roi with defiance. —"If you want Pedro, you'll have to fight both of us," Sole declared with confidence and determination, hoping to stop the bullying. He added, "Isn't that right, my friend? …Friend?"
But when Sole turned, Pedro was gone. His smile faded into shock. A tear rolled down his cheek—betrayal, sadness, and pain filled his heart. Pedro had been his only friend. Despite this, Sole chose to face the bully, determined to protect him anyway.
He braced himself, arms raised, fingers poised in a fighting stance.
Roi smirked and threw a punch straight at Sole's face. He couldn't dodge. Sole fell to the ground. Roi kicked him repeatedly, insulting and humiliating him: —"You're worthless. A loser. Trash. Nobody cares about you. You're all alone…"
When Sole stopped moving, Roi laughed, snatched his phone from the table, and walked away—until Sole's weak voice stopped him.
—"Don't hurt Pedro," Sole whispered, clutching Roi's leg despite the beating. His resolve to protect his friend still burned.
Roi sneered, kicked him in the face, nearly breaking his nose, and left.
Later…
After lying on the ground for over an hour, Sole finally managed to stand and head home. His house was nearby, though it would take him thirty minutes at a slow pace. It was in a sparsely populated area, full of alleys and dark corners.
Twenty minutes later, Sole passed through one of those alleys and saw thugs beating a boy. They wore ski masks and street clothes—the usual.
Exhausted and bitter, Sole kept walking. "Being good only got me here. I won't make the same mistake twice."
—"Everyone for themselves, right Pedro?" he muttered, recalling his friend's lesson.
But then he realized—the boy being beaten was Pedro. His heart froze. The urge to protect him returned, despite the betrayal. Memories of their friendship flooded his mind. Pedro stumbled, and one thug pulled out a butterfly knife, chasing him. Sole forgot everything else—his desire to protect overwhelmed him.
He grabbed a stone and hurled it at the knife-wielder. Again and again, until the thugs turned their attention to him. Pedro escaped. Now it was Sole's turn.
—"Hey losers, why don't you leave that kid alone?" Sole shouted, fear in his voice. "Pick on someone your own size—or better yet, me. Or are you scared of a child?" He taunted them and ran into another alley.
The thugs followed. One rushed with the knife, the other pulled out a CZ 75 semi-automatic pistol. Alarmed, Sole ran faster, weaving through passages, barely dodging them. He climbed a fence into a yard, exhausted, but a sharp pain struck his shoulder. Blood poured out. Gunshots followed, hitting his limbs. He collapsed, unable to move.
The armed thug aimed at his head. Sole glared with contempt. But before the shot, they spotted Pedro hiding nearby. Sole saw him too. Pedro ran, and the thugs chased him.
With his last strength, Sole grabbed the thug's legs and spoke: —"Leave the boy alone."
The knife-wielder chased Pedro. The gunman sneered and fired into Sole's chest, piercing his lung. He gasped, drowning, until the pain faded into sleep. His vision blurred. He let go.
His life flashed before his eyes: the empty house, the orphanage sign "Felipe," meeting Pedro for the first time, discovering Dragon Ball, his loneliness. A fleeting thought crossed his mind:
"It's my birthday. I wish I'd had a family… and finished my hamburger."
Moments later, Sole surrendered to the darkness.
We see a small child with a tail floating inside a strange capsule. He seemed asleep, but then the capsule began to make odd noises and the green liquid inside started to glow. Strange tubes, like suction cups, attached themselves to the child's face. Suddenly, his tail began to move as the liquid continued to shine. The boy's eyelids fluttered, his tiny hands reached out as if to grasp something, and his face flushed red.
"What is this? Is it water? No, it can't be—it's far too thick. I swear this feeling is familiar…" the child thought with curiosity.
Then his ears began to pick up sounds, and his tail wagged happily. "Strange… it sounds like voices," he thought, confused, as the noises turned into words.
—"Hello baby, baby, it's me, your mother Gine. Beside me is your father Bardock," said a gentle, loving voice. "You are our precious son, Raditz."
At those words, the baby opened his eyes, stunned to see a beautiful woman and a tall man. The woman felt familiar, and the man he recognized instantly: muscular, clad in battle armor, with an X-shaped scar on his left cheek.
"What are these hyper-realistic cosplayers doing dressed as Dragon Ball characters?" he wondered in shock. Then he remembered—he had died. He tried to make sense of it, looking around and realizing he was surrounded by glowing liquid. Lowering his gaze, he saw his body was that of a baby. The pieces fit together: this must be a dream, and in it, he was a character from Dragon Ball.
But when he tugged at his hair and felt pain, fear struck him. "Could this actually be real?" Doubt filled him, but excitement too—he was in a fantasy world. He recalled the name they had given him, and as a bead of sweat floated in the capsule, he thought:
"Why do I always get stuck with ugly names? Well, at least this one isn't as depressing… Raditz."
He remembered the character: "If I recall, Raditz appears on Earth at the start of Dragon Ball Z. He's one of the weakest villains in the classic saga, with only about 1,200 power units."
"I'll need to meditate," Raditz sighed mentally. "Thanks to my knowledge of the anime, I'll grow stronger."
Then a terrifying thought struck him: "Wait—didn't King Vegeta exile Broly to die because his power was too great? If that's true, I can't stay on Planet Vegeta. It's dangerous. Besides, it will explode, and Frieza might see me as a future threat."
Determined, he concluded: "Dragon Ball begins on Earth with Goku, and according to the author, it ends when Goku becomes a master. That's nearly 90 years. Fine—it's decided. I must go to Earth."
But doubts plagued him: "How do I hide my power? Maybe I could modify the scouters… no, I know nothing about electronics. Attack the tech center? No, that's useless. How did Earth's warriors conceal their power? Meditation—learning to feel Ki. That's it. I'll become strong."
His parents watched him with amusement. —"Dear Bardock, your son inherited your frown when he thinks, and your chin," Gine said playfully. Bardock only smiled faintly.
Raditz's first year of life was spent in mental training. He meditated constantly, and his power grew. People said he was of high-class birth, claiming the power meter had malfunctioned at his birth. Raditz had planned this—high-class Saiyans had privileges the low-class did not.
Years later…
His attempt to pass as elite failed for reasons unknown. His parents denied him answers, so after a month of searching, he abandoned the matter and set a new goal: to become stronger. In the world of Dragon Ball, survival followed the law of the jungle—the strongest prevailed. If he wanted to live, he had to rise to greatness, despite being low-class.
We see young Raditz sitting on a rock. "If I remember right, Saiyans grow stronger under gravity. What can I use for increased gravity? Hmm… weight!"
Out in a desolate area, dressed in Saiyan battle armor, carrying a backpack full of food, he shouted to himself: —"I must become strong!"
He emptied the backpack, filled it with stones, and ran for three hours. Then he began a routine: 100 push-ups, 100 squats, and Ki control.
He struggled to form a Ki ball—it exploded into fragments each time. —"Damn… this is hard," Raditz said, tired but smiling.
—"If I recall, Gohan said to master Ki, you must first learn to fly, until it feels as natural as breathing," Raditz muttered, then glanced around nervously, hoping no one had heard him talking to himself.
Eight hours passed. His clothes were torn, and he devoured his food at lightning speed. —"Ufff… hggghhh," he mumbled grotesquely, mouth full. —"Th…is is… so… ex…hausting," he tried to say, but food spilled out, so he stopped. Lying down, he grew serious, lost in thought.
Later, Raditz returned home and greeted his mother. —"Hi, Ma," he said, exhausted. —"Hello, son… what happened? Are you alright?" Gine asked, worried. —"Yeah, I was just training in the plains," Raditz replied, hand on his head, smiling because someone finally cared.
Gine calmed down, looked at him again, and said: —"You remind me so much of Bardock… the first time I met him."
Many years earlier…
We see Gine walking home with food in her arms. Suddenly, something shoved her, and she fell, dropping everything. She rose slowly, searching for the cause, and found a man lying nearby, bruised and battered, his clothes in tatters. He was well-built, with palm-shaped hair, wearing almost nothing.
Blushing and nervous, Gine hesitated. Should she help him? Looking around, she realized no one else was there. She lifted him and carried him home.
At her house, the stranger lay in bed, beginning to wake. He looked around, realizing he was in a small home—the kitchen only four meters away, the dining table three, the door five.
He saw his body wrapped in bandages. Unsure of what had happened, he stayed in bed, waiting for whoever had brought him there.
Minutes later…