บท 1: Chapter 1: Rebirth of the Forgotten Saiyan
Pain coursed through his body like molten fire, ripping him from unconsciousness. He blinked, his vision blurry and unfocused, but the intense sunlight above burned through the haze. He groaned, instinctively trying to sit up, only to collapse back down, gasping as every nerve screamed in protest.
The smell of charred earth and blood assaulted his nose. Around him lay the remnants of a battle: scorched grass, craters that marred the landscape, and shattered boulders. It wasn't until his gaze fell on his trembling hands clad in bloodied gloves that the fog of confusion began to clear.
"What… what is this?" His voice was hoarse, barely audible over the pounding in his head.
He struggled to lift his arm, his fingers brushing against the jagged hole in his chest armor. The sensation made him freeze. His fingers came away slick with blood, and the realization hit him like a freight train.
"This… this is where Raditz died."
His breathing quickened. Memories, both foreign and familiar, crashed over him in waves. He was Raditz, the Saiyan warrior who had fallen at the hands of his brother Kakarot and that Namekian Piccolo. But he was also… someone else. Memories of another life watching Dragon Ball Z, discussing theories with friends, dreaming of what it'd be like to be in that world clashed with the grim reality of the warrior's final moments.
What the hell is going on?
He forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth as pain flared from his wounds. His armor was cracked and dented, the fabric beneath soaked with blood. He glanced at the ground, noticing strands of his own long, spiky black hair sticking to the dirt. His trembling hand moved to his head, confirming what he already knew.
A burst of panicked laughter escaped his lips. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm Raditz? The guy who dies in the first real fight of the series? The Saiyan nobody cares about?"
The laughter quickly turned to a choking sob, the weight of his situation sinking in. He wasn't just cosplaying or dreaming. This was real. The pain was real. The hole in his chest was real. And if he didn't act fast, he'd end up exactly like Raditz had died.
Raditz or whoever he was now dragged himself toward a nearby pool of water. His reflection stared back at him: sharp, angular features, dark eyes full of frustration, and hair that spiked wildly behind him. He clenched his fists.
"This isn't fair. I didn't ask for this." His voice shook, the human side of him still grappling with the absurdity of the situation. But as his breathing steadied, the Saiyan blood in his veins began to stir. A sense of defiance burned in his chest, faint but growing.
He looked down at his battered body and cracked armor. "If this is real, then dying isn't an option. I'll survive. I'll prove that Raditz doesn't have to be a joke."
The first step was clear: survival. And that meant staying out of sight. The Z Fighters were likely regrouping somewhere nearby, and the last thing he needed was a second death at their hands. He needed to figure out his next move, and for that, he needed time.
Raditz scavenged the area for anything useful, finding nothing but the remnants of his scouter, shattered and useless. "Damn it. I can't even check my power level…" He paused, an idea forming. Wait. If I can't sense my own power, maybe they can't sense mine if I keep it low.
He sat cross-legged under a tree, ignoring the pain as he began experimenting with his energy. His memories of the show came rushing back. He'd seen the Z Fighters suppress their ki to avoid detection countless times. If he wanted to avoid Kami's watchful eye or worse, Piccolo he'd have to learn to do the same.
It wasn't easy. The instinctive Saiyan urge to exude strength fought against him. His energy flared and wavered, refusing to shrink down. He gritted his teeth. "Come on, damn it. If Goku can do it, so can I."
The hours stretched on. His stomach growled, his body demanded rest, but he couldn't afford to stop. Each time his energy dipped slightly lower, a small spark of hope ignited. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he was exhausted but confident he'd made progress.
Good. Now I just have to avoid the Z Fighters long enough to get off this planet.
As he rested against the tree, his mind wandered. He thought about the life he'd left behind a normal life, full of mundane worries like work, friends, and family. He had no idea how or why he'd ended up here, in this brutal world, but one thing was certain: he couldn't let himself die again.
"I have knowledge. I know the future. That has to count for something." His fingers dug into the dirt. "Vegeta and Nappa are coming. Frieza's out there, waiting to destroy everything. And Goku… Kakarot… he's destined to save the universe."
A bitter laugh escaped him. "What am I? A footnote? A stepping stone for the main character? Not this time. Not anymore."
He closed his eyes, ignoring the ache in his body. He would survive. He would grow stronger. And if this world wanted to treat him as a disposable character, he'd rewrite his story himself.
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