East City, outside a bank.
"Don't move, sweetheart. Or I won't mind putting a hole in that pretty head of yours."
A robber grinned viciously as he yanked her by the arm and dragged her toward the bank entrance, intending to use her as a hostage to cover their retreat.
The girl's name was Morianne. She'd never been taken hostage before.
With a gun jammed against her head, her heartbeat nearly exploded, her legs turning to jelly—yet she didn't dare struggle.
She looked toward the crowd in the distance, hoping someone would help her.
But there were plenty of people around… and not a single one stepped forward.
Instead, after the robber fired a few warning shots, those farther away fled in panic.
The ones who were too close to run—or too scared to move—crouched down with trembling hands over their heads.
Everyone was terrified. Nobody dared play hero.
Soon, a police loudspeaker blared outside.
"Robbers inside, listen up! You are surrounded! Drop your weapons and surrender immediately—"
Morianne felt like she'd been completely abandoned. Like the sky had collapsed.
She sobbed, "W-Who can save me…?
Dad… please, come save me…"
In her panic, the first person she thought of was her father.
Right then, the robber shoved the gun harder into her temple and barked, "Shut up if you don't want to die!"
Whether it was pain or fear, cold sweat poured down her forehead.
And then—
a low, icy voice came from the side, drenched in irritation.
"You're annoying."
Everyone—robbers included—instinctively turned.
A short yet tightly built man stood there, black hair spiked upward, arms folded proudly across his chest, a deep frown etched between his brows.
He wore a dark-blue, skintight battle suit. The shoulders and chest were slightly torn, as if he'd just come from a brutal fight.
The robber raised his gun toward him and shouted, "Hey! You short punk—don't stick your nose in this! If you don't want to die, get lost!"
The moment he called him short, Vegeta's eyes turned to ice.
"Who are you calling short?"
The robber felt a chill crawl up his spine.
In the next second, Vegeta vanished.
"BAM!"
A dull impact sounded.
The robber didn't even see what happened—his body was already flying sideways.
He slammed into the bank's marble pillar, and his head burst like a watermelon…
Before the other two could even react, Vegeta was already in front of them.
One punch each—both were smashed straight into the floor.
Three robbers. Not even two seconds.
Dead beyond saving—Senzu Beans wouldn't bring them back.
Silence swallowed the entire street.
Even a pin drop would've sounded deafening.
Morianne stood there with both hands hovering at her mouth, her mind blank as she stared at Vegeta.
Vegeta didn't even look at her. He just snorted.
"Boring."
He turned to leave.
"W-Wait!" Morianne blurted instinctively.
Vegeta paused, glanced back with sharp black eyes, and frowned. "What?"
Morianne opened her mouth… and realized she didn't know what to say.
In the end, cheeks burning, she forced out a tiny whisper.
"Thank you…"
"Hmph."
Vegeta scoffed as if her gratitude was worthless, then walked off without another word.
But Morianne's heart was pounding harder than it had even with a gun to her head.
…
After leaving, Vegeta returned to his ship outside East City.
Saiyans burned through food too fast—if he didn't eat, he couldn't train. He'd only gone into the city to get a meal.
Without resting even a moment, he activated the gravity chamber again.
After a few days of adjustment, the number on the display had climbed to 300×.
Three hundred times gravity pressed on him every second, crushing his body nonstop.
Under that extreme weight, Vegeta trained relentlessly.
His legs trembled, yet he forced himself into squat after squat—each descent accompanied by the crackling of bones pushed beyond their limits.
His muscles spasmed from overuse. Every tendon was stretched tight, as if it might snap any second.
Whenever he felt he'd reached the edge, he thought of Kakarot.
"This isn't enough… Kakarot can do it. So can I…"
Vegeta ground those words out through clenched teeth and kept draining every last drop of strength from his body.
Day after day after day…
"Damn it!"
Vegeta stared at his bloodied fists, furious.
Even with training this intense, he still couldn't feel any sign of a breakthrough.
His battle power was rising, yes—but that qualitative threshold still felt infinitely far away.
"How did Kakarot do it…?"
Vegeta snarled to himself.
He closed his eyes, trying to recall the Super Saiyan aura he'd felt on Namek.
That pure, violent, unrestrained power.
"What's wrong with me?
Is my body still not strong enough… or is my anger not extreme enough?"
He thought until his head hurt, but found no answer.
Still, he was certain.
If Kakarot became a Super Saiyan, then he, Vegeta, would become one too.
And once he did… he'd be stronger.
Saiyan pride refused to let him quit. He cranked the gravity higher and repeated the same brutal drills.
His body was nearing collapse.
Three hundred-plus gravity was draining him dry.
Saiyan metabolism was insane—he needed massive amounts of food just to function.
So he strode toward the restaurant he always used, eyes cold, ignoring everything around him.
But the moment he reached the entrance—
a young girl's voice called out, trembling with excitement.
"V-Vegeta… sir!"
Vegeta paused, brow tightening, and turned slowly.
He recognized her.
Morianne stood by the roadside, hands gripping her bag strap. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were bright, fixed on him.
Her hair was a little messy, dark circles under her eyes—as if she'd been waiting here a long time.
"You again?" Vegeta said coldly, impatience dripping from every word.
Morianne shrank under his gaze, but forced herself to speak.
"I… I've been waiting for you!"
Vegeta didn't understand how she knew his name.
He tossed out a single word—"Boring"—and turned to enter the restaurant.
Morianne panicked and hurried after him.
"P-Please, wait!"
Vegeta stopped and looked at her from the side, his gaze dangerous.
"Do you want to die?"
She trembled at his tone, but still insisted.
"If it weren't for you, I might've died that day! I just… I just wanted to thank you again!"
Vegeta cut her off sharply.
"I don't need your thanks. Don't bother me."
"T-Then… at least let me treat you to a meal!" Morianne blurted out, face burning red.
Everyone knew why someone came to a restaurant.
Vegeta was no exception.
All she could do was pray he'd accept.
Hearing "I'll pay," Vegeta paused.
Earth food was far better than rations—tasted better, balanced better, actually filled him.
The only issue was his appetite.
Vegeta wasn't broke. He'd looted plenty across the galaxy—just not on hand.
And right now, becoming a Super Saiyan was all that mattered. He didn't have time to go retrieve money from some "space bank."
Eat someone's food, owe them something—annoyingly true, even for a Saiyan.
Vegeta stared at her for two seconds.
Brown curled hair. Eyes too eager. Too warm.
And strangely… he didn't dislike her.
In the end, he said coolly, almost stubbornly,
"Do whatever you want. Just don't annoy me."
Then he walked into the restaurant without looking at her again.
Morianne froze, heart racing.
"He didn't refuse…!"
She hurried in after him.
Inside, Vegeta chose a corner seat and told the waiter bluntly, "Every meat dish. Bring them all."
The new waiter's jaw dropped. "S-Sir, are you sure? We have over seventy meat dishes on the menu…"
Vegeta gave him a cold look. "Did I stutter? All."
The manager rushed over, smacked the waiter's shoulder, and hissed, "Go! Mr. Vegeta's been here before—he just eats a lot!"
The waiter shuddered under Vegeta's gaze and nodded rapidly. "Y-Yes! Right away!"
Morianne quietly told the waiter she'd be paying the bill, then sat across from Vegeta with careful movements.
"Um… Vegeta… can I order something too?"
Vegeta didn't even lift his eyelids. "Do what you want."
Morianne nearly burst with joy.
Was this… lunch together?
She ordered a steak and salad, then stole glances at him.
His profile was sharp and severe, that constant irritation still in his expression—like everything in the world annoyed him.
His fingers tapped the table, fast and impatient, as if counting time.
As if eating wasn't pleasure—just fuel for training.
Morianne was actually beautiful, and her family had money.
She'd rejected plenty of men who chased her. She felt they didn't deserve her.
But Vegeta's cold indifference didn't push her away—
it ignited her competitiveness.
Compared to men who tried to please her, she liked this ruthless, icy personality more.
Soon the food arrived.
Vegeta's eating wasn't elegant—it was borderline violent.
He tore through meat like a predator, chewing at terrifying speed.
He wasn't tasting.
He was refueling.
Morianne watched, stunned.
Yet in her eyes, it wasn't crude—it was different.
No pretense. No posing.
In the season when hormones ran wild, every flaw on the person you liked became a shining point.
In under ten minutes, the plates in front of Vegeta were stacked like a small mountain.
Waiters ran back and forth, bringing dish after dish—he never slowed.
"Y-You… can you really eat that much?" Morianne finally asked.
Vegeta glanced up, a hint of mockery in his eyes. "What? Earthlings can't even handle this little food?"
Morianne shook her head frantically. "N-No! Eat as much as you want, I can afford it! I just… I've never seen anyone eat like this…"
Vegeta paused briefly and muttered, "Hmph. Stupid Earthlings."
Then he kept eating like his life depended on it.
Morianne's face turned bright red. She dropped her gaze to her steak, too embarrassed to look at him anymore.
Soon, Vegeta finished.
He didn't speak to Morianne. He simply walked to the counter as if she didn't exist.
The manager smiled quickly. "Mr. Vegeta, Miss Morianne already paid for you in advance."
Vegeta's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So her name is Morianne…"
He glanced at her.
Morianne immediately lowered her head and avoided his gaze.
Vegeta didn't say thank you.
He turned and left the restaurant.
But Morianne followed him—quietly, from a distance.
Vegeta obviously noticed, but didn't expose her. He let her trail behind.
Once he was out of the crowded district, he stomped the ground and shot into the sky.
His ki flared for an instant—and he vanished from Morianne's sight.
Morianne's eyes filled with stars.
"He can fly… he's like the superheroes on TV.
No wonder he's so strong… and eats so much…"
Her cheeks warmed.
"If I could date a superhero… that would be so romantic…"
Vegeta returned to his ship and continued his lonely, brutal training.
But Morianne's appearance…
somehow eased that loneliness, just a little.
A faint pleasure, buried deep—
and that tiny shift pushed his progress one step closer to Super Saiyan.
In the blink of an eye, two months passed.
Vegeta still hadn't broken through.
Some things… the more desperately you chased them, the more they refused to happen.
Inside the gravity chamber, Vegeta's consciousness began to blur.
450× gravity was beyond what he could handle.
His body simply wouldn't adapt to that level.
He'd climbed too fast. He'd hit his limit. His growth had stalled.
But Vegeta refused to believe his potential had a ceiling.
If he couldn't become a Super Saiyan…
he would never accept it—even in death.
The system screamed overload warnings.
His vision darkened at the edges, his ears filled with the roar of blood rushing through his head.
"N-No… I can't fall…"
He forced himself to stay standing, but his legs no longer obeyed him, his senses fading.
In the final second before he collapsed, he heard the gravity system's piercing alarm—
and then a deafening explosion.
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