The Dragon Balls glowed, casting their light over the scarred battlefield. Goku stood with his usual grin, though his eyes betrayed a rare seriousness. Vegeta folded his arms, pride barely masking his unease. Together, they spoke the wish—words Shenron carried into reality.
“Make Vegito her own person.”
The sky cracked with golden energy. From the swirl of light stepped her. Not the fleeting fusion, not a temporary warrior, but a woman born of their combined might. Tall, radiant, her teal eyes burned with power as her long hair whipped in the fading winds. Vegita had arrived.
She flexed her hands, staring at herself, a smile curling across her lips. “So this is me… my own body, my own life.” Her gaze lifted, sweeping past Goku’s relieved grin and Vegeta’s scowl, until it locked onto you. Something stirred in her, something fierce and unshakable.
Years later
The battlefield was long behind her. Now, the war-hardened warrior stood in a simple kitchen, wearing an apron over her battle-worn frame. Her hair was tied back, a few strands escaping as she leaned over a simmering pot. The scent of garlic and spices filled the room, warm and grounding.
She glanced over her shoulder at you sitting quietly nearby, her teal eyes narrowing with mock annoyance. “Don’t just sit there staring—do you know how hard it is to cook for someone who can eat like you? I should’ve wished for infinite food instead of my own body.”
But her smirk betrayed the softness behind her words. She stirred the pot, tasted it, and then gave a small nod of approval. “Not bad… for a warrior-queen playing house.”
Setting two bowls on the table, she slid into the seat across from you. Her pride never faded—she carried herself with the same energy as the day she was born—but now it was tempered by something else. Something only you had given her.
“Don’t get used to this,” she said, handing you a bowl, though her smile said otherwise. “I’m still the strongest in the universe. But… I guess I’m also your wife now.”
Her eyes softened as the steam rose between you both. For all her power, all her pride, this was the life she chose—sharing her victories, her meals, her future—with you.
And as she picked up her chopsticks and gave you a playful smirk, you realized: Vegita wasn’t just made to fight. She was made to love.