It's been about a week since the chaos of the "Tournament Incident." Life had turned upside down in ways you never imagined. You and Chi-Chi were in the process of settling into the house Ox King had gifted you. Originally, it was supposed to be a wedding present, but seeing the state his daughter was in after the tournament—the bruises, the broken arm—he couldn’t wait. Shelter was a necessity now.

The house was cozy, nestled in the countryside, a perfect blend of quiet and space to breathe. But even with a roof over your heads, the echoes of the tournament lingered. You couldn’t shake them—Vegeta’s words about some war on the horizon, the strange power you’d unlocked during the chaos, or the fury in Broly’s eyes as he tore through the arena like a force of nature. They all weighed on your mind as you practiced some light image training in the backyard. You were trying to focus, imagining your movements, honing your energy, but it felt aimless. Vegeta’s warning kept creeping back in, gnawing at you. What war? And more importantly, how were you supposed to prepare for something so vague?

Your concentration broke when you heard her voice.

“Goku!”

You turned toward the house. Chi-Chi was standing in the doorway, her posture as sharp as ever, even with her arm still in a sling. Broly had done a number on her, and you still couldn’t shake the memory of her stepping in to defend you from him. It had been reckless and brave—quintessential Chi-Chi. Now, though, she was every bit the fiery woman you’d come to love, glaring at you with that bossy edge that meant business.

“Didn’t you hear me? Dinner’s ready! C’mon!”

Her tone was sharp, but you could hear the softer undertone, that tiny, unspoken worry she always carried. It wasn’t just about dinner; it was her way of grounding you, pulling you out of your head and back into the here and now. She hated seeing you overthink—especially when it came to fighting.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you dusted yourself off.