Gokus Second Son

The crater still smoked behind us as we trudged home, Raditz limping in our wake. His scouter was a busted heap—I'd crushed it under my heel after he'd begged for mercy, sparks popping as it died. His ship? A mangled wreck, too—I'd smashed it with a single punch, metal crumpling like paper, right after he hit the dirt. No signal for Vegeta now. He'll think Raditz is gone. My hair flicked in the breeze, wild and jagged, as I kept him in my peripheral. Goku carried Gohan, bruised but grinning, while Raditz trailed, head low, armor cracked.

We reached the house, and Chi-Chi nearly lost it—Gohan's bloody face, Goku's bruises, and a hulking stranger in tow. "Goku! What's this mess?!" she shrieked, hands on hips.

Goku scratched his head, laughing. "Aw, Chi-Chi, it's fine! This is Raditz—my brother! He's stayin' with us now."

"Your brother?!" She glared at Raditz, who flinched under her stare. "He looks like trouble!"

"He's okay," Gohan piped up, wincing as he rubbed his ribs. "I hit him first."

I stayed quiet, watching Raditz. Fifteen hundred. Broken and begging. He's ours now.

A day later, the Z Fighters showed up—Piccolo, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, and Chiaotzu—crowding our yard, eyes locked on Raditz. Goku had called them over, all chipper, but the air was thick with suspicion. Raditz sat on a stump, bandaged and sullen, while I leaned against the house, arms crossed.

Piccolo's cape snapped in the wind, his glare cutting. "So, this is the Saiyan. Why's he still breathing, Goku?"

Goku grinned, oblivious. "He's my brother! He promised to be good, so we're givin' him a chance!"

Krillin fidgeted, glancing at Raditz. "Uh, no offense, Goku, but he looks like he'd eat us for breakfast. What's a Saiyan anyway? Some kinda alien thug?"

"Pretty much," Yamcha chimed in, smirking but tense. "Guy's built like a tank. I'd still take him, though—after a warm-up."

Tien's three eyes narrowed. "He's dangerous. I can feel it. If he's from some warrior race, what's stopping him from turning on us?"

Chiaotzu hovered close, voice soft. "He's scary. Like a big mean dog."

Raditz bristled, but kept his mouth shut. I caught his eye—stay down—and he slumped back. Smart move.

"He's with us now," I said, voice flat. "He fights, or he's done."

Piccolo snorted. "Easy for you to say, kid. You're the one who floored him. What's his deal?"

Raditz finally spoke, voice rough. "I came to take Kakarot—Goku—back to the Saiyans. We're warriors. Conquerors. But you… you're stronger than I thought possible." His eyes flicked to me, sharp with questions. "That punch… how?"

I shrugged, hair shadowing my face. "Training." Twenty thousand's my secret. You don't need more.

He leaned forward, insistent. "Training? Earthlings don't hit like that. Your martial arts—where'd you learn? Who taught you?"

"Goku," I said, nodding at Dad, who was busy scarfing rice. "And myself."

Raditz frowned, unconvinced. "Kakarot's a fool—strong, but no technique. You're different. Precise. Like you've fought before you were born."

I met his stare, unflinching. Closer than you know. "I watch. I learn. That's it."

Krillin piped up, nervous laugh breaking the tension. "Geez, Gotex, you're creepin' me out too! You're five and talkin' like a general!"

Yamcha grinned, flexing. "Kid's got grit. Bet he could take me—maybe. Still don't trust this guy, though. What if more Saiyans show up?"

"More?" Tien's voice hardened. "You said 'we.' How many are out there?"

Raditz hesitated, then muttered, "Two. Nappa and Vegeta. Stronger than me. Much stronger."

Piccolo's eyes glinted. "How strong?"

"Vegeta's… a monster," Raditz said, voice low. "If he thinks I'm dead, he'll come looking. I smashed my ship—thanks to him—" he nodded at me—"so they won't know I'm alive. Yet."

I smirked, faint. Good. Eighteen thousand's off my trail—for now.

Krillin gulped. "A monster? Great. Just what we need—more freaks in armor."

"Speak for yourself, shorty," Yamcha quipped, but his smirk faltered. "If this Vegeta's worse, we're screwed."

Tien crossed his arms. "We've handled worse. But this Saiyan's a liability. He flips, we're the ones bleeding."

"I won't," Raditz snapped, then softened, glancing at Goku. "I swore it. Vegeta'd kill me for failing—he doesn't forgive. I'm safer here."

Piccolo sneered. "Safer for you. Not us."

Goku swallowed a mouthful, grinning. "Aw, c'mon, guys! He's family! We'll train him up—make him one of us!"

"One of us?" Chiaotzu tilted his head. "He's too big. He'll break the Lookout."

That got a laugh—Krillin's nervous giggle, Yamcha's bark—but the wariness lingered. Raditz turned back to me, probing again. "Your strength… it's not just training. How'd you hide it? My scouter's gone, but I felt that hit. You're no Earthling."

"I'm Goku's son," I said, cool. "That's enough." Twenty thousand's my ace. You don't get more.

He scowled, but dropped it, muttering, "Earth's a freak show…"

Piccolo stepped closer, voice low. "Keep him in line, Gotex. One wrong move, I'll finish what you and Goku started"

I nodded, hair catching the wind. "He's mine to watch."