Dragon Ball: Reborn as Prince Vegeta

Somewhere deep in the void of space, two pods soared toward a distant planet, cutting through the darkness like meteors.

Within each pod, the occupants lay dormant in a hybernative state, awaiting the moment of their arrival.

I was one of those occupants—a traverser from another world, hurled into the universe of Dragon Ball.

My journey to this foreign world was a result of an unexpected accident. While working in a secret facility, a catastrophic explosion of the supercomputer tore reality apart, sending my soul hurtling through the vastness of the cosmos. And so, I found myself here.

As the pods drifted through the silent expanse, I stirred from my slumber. Groggy and disoriented, I slowly awakened, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

For a brief moment, confusion gripped me—where was I? How had I gotten here? Then, the truth slammed into me with the weight of a planet.

I was inside the body of Vegeta, the Prince of Planet Vegeta.

The pod was cramped, the air stale, and the only illumination came from the faint glow of control panels scattered across the walls.

Memories flooded my mind—fragments of a life I had never lived. Vegeta's memories, his experiences, his drive for power—all of it crashed into me, intertwining with my own. 

It was disorienting, this strange fusion of two consciousnesses, as if I were both myself and someone else entirely.

I tried to piece together what had happened.

After regaining clarity, I couldn't help but reflect. I didn't expect to land here, in this world, and in the body of such a formidable warrior. The thought was barely more than a whisper in the stillness of the pod.

I could feel the great power in my body. In my previous life, I had trained in martial arts and earned strength, but compared to what I now possess? The abilities of a normal human were insignificant and laughable. A Saiyan's body—Vegeta's body—was a wellspring of power, teetering on the edge of something far beyond human comprehension.

I—now merged with Vegeta's consciousness—have resolved to embrace this new existence.

Time crawled by, marked only by the constant hum of the pod's engines. Hours slipped away, yet I remained awake, contemplating the future.

My mind turned to the events of Dragon Ball I knew were coming—and I understood that I would be facing strong opponents in the future.

Vegeta had always sought strength, pushing himself beyond the brink of exhaustion, driven by a relentless pursuit of power. It was who he was. 

But even with that strength, this universe was full of threats. Beings and races of unimaginable power lurked in the universe.

This will not be easy.

Vegeta had an unfortunate pattern—one might call it a compulsion—of challenging the strongest beings in the universe, often serving as little more than their punching bag. Maybe it wasn't just bad luck; perhaps he lacked the thick layer of plot armor others enjoyed. 

The thought struck me: the original Vegeta had practically accumulated nothing but losses, defeat after defeat, throughout the entire series. If anything, he might've earned a more fitting title—L'geta.

The prince of all Saiyans, gifted with immense potential and unrivaled talent, yet cursed. His Saiyan bloodline should have allowed him to grow stronger, surpassing the beings of the universe. Yet, fate—or perhaps something more insidious—ensured he remained beneath the boot of defeat.

Was he a character destined to lose? Some fans believed so. They speculated that the author harbored subtle disdain for Vegeta, always setting him up to fall short, while Goku, who by all accounts should have lagged behind, continually rose to the occasion. Goku always appeared at the pivotal moment, sweeping in with newfound strength and transformations, while Vegeta, despite all his effort and struggle, became nothing more than a stepping stone—a way to highlight Goku's triumphs.

After Dragon Ball Z, Vegeta's regression only continued. Yet, bafflingly, fans praised Akira Toriyama, the "genius" behind the series, for doing nothing. The man had systematically dismantled his own creation, retconning important events that had been established since the beginning of the series, letting its characters fall by the wayside, never introducing original storylines or lore. Why should I care about someone who so clearly doesn't care anymore? A senile old man, lauded for laziness and complacency. Screw him!

I had been a fan once, but not anymore. I owned the discs, spent hours watching the endless saga unfold across hundreds of episodes. But dissatisfaction clung to me like an old scar. No matter how many arcs came and went, there was always something deeply unsatisfying about how it all ended.

Every time Vegeta appeared on screen, I knew how it would play out. It was inevitable. He's going to lose again. The thought became a reflex. He'd proudly point at himself, thumb pressed to his chest, declaring with the same arrogance, "I am Vegeta, the Prince of all Saiyans. Tremble beneath my might." Then, like clockwork, he'd be beaten within an inch of his life, his pride shattered.

If you think I'm exaggerating, just look at the record. When Vegeta first arrived on Earth, he was vastly stronger than Goku. Sure, he could transform into a Great Ape, but even then, he lost—twice.

On Namek, he couldn't defeat Recoome, let alone Captain Ginyu or the rest of his squad.

Zarbon overpowered him and gave him the beating of a lifetime, and Vegeta barely survived the encounter only because Zarbon didn't confirm his death.

Then there was Frieza, in his untrained first form, casually dispatching him.

After Namek's destruction, he was overpowered by Gohan.

Androids? He had his arm broken, humiliated by a machine.

Trunks surpassed him, and Cell nearly broke his spine. Twice he had to be saved—first by Trunks, then by Gohan.

He even self-destructed in a desperate, useless sacrifice against Majin Buu after being gifted a magical boost from Babidi, only to fail yet again.

And how could anyone forget the ruthless beatdown at the hands of Buu? The final insult.

Alternate realities fared no better. In Dragon Ball GT, he was possessed by a parasitic lifeform and turned into a mindless pawn. Super 17 barely acknowledged him. And even in the fight against Omega Shenron, he was pierced and electrocuted like a ragdoll. His one brief moment of relevance came by using a device to unlock a new form, but even then, it was fleeting—Goku always pulled ahead.

I sighed, a breath of turbid air fogging the pod's window. Thinking about it all made me almost pity the original Vegeta. For all his power, he was ultimately just a symbol of defeat. A warrior whose legacy was that of endless struggle, always falling short, destined to be a mere weakling.

How ironic that now, in his body, I had the power to change all of that.