Chapter 4

Jin met Pellet's unwavering gaze. The truth, no matter how strange, felt better than the weight of his secret. He lowered his voice, a touch of defiance edging in. "It's from a book I found. An old manual with a fighting style unlike anything we've seen here."

Pellet's brow furrowed. "A book? Where? What does it teach?"

Jin held his breath for a moment, gauging his friend's reaction. This could shatter their bond, or it could forge a new level of trust between them. He decided to take a chance. "It teaches a different way to fight," he explained, "using techniques that focus on agility and control as much as raw power."

Pellet scoffed. "Sounds weak. Saiyan strength is what wins battles, not fancy footwork."

Jin shook his head. "There's more to fighting than just brute force. This style…" He hesitated, then blurted out, "Mori Style, that's what it's called, allows me to channel my ki in ways I never thought possible."

He took a deep breath and went on, explaining the book's origin as best he could, omitting the details about his past life. He recounted how the movements felt strangely familiar, almost instinctive.Silence hung heavy in the air as Jin finished speaking. Pellet stared at him, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a long, frustrated sigh.

"Jin," he said gruffly, "you're a strange one. Always pushing boundaries, doing things differently. But…" he paused, a hint of respect creeping into his voice, "there's no denying you're getting stronger. This Mori Style, whatever it is, seems to be working for you."

Jin felt a wave of relief wash over him. He hadn't been ostracized, not entirely. Pellet continued, "Just be careful, alright? Don't flaunt this new style too much. Others might not be as understanding."

Jin nodded, a grateful smile spreading across his face. "Thanks, Pellet. I appreciate you keeping my secret."

The two friends sparred again, this time with a renewed sense of understanding. Pellet, ever the competitive Saiyan, challenged himself to counter Jin's unorthodox maneuvers. The training session turned into a heated duel, a dance of brute force and controlled agility.

Days turned into weeks, and a new routine settled in. Jin continued his secret training, mastering the techniques from the Mori Style book. He sparred with Pellet, each session pushing them both to new heights. The whispers about his unorthodox fighting style grew louder, but with Pellet's tacit approval, no one dared to openly challenge him.

One afternoon, while practicing the "Hoe Grab" technique, which allowed him to faint a reverse kick with one leg and uses that leg to hold the arm of the opponent to break an enemy's guard, Jin felt a familiar energy signature approaching. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest. It was Bardock.

His father had finally returned. And his expression was grim.

---

A tremor of anxiety coursed through Jin as Bardock landed his pod with a bone-jarring thud. The familiar orange and black armor seemed duller, heavier under the twin suns' crimson glow.

Bardock emerged, his black eyes scanning the training grounds before settling on Jin.

Jin's muscles tensed. Bardock's usual gruff demeanor was replaced with a weariness that chilled him to the bone. He hadn't spoken of the mission to Planet 22, and the silence spoke volumes.

"Jin," Bardock's voice was raspy, devoid of its usual booming command.

Jin approached, a mix of unease and relief churning in his gut. "Father! You're back. What happened?"

Bardock gestured for them to move away from the other training Saiyans. They walked in silence for a few moments before Bardock finally spoke."The mission… it was a trap."

Jin's breath hitched. "A trap? What do you mean?"

Bardock explained how Frieza's forces had ambushed them on Planet 22 at. The monster, they discovered, was nothing but a fabrication. It was a test, designed to cull the weaker Saiyan forces. Many of his comrades had perished.

Anger flared in Jin's chest. Frieza, that name again, seemed to be the root of all their misery.

"But you survived," Jin said, a hint of defiance creeping into his voice. "How?"

Bardock's expression darkened. "I was barely strong enough to escape, but not without heavy losses."

Jin's brow furrowed. "How many?"

Bardock shook his head. "Too many to remember. It was like living in a nightmare."

Suddenly, a sharp whistle pierced the air, a signal reserved for urgent messages. Bardock's face hardened as he received a message through his scouter.

"There's been another mission assignment," Bardock announced, his voice heavy with resignation. "We leave for Planet Kanassa at dawn."

Jin's heart sank. Another mission, another potential death trap? But a new thought sparked within him, fueled by the information about the mysterious Saiyan and the promise of a rebellion.

"Father," he said, a newfound determination filling his voice, "let me come with you."

Bardock stared at him, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "You? You're not ready. You still have much to learn."

Jin met his gaze, his voice firm. "I may not be the strongest, but I can fight. And I won't stand by while you and the others face these dangers alone."

Bardock studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a gruff sigh, he relented.

"Alright, runt," he said, a hint of pride edging into his voice. "But keep yourself out of trouble. Focus on learning, on surviving."Jin's face split into a grin. This wasn't just about fighting anymore. This was about taking control of his destiny, about finding answers about his past, and perhaps, finding a place amongst this universe. As the twin suns dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape, Jin felt a mix of excitement and trepidation.

The journey to Planet Kanassa was only the beginning. The whispers of rebellion had ignited a spark within him, a spark that wouldn't be easily extinguished. The fight for freedom, for a future beyond Frieza's grasp, had just begun.

---

The mission to Planet Kanassa unfolded in a blur of violence and dust. Jin, fueled by a desire to prove himself and a nagging unease about the secrecy surrounding Saiyan missions, fought with newfound ferocity. He honed his Mori Style techniques alongside the brute Saiyan strength he was trained for, becoming an unpredictable force on the battlefield.

He watched, however, as seasoned warriors fell victim to the planet's harsh environment and relentless alien creatures. The mission success felt hollow, a victory tinged with the bitterness of loss.

Bardock, weary and his eyes clouded with grief, remained silent as they prepared to depart Kanassa. But as Jin approached him, a flicker of warmth sparked in his father's hardened gaze.

"You did well, Jin," Bardock said gruffly, a rare display of acknowledgment. "More than well, for a runt."

Jin's chest swelled with pride. He had earned his father's respect, not just as a warrior, but as a son.

Back on Planet Vegeta, the grim reality settled in. Whispers of the mission's heavy casualties spread like wildfire. The pressure to produce stronger warriors intensified. The once playful sparring sessions with Pellet now felt laced with a desperate urgency.

One evening, as the crimson suns bathed the training grounds in their dying light, Pellet approached Jin with a hesitant look.

"Jin," he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. "Something's… been gnawing at me."

Jin raised an eyebrow. "About what?"

Pellet hesitated, then blurted out, "Look, about that time you eavesdropped… the mission… the talk about sending your old man to his death."

Jin's stomach twisted. He hadn't expected Pellet to know."Yeah," he admitted sheepishly. "I couldn't help but overhear."

Pellet scoffed. "Of course you couldn't. You always were a nosy one."

Jin rolled his eyes, but a sliver of gratitude peeked through his annoyance. Pellet cared, in his own gruff way.

"Look," Pellet continued, his voice softer now. "I get why you were worried. This whole Frieza thing… it stinks. But you gotta believe, we Saiyans… we're strong. We can handle it."

Jin wasn't so convinced. However, Pellet words did offer a flicker of solace. His friend, his rival, stood with him, a silent pact of solidarity forged in the crucible of Saiyan life.