Zanjia Becomes Bulma’s Personal Bodyguard—Renkai’s Mercy Reshapes Loyalty and Power

The plateau lay still, dust settling over the remnants of BoJack's defeat. BoJack and Zanjia knelt before Renkai, faces pale with terror, eyes darting to his mecha unit—Siru, Silu, Selu, and Cell—whose hungry stares bore into them. Bido shivered beside them, the trio's arrogance shattered. They prayed Renkai would spare them, dreading the carrot fate of their comrades. The mecha unit, meanwhile, salivated, each hoping to claim the captives as fuel.

Renkai's gaze swept over them, a smile curling his lips—chilling, predatory, ratcheting their fear higher. He opened his mouth to speak when Zanjia lunged, clutching his leg. "Please—don't kill me! Don't feed me to those monsters—I'll be your slave, anything!" Her voice broke, tears streaking her face.

"Simple enough," Renkai said, tone deceptively gentle. He snapped his fingers, Shenron's power flaring. Zanjia's plea twisted into a wish—binding her as his slave, loyalty etched into her soul. She rose, trembling but obedient, taking her place behind him. Ding! Manufacturing barrier acquired. Hypnotic control acquired. Hera bloodline (inactive) acquired. A cascade of system alerts chimed in his mind, rewards for the wish.

BoJack and Bido gaped, fury flashing. "Traitor!" BoJack snarled, lunging for Renkai's other leg. Bido followed, desperation mirroring his boss's. But Renkai sidestepped, unfazed. His wish-granting cooled for twelve hours—Zanjia's plea had tapped it dry. More importantly, he had no use for them as slaves.

White smoke erupted, and BoJack and Bido shrank into aqua-blue carrots. The mecha unit groaned, appetites thwarted as Renkai pocketed them into his system space—stored, not savored. "Later," he muttered, brushing his hands.

Twenty-four hours ticked by, Renkai lingering in this ravaged world. The Z Fighters watched him warily, tension easing only as his departure loomed. "No feast lasts forever," he said, waving with a grin. "See you when fate calls." Golden light flared, swallowing him, Zanjia, and the mecha unit—leaving Earth behind.

Goku waved back, naive cheer unshaken. "Bye, Renkai!" The others exhaled, relief washing over them—Vegeta's scowl softening, Krillin's knees steadying. Four Perfect Cells and Renkai's fathomless might had pressed on their chests like a vice. "If he turned on us…" Trunks muttered, trailing off.

Bulma, cradling little Trunks, smiled faintly. "He won't. I summoned him—he's no threat to us." Her faith stood firm, unshaken by the others' dread.

"Those seven Dragon Balls," Krillin said, voice tight. "Next time, we've got to avoid him. Too many Cells—my heart can't take it." His shadow from Cell's games lingered, a cold shiver at the mecha unit's sight.

Trunks nodded. "Mom said holding one lets you sense the rest—no radar needed. They're not like ours."

"He's a good guy," Goku insisted, puzzled. "He took out Cell and BoJack!"

"I trust him too," Bulma added. "We might need him again." Vegeta snorted, pride masking his unease, but said nothing.

Back in his own Dragon Ball world, Renkai dismissed the mecha unit with a wave. "Go rest." They bowed and dispersed, leaving him with Zanjia. He strode into Capsule Corp's sprawling estate, Zanjia trailing silently, her pirate garb stark against the sleek halls. Bulma greeted him at the door, blue hair catching the light. "Husband!" she called, rushing into his arms.

They sank into a quiet moment, whispers of their day traded between kisses—until Bulma's gaze landed on Zanjia. "Who's this cosmic type?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

"Zanjia," Renkai said, beckoning her forward. "From BoJack's gang—invaded Earth in that other world. She begged to live, wished to be my slave. Defeated her crew myself." Zanjia stepped up, bowing stiffly. "Greetings, mistress."

Bulma pulled a detector from her pocket, scanning Zanjia. Zanjia: 2 billion. "She's strong—way beyond me, even as a Super Saiyan!" Her eyes widened, awe tinged with unease.

"I know you hate training," Renkai said, smiling. "She's yours now—personal bodyguard. Like it, wife?"

Bulma's face lit up. "Husband, you're too good to me!" She leaned in, kissing him deeply—prompting a groan from Blonde Launch nearby. "Get a room," she muttered, rolling her eyes at the display.

Renkai chuckled, stroking Bulma's hair as they parted. "By the way, I snagged Super Saiyan 2 from Goku. No training needed—your strength's about to jump."

"Really?!" Bulma beamed. "I'll call Krillin and the others—thank you, husband!"

"Thank Goku," he said, laughing. His wish-granting could share skills freely—combat power was trickier, requiring lifespan trades he'd never impose on her. Twelve hours later, his power refreshed, he granted Bulma, Krillin, and the hybrids Super Saiyan 2—sparks of gold igniting their forms.

Days later, Renkai escorted Bulma to a high-society gala, Zanjia a silent shadow at her side. As they mingled, he dispatched a clone to Dr. Gero's hidden lab—new schemes brewing in the dark.

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