Rage/Sadness

Vegeta – Age 14 

The warship's interior was cold, silent. Prince Vegeta stood before Frieza not as a warrior, but as a pawn. 

The meeting had been brief. 

"Your progress is… acceptable," Frieza had said, lips curled into that false smile. "But let's not forget your place, little monkey." 

The prince had bitten down his fury. Not out of fear—but calculation. 

Still, the wound to his pride festered. 

Vegeta was sent to a minor frontier world afterward—an alleged "easy target"—to remind him of his role. 

The planet, however, proved anything but easy. 

Thick, humid jungles covered vast landscapes. The inhabitants—hulking, reptilian warriors with chitinous armor and brutal hand-to-hand techniques—met the trio of Saiyans with terrifying force. 

Raditz was quickly outmatched, slammed into a cliff wall. 

Nappa was pinned, struggling against two warriors who moved faster than they should have. 

And Vegeta? 

He was frozen. Not by fear. 

By rage. 

How dare Frieza mock him. How dare these beasts think themselves equals to the Saiyan royal line. 

His fingers twitched. His aura flared. 

And then—he exploded. 

A scream tore from his throat, high and raw and filled with centuries of royal blood crying out for vengeance. His body shone in a golden-white blaze as his energy shattered the air around him. Trees uprooted. Stone cracked. The ground beneath him cratered. 

The reptilian warriors staggered. 

Vegeta's eyes were wild—no longer the cold strategist, but the son of warriors born beneath twin moons soaked in blood. 

He launched into the sky and rained hell upon the jungle. His ki blasts came like thunder, his fists broke bone like clay. 

He didn't stop until every enemy was reduced to ash. 

And even then… he screamed again. 

Not for them. 

But for himself. 

Cumber and Broly – Age 13 

Far away, on a remote jungle planet nestled near the outer rim, thunder cracked. 

But it wasn't from the weather. 

Two young Saiyans stood on opposite ends of a battlefield, breathing heavily. 

Broly's body trembled—his bare chest stained with dirt and sweat, his hair damp with exertion. His eyes were wide, glassy, staring at the creature before him. 

It was massive—eight-legged, armored, with spikes of violet bone running down its back. It had shrugged off their attacks like they were gusts of wind. 

Cumber, always the first to attack, had charged in with his usual fury. But now he lay embedded in a deep crater, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth, one arm bent at a painful angle. 

"C-Cumber?" Broly gasped, stepping forward. "Brother…" 

The beast turned toward him. 

And something… cracked. 

His chest tightened. His breath caught. Memories of watching Cumber fight alone, bleed alone, protect alone—flashed in his mind. 

The air thickened. 

A deep rumble echoed from Broly's core. 

And then he screamed. 

A scream that shattered silence and erupted into a violent burst of green energy. His eyes flashed gold. His hair flickered, sparking with unstable power. The earth beneath him cracked, grass disintegrated under his feet as a primal storm engulfed him. 

He wasn't thinking anymore. 

He was feeling. 

His ki was alive. Angry. Writhing. 

And it wanted to protect. 

The beast turned, sensing the threat—but too slowly. 

Broly dashed forward, fist glowing. 

Cumber, still buried in the crater, heard it. 

That scream. 

That surge. 

His brother. 

Something in his blood roared in response. 

Cumber forced himself to stand, bones grinding. His body screamed in protest, but his rage screamed louder. 

He tilted his head up, eyes burning crimson. 

"I won't be outdone… not by you!" 

And then, he screamed too. 

His energy exploded in a deep, fiery red, swirling like smoke and molten lava. His hair stood on end, muscles surged, and the planet's crust trembled beneath his feet. 

Now they were two storms. 

Paragus, watching from afar, didn't speak. 

Didn't breathe. 

His sons had awakened. 

And he didn't know if the universe was ready for it. 

Earth – Goku, Age 11 

The sun was rising. 

Dew clung to the leaves, birds chirped in the trees, and the scent of pine drifted through the forest. 

But something was off. 

Goku sat up in the grass, confused. 

His clothes were gone. 

He looked around. The forest was silent. No trace of the usual morning sounds of Gohan's voice or their shared routines. 

"Grandpa?" 

No answer. 

He stood and walked, bare feet crunching leaves, deeper into the woods. 

"Grandpa, where are you?" 

Still silence. 

Then he found the clearing. 

And the body. 

Lying still. Eyes closed. 

Goku smiled at first, stepping forward. "Are you sleeping again? You forgot to wake me up—" 

Then he saw the chest. 

Still. 

No movement. 

His smile faded. 

He dropped to his knees and touched Gohan's hand. 

Cold. 

"No… come on…" 

He shook him. 

"Please…" 

Nothing. 

He kept shaking. 

Minutes passed. 

"No… no no…" 

His voice cracked. 

He hugged the body tightly, burying his face into the chest that had once carried him home. 

Then—his voice stopped. 

He lifted his head slowly, mouth open, tears running down his cheeks. 

And he screamed. 

A scream so loud the animals ran. 

A scream that stopped winds. 

A scream filled with the heartache of a boy who had just become an orphan. 

The sound echoed across forests, rivers, and hills. The sky darkened. Birds scattered. 

Somewhere deep within him… something stirred. 

But the boy didn't notice. 

He just screamed. 

Four locations. 

Four souls. 

Four shifts. 

The universe had trembled on this day. 

A day that showed… the universe held anger.