Monaito sat in quiet reflection, his gaze distant, lost somewhere beyond the walls of his humble home.
It had been a decade or two, since he had last spoken the name Bardock aloud.
And yet, even now, the memory clung to him like the faint traces of a fading dream. The Saiyan had been a force of nature—rough, unpredictable, yet strangely resolute. Unlike the others, Bardock hadn't fought for conquest, for profit, or for destruction.
No, Bardock had fought for something else entirely.
Monaito sighed, the old Namekian rubbing his worn fingers together absentmindedly.
"It's been so long… I can't remember the last time I thought about him."
He turned his attention to Celes, his curiosity stirred.
"Tell me… how's Bardock doing these days?"
For a moment, silence hung between them.
Celes held his gaze, her expression unreadable, but behind that composed exterior, she was calculating.
There was no easy way to say it.
"Unfortunately…" she began, voice steady but carrying an undeniable weight.
"He was killed some time ago."
Monaito's breath hitched.
The words hung in the air, weighing down the room like an anchor.
Killed.
He blinked, once, twice, as if trying to process something that shouldn't be true, something that didn't fit with the man he had known.
Bardock had been a fighter, a survivor. But even he hadn't been able to escape the inevitable.
His shoulders slumped, grief pressing against the back of his mind.
"I see…" His voice was quiet, laced with an exhaustion that felt far older than his years.
Silence settled between them, thick and unmoving.
Then, after a long pause, Celes spoke again.
"Do you want Granolah here for what else we're going to discuss?"
The shift in tone pulled Monaito's attention back to the present. He glanced toward Granolah.
The young warrior's posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
There was something about the way she phrased that.
Something about what she was implying.
Granolah's wariness deepened. But along with it, a flicker of curiosity, why would she need him gone for this?
Monaito exhaled, considering the question carefully.
His gaze lingered on Granolah, studying him with an intensity that made the younger fighter hold still, waiting, expecting something he couldn't quite place.
Monaito let out a slow sigh, his shoulders seeming to weigh heavier than before.
"I guess it's time for him to know the truth."
Celes tilted her head slightly, watching the old Namekian carefully.
"Do you want me to tell him? Or would you rather do it yourself?"
Monaito hesitated, just for a breath, but he already knew the answer.
This was his burden. His responsibility.
"I'll do it," he said, his voice low, as if the weight of the past had settled onto his shoulders all over again.
Granolah, still tense, narrowed his eyes.
The truth?
There was a sharp edge of agitation in his expression, an unease curling beneath his usual stoic demeanor.
"What truth are you talking about?"
His tone wasn't just wary, it was demanding.
Monaito let out a slow breath, his expression distant as he finally decided to speak.
"Granolah… while the Saiyan's did invade Cereal, it wasn't them who killed your mother."
The words landed like a hammer, but before Granolah could react, Monaito continued.
"In fact… one of them tried to save her."
Granolah's eyes narrowed, confusion flickering behind his agitation.
"What?"
Slowly, Monaito turned, his gaze settling on Celes.
"That Saiyan… was her father. Bardock."
Silence crashed over the room.
Granolah stiffened, his mind racing, his pulse quickening as the implications sank in.
Then, almost instinctively, his fingers twitched, reaching for his sniper.
Celes moved before he could blink.
A blur of motion, so fast it seemed like she had teleported, and suddenly, her hand was firmly on his shoulder.
Her grip wasn't aggressive, but it carried weight, a silent warning.
"Calm down," she said, her voice unwavering.
Granolah's fingers twitched near his sniper, but he hesitated, not out of restraint, but out of shock.
He hadn't seen her move. At all.
One moment, she was across the room. The next, her hand was already on his shoulder.
It was impossible.
Even with his Cerealian-enhanced eyesight, even with all the precision he had honed over decades of surviving, he hadn't been able to track her movement.
That fact alone sent a chill down his spine.
Monaito, too, was frozen in place, his old eyes darting between the two.
Celes wasn't just strong, she was on an entirely different level.
He had known she wasn't ordinary the moment she had arrived, but now…
Now, he realized just how dangerous she might be.
Granolah clenched his teeth, still furious, still unwilling to trust a Saiyan, but for the first time in years, a hint of uncertainty crept into his rage.
His mind grasped at anything, any excuse, to reject what he was hearing. To dismiss it as a lie.
His eyes flicked over Celes again, searching for something, anything, that didn't add up.
"Saiyan's have black hair and black eyes." His voice was sharp, demanding. "Yours are blonde and blue. That's not possible."
Celes met his gaze, unbothered.
"It isn't usual," she admitted, not denying what he already knew.
Her expression remained unreadable, but something about the way she spoke made it clear, she wasn't lying.
"It's something I picked up along the way," she continued. "A part of the journey, you could say."
Granolah's frustration twisted, morphing into something closer to suspicion.
What did she mean by that?
Was it a technique? A transformation? Something else?
His grip on his sniper remained tight, but now, he was thinking, not just reacting.
Granolah let out a slow breath, steadying himself, but the tension remained, the rigid stance, the sharpness in his glare, the way his hand never fully left his weapon.
Fine. If they wanted him to listen, he would.
But that didn't mean he believed a damn word of it.
"Go on, then," he said, voice edged with sarcasm. "Tell your 'truth.' But if I find out you're lying—"
His fingers tapped against his sniper, the unspoken threat hanging between them.
Celes didn't flinch.
"Fair enough," she replied simply, lifting her hand from his shoulder before turning away, heading back toward the couch with unhurried steps.
As she sat, her gaze flickered for a brief moment, her thoughts shifting inward.
Even if it wasn't the truth…
It's not like you could do anything about it.
Monaito exhaled slowly, his old fingers pressing together as he prepared himself for what was to come.
"This will take a while to tell in full," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of years long buried. "You should sit."
Granolah didn't move.
His stance remained firm, tense, his hand still hovering near his sniper as if it was the only thing grounding him.
"I'll stand." His tone was sharp, unrelenting.
Monaito sighed, accepting the resistance. "Suit yourself."
He glanced at Celes briefly before his gaze fell to the floor, the past clawing its way back into the present.
"It all started during the invasion, sixteen years ago."
And with that, he began.
Monaito sighed, staring at the floor as if seeing it all over again.
"One by one, the pods fell," he murmured, his voice heavy with memory. "Crashing into our cities like falling stars turned to ash."
He exhaled slowly, his fingers pressing together.
"They cracked open, and for the first time, we saw them. Saiyan's. Warriors of the Frieza Force. They wasted no time."
He shook his head.
"The massacre started instantly. Brutal. Indiscriminate. The screams, gods, the screams. They filled the air, blending with the roar of battle, the hum of blasts tearing through buildings, through people."
His gaze flickered toward Granolah.
"Then, the moon came into view."
Granolah tensed, but Monaito continued.
"A full moon. And in that instant, they transformed."
His hand clenched slightly, recalling the monstrous sight.
"Their bodies expanded, bones twisting, reshaping, turned into monstrous, primal Great Apes. And then?"
He shook his head again.
"Rampage."
Granolah's jaw tightened, the memories clawing at the edges of his mind.
"Your father, Flayk, knew we couldn't win against beasts like those," Monaito said softly. "So, he did the only thing he could."
Granolah's breath hitched, his fingers twitching toward his sniper, but Monaito wasn't finished.
"He destroyed the moon."
Silence.
"The sky shattered. The Great Apes began to shrink—returning to their normal forms—but at a cost."
Monaito sighed deeply.
"Flayk… sacrificed himself in the process."
Granolah's grip tightened.
"Even before they reverted…" Monaito's voice was heavy with memory. "Even with the full moon still looming over us, they were strong. Deadly."
He hesitated for a moment.
"One of them—a scarred Great Ape, was after your mother… and you."
Granolah's breathing hitched, his pulse hammering against his ribs.
"The sight of him, it was too much for you."
Monaito's gaze softened.
"You collapsed, unconscious. Cradled in your mother's arms… as the rampage continued, as the chaos swallowed everything around us."
Monaito's voice grew heavier as he continued, his gaze distant, pulled back into the past.
"That was when the moon was destroyed."
Granolah remained tense, but his breathing had steadied. He listened.
"The sky shattered," Monaito murmured. "The great apes began to revert, shrinking back down, their monstrous power fading with the light of the full moon."
"The chaos didn't end," he murmured. "It just… shifted. The rampage slowed, but the threat remained."
And that was when your mother finally saw him.
"Bardock."
Granolah's expression darkened.
"The Saiyan?" he muttered, suspicion tightening his voice.
Monaito nodded. Then he let out a long breath, his gaze heavy with memory.
"Your mother saw him coming," he said, his voice quiet, yet firm. "Walking toward the house, steady, deliberate."
A pause.
"She didn't know why. Didn't trust him. So, she fired, hit him in the shoulder. Not to kill, just a warning."
Granolah's jaw tightened, but he didn't interrupt.
"Then, someone called out to him."
Monaito's brow furrowed slightly.
"Another Saiyan. Shouting at Bardock, telling him it was time to leave. But he didn't, not right away."
Granolah's fists clenched.
"He just answered, calm, focused. Said he was looking for survivors, that he'd be there soon."
Monaito sighed, leaning back slightly.
"The other Saiyan left."
His fingers curled slightly, as if grasping at something unseen.
"But Bardock didn't. He kept walking."
He looked directly at Granolah now, his expression unreadable.
"And then, he said it—'Follow me if you want to survive.'"
A heavier silence hung between them.
Monaito studied Granolah's reaction carefully.
"Your mother hesitated. She didn't know if she could believe him."
Granolah's breath was shallow, his mind racing.
"But…" Monaito continued.
"She wasn't left with much of a choice."
Monaito exhaled, his fingers pressing together as he continued.
"So, she held you close and followed him," he murmured. "And that's where I come into the story."
Granolah remained tense, his breathing still uneven, but he listened.
"Bardock led the two of you to my house," Monaito explained. "I didn't know what was happening yet, not fully. But then I saw him."
A flicker of old instinct crossed Monaito's features.
"A Saiyan."
His voice carried weight, the weight of every loss, every nightmare born from that invasion.
"So, I attacked."
Granolah's expression tightened, but Monaito shook his head slightly.
"I didn't know, I couldn't have known. But I stopped. Because I saw you. I saw your mother. And that changed everything."
The tension in the room thickened, the past pulling them in.
"After that, Bardock told the three of us to stay in the house and hide."
Monaito sighed, glancing away for a moment.
"It was while we waited, while he was outside checking for anyone else, that Muezli explained everything to me."
His gaze flickered with something heavy, something almost regretful.
"She told me… what had happened to her. How she had fought to keep you safe. How she had lost everything except you."
Granolah swallowed hard, his grip near his sniper tightening.
"And then, near the end of her story—"
Monaito's words drifted, his face turning toward the door, toward the past.
"We heard them."
The mood shifted, danger creeping in.
Granolah's breath caught, his pulse quickening.
"Voices, in the distance."
Monaito's eyes darkened.
"And when we looked outside, that's when we finally saw them."
The air itself felt heavier, as if the memories carried their own gravity.
"The ones responsible for all of this."
Monaito's expression hardened, his voice sharp with undiluted hatred.
"The Heeter's."
Granolah blinked, stunned.
"The Heeter's?" His voice was sharp, demanding. "What do they have to do with this?"
Monaito exhaled slowly, his gaze dark with memory.
"We heard them… from a distance."
The weight in his tone made Granolah's chest tighten, a deep unease creeping up his spine.
"They were talking, thinking no one could hear. Boasting, proud of what they had done. It was them. They hired the Frieza Force to attack Cereal. To wipe us out. To 'clean it up a bit' so they could sell it to the Sugarian's."
Granolah's breath hitched.
He had worked for them. Had taken their orders, without ever knowing the truth.
"That's not all," Monaito continued, his voice growing colder.
"They talked about the future, too. About how, one day, they would overthrow Frieza and rule the galaxy themselves."
A sharp silence filled the space between them.
Granolah's rage simmered, his fingers twitching near his sniper.
Everything he thought he knew, everything he had fought for, had been a lie.
Monaito's face darkened, his voice carrying the weight of what came next.
"That was when everything started to go downhill."
Granolah swallowed hard, an uneasy feeling tightening his chest.
"You woke up."
Monaito's eyes flickered with something unreadable.
"You saw Bardock… and you screamed."
Granolah paled.
He didn't need to hear the rest, he already knew what that meant.
Monaito sighed.
"I had to put you to sleep."
Granolah's breath was sharp, his pulse hammering.
"Bardock saw them getting closer," Monaito continued. "He pulled my cloak over his face, pretending he had just found us. Survivors."
Granolah's fists curled.
"And then, one of the Heeter's ordered Bardock to take care of the Namekian and the child."
Monaito's voice dropped, just barely above a whisper.
"Before any of us could react—"
His hands trembled slightly.
"Another one of them shot Muezli in the chest."
Granolah froze.
A deep, suffocating silence settled over the room.
"She… was gone."
Monaito's face darkened, his voice edged with the weight of what came next.
"Bardock saw it happen. He saw Muezli fall."
Granolah sat frozen, his mind racing, but Monaito continued.
"And in that moment, he knew."
A sharp breath.
"He couldn't win. Not like this. Not while protecting us, too."
Granolah's fists tightened, but he said nothing.
"So, he made the only choice he could."
Monaito exhaled slowly.
"He blasted one of the Heeter's, using the explosion to kick up a cloud of dust—covering everything."
Granolah's pulse was quick, his grip tightening on his knees.
"And then? He grabbed me. He grabbed you. And he moved."
Monaito's voice wasn't describing retreat, it was describing survival.
"He didn't run because he was afraid. He ran because he knew—if he stayed, none of us would have made it out alive."
Monaito let out a slow breath.
"We got away," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of all that had just been said. "And soon after… Bardock left."
Granolah barely moved, his mind drowning in the truth that had unraveled before him.
"Then, it was just the two of us," Monaito continued. "Waiting. Watching. Hoping the Frieza Force would leave before they found us."
A pause.
"And eventually… they did."
Monaito studied Granolah carefully, the silence stretching between them.
"That was the end of it. Or at least, the end of that day."
But the scars of what happened, of what had been lost, never truly faded.
Granolah's breath was slow, measured.
He said nothing.
For now, he just… sat there.
(Words: 2690)