Royal blood in my veins, raised brutal, raised cold, Prince of nothing left—my kingdom bought and sold. Five years old, weaponized, ordered to obey, Every command carved another piece of childhood away. You shattered my planet, then branded my pride, Made strength synonymous with everything I kept inside. I buried the boy beneath bodies and commands, You didn't forge a warrior—you forged a weapon with hands. Pain became language, silence became law, Never asked for more than the world that I saw. No comfort, no conscience, no quarter, no flaw, Just orders and slaughter and blood on the floor. You broke me young, built me wrong, beat me down, kept me strong, Taught me weakness meant death if I ever let it show. So I buried every feeling with the boy I had been— If a prince could not be broken, then the boy could not exist. Then I hit Earth and met the joke you called a Saiyan son, Low-class Kakarot—yet somehow you'd already won. Born beneath me, raised beneath me, everything I should surpass, Yet you broke through every ceiling I had sworn would make me best. Kakarot—my failure, my shadow, my curse, The living contradiction that made every victory worse. My rival, my reflection, my rejection made flesh, Every triumph you collected put another blade to my chest. I chased you through forms, through fury, through defeat, Turned rivalry to obsession, made humiliation bittersweet. Royal blood, warrior pride, birthright—what did any of it prove, If a low-class Saiyan could surpass everything I could do? You weren't just my rival—you were the mirror I refused to face, Proof that blood could never guarantee first place. I called it competition, called it hatred, called it pride— Anything but the truth: I needed you to justify mine. Then she stepped in—blue hair, sharp tongue, fearless stare, Looked straight into the monster and decided I belonged there. Bulma—the first crack in the armor I had welded into steel, The first person reckless enough to make me want to feel. I called affection weakness, called attachment a disease, Then somehow found myself returning when I swore I'd leave. She saw past the prince, past the power, past the pose, Found the man underneath the armor nobody else could expose. Then Beerus struck my wife—wrong target, wrong mistake, No strategy, no hierarchy, no calculation left to make. You hit my wife, god? Congratulations—you found The one thing in this universe I will never let you put down. Trunks in my arms—strange sight for a weapon like me, Bulla in the room—two lives that somehow made me see. I never had a father, had a master and a chain, No hand upon my shoulder—just commands, combat, pain. So I gave them what I lacked, though I never knew the form, Gave them shelter from the storm I once mistook for being strong. I still hate being second, still burn when I lose, Still grind my teeth when Kakarot's one step ahead of me. But now the fight has changed—the target isn't me, Power isn't what I conquer; it's what I use to keep them free. I spent my whole life learning how to kill— Now I know exactly what I refuse to let die. Still the Prince. Still elite. Still carrying the name, Still heir to a kingdom that was swallowed by flame. But I lost that world once—I won't lose mine again, I know what it costs when a crown becomes a chain. Goku found peace; I found purpose inside pain, He learned to let go; I learned what I won't lose again. I don't need birthright to tell me what I'm worth, Don't need a crown to prove the power I forged from dirt. I was born a prince—but the title isn't the man, Every defeat, every death, every loss became who I am. Frieza made me ruthless. Kakarot made me strive. Bulma gave me something worth more than staying alive. Trunks gave me reason. Bulla gave me more. You gave me pain. I gave that pain a name. Pain is my fuel. Damage is feast. Every strike that you land only fattens the beast. Ultra Ego—every wound is another upgrade, Every blow that should have broken me becomes another blade. I don't rise above pain—I rise because of it, You want me beaten? Keep beating me; I'll make a weapon of it. Damage, devastation, deterioration—feed the transformation, Aggravation becomes acceleration, pain becomes elevation. You call it recklessness; I call it revelation, Every punishment absorbed becomes another escalation. You seek perfection—I weaponize the flaws, Take every scar you gave me and turn it into cause. No throne. No mercy. No peace. No plea. No master. No leash. No one deciding me. I am the Prince of all Saiyans—not because I was born supreme. Because I fell. I broke. I burned. I changed. And every time I did— I remained Vegeta. Prince of all Saiyans. Still.
