A girl stood motionless, her face tilted toward the endless sky above. The familiar blue expanse should have been ordinary to her eyes, yet she gazed upward with the wonder of someone beholding a precious jewel for the first time. Her snow-white hair cascaded down to her waist like silk, catching the sunlight in ethereal waves. Golden eyes sparkled with newfound awareness, and her delicate features—arranged in perfect harmony—seemed to radiate an otherworldly joy.
At nine years old, she was still undeniably a child, though her beauty promised to bloom into something breathtaking in years to come. But in this moment, she was simply a young girl experiencing something profound.
The catalyst had been sudden and inexplicable.
Without warning, two figures with cerulean skin had materialized before her, their voices harsh as they spoke of incomprehensible things—history, destiny, corrections that needed to be made. Before she could even process their words, they had moved to attack. Then, just as abruptly, a silver-haired young man with a gleaming sword had appeared, intercepting their assault with fluid grace.
The strangers clashed in midair, their voices carrying fragments of heated debate—something about altering timelines, preventing interference, maintaining the flow of events. They moved at impossible speeds, their forms blurring as they fought with devastating precision. Then, as suddenly as they had appeared, they vanished into the sky, leaving only the echo of their battle and a confused girl staring after them.
Perhaps it should have been a trivial incident. Perhaps she should have dismissed it as a strange dream.
But something had changed.
•~•
Age 750 — On a quiet day in the rural outskirts of Earth, a girl named Lisette experienced something that would alter her existence forever. Whether triggered by the mysterious explosion in the sky or by some cosmic alignment she couldn't fathom, memories that weren't her own suddenly flooded her mind.
No—calling them recovered memories wasn't quite accurate. These felt more like foreign gifts, unwanted and overwhelming. They arrived complete yet fragmented, vivid yet distant, filling her consciousness like scenes from someone else's life.
She couldn't connect with the personality behind these memories. They felt hollow, uncertain, like watching a stranger's biography through frosted glass. The experiences were there—clear and detailed—but they belonged to someone who had ceased to exist the moment death had claimed them.
I have these memories, she thought, pressing her palms against her temples. But they're not mine. They can't be mine.
It was like being handed a diary written in her own handwriting but describing a life she had never lived. The footprints of that previous existence were the wrong size, the wrong stride, leading down paths she had never walked.
The ego that had once inhabited these memories was severed, cut away by the finality of death. No continuity remained to bridge the gap between that lost soul and the girl who now stood in a sunlit field, struggling to make sense of what she had inherited.
Even someone who had lost their memory could feel the phantom ache of their forgotten self. But how could she claim kinship with someone who had been completely different, completely separate?
She couldn't. She wouldn't. To truly become that person, she would have to erase herself entirely—and that was a sacrifice she refused to make.
I am Lisette, she declared silently. Whatever these memories are, whoever they belonged to, they are not me.
But the content of those memories... that was a different matter entirely.
•~•
"That's impossible," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the gentle breeze.
The memories contained knowledge of countless fictional worlds—stories created for entertainment, fantasies that existed only in imagination. Tales drawn in ink on paper, brought to life through moving images, but never meant to be real.
And among all these impossible narratives, one name blazed brightest in her inherited consciousness: Dragon Ball.
She knew this world. Not from experience, but from the perspective of an observer peering through the fourth wall. The legendary orbs that could grant any wish. The martial artists who could shatter mountains with their bare hands. The alien warriors who treated planets as stepping stones.
Her golden eyes widened as understanding crashed over her like a tide.
The "Dragon Balls" weren't just bedtime stories whispered among children. For the past forty years, they had been spoken of as fact—miraculous spheres that had been used to bring peace to the world. The legend of Goku, the martial artist who had defeated the Demon King Piccolo, was carved into the cultural memory of every person on Earth.
Everywhere she looked, the signs were there. The anthropomorphic animals that walked upright and lived alongside humans. The casual acceptance of ki-based martial arts. The dating system that marked this year as Age 750.
Oh no, she thought, a mixture of awe and terror flooding her chest. Oh no, oh no, oh no.
She couldn't help but look skyward again, as if she could somehow direct her frustration at whatever cosmic force had orchestrated this reincarnation. Not that any deity was likely responsible—even Enma, the judge of souls, probably had no idea how someone could be reborn with complete knowledge of their world's fictional nature.
How could memories from a realm beyond even the gods survive the transition between lives? It was impossible, yet here she stood, living proof of the impossible.
I wish I had never remembered, she thought desperately. I wish I could have lived and died in ignorance.
If she had remained unaware, she could have enjoyed a simple, peaceful life. The timeline was offset from the main events—she could have grown old far from the cosmic battles that would reshape the universe.
But it was too late for such wishes. The knowledge burned in her mind like a brand, impossible to ignore or forget.
She knew what lay ahead. The Saiyans would come. Namek would burn. Androids would terrorize the Earth. Gods would battle across dimensions. The very fabric of reality would be torn and remade multiple times.
And she knew—knew—that in such a world, anything was possible.
•~•
The realization hit her like lightning: I could fly.
Not metaphorically. Not someday, with years of training and dedication. If she learned the right techniques, if she cultivated her ki properly, she actually could soar through the clouds, dive to the ocean's depths, even travel to distant worlds among the stars.
The scope of possibility was intoxicating. She could explore every corner of the universe, witness wonders beyond imagination, push the boundaries of what life itself could become.
How could I possibly live an ordinary life now?
The question echoed in her heart like a bell. How could she choose the safety of the mundane when infinity stretched out before her? How could she die having never touched the stars?
Curiosity bloomed in her chest—not the idle wondering of a child, but the burning determination of an explorer standing at the edge of an undiscovered continent. She would train. She would grow strong. She would seek out the Dragon Balls and uncover every secret this universe held.
The memories she had inherited were a gift, even if they came from a stranger's life. Without them, she never would have understood the true nature of the world around her. She would have lived as a normal girl in a normal village, never knowing that gods walked among mortals and that miracles were woven into the very fabric of reality.
Thank you, she thought, addressing the vanished soul whose memories she carried. Thank you for showing me what this world really is.
She was no longer that previous person. She was Lisette—a girl with snow-white hair and golden eyes, standing in a field on the edge of forever. But she would honor the gift she had been given by embracing every possibility, by living fully in a world where dreams could become reality.
The wind picked up around her, rustling the grass at her feet and lifting her long hair like a banner. She spread her arms wide, feeling the air flow around her fingers, imagining the day when she would control that same air to carry her to the heavens.
I want to see everything, she thought, her heart pounding with anticipation. Every planet, every dimension, every impossible thing that exists in this beautiful, terrible, wonderful universe.
She would live—truly live—until she had experienced every wonder this world could offer. Only then, when her curiosity was finally satisfied and her heart was full of memories, would she allow herself to rest.
But not yet. Not when so much remained unknown.
"I'm alive!" she cried out, her voice carrying across the field like a song of triumph.
The words erupted from her soul—the first true expression of the person she had chosen to become. It was a declaration of intent, a promise to herself and to the universe that she would not waste the miracle of her existence.
In that moment, as her voice faded into the endless sky, something shifted in the cosmic order. Fate itself seemed to pause, as if acknowledging that a new player had entered the game—one who knew the rules but would write her own story.
The adventure was about to begin.