DB Multiverse

Hanasia, Queen of the Saiyans

Written by Salagir

Adapted by Caihlem, TheOverlyMadHatter, hiace50 and Adamantine

This story takes place on the Saiyans planet, 1000 years ago, way before they are the population killer who put fear in the whole galaxy, in the era of King Vegeta...
If you ever wondered how these so powerful people lived as a community, if you want to know what was the fate of Millennium Warriors before Broly, if the adventures of a frantic and emotional fighter in a world of bullies tempt you, enter the world of Hanasia's saga.

This comic is finished!

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[Chapter Cover]
Part 4, Chapter 47.

After the battle


Millions of light-years away, a kind of Obi Wan Kenobi had a sudden reaction and opened his eyes wide. Sweat beaded from his brow and his dispair was noted by those around who had been previously occupied with their chores.

— What’s wrong? Asked one of them. What did you feel, Master Binorgo?

— Our traveling son… his life just left him. Far, so far away from here.

The others present turned, abashed. They all stopped their varied activities, artistic or manual in most part, except for a child who continued playing making small rocks float.

An adult approached his elder:

— Unfortunately we should have expected that. He chose a life of combat and danger.

— But… started another.

— But we will not remain with our arms crossed, continued the first. I say we bring him back. Maybe this time he’ll agree to stay with us.

— I also think he deserves a second chance. He was too young to leave to soon. Not even a hundred years of age!

— We are all in agreement, concluded the patriarch. Dear friends, gather in groups and go forth to the other capitals. I’ll await you here.

The youngling got up and forgot about is game:

— I’m coming too, I’m coming too !

The small gathering took flight effortlessly to do the tour of the planet, for a voyage in six steps.


It just took them a few hours to reach the nearest city, but through telepathy, the citizens were already aware. They were greeted with smiles and hugs. A small banquet of stilled waters had been prepared.

The gathering drank and talked beneath gigantic and millennial trees, covered by flowers and undergrowth, vibrating slightly in the wind in communion with the bipedal beings with which they lived in harmony. Indeed, seeing a branch would soon die off, the nearest person would take it upon themselves to rise, touch it and, concentrating, instill part of its life force. The branch immediately healed.

They discussed the trial to obtain the artefact. It was a joyful and innocent game, more of a tradition than anything else. After having answered without a single error a long series of questions, and invented for the occasion a short poem, the visitors left with their reward tucked in their arms.


They crossed small hamlets where the inhabitants waved signs, wishing them good fortune and true happiness.


In the next city, there was a burial. When an ancient died, he was honored during thirty three days. All came to commune on his tomb, where magnificent plants were already growing.

Only an ancient could die. Aside the from the immensely-powerful healing abilities of these people and their total immunity to diseases, and the lack of dangers, if by accident a youngling were to die, he’d immediately be brought back to life, like the gathering was currently undertaking.

After heartful meetings, the gathering chose a candidate to fight the local champion. The two saluted each other, sat in a lotus position facing each other and closed their eyes. All the spectators synchronized their minds and saw the true psychic face-off between the two opponents. It was a magnificent lyrical clashing of minds. Neither a mental fight, nor words, but rather a mesh of impressions, thoughts and emotions. An art only the grandest of beings could approach, that this species would entirely lose during its quasi-extinction half a millenia later.

The challenger never stood a chance against the veteran. But that wasn’t important. It had never been the task to win. When it was considered the task completed with success, they were congratulated and offered the sacred ball.


The third capital was the largest city on the planet. There resided the Grand Patriarch, a powerful and old being, upon whom currently rested the power of the artefacts. Atop his five centuries, he nevertheless personally welcomed them, in full health, despite the wrinkles that betrayed his age. He floated in the rhythm of gentle and soft music, played by several friends, grand musicians who had trained at length, and a young gleeful beginner who made error after error. Yet it had no importance, because the music was a success, no matter what you did. It was the result of millennial years of perfecting of the musical arts.

The gathering understood and all, except the two carrying their balls, made instruments magically appear in their hands.

They all played together, learning from each other and creating a new ensemble.

The old patriarch thanked them and handed over his artefact.


In the fourth capital, it was a dissertation. After long verbal exchanges that never seemed to end, they were the fourth ball.


In the fifth capital, they had to throw small stones, over kilometres. There were no targets at the end, but gardens, and the objective was to draw something harmonious. They left quickly after a new banquet and now five members carrying artefacts.


In the sixth, it was a physical stand-off.

Aware of their immense strength, the mastering of their movements was essential, and that’s why the two fighters, powerful warriors of which the bodies were specially adapted to be strong, exchanged blows in a reduced area, surrounded by light threads that barely held on their spikes. They were obliged to reduce their movements of air created by their bodies to prevent the threads from falling. A difficult art because their fists could easily pierce rock and a simple wave of their palm create a mini hurricane.

There was a moment of anguish when part of the thread detached. The challenger, quick as lightning, sent a small and precise shockwave towards the ground, which bounced, and pushed the thread upwards. Another wind would replace it. His opponent smiled faced with the beauty and ingenuity of the technique, but he wasn’t going to go easy on him! He placed himself between the spike and his opponent and attacked him directly. The challenger elongated his neck, the capacity wasn’t limited to their arms. Passing around the other, he blew on the thread which regained its original place.

Following other manoeuvres and many surprises, they were congratulated, were given the final ball, and wished them good fortune and true happiness.


Back at the starting point, they dropped the artefacts with the one already located on site. Recognizing each other, the seven dragon balls vibrated in unison and lit up. They said the words and the magic operated.

The sky, though permanently lit by its numerous suns, darkened and a gigantic creature appeared. His invokers made their wish.

— Return our lost brother to his life and home, oh, powerful Porunga!

— That’s… easy… answered the god of dreams.

Bourgo’s soul left paradise and floated, invisible and unconscious, towards his birth planet. Then, he was resuscitated and his body rebuilt.

The Namek warrior blinked and turned his head towards familiar faces he hadn’t seen in a long time.

The reunion was heartfelt and warm. Due to his regeneration, Bourgo kept no scars or physical wound, but his gaze had changed. He had gone far and had seen terrible things many hadn’t lived. Several Namekians were a little scared by this.

— Dear friends, I’d like to use the second wish of the Dragon Balls.

— You’re not already thinking of leaving? A parent asked, not exactly satisfied. A small Namek child panicked at the idea that his bigger and cooler brother was already going to teleport away again, into the unknown.

— No, my place is here. I’ve seen much and done more. Now my duty is to tell you. Tell you about the universe, of the worlds surrounding us. Our knowledge is quite outdated. My wish will be for another person.



In Hanasia’s village, the day was breaking, because this planet only had one sun. That didn’t stop many of its residents from being awake, by the caress of the first lights, and for those who slept too far from a roof, by several harsh and dirty raindrops. They were going about their usual business when brutally yet quietly, Hanasia appeared in the middle of the village.

The first to notice turned his head and screamed:

— Hanasia!

She turned her head around every direction. Her village? Freshly rebuilt, she didn’t recognize the houses, but the villagers were indeed her childhood friends. She wasn’t in space anymore? She looked at her hands, her arms, and clothes. She didn’t bear any wound from her fight and her clothes weren’t ripped.

— H… hey, she said, astounded.

— Nice of ya to come see us, said one of her close friends, giving her an accolade.

Hanasia wondered in her thoughts: Am I in this life after death that the legends speak of? It wasn’t just hogwash? That really sucks, dying, if it’s just to go back exactly where I lived! So then I failed, and everyone’s dead too!

— Hanasiaaaaa! Screamed Harik, who had awoken at the first mention of her name, and was running towards her.

— Oh no you don’t, stop pestering her, ordered an adult on his path, and who was going to scoot him off with a kick. The kid avoided the shot cleverly by skidding on the ground, passing underneath. He jumped over another Saiyan and flew a few seconds, his maximum, to find him falling where Hanasia was the landing site. His arms wide open and head first, he fell with a dumb smile.

Hanasia raised her head towards him, smiling, and was about to receive him in due process. Meaning with a proper slap that sent him tumbling to the other side of the village.

Then, faced with the candor of her little boyfriend she revised her decision and caught him in her arms and hugged him close.

— Ah, Harik, it’s not possible that I’d accept you for ever, so we’re all alive!

The kid put his arms around his fiancé and gripped one hand inside the other, deciding to never let go, ever.

Hanasia took a few steps towards her friends, ignoring the koala she was carrying.

— What’s the news, do you know what happened? I left to fight the Frost Demons in space. Everything exploded, and then… I found myself here again.

— We saw the explosion! It was high in the sky! Said one of the surrounding people. It was yesterday, we knew it was you fighting, because the story teller told us about your voyage, with the Tsufuls and the aliens!

— And you must have fallen down here, in the end.

— You must have been so high if it took a whole day to fall!

— Come on guys, let’s have a party for the return of the Queen!

Some had already left to hunt for dinner and to the river to get some barrels of fresh water. Hanasia looked at the sky that was so clear and showed no hint as to what had happened further away. She felt no power, no ongoing fights.

So like that, a story teller had come to the village, she must have told them, as ordered, that the conscription for the new army was canceled. Their previous story teller, Mahissu, had gone to space with her. She had to be the only survivor.

— Mahissu is dead, she said aloud.

— Ha ha! Good riddance! Screamed Harik, overjoyed.

She hit his head with a good shot but he stayed attached.

Picture by:



Arcady Picardi       41 78


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March 8th

Rest in peace, Toriyama-sensei

[img][img]Akira Toriyama passed away. Our work would be nothing without him, and we will continue to try to honor him through our pages. "Writing manga is fun," as you used to say, but today is a sad day. Thank you and rest in peace, Master.

This Sunday, DBM's page will be replaced by a tribute.

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