Source
Most people think the “M” stood for Majin. In a way, sure — Babidi's magic, possession, a shortcut to power. But for me, it meant something else entirely. That mark on Vegeta’s forehead wasn’t control — it was clarity. A raw confession. The prince of all Saiyans, reduced to a reluctant ally for too long, finally gave himself permission to be what he had repressed. Not because he craved chaos… but because he feared he was becoming gentle. And for Vegeta, gentle was far more terrifying than evil.
Underneath all that pride was a man at war with stillness. Life on Earth had crept into him — the warmth of Bulma, the laughter of his son, the quiet pull of routine. He trained alone, but he wasn't alone. That unsettled him more than Frieza ever did. The truth was, Vegeta wasn’t possessed by Babidi. He offered himself up. Because when you’ve built your identity on strength and rivalry, peace feels like weakness. He needed the “M” to remind himself he hadn’t been tamed. He needed to hurt Goku again — just to know he still could.
Source
Jealousy? Absolutely. But not of Goku’s power — of Goku’s freedom. The way he fought for joy, not revenge. The way he smiled after a loss. Vegeta had no room for joy. Everything he did was bound to legacy. To royal bloodlines and cosmic shame. And when he told Goku, “I wanted him to return me to the way I was before,” it wasn’t nostalgia — it was desperation. A man begging to believe that he could be monstrous again, because that was simpler than being vulnerable.
Sometimes the villain doesn’t die. Sometimes, he changes — but unevenly. Vegeta didn’t evolve in a straight line. He stumbled. He relapsed. Even in GT, when Baby took over his body, it wasn’t just another possession plot. It was symbolic — the past reclaiming a man who never fully buried it. But by then, we saw the contrast. Baby’s version of Vegeta looked powerful, but felt hollow. Because true strength wasn’t in the glare or the growl — it was in the small, deliberate steps he took back to himself afterward.
Even now, I don’t think Vegeta became “good.” That’s what makes him fascinating. He chose his contradictions. He kept his edge sharp. He never tried to be Goku — and thank God for that. The M wasn’t a fall from grace; it was a mirror. A reminder that our darkest moments sometimes expose what we’re truly fighting for. Vegeta wore that M like a scar — not healed, not hidden, just… accepted. And maybe that’s real redemption: not erasing who you were, but learning how to carry it without letting it own you.
Source
