Chapter 1: Kakarot's Story
I slowly walk through what was once a peaceful city. As I pass by the buildings that were now rubble, I can't help but remember how different things had been. The cars zipping along on the streets, the families and bonds created in this city, and the history that was made right under my nose.
I'm called Kakarot, age 15. I was named after my ancient ancestor. You know him as Goku. He was what's known as a Saiyan, an alien race that was said to have perished long ago, but he wasn't just any Saiyan; he was once known as the infamous Super Saiyan God. It was told that he saved the universe dozens of times, against enemies stronger than one can comprehend. He was the Earth's greatest defender. Well, was. My Grandpa Goku has been gone for a long time. It was told that he disappeared after he found out that the Earth would never be safe with him around. So he rode off on the eternal dragon, Shenron. His stories have been reduced to myths. Just stories told throughout time, but I have a feeling that the stories are true.
That's why I'm here, walking through the streets of a deserted city. Once the Great Earthquake hit, I don't run into much trouble. Or at least I thought it was an earthquake. I didn't really know, but I thought I sensed a strong, yet vague power level. My father taught me how to do that, sense power levels. He also taught me martial arts, just like my Grandpa Goku did. I was told that just like him when he was a kid, I was a very abnormal child. I mean there's not much room for being normal when one has a monkey tail coming out of his backside. I've heard that bullets only stung him, but didn't penetrate his skin. I wasn't sure if I was that strong, but I didn't want to find out. I am strong enough to give a giant boulder a huge crack, but not shatter. I was fast, just about as fast as a rookie Saiyan, which was actually pretty good. Being a Saiyan myself, some of these things come naturally. There's so many years in between Grandpa Goku and myself that the Saiyan in me is almost non-existent. Almost.
The dry wind blew through my hair and my clothes like a ghost passing through me. I've been told that I'm practically the mirror image of my Grandpa Goku. I'm not the first, though. My Grandpa Goku Jr., Goku's great great grandson, looked close to him, and my Grandpa Goten, Goku's son, looked like him as a kid. The clothes I wear have been passed down for generations. A blue sleeveless gi and yellow pants held together by a white belt with red were first worn by my Grandpa Goku, then got passed down to my Grandpa Goku Jr. as a gift from my Grandma Pan. I also wear a black shirt underneath and a red bandanna. I'm surprised that these clothes have survived this long, considering how old they are and how torn up they once were.
After a walk that seemed like weeks, I finally see it: the old Capsule Corp headquarters. The roof was caved in by the earthquake, the windows cracked, some shattered. There was a girl who aided my Grandpa Goku through all his adventures ever since he was a little kid. Her name was Bulma. It was told in the story that she created a device known as a Dragon Radar. It's supposed to track the energy inside a dragon ball and display it on the radar. The dragon balls are seven orbs that are scattered across the entire world, but when brought together one could summon the eternal dragon, Shenron, and make one wish. My wish was to bring my family back to life. They were crushed by our house when the earthquake hit. I was the only survivor. My mom, my dad, my brother, Akira; and my sister, Amaya.
I walked to the door of the circular building. One of the doors had broken off, it was just one. I looked inside. It was dark, but light enough to see without any artificial light source. I hope it wasn't damaged in the earthquake. I move some debris and rubble around to see if it's underneath anything, but to no avail. I search for about thirty minutes, but couldn't find anything. Then I started checking in all the drawers and cubbards. Some of them have fallen over and smashed. Lots of things were unrecognizable due to the wood splinters within them. Still no luck. I decide to take a break and sit against the wall. As I thumped down against the wall to think about what to do next, I heard a hollow part of the wall echoing my thump. I decided to investigate by knocking along the wall, trying to find the hollow point. I found it without any trouble at all, and gave it a hard punch. My fist punched right through the plaster, as if it were paper. Dust and broken bits fell apart, revealing a path. I walk through the wall and follow along the path. I find a safe. Not too big, not too small. I knock on it. There's definitely something in there, and this is a very strong metal. I'm about to burst it open when I hear someone behind me.
"Hands in the air, kid."