Hey, guys. So, just a quick message to promote my other account, Stalokills.

I made that account first. The pieces on this one mostly focus on anime-related universes and powers, while the other account is for ones that don't have those direct influences of stories or characters. I did this because...well, I just wanted to. So, if you like the stories on this account, go check out some of the pieces I made on that one.

If you're not a usual fan of anime related stuff, that account's good for you. If you're a strict anime-only type, that's good too.

Although I suppose working on like 6 or 7 stories at a time might be a bad idea, I have too many ideas in my head and if I don't get them down, then they just vanish.

Anyways, most of the pieces on that already have a decent amount of chapters, so feel free to explore it. Thanks!


The next day, Marco was throwing punch after punch in the middle of the clearing in the forest. This was a rare moment when he had none of his masters with him. He had to stick to a strict training regiment, but even the hardest of training requires adequate rest for improvement, so he always had a certain amount of free time to work with. Usually, he would use that to take a nap or write, whatever he felt like really.

But right now he was pissed off and needed to work that out.

Practicing some of the basic stances and attacks Master Roshi went over him with, he punched and kicked at an imaginary opponent, constantly trying new moves and seeing what felt best to him. He needed to practice the Kamehameha as well, but first, he would see where his martial arts was at technique-wise. He went through each punch and kick as slowly as possible, before doing it again as fast as possible. He dodged pretense attacks, throw blows at an invisible enemy, focusing as hard as he could on perfecting the moves with little help from outside sources. He would memorize how it was supposed to look, then commit to the feeling of applying it during a fight. If he couldn't master this fighting style before time was up, then it would be useless to use it.

Marco wasn't stupid. He knew how strong he was getting, he could see it in the effect he had on his environment during training. Not to mention being able to shoot beams of energy out of his hands.

The weirdest thing was, he didn't necessarily feel stronger than before. It was a strange thing to explain, he knew he was getting stronger, but he felt as if he wasn't really changing that much. As if this was always the norm for him. That didn't make much sense, but he wasn't going to spend too long dwelling on it. He had some training to do.


Off to the side, a pink-haired pervert watched the eighth-saiyan teen with immense interest uncharacteristic of her. No, she was feeling something akin to pride, smirking as she watched her pupil work all on his own to get better, faster, stronger.

While it wasn't enough to beat him, it was enough for right now. She contemplated on the boy as she stood casually in the shade of the trees, not hiding, but not making herself known. Simply observing.

"You seem awfully chipper." An annoying voice interrupted her peace. She audibly sighed in exasperation, not replying to the newcomer. "So, he's finally taking his training seriously."

"Looks like it." Even Pink had to admit that now Marco seemed to be more motivated in training, dare she say even enjoy it a little.

"I did not see the resemblance at first, but looking at how the boy is now, he truly looks like Goku's grandchild," Satsuki said, standing pompously next to Pink.

". . . can I ask you something?" She asked, then went on without waiting for a reply. "You all knew Goku in some way, right? Me, I only ever saw the guy once for real, I don't even know why that guy thought I was one of his masters."

"Yes, Goku and I had an extensive friendship," Satsuki said.

"What was that guy like?"

There was silence for a moment before Satsuki let out her own exasperated and unlady-like groan.

"Where to even begin?" She said, crossing her arms. "When we first met, it was actually through my father. I was taken when I was just a child to see a martial arts tournament. I, of course, had little to no interest in watching people beat each other senseless for seemingly no good reason. It was simply a show of status among my family. When I first saw him, I could regard him as nothing more than a country bumpkin. He was no older than me. Even as a talented martial artist, his demeanor seemed to scream everything I was not. He appeared to be unsophisticated and barbaric. Then I met him."

"And let me guess, he was different than what you thought."

"Oh, no, I was completely right. He was uncivilized, had absolutely no table manners, and completely immature. All the man cared about was eating and fighting. It was infuriating honestly, he was in immense pain. He blatantly disrespected every tradition my family had put in place."

Pink studied at the woman beside her with a curious look.

"I suppose that is why I was so drawn to him." Satsuki looked up to the sky in reflection.

"Really? 'Cause to me, it sounds like he's the antithesis of you in every way."

"Yes, he was indeed," Satsuki chuckled. That caught Pink off guard. The uptight woman never showed any genuine emotion besides disgust. "While growing up in a family with such wealth and status as mine, there are definitely perks. However, there are ways one is supposed to act, things one's expected to do, talk like, and an image to keep. Since the moment of my birth, I was trained not as a master of ki, but as a normal household wife. Do not speak out of turn, do not dishonor the family name, do not embarrass your parents. Every movement was watched not only by the guard of nurses and servants at my family's disposal but by the thousands o of common folk and rival families ready to bring mine down at a moment's notice.

I could not say or do anything that was against the traditional values, and even then I had to put every action I took through my parents. I could not join a certain club because it was 'unseemly.' I could not be friends with someone if they did not have a high enough social status. My very home felt like a prison of practices and expectations. When I met Goku, I was envious of him. He could do and say what he pleased, not having to worry about the burden of the family or the vulture pecking at his feet. But the more you're with him, the closer you eventually feel. At one point it felt like he was more of a family to me than my own, despite how irritating he could be at times.

Goku was the type of person to just make you feel good about the situation. That silly man-child just had a way of melting your heart, even if all he cared about was eating and fighting."

". . . Sounds like a cool guy."

"Indeed." She said with a small smile. Pink looked at her with interest out of the corner of her eye, then turned her attention to Marco. The boy was physically exhausted, no doubt, but he wasn't giving up. It was stupid, anyone worth their weight knew that non-stop exercise with no rest was useless. Still, the determination in his eyes was something refreshing. If he did end up passing out, at least something was gained today.

"Looking at him like this, he reminds me so much of Goku."

"You said that already." Pink rolled her eyes.

"I know."


Marco ended his session on the final parry Master Roshi taught him. As a martial arts enthusiast himself, he had committed all the basic principles to memory, but Master Roshi had insisted that wasn't enough.

Martial Arts was a form of fighting and self-defense, but it was useless unless mastered. You could learn all the fancy moves you wanted, but you can't always stop and think in the middle of a fight, and get in a certain stance, expecting the enemy to attack the certain way you want him to. A real fight was unpredictable, so you had to have all the techniques able to use in a split-second. Not only did Marco need to be able to access these techniques as soon as possible, but he also needed to know which technique to use almost immediately. Of course, basic attacks and dodges would do at times, but there was always a moment when a more complicated move could do a lot more damage.

Marco sat and looked up toward the sky, staring at an overpassing cloud. When he had first taken karate, it was more out of the desire to be seen as something other than "the safe kid." He never thought that he would have to use it in a fight until Star came along, and even after that, a fight to the death was something Marco never even considered.

"Hey, got a minute?"

Marco looked over and saw Pink looking down at him.

"You're not gonna pounce on me, are you?" He said. She smirked and shook her head, sitting down next to him.

"I see you're starting to take your training seriously," Pink said.

"Was I not before?"

"No. Before you were just doing it because we made you. Now we can start making some progress."

"Hmph." Marco looked back up at the sky. "You guys have a lot of faith in me."

"We do." Pink scooted closer to Marco, who instinctively leaned away. Pink chuckled at this. "You know, back in Trost, there was always some kind of tournament going on. Fighting, jousting, fishing, talent shows, beauty pageants. Everyone was always competing. I grew up like that, always pushing to be the best at everything. The strongest, the most talented, the prettiest. I'm only as strong as I am now because of that."

"That sounds . . . stressful."

"You have no idea. But, after a while, there stopped being any challenge. I was the best at . . . everything. There was nothing I didn't excel at, nothing that anyone could challenge me in. And it got to my head. You get full of yourself when you think you're the best out there. You get arrogant. Until you regret it." Marco looked over at the girl next to him. She was staring at the sky, a sense of pain lingered in her eyes.

". . . what happened?"

"Ah, that's a story for another time." She smiled at him and lightly punched his shoulder. "Let's just rest up."

Marco stared at the pink-haired girl for another second, before looking back up at the sky, studying the clouds.

"You know, you're not half-bad. For a perv."

"Gee, thanks," Pink said sarcastically. Marco chuckled at her.