Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball
Chapter 04: The First Dragon Ball (Year 743)
It has been six years since we came to this Planet, and a lot happened during that time. Together with Kami and Popo, I made plans on how to best teach Kakarot in order to unearth his true potential.
We refrained from physically training Kakarot in the first three years of his life and didn't even start him on how to manipulate his energy out of fear of what it might mean for the world if a child, which are known to be prone to temper tantrum had one wielding this kind of power. We wouldn't be able to stop or contain him. For that reason, we focused on his education and imparting him with virtues like patience and self-control instead, which was difficult enough as it was without him being able to blast holes into things.
In addition, we started him on body awareness exercises, improving his balance, hand-eye coordination, and such. After all, you first have to learn how to walk before you can run, and in Kakarot's case, this was literally something he needed to learn.
He proved to be ahead of the curve by quite a huge margin. Not that it surprised me he already was special. His faster-than-normal development just helped emphasize this fact.
There was another reason we decided to wait with starting his fighting training until he turned three – even with his power level slightly increasing by his body's natural growth. I estimated to have him surpassed with diligent training at that point. Which would allow me to guide him more efficiently. Since I didn't expect my advantage to last, I had to make it count.
By being stronger than Kakarot would also allow me to teach him how to control his Ozaru transformation. It was a difficult task at the best of times because it not only required someone to indulge in their base instincts but at the same time, you couldn't allow yourself to be consumed by rage. In order to keep your mind intact, you had to fight against those overwhelmingly strong feelings and find a balance which was a very fine line to walk. It usually takes years for even the most talented Saiyan to get a grasp on it.
In essence, it meant nothing else than continuous attempts and training to get it right. It didn't help that a full moon was a relatively rare occurrence with this Planets moon phases compared to what we had back home. Since only the Saiyan-Elites were deemed worthy of learning how to create a Power ball that could serve as a substitute for the full moon emitted Blutz Wave, I couldn't even speed up that training.
As a result, after he turned three and showed a sufficient amount of self-control, I had no other choice than to venture out once a month to an abandoned plain with Kakarot in tow to train him in controlling the true power inherent to our race.
Even here, he surpassed my expectations, which, to be honest, was a good thing. Because, as it turned out, his growth rate after we started him on serious training was just unreal, ensuring that the time-window in which he could be trained in controlling his Ozaru form, without him laying waste to huge swaths of the earth, was closing fast. Fortunately, he succeeded long before we ran out of time, an accomplishment I hadn't thought possible even with all the other logic-defying feats he demonstrated on a regular basis.
And all that while he was still just a child whose growth rate would continue to increase until he would adulthood a truly frightening prospect. Kakarot eventually managed to overtake me once more when it came to power level a little over a month after his fifth birthday, and since then, the gap between us only grew bigger with every passing day.
As did my feelings for him, at first there was just obligation, a duty to uphold to fulfill the last request of Bardock, who I loved with every fiber of my being. I noticed, seeing Kakarot growing up, defying logic and common sense at every turn, that the feelings I originally held for Bardock slowly but surely transferred to his son.
He became the center of my universe -
My musing was interrupted when Kakarot stopped running around Kami's lookout, part of our daily warm-up exercise. I ran up to him and asked, concerned, "why did you stop? Is everything all right, Kakarot?"
"Yeah," he said, and I released the breath I didn't know I was holding. It was a constant fear of mine after the first time he got ill with a cold that it might happen again. Considering this Planet's inferior medical capabilities are; barely deserving of being called such and with the Senzu beans unable to effect illnesses. I couldn't shake off the fear that I might lose him to some pathogen, unlikely as it was with our superior immune system. "It is just... this is so boring, Fasha-chan."
I had to school my features at hearing this suffix since I learned the language of the indigenous population alongside Kakarot, and the honorifics were explained to him. I earned the chan-suffix for some reason I couldn't even begin to fathom. Since I was his strictest taskmaster out of us three living up here with him. and it irritated me somewhat, the mask I wore, that he calls them -san but another part of me, the one I did my best to hide from him, was enjoying this special treatment I receive quite a lot.
Not that it was easy for me, it hurt so incredibly having to chastise him to animate him, to be mean and strict when I would like to do nothing more than to help him, erase every obstacle in his path. But I knew doing so, coddling him, would only make him weak, conceited, and arrogant. All characteristics that might get him killed one day and that was the furthest from what I wanted for him, which is why I was strict and pushed him to his limits every day, simply because I wanted him to succeed in life. I would do everything to ensure it came to pass, even if it meant it would be at the expense of my life, so what was torturing myself in getting him there in comparison to that.
"Day in, day out, all we ever do is train," he bemoaned. "Can't we do something else just for today?"
"We can't afford to do that." I maintained my stance, "I have sworn to protect you and to help you to be able to protect yourself."
"I know." He retorted, "You don't get tired to remind me. That the same people that killed my father and mother will come for us too, and we need to be ready."
"If you know all that, why are we talking about it?" I wondered, "our survival hinges on us attaining as much power as possible before they become aware of our existence. We can't allow ourselves to slack off even for a day."
"That's not... I'm not asking to skip training entirely. Could we do something else other than mediate this afternoon just this once? It's suuuppper boring, please Fasha-chan," he begged me, with those eyes, I just couldn't say no to.
Also, he had a point, meditating was boring, not that I would admit that to him. It, after all, was an important exercise to improve one's energy control.
True, not nearly enough like the physical workout we used to push our bodies to the brink of exhaustion, but important, nonetheless. Especially in light of our hard physical training. As a result, the vast energy pool at our disposal grew bigger every day, and meditation was necessary to keep an edge on that weapon. After all, blunt instruments only get you so far.
Albeit, the minuscule increase in control was barely enough to offset our constant gain in power.
Then again, I didn't think it would hurt to skip it from time to time. Besides, it was time to start Kakarot down the never-ending road of developing his own fighting style and refining it. The easiest way to do so does require facing off against a lot of diverse opponents. Thus it would serve a purpose, and the promise of a few adventures might help keep him motivated.
"Okay," I relented, "we will go out this afternoon. Consider it a reward for your good work in your training, and if you continue to make such good progress, I might even be convinced to do this on a regular basis."
"Please, Fasha-chan just this ..." He looked at me perturbed since it only now sunk in what I said, which was the opposite of what he expected me to say. His disappointed expression changed to one of joy. Unable to contain his delight, he jumped my legs and hugged them profusely while chanting, "You are the best Fasha-chan, thank you so much."
I reached down and softly loosened his embrace. "That's enough of this unsightly behavior. Come on, we've some training to do. The faster we are done, the earlier we can go on our trip."
Determination set in on his features, and he continued his sprint. I stood there for a moment contemplating his joy, and the resulting hug I received, a gale of wind blowing a strand of hair in my field of vision brought me out of it, and I followed after him.
Yeah, we really should do this more often, and perhaps we might even use this excursion to find ways to increase the difficulty of our training. Because if we don't, we won't have a choice but to steadily increase the time spent training to exhaust our bodies until we inevitably would hit a threshold, which wasn't that far off. Kakarot was already using weighted clothing, shoes, and wristbands under his blue Gi. As of yesterday, he upped it to the max of 10000Kg that was possible given his small frame with the super-dense material Kami created before it starts to get too cumbersome and inhibits his movement.
With his power level growing way faster than his body, it would only be a matter of months until they would lose their effectiveness. Sure we might get something out of using weights, but most of the training that can be done with them is fundamentally different in how the muscles are used in a fight. So it is far from ideal, but If we don't find a different way in the near future, it would be the only option we have left.
It is not the first time I regretted this Planet's weak gravity; his clothes would last him for years to come otherwise.
Five hours later, we had ended our training for the day, and after a short bath and a good meal, we were about to depart.
"Why are you wearing a Scouter Fasha-chan?" the young boy at my side asked as I stepped out of the West tower we occupied fastening, the black belt of my Gi around my hips. I was not sure I would ever get used to this inferior fabric and how it felt on my skin.
I activated the Scouter and had it search for high power levels as I answered his question. "We're gonna look for some martial artist to fight for you."
Something we, in theory, could do ourselves. Without having to rely on a Scouter. In practice, unfortunately, the high and dense population in conjuncture with the rather low peak strength of this world would make it a rather hard undertaking. It was like trying to single out a single star in a cluster containing millions while embedded in a gas cloud reflecting the light they emit, turning it all into a milky haze, making it far worse than the proverbial search for a needle in a haystack.
It also didn't help things that sensing someone's power level essentially comes down to comparing their energy to our own and rating it accordingly. But with us, so far above them in terms of power, it was just not a viable method, especially from afar. They all registered as ants to us, and without us standing directly in front of them, it was like trying to distinguish which ant was bigger from a mile away.
"Why do I have to fight against some weak guy?" Kakarot wondered, "I'm far stronger than all of them, even in my training outfit."
"You are right," I agreed, "but you can't solely rely on always being stronger and faster than your opponent. There will come a time when you won't be able to overpower them, and at that point, the deciding factor is your fighting technique."
"Then why can't I learn that from you or old man Kami." he wondered, "you are both stronger."
"For one, the greater the diversity of different styles you are familiar with, the better." I explained, "you can learn a lot this way. In addition, it's not a good idea to spar against one person too often."
"Why?"
"Habits Kakarot, Habits -"
"I don't get it."
"Most fighters have a habit of some kind, a favorite attack, a pattern they repeat, or something similar, and recognizing this habit mid-fight in most cases can help ensure your victory. Good Fighters, masters of their trade, recognize this fact and try to discern their own habits in order to tone them down or erase them entirely. Although, not many succeed in this endeavor. Either by failing to identify them all or in their strive to rid themselves of one such habit unintentionally creating a new one."
"Do you have a habit, Fasha-chan? He wondered.
"Possibly," I admitted, "I can't say for certain. It is also not what this is about, me having a habit. The problem is by having prolonged exposure to just one fighting style, one opponent. You might create habits to countermand my fighting style. In doing so, while you might end up with a fighting style that guarantees you a victory against me every time we fight, it very well might be your undoing against someone with a different fighting style. So in order to preempt such a habit from ever forming, we won't take any risks, and that includes as few as possible sparring sessions against the same opponent as possible."
"I think I get it." He mused, "So that is why old man Kami Mr. Popo and you no longer fight with me. And that is why you are looking for someone strong for me to fight. Because it's better to fight them even if it means I'll have to hold back more."
"Exactly," I agreed, "facing off against many different opponents and fighting styles will provide you with invaluable experience."
A moment after, I said that my Scouter was successful in filtering through all those signatures. Detecting a power level of 139, which was high for this Planet. Even though it would require the young master, in addition to wearing the weighted clothes, that reduced his power-level to measly 469 to suppress them even further for the experience to be worth it. It had to suffice. Besides, it was unlikely I would find someone stronger.
I lifted myself from the ground and flew in the direction of the signature. Kakarot followed behind me. Given our limited speed courtesy of our weighted clothing, it took us some time to traverse the countryside.
Watching the landscape roll past us at a snail's pace, I considered leaving them at home the next time we did this to save us some time. Of course, this would mean that Kakarot would have to be even more careful, that he didn't unconsciously raise his power level during a fight and ended up killing his opponent accidentally, but ultimately decided against it. Because as I was watching him, I realized he had fun just flying for the sake of it. The way his attention was darting from one thing we passed to the next, be it a forest, some settlement, or some large animal, I simply couldn't bring myself to take away another thing from him he enjoyed.
The strict regimen I put him through with most hours of the day spent on some kind of training was quite demanding. It also came at the cost of him not having no childhood to speak of, which is why I really saw no reason to needlessly stack upon it.
He should be allowed to be a child sometimes.
When we finally reached the ocean, Kakarot was beside himself with joy, at seeing an endless expanse of water for the first time with his own eyes. He flew down to touch the water and even raced some dolphins. His antics were hard to resist, and I had to force myself not to join in. I wouldn't want my carefully crafted stoic demeanor to be seen through.
Luckily before the urge could become too strong, we arrived at our destination, a small Island a few dozen meters in diameter with a single house standing right in the middle of it. The words `Kame House´ were written prominently on the front of the upper story.
We landed in front of the house. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sea turtle curiously stretching its head out of the water and watching us. I ignored it and knocked at the door.
I could hear some rustling and what I thought might have been a swear on the other side of the door before it was reluctantly opened a crack.
Standing in front of me, with half his body hidden behind the door separating us, was an old man. He was bald and displayed a thick white Manchu mustache in addition to his large sunglasses.
"What can I ..." he started to ask, only for him to stop in the middle, and the tone of his voice suddenly changed. "What are my eyes seeing, a beautiful woman. You wouldn't happen to be here, especially for me?"
"In fact, I am," I told him.
Hearing this, he fully opened his door and started to rub his hands against each other for no reason. "That must be my lucky day. Come right inside the bedroom is the second door to the right."
I ignored his unblemished attempt at hitting on me. After all, I was used to worse from those High-level bastards thinking themselves to be God's gift to women and did my best to ignore it. Although I had to admit, it was grating to suffer through this once more especially coming from somebody this weak.
No matter, he wouldn't get anywhere near my pants even if he would be the last male in the universe before it would die of heat. Not to mention that I considered my body and mind as the property of the person standing next to me, and only he was allowed to touch me.
"I think there is some kind of misunderstanding." I tried to clarify, "I'm here to ask you to spar with my pupil."
"Pupil, you say..." he gave me a second once over. Getting a good look at my gi consisting of black pants and a dark red short-sleeved jacket above the weighted black T-shirt, similar in design to the one Kakarot was wearing, the only difference being his jacket was dark blue.
It was probably the first time I came to appreciate that humans have a similar outward appearance to us Saiyans, for once outweighing the aversion I felt for sharing the likeness of such an inferior race. Since it allowed us, near effortlessly, to blend in. All it took was hiding our tails, twining it around our midsections beneath the belt of our Gi, and we were indistinguishable from the native population.
"Oh, a martial artist. Let me guess you want to see my skill in order to determine if I'm good enough to teach you. Do not worry. I guarantee you there is no need for a spar. Despite my advanced age, my skill hasn't waned one bit. I'm still every bit as strong as I was in my prime." He leadingly said although I couldn't see his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, I could still feel his gaze trailing every inch of my body, striping it in his mind. "Since you are a beautiful woman, I'm sure you can persuade me to allow your pupil to train with us." He said. The way he emphasized certain phrases and the undertone he managed to give his suggestion that sent a cold shiver up my spineleft no doubt in my mind of what it was he actually meant with persuading him. "What do you say? It's a great, one-time offer from the one and only Master Muten Roshi-sama the Kamesennin. But you may call me just Master~."
When he finished stating his proposal, he was wearing some deranged grin and was chuckling to himself, was that blood leaking from his nose?
I really had no intention to waste any more time talking to this person, and it didn't help that the thick skin I had in the past thinned considerably, during the time, I wasn't exposed to such behavior. Prompting me to call him Master took the cake. There was just one person I would ever refer to as such, deserving of my loyalty. Solely to insinuate I could be anything less than devoted to him, to betray him, let alone serving someone else, made me angry.
No, I couldn't let that stand without him suffering the consequences; to make him understand in no uncertain terms he crossed a line, he better should have stayed well away from.
So before the primal anger welling up in my chest could overcome my rational thoughts and he ended up dead for this insult. I decided, since words didn't seem to get through to him, that force certainly would. Following the ancient Saiyan proverb, if violence isn't solving all your problems, you're not using enough of it.
I grabbed his orange Qipao-style martial arts uniform and threw him right over my shoulder into the ocean. Barely a moment later, I heard a surprised yelp immediately followed by a splash.
When I turned around to face him, he was already slowly walking back the few meters to shore. His clothes were soaked with water, dripping with every step he took. When he reached land, he removed his sunglasses and rubbed them dry on his clothes, and put them back on when he was done.
"Oh, you have a temper." He said, with a lascivious grin plastered on his face. "I'm so gonna accept you as my pupil. We'll have so much fun together," he proclaimed, snickering to himself, "What is your name beautiful?"
"Fasha-chan, what is wrong with this old man?" Kakarot asked, "Is he dumb or deaf?"
His innocent question caught me off guard, and I was about to allow myself a small crack in my stern facade and to lift the corner of my mouth to crack a smile. Only to be dissuaded by that notion when I heard the old man repeat after Kakarot, "Fasha-chan, is it?" accompanied by a disturbing grin.
My right eye immediately started to twitch as I once more had to suppress to urge to hurt him, to hurt him bad. This guy really started to get on my nerves. Only Kakarot's presence and the fact that we were here for a spar held me back from brutalizing him. I took a deep breath to calm myself down.
"I'm the sensei of Kakarot-sama here, while I don't care, that he doesn't use the proper suffix while addressing me. I do care that you do not. So in order to keep this civil, I suggest you fix your attitude. Otherwise, I might give in to the temptation to inflict a handicap on you for this sparring match against my pupil." Showing some teeth, I asked him seriously. "What do you think about a broken arm? or would you prefer two?"
In response, he just gulped. I could smell fear permeate his skin, which I guessed was the reason why he refrained from commenting on the suffix I used for Kakarot.
"There is really no need for such drastic measures Fasha-san," he eventually placated.
"Good, now that we resolved this issue. A word of advice, do not underestimate my pupil because of his age. He is several times more powerful than you. A single lapse in judgment and you might be heavily injured or could even end up losing your life." I warned him.
"I doubt that," he declared. "He is a hundred years too young to even land on hit on me."
"If you say so," I relented, "it's your funeral, but don't say I didn't warn you, because I did."
I turned to Kakarot and activated the Scouter. It was still displaying 469 as his power level. "You are gonna have to reduce your power, close your eyes and try to mimic what you can feel from him."
He did, and the Scouter showed his power slowly decreasing until it stopped when he reached 151.
"That is still a little bit too high," I said. "One more try, or tomorrow we are gonna meditate extra long to make up for it." He tried again. This time he ended up with 129. Good enough for me; fighting an uphill battle for once might do him some good. "Good, hold it at that level. If I sense you increasing your power, it is your loss by default understood."
"Yes, Fasha-chan," Kakarot said and took his stance. He positioned himself sideways, placing his lead and rear feet two shoulder lengths apart in a line facing his opponent. He lowered his center of gravity by bending his knees at a seventy-degree angle, with his body weight clearly on his lead foot. A clear indication he wanted to be aggressive. His lead hand formed a fist and was loosely held in front of his torso, pointing in the direction of the old man whereas his other hand was pulled tight to his stomach, ready to strike.
With a glance at the old man, Roshi turtle something, I noted that he put away his sunglasses. I affirmed, "You ready?" His response consisted of a short nod. He just stood there both his hands folded behind his back.
"Start!"
Kakarot lost no time and charged the old man, at the maximum speed the restrictions put on him allowed him to.
Despite his eyes no longer being covered, it was hard to read his face and gauge his reaction to Kakarot's immediate attack. But given the trouble he had to evade the first swing Kakarot took at him, I doubted he wasn't surprised and if not for his small frame and reach and therefore the need to step deep into his guard. I was sure he would have landed a solid punch with his first attack.
His opponent masterfully bent his torso backward to avoid the punch, and Kakarot, who was in the air to reach that high sailed right past him. The old man didn't waste the opportunity presented to him, giving up his prior restraint to land a powerful punch to Kakarot's unprotected ribs.
The hit was powerful enough to change Kakarot's trajectory, and instead of landing with both feet, his weight perfectly balanced between them, which would have allowed him to jump right back at his opponent like he must have planned to do. Instead, his left foot made contact with the ground long before his right one did. It unbalanced him, and the time it took him to regain his balance was mercilessly used by the old man, capitalizing on Kakarot's mistake. Closing the distance, he started attacking him from the side.
The unsure footing Kakarot had to contest with gave him a considerable edge in addition to his superior reach, strength, speed, technique, and experience. My pupil expectably didn't stand a chance. The old man getting strike after strike past his guard, landing over a dozen clean hits, and every single one seemed to disrupt Kakarot's attempts to get back his bearings and brought him closer to an unrecoverable position.
Not that Kakarot was unaware of it. Despite that, he did well. Only every third or fourth attack got through and landed. Unfortunately, this was where the difference in experience shone through. The old man accounted for every block and used each one to build up to those punches that ultimately penetrated his defense, moving Kakarot's limbs ever so slightly out of position by the three attacks prior that he was unable to react to the fourth in time.
On the one hand, I was glad that this trip didn't turn out to be waste of time, and the old man could actually back up his boasting. On the other hand, he was pummeling Kakarot. Seeing this happen right before my eyes made the desire to hurt him badly swell up to a dangerous crescendo for every hit my boy received. I never was one for torture and gave my enemies where possible a clean and quick death which was why it was a new and strange sensation that I wanted to see the old man suffer for his insolence, to dare to touch my Kakarot-sama.
The only thing allowing my anger to subside was the look on Kakarot's face. He clearly enjoyed the fight, every second of it. A fight that would end up with him losing, if he couldn't find a way to get some distance between himself and his opponent, who didn't seem even the slightest bit inclined to allow for that.
So it was a sight to see for exactly that to happen, which I had to say was masterfully done. Kakarot, fully aware that he couldn't block all the incoming attacks changed his strategy. Instead of trying to block all attacks, like his opponent was expecting him to, allowing for those relatively weak attacks aimed at maneuvering him into a position where he would be unable to defend against the more devastating ones, to allow the first weak one through. Thereby altering the initial condition of the combination he tried to employ.
As a result, he ended up in a slightly different position than his opponent anticipated than if he would have blocked. Firmer, when he stopped second and third strike cold on his guard. The initial three strikes no longer succeeded in setting him up for a fourth follow-up attack capable of penetrating his defenses. Quite the opposite, intended to first disrupt and ultimately foil it, it went a step beyond it. Providing him with a small window of opportunity allowing for an attack of his own; a counter.
The old man's fist went right past my pupil's kick. Unfortunately, the timing was slightly off. Both attacks connected with their intended target at the very same time with great effect.
The simultaneous hits, which could be both considered counters since the forward momentum of their opponent's attacks increased the power of their own, flung them away from each other.
The momentum of the kick forced the old man to make a half spin that nearly brought him down to his knees, whereas Kakarot landed on his back with a smile plastered on his face.
He didn't waiver and immediately jumped to his feet. The old man's movement was more reserved. He slowly turned back to the little kid that got him good, which I was sure was the label he attached in his mind to his opponent.
He was clearly wary, reconsidering underestimating Kakarot. The fact that Kakarot wasn't even winded when he was noticeably breathing heavier wasn't only noticed by me.
I wondered, with him realizing that Kakarot could outlast him, what he would do?
He took a new stance, his feet set apart a little over his shoulder width his body facing Kakarot while both his hands were raised in open palms slightly displaced in height. By taking a deep breath, he retook conscious control of his respiration, and then from one moment to the next, he moved, running at high speeds right at Kakarot.
It was an easy-to-read attack, and Kakarot readied himself to meet it with his own. He was about to execute it, deflecting the old man's attack past his head by sidestepping inside the old man's guard to deliver a punch. When the old man charging him just disappeared like a figment of one's imagination and a second later one reappeared two steps to Kakarot right.
Kakarot stood there completely open, prepared to receive an attack that didn't come just to be hit by a kick to his side.
Was there a hint of hesitation? He seemed unsure of something for just a fraction of a second.
He staggered. But managed to regain his bearing before another attack could land, he moved to bring his hands up to block the follow-up attack only for the old man about to deliver it, to vanish and reappear a few steps away, this time to punch Kakarot in the face.
Seeing the technique used twice in succession and not needing to focus on fighting, I got the distinct impression that it somehow allowed the old man to create an image of himself. A short-lasting immaterial doppelgänger to distract one's opponent. It was a formidable technique, and I could see the appeal of it. Particularly when used against people in need of their eyes to keep track of their opponent.
Fortunately, neither Kakarot nor I have belonged to this group of people for quite some time. I could only assume that the trouble of the young master with this technique stemmed from the fact that his eyes were telling him something different than his other senses. He obviously was unsure which sense he could trust above the other and made him falter. Thankfully this apparent weakness was revealed in a sparring match and was wholefully rooted in inadequate training methods. We trained with eyes either opened or closed, but never did under conditions where he had access to all his senses with some of them not being trustworthy.
Something we had to remedy at the earliest opportunity, such an oversight could have cost him his life.
The old man gave the backward stumbling boy no reprieve and went for him again. Kakarot tried to dodge the punch only for the old man, who was about to hit him, to disappear once more. Another old man took his place, aiming his punch, at the exact spot the Kakarot's head moved to. In my mind's eye, I already saw him being hit again. Instead, the old man's punch went right through Kakarot face, which seemingly provided no resistance to his fist. Kakarot just faded away like the doppelgänger of the old man did previously, and another Kakarot suddenly appeared right inside the guard of the old man. The real Kakarot delivered a straight punch to the solar plexus of the old man, which drove all the air from his lungs and landed him on his back a meter away.
My mind was still reeling at seeing Kakarot just casually copying a move used on him after seeing it only twice. No wonder he was hit the second time, the first time he was surprised, and the second time he observed and analyzed what happened to him.
Seeing such a feat from a six-year-old was frightening, and at the same time endearing. I was so proud of my little Kakarot-sama, and if not for him surprising me on a regular basis, I might have looked as astonished as his opponent did while he was trying to flood his lungs with some air.
As opposed to the old man, Kakarot didn't try to push his advantage, something I had to punish him for later. I taught him better than that. You have to be able to afford mercy, and seeing how this fight went so far - he definitely couldn't afford to go easy on his opponent, not if he wanted to win.
Of course, this was only a spar with no real consequences, but it was hard to switch one mentality when required, and a lapse of judgment like this one could cost him dearly.
He allowed the battered old man to stand up. The Turtle sennin looked worse for wear the exertion, and taking those two heavy hits was clearly taking a toll on him. He was nearing the point where his exhaustion would become noticeable by a decrease in his speed. With Kakarot seemingly not even winded, he simply couldn't afford the fight to last much longer.
The old man planted his feet deep into the sand, double his shoulder-width apart, lowering his center of gravity directly facing Kakarott. He then cupped his hands with outstretched arms right in front of his torso and slowly withdrew them to his side while chanting "Kame". I could sense how he gathered and focused his energy in between his cupped hands, focused on a single point. "Hame" a blue light emanating sphere formed the size of a soup bowl enclosed by his hands. Simultaneously with him shouting the word "Ha" he thrust his hands forward in one smooth motion, and a blue streaming and no doubt powerful beam of energy shoot out of them headed right for Kakarot.
My pupil's surprised look was replaced by one of determination as he crossed his arms in front of his head and braced for the impact of the energy attack, not even trying to avoid it.
The beam hit him head-on, and the resulting explosion scattered sand and dust in the air blocking my sight of Kakarot. If not for me being aware that the attack was nowhere near strong enough to hurt him, and if I wouldn't still be sensing his presence as strong as ever, my logical thinking mind might have been replaced by something a little more primal in nature.
In fact, his energy had surged, shortly after he was hit.
Before the dust could settle and I could further think on why his energy level was suddenly higher, Kakarot was already moving. He emerged from the cloud at high speed, considerably higher than what was used in the match so far, and with a flying kick, the old man was too slow to evade, possibly not even able to see because he just stood there rooted in place was sent flying.
He crashed at a high velocity, head first right into his house. The resulting impact had wooden splinters hurled all over the place. Not even by standing a few dozen meters away, I was spared from the barrage having to dodge in order not to be hit. The old man shot out nearly unimpeded from the backside of the house, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake, and came to a stop in a mound of sand his hard landing piled up around him.
A short glance towards Kakarot revealed the reason for what happened. The right side of his Gi and his weighted T-shirt underneath were shredded, reducing the weighted clothing limiting his power to no small amount; no wonder he had misjudged his strength. To my relief, the skin looking out from underneath his tattered clothing was unscathed.
He must have tried to route the energy wave around himself when he noticed blocking it would be a problem. Even so, he must have underestimated its power. As a result, he couldn't redirect it as intended, and the attack passed far too close to his body as he maneuvered it into the ground beside him to create a cover of sand around him to facilitate his counter-attack.
A sizzling sound interrupted my thoughts. Dreading its source, I removed my Scouter, and a superficial check confirmed my fears. A wooden splinter was protruding from the metal casing, penetrating it deep enough to damage the interior, which short-circuited the whole thing.
Pulling out the splinter and discarding it, I couldn't help but silently curse at this misfortune. I only brought two Scouters with me, and short of running into one of Frieza's men, they were an irreplaceable piece of technology, and now my carelessness got one destroyed, shit.
I reached for a small pouch on my belt and took out a senzu bean, which I flicked to my pupil.
"Here, you should feed that to the old man."
Effortlessly he plugged the bean out of the air and noded. While he walked over to him, I took my time and slowly followed him, surveying the damage he caused. He really did a number on the house.
There was a huge hole in the front wall of the house. A glance inside revealed nothing but chaos. He must hit more than just one cupboard and furniture on his flight through the house before ripping another hole in the backside, taking half the interior with him. Judging by all manner of items were spread throughout the sand.
Not that I cared, what happened to the possessions of such an unpleasant man.
I nearly reached the two fighters. The old man had already regained his bearings when out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something that drew my attention; sparkling half-buried in the sand. Turning my head, I walked over to the object lying in the sand to my feet.
Bending down, I picked it up and couldn't believe my eyes. In my hand, I was holding a crystal sphere roughly eight centimeters in diameter with three five-pointed stars in it – the three Star Dragonball.
Only six more to go -
Since the first time Kami told me about them, I was fascinated by the very possibilities they represented, and I thought long and often about ways I could find them without wasting a lot of time. The best idea, I could come up with required finding one and then somehow creating or finding the means to locate the others.
There had to be something that set them apart from other items and materials. Perhaps the magic they emit can be measured similar to how the Scouter measure one power-level or something, not that I knew how to do it, but I always thought I could find someone who would and with the Scouter now broken, too. I had more than one reason to find someone tech-savvy.
"What happened?" the old man asked, confusion plastered on his face as his eyes darted around.
"I knocked you out, old man," Kakarot proudly declared and added a bit more subdued, "sorry about your house. It was an accident, honest."
"What about my House..." he repeated after Kakarot, only for him to step aside, no longer blocking the old man's view, allowing the old man a good look at the damage they caused. "My beautiful house," he whined, jumped up, and ran over to it, assessing the damage.
Kakarot followed after him and tried his best to console him. Rather unsuccessful, it seemed. With the Dragon Ball in hand, I approached them, and in between the sniffling, I heard the old man say. "Not only my house but my dignity as a martial artist... to be beaten by a child barely out of his diapers ... my carefully carved reputation ... down the drain ... if others hear about this, I won't ever live this down."
I really was tempted to let him wallow in self-pity, reservations of his character aside, he helped Kakarot in his training, and the latter had to be reminded of his shortcomings, I had to be careful not to allow his perceived overwhelming strength to get to his head. There is always space for improvement.
"You didn't lose, old man," I told him.
"Roshi, Muten Roshi -" he reflexively corrected. Still staring at the debris of his late house.
Not sure he heard what I said, I repeated it. "You didn't lose the fight, Roshi-san. My pupil violated the rules I set for him during your match by using more strength than I permitted him to. Which means he lost, which in turn means..."
"I won." he at first mumbled, unbelieving, and then shouted to the heavens, "I won!"
"Yes -"
It took him a moment to notice Kakarot standing next to him, watching his emotional outburst with great interest. Harrumphing, Roshi did his best to regain his composure.
Reaching for his chest pocket where he stashed his sunglasses before the fight, he took them back out only to see them crumbling in his soft grip after he freed them from what kept together thus far. His reaction was immediate, the elation of winning forgotten, letting his head hang in mourning.
I did my best and ignored his antics and turned to my downcast pupil "You really did good young master," I praised, "I was impressed how you managed to free yourself from being overwhelmed and again by how you managed to copy the very technique used against you by just seeing it twice. This is a testimony to your talent, which is why I expected better of you. Not noticing your Gi being shredded and attacking your opponent in that situation could have cost him his life ..."
He started sobbing at my reprimand. Kneeling down in front of him, I said, "I'm not angry at you, never believe that, I want what is best for you, always," I emphasized. "I couldn't have cared less if you killed the old man."
Roshi was about to respond, probably something along the lines of the lives of the elderly matter. Seeing the glare I sent his way had him rethink drawing my ire.
"Then why..." Kakarot started to inquire.
"Because killing is something that changes you, young master. Regardless of that fact, it was a deliberate action that led to it or not. This is why it should never be done lightly. Killing someone accidentally might haunt you for the rest of your days." I told him, only to be met with confusion displayed on his face. Sighing, I added, "What I'm trying to impart is that killing is not like Kami always preaches something inherently bad. Sometimes it has to be done. The reason may vary, but if you do end up killing, someone you'd better have meant it."
"So, young master, did you mean to kill the old man?" I asked him.
"No,-" he said firmly. Realizing, the weight of the question.
"Then that just means you made a mistake. We learn from our mistakes far more than we ever do from our successes. So will it happen again? you underestimating your strength and hurting someone you didn't mean to?"
"No,-" he reafirmed his conviction.
"See, and only for this lesson it was worth coming here, don't you think?"
"Hmm" he nodded reluctantly.
"Well, in that case, we have to do this more often. You had fun, right?"
"Yes -" he admitted, and I smiled at him.
Inwardly I did not feel like smiling - It wasn't enough – the risk was too high if the weighted clothing was flawed and unsuitable to contain his power during a fight. I had to look elsewhere for alternatives other more reliable options so that he could have some fun and learn a thing or two about fighting. I couldn't allow for another such mistake to occur. The next time we might not be as lucky with the victim surviving.
"Well, in that case," Roshi's voice interrupted my train of thought, "would it be too much to ask you not to visit me ever again. I hardly can afford the repairs of the damages my house suffered today, and I'd rather avoid for this to become a regular occurrence." Or could this be an excuse - because you didn't want to lose against a kid again? "If your pupil wants to measure up against martial artist, why not have him participate in the Tenkaichi Budōkai. It's every five years recurring martial arts tournament where the best of the world fight it out. If I remember right, the next one is to be held in two years' time in 745."
"Can I go then, Fasha-chan?" a giddy Kakarot asked.
"Of course," I allowed, "it might be a sight to see."
Addressing the old man I said, "Roshi-san, I'm willing to go along with your request of not visiting again if you allow me to keep this." I held up the Dragonball for him to see.
He hesitated for a moment, probably weighing his options. Strangely enough, he decided not to press his luck with me.
"In that case, thank you for this sparring match and even though unintended teaching my pupil one of your techniques."
"That's okay," he waved off, "the highest form of flattery is imitation after all, so I should feel honored by this."
"Oh, that's good then because it wasn't just one technique I learned." A smiling Kakarot informed us.
"What are you..." the old man wondered and only mid-question realizing what Kakarot meant. "NO! It can't be it took me fifty years to invent that technique, how can you just..."
I smirked to myself, "Kakarot would you please be so kind and show us what else you learned – no need to hold back – give it your all." I encouraged him.
Forgotten was the reprimand, and with a smile, he turned around, facing the ocean.
He even went as far as to mimic the movements he observed earlier, cupping his hands at his side, starting to chant the same words "Kame" energy was flowing towards a single point between them. The sheer amount was incomparable to what the old man managed to evoke, and he wasn't even halfway done as he chanted "Hame" under his breath. The energy became visible and formed a ball of highly compressed energy. It was so much that he physically had to contain it by pushing his hands against it for it not to escape its confinement and with a shout of "Ha." He pushed his hands forward in one smooth motion to release all the pent-up energy.
The ocean, a collection of an incredible amount of water, split apart. Despite the energy wave not even touching the water beneath its course, the blinding light was so overwhelming that I had to avert my eyes. Next to me, Muten Roshi just stared slack-jawed.
When the attack finally ended, and the walls of the trench he momentarily created collapsed against each other in two giant waves, forcefully receding to their original place. I playfully chided, "enough showing off, little one. We wouldn't want for the old man to get a heart attack."
Kakarot grinned sheepishly at the old man.
"Roshi-san ..." He ignored me, calling him, which was why I was a bit more forceful the second time to bring him out of his stupor. "Roshi-san..."
"Yeah, what is it?" He absent-mindedly responded, his gaze still lingered on the aftermath of Kakarots' display as secondary smaller waves kept disturbing the ocean surface.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I might find some of the world's best scientists?"
"West City, the owner of Capsule Corps is said to be one of the smartest men on the planet," he answered.
"Thank you." I responded turned to my pupil and said, "Let's go, Kakarot."
Authors Note:
Well, I expected this chapter to be out weeks ago - a copy and paste mistake set me back quite some time. So sorry about the wait especially to those I mentioned timeframes.
It can be argued if the weighted clothes are able to effectively reduce one combat power (most relevant stats) as I did here. Since some stats like strength might not be as cut and dry as a reduction in speed is.
Nonetheless, I decided to go this route ... which sort of is only meant as a placeholder for the time being until Fasha finds some other means to the same effect.
I'm aware that in canon Muten Roshi wore his Dragonball around his neck. Since I didn't elaborate where the Dragonball came from, I was unspecific for a reason, he might have lost it when he was sent flying or might have come from his house. It also might have been just lying there Muten Roshi must have gotten it somewhere and just hadn't found it yet.
Him, considering to try to get something from Fasha in return doesn't mean he had ownership of the Dragon Ball prior to this. It just means he saw an opportunity and wanted to profit from it.
Fasha addressing Kakarot with the sama suffix – I thought really long and hard about doing that throughout the whole chapter not just once to make a point which was one of the reasons that this chapter went through major edits ...
At first, she just called him kun, but that somehow felt to be not enough, simply not up to what I vision I had of her after losing everything to hold onto what was left to her ... until I reached the point where sama seemed justified, but somehow Master felt too strong, on hand, she would do everything for him but as I pointed out for Kakarot to end up a decent adult some parenting was necessary – so I at one settled her calling him young master as a compromise, but that didn't feel right either.
Ultimately after getting some advice I settled for just Kakarot – I think overall it's the best option not making Fasha changes in personality over that six-year time skip too steep.