Chapter 1: Enter Yamoshi
AGE 534
Sunlight slipped through a small gap in the window, spilling soft, golden light across the quiet room. The only sound was the steady rhythm of snores coming from a young boy, fast asleep in his bed. Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside.
"Yamoshi, time to wake up!" an older boy called out.
Yamoshi stirred slightly but remained lost in sleep.
"Yamoshi!" the older boy repeated, sighing when there was no response. "Alright, I guess I'll have to wake you up myself."
He walked over to the bed and leaned down, extending a hand toward Yamoshi's face. "Sorry, but you've left me no choice," he said with a grin as he pinched Yamoshi's cheek.
"Ow!" Yamoshi yelped, bolting upright and rubbing his sore cheek. "What was that for?"
The older boy, Zucci, crossed his arms and smirked. "You wouldn't wake up, so I had to take matters into my own hands."
"Well, you didn't have to pinch me so hard!" Yamoshi pouted, crossing his arms in defiance.
Zucci chuckled. "I didn't want you to be late for your first day at SaiyaPrep."
At the mention of SaiyaPrep, Yamoshi's irritation melted away, his eyes widening with excitement. A huge, toothy grin spread across his face as he bounced up and down on his bed. "SaiyaPrep! SaiyaPrep!" he chanted eagerly.
Zucci shook his head, amused by his little brother's enthusiasm. "Looks like someone's excited," he teased. "But you better hurry up and get dressed. There's food on the table waiting for you."
As Zucci turned to leave, Yamoshi's gaze darted to the small set of armor hanging on the wall. The black and brown torso, paired with matching black shorts and shoes, gleamed in the morning light. His heart swelled with pride—today, he would finally wear the armor his parents had gifted him for his 6th birthday.
Wasting no time, Yamoshi leapt out of bed, quickly put on the armor, and rushed out of the room, grinning from ear to ear. Today was the day he'd been waiting for.
As Yamoshi stepped out of his room, his nose twitched, picking up a mouthwatering scent drifting from the dining room. Instantly curious, he rushed toward the source. His eyes lit up when he saw the large drumstick of meat resting on the table, its rich aroma filling the air.
Without hesitation, Yamoshi licked his lips, sat down, and grabbed the drumstick by the bone. In seconds, he was devouring the meal, tearing into the meat with ravenous enthusiasm.
Zucci walked in, shaking his head in disbelief. "Hey, slow down! Even for a Saiyan, you eat way too fast!"
Yamoshi swallowed a large bite, then scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I was hungry," he said with a wide, cheeky grin.
Zucci couldn't help but smile, ruffling Yamoshi's hair. "What are we gonna do with you, huh?"
Yamoshi chuckled, licking his fingers clean.
Zucci glanced at the clock and sighed. "Alright, come on, brat. We're gonna be late if you don't hurry up."
He headed for the front door, opening it wide.
"Hey, wait up!" Yamoshi shouted, quickly hopping up from the table and sprinting after his brother.
Zucci held the door as Yamoshi caught up, and the two Saiyans stepped outside, ready to take on the day.
Zucci slid his hands into his pockets as he strolled forward, Yamoshi eagerly following, skipping beside him. "So... what's it going to be like?" Yamoshi asked, his curiosity bubbling over.
"Hm? You mean Saiya Prep?" Zucci replied, glancing at his little brother. Yamoshi nodded enthusiastically.
"Well, for now, they'll be teaching you the basics," Zucci explained.
Yamoshi's eyes lit up, filled with excitement. "Ooh, will they teach me how to fly?"
Zucci chuckled. "Probably when you're older, once you've got a better handle on how ki works."
Yamoshi's face fell for a moment, a brief flicker of disappointment, but his cheery mood returned just as quickly. Together, they walked across the reddish terrain, passing rows of simple dirt huts along the way until they reached the bustling city of Zakun.
Yamoshi's eyes widened as he took in the sight. The city was alive with activity, filled with Saiyans walking the streets, haggling with vendors, and standing in lines to buy from various market stalls. The energy of the place was overwhelming.
"Woah... there's so much stuff here," Yamoshi marveled, his gaze darting from one market to another. Every stall seemed to offer something different. One vendor had racks of gleaming armor on display, while another showcased steaming pots filled with exotic foods.
"This place has everything," Yamoshi thought in awe, feeling like everything a Saiyan could ever want was right in front of him.
Zucci grinned. "This is where a Saiyan gets all the essentials—food, supplies, armor. Whatever you need, you'll find it here. Though... it'll cost you a fair bit of Zeons," he added with a smirk.
Yamoshi glanced up at Zucci, grinning back. He couldn't wait to earn his own money and buy all the things he wanted. The thought alone filled him with excitement as they continued toward their destination.
As the two Saiyans continued on their way, a voice called out from one of the nearby vendors. "Hey, Zu Zu~!" a girl shouted, waving with a playful grin.
Zucci turned toward the vendor, his eyes landing on her. "Sarada?" he said, making his way over, Yamoshi trailing behind him.
"The one and only," Sarada replied with a bright smile. Yamoshi glanced between them, thinking they clearly knew each other well.
"What are you doing here?" Zucci asked, his tone curious.
"I'm working, obviously! I've been selling out of hot buns—these things are flying off the shelves," Sarada said proudly, gesturing toward the steamy batch of food behind her.
Zucci raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you finally got your license as a food merchant? That's awesome!" he said, genuinely impressed.
"Yup! I wasn't cut out for fighting like the rest of you, and since I'm already good at cooking, my uncle figured, why not set up a shop here in Zakun and let me sell my creations?" she explained.
"That's amazing. Already hustling for those Zeons, huh?" Zucci grinned.
Sarada chuckled softly, but then sighed. "Well, when you're a low-class Saiyan like me, there's not much else you can do but set up a vendor stall. I'm just lucky I had talent in cooking, instead of being stuck with nothing."
Zucci gave her a reassuring smile. "Still, it's impressive."
"Alright enough about me what about you Zu Zu? I heard you were entering the SaiyaBowl!" Sarada teased with a smirk. "You sure are brave, Zu Zu."
Zucci blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah... I am," he admitted sheepishly.
"Just know I'll be cheering for you. I want to see you accomplish your dream!" Sarada flashed a radiant smile, causing Zucci to blush even deeper.
"T-thanks, Sarada," he stammered.
Yamoshi, amused by the whole exchange, chuckled. "Woah, your face is all red, Zucci!"
"S-shut up!" Zucci snapped, glaring at his little brother.
Sarada giggled, her attention now shifting to Yamoshi. "And who's this little guy you brought with you, Zu Zu?"
Zucci turned back to her. "This is my annoying little brother," he said, then nudged Yamoshi forward. "Say hi, Yamoshi."
"Hi!" Yamoshi chirped with a wide smile.
Sarada laughed softly while waving. "I didn't know you had a little brother, Zu Zu. You two look nothing alike."
"Well, I'm adopted, but he's still my brother," Zucci said with a smile, playfully ruffling Yamoshi's hair.
"Aww, that's sweet," Sarada said warmly.
"Yeah, I'm actually taking him to SaiyaPrep, today is his first day, and he's been excited about it for weeks," Zucci explained.
"SaiyaPrep! SaiyaPrep! SaiyaPrep!" Yamoshi repeated, bouncing up and down in excitement.
Zucci chuckled. "Calm down, we're about to leave" he said before turning back to Sarada. "Anyway, it was really great catching up with you. I enjoyed talking to you."
"Me too," Sarada replied, holding his gaze for a moment longer.
Just as Zucci was about to turn to leave, Sarada called out again, "Wait, Zu Zu! Before you go, let me give you two a little treat."
Zucci paused, looking back at her. "A treat?"
"Yeah, since it's the little guy's first day, he deserves something special to kick it off right," she said with a smirk.
Zucci reached for his pouch of Zeons. "That sounds great, but let me—"
Sarada quickly pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him mid-sentence. "Shhh. It's on the house," she winked. Zucci's cheeks turned pink again.
"Are you sure? I don't want to cause you any troub—"
"I said, don't worry about it," Sarada cut him off, her smile teasing. "It's just a couple of buns. Now sit back and watch the master at work!" She turned to start cooking, the smell of fresh dough and spices filling the air.
While Zucci stood watching Sarada work, Yamoshi's attention wandered. He spotted a gathering crowd of Saiyans further down the street, curiosity piquing his interest. Quietly, he slipped away to investigate what all the commotion was about.
"Aim for the head!" one Saiyan shouted. "Knock his lights out!" another chimed in, their voices full of excitement.
Yamoshi, his face lit with curiosity, wandered toward the growing crowd, eager to see what all the commotion was about. As he approached, the noise became louder—chants and cheers echoing through the street. The crowd formed a tight circle, all eyes locked on something at the center.
Yamoshi, too short to see past the tall Saiyans in front of him, tried to catch a glimpse of what was happening. He stood on his tiptoes, craning his neck, but the wall of bodies blocked his view. Undeterred, he began to hop up and down, but even then, his vision was still obscured by the towering figures around him.
Yamoshi huffed in frustration, taking a few steps back as he prepared for another attempt. "Alright, here goes!" he muttered to himself. With a determined yell, he charged toward the crowd, hoping to break through.
"Aghhh!" he cried as he barreled forward, but instead of slipping through, he collided with the wall of Saiyans and was promptly shoved back, stumbling as he nearly fell to the ground. Rubbing his shoulder, he scowled at the impenetrable crowd, feeling even more determined to find a way in.
"Hmm... how do I get in?" Yamoshi thought, scanning the area. His eyes then fell on a couple of crates stacked by an empty vendor stand. A smirk tugged at his lips as an idea formed in his mind.
Yamoshi walked over to the nearest crate and placed both hands on it. "Eghhh," he grunted, struggling to pull it toward the crowd. Despite the weight, he managed to drag the crate into position, wiping his brow in satisfaction. Climbing on top of it, Yamoshi's excitement dimmed when he realized he still couldn't see much. He jumped up and down, catching glimpses of two Saiyans locked in a fierce battle at the center of the crowd. His frustration deepened.
His gaze then drifted to another crate beside the vendor stand. A determined glint flashed in his eyes as he hopped down, ready for round two. Yamoshi gripped the second crate, this one even heavier than the first. "Why are these things so heavy?" he muttered, straining against its weight. After much effort, he dragged it into place beside the first.
Now came the hardest part. Yamoshi took a deep breath and squatted down, gripping the smaller crate with both hands. He heaved with all his strength, muscles burning, but his determination wouldn't let him give up. Slowly, he lifted it and placed it on top of the larger crate.
Panting, he smiled to himself. "I did it." He then climbed up the stack, and finally, he had the perfect view of the fight unfolding in front of him. With a satisfied grin, Yamoshi sat down, ready to enjoy the spectacle.
One of the Saiyans wore bronze armor, his face set with fierce determination, while the other was shirtless, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The two were locked in a heated battle, exchanging blows with raw intensity.
"Haghhh!" the Bronze-armored Saiyan roared as he charged forward, swinging his fist in a wide arc, aiming for his opponent's head. But the shirtless Saiyan effortlessly blocked the attack, his movements fluid. Without hesitation, he drove his knee into the armored Saiyan's stomach, followed by a crushing punch to the face, sending his opponent flying backward.
As the Bronze Saiyan hurtled through the air, his eyes widened as he spotted the white chalk marking the edge of the fighting circle. If he crossed it, he'd lose the match. With a grunt, he twisted his body and dug his feet into the ground, skidding to a halt just before the line. He steadied himself, dropping back into a fighting stance.
"It'll take way more than that to beat me!" he growled, his voice defiant.
The shirtless Saiyan chuckled, crossing his arms lazily. "Please," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, "you're just middle-class at best. I'm just playing with you."
The Bronze Saiyan clenched his fists, his teeth grinding in frustration. With a roar, he charged again, unleashing a barrage of punches. But the shirtless Saiyan dodged each strike with ease, barely breaking a sweat. Then, in a blur of movement, he drove his fist deep into the Bronze Saiyan's gut, causing him to gasp and cough up blood. A quick elbow to the face followed, sending the armored fighter crashing to his knees, clutching his stomach.
"Erghh..." the Bronze Saiyan groaned, his body trembling. "How... how are you this strong?"
The shirtless Saiyan smirked down at him, arms crossed arrogantly. "I told you," he sneered, "you're middle-class trash. I'm high-class." He tilted his head with a wicked grin, savoring the power difference.
Yamoshi watched from his perch on the crates, eyes wide in awe. He had heard about the class system among Saiyans but had never seen such a stark difference in strength. It was almost overwhelming to witness how badly one fighter could dominate another.
"Finish him!" the crowd roared, hungry for the fight's conclusion.
The shirtless Saiyan's smirk widened as he stepped forward, winding up for a powerful finishing blow. He charged his fist back, ready to end the fight once and for all. But just as his punch flew forward, his wrist was suddenly caught—mid-strike—by another hand.
The crowd gasped, Yamoshi's eyes widened in shock. Someone had intervened.
Standing before the crowd was a towering figure in high-level Saiyan armor—a pristine white torso, yellow shoulder pads, dark blue pants, white gloves, and boots, with a tail wrapped firmly around his waist. The man's presence caused an immediate shift in the air. His grip was firm, and his expression even firmer. This was no ordinary Saiyan. It was Yamoshi's father, General Yamu—a name that struck fear into the hearts of many.
The crowd began to murmur in nervous whispers.
"It's General Yamu! What's he doing here?" one Saiyan whispered.
Yamu, unfazed by the growing tension, tightened his grip on the wrist of the shirtless Saiyan, who now trembled beneath his gaze. The shirtless Saiyan's eyes darted to the emblem emblazoned on Yamu's chest, marking him as a member of the Royal Elite Four—warriors whose strength was said to rival even the highest-ranking Saiyans. Fear crept into the shirtless Saiyan's expression.
"That's enough," Yamu commanded, his voice booming with authority. The crowd immediately fell silent, any trace of excitement from the fight snuffed out by his mere presence.
"I'll remind you all," Yamu continued, "that fighting in Zukon is strictly prohibited. Those who break this law will earn themselves a six-month stay in the Zukon Gulag." His eyes narrowed, and the shirtless Saiyan visibly gulped, sweat forming on his brow as Yamu's words sunk in.
Before anything further could happen, another voice cut through the tense atmosphere, coming from behind the crowd. "It's alright, Yamu, you can let him go."
The crowd shifted, parting in reverence as a man stepped forward, dressed in white battle armor adorned with a regal cape draped over his torso, red shoulder pads gleaming in the sunlight. His rugged face was framed by a thick beard, a prominent scar slashing across his left eye. Behind him stood three other Saiyans, all clad in armor matching Yamu's.
The crowd gasped in disbelief.
"It's King Dakkon!" one Saiyan shouted.
"It's really him!" another exclaimed.
Yamoshi's eyes widened in awe as he gazed upon the King of the Saiyans himself, the mighty ruler of their world. But amidst the overwhelming presence of the King, Yamoshi's attention drifted to one of the figures standing beside him—a woman wearing armor identical to Yamu's. Her piercing eyes and strong posture made her stand out.
It was his mother, Moshi.
Yamoshi's heart raced as he stared at her, the gravity of the moment dawning on him. Both his parents stood among the most powerful Saiyans in existence, commanding fear and respect from all around them.
"But King Dakkon, these two broke the rules. They should be punished accordingly," Yamu insisted, his grip still tight on the shirtless Saiyan's wrist. His stern gaze shifted briefly to the bronze-armored Saiyan, who was still kneeling on the ground, clutching his stomach.
King Dakkon raised a hand in a calming gesture. "It's alright, General Yamu. These two didn't cause any real harm, and from what I can see, they put on quite the show for everyone. Let's let it slide this time," the king said with a casual but commanding tone.
Yamu leaned in, whispering coldly to the shirtless Saiyan, "You're lucky," before releasing his wrist. The shirtless Saiyan gasped in relief, cradling his aching wrist for a moment. Then, realizing his good fortune, he quickly scrambled to his feet, rushing toward the king and dropping to his knees in submission.
"Thank you, King Dakkon!" the shirtless Saiyan exclaimed.
The bronze-armored Saiyan, seeing this, hurriedly followed suit, bowing beside his opponent. "Thank you, King Dakkon," he echoed, his voice trembling with respect.
The king gave them a simple nod of acknowledgment, and the two Saiyans wasted no time, rising to their feet and retreating through the crowd, eager to escape further scrutiny.
King Dakkon then turned toward Yamu, who straightened up and stepped beside him, a silent exchange of mutual respect passing between the two. Yamoshi, still perched atop the crates, watched in awe as his father stood side by side with the king. The crowd, too, fell into a hushed anticipation, waiting for King Dakkon to address them.
"Greetings, my fellow Saiyans!" the king began, his voice carrying authority and charisma. The crowd buzzed with murmurs, wondering what announcement he was about to make.
"I have good news for you all," King Dakkon continued, a slight smile forming on his rugged face. "The 26th SaiyaBowl will begin this week! So if you enjoyed this little skirmish, you'll love what's coming next!"
The crowd erupted into a roar of excitement, cheering at the top of their lungs. The SaiyaBowl was the most anticipated event of the year, a grand tournament where only the strongest could compete. Yamoshi's heart raced—this was the very tournament Zucci had told him he would be competing in.
As the cheers died down, King Dakkon raised a hand again for silence. "Now, go back to your daily lives. We have much to prepare for. But remember, the real battle is yet to come."
With that, the crowd began to disperse, the excitement still palpable in the air. Saiyans returned to their vendors, their conversations buzzing with anticipation about the upcoming SaiyaBowl. Yamoshi, still sitting atop his makeshift seat of crates, couldn't help but grin as he imagined Zucci standing victorious in the tournament.
As the crowd dispersed, one of the passing Saiyans bumped into the stack of crates where Yamoshi had perched himself. The impact sent the crates wobbling precariously. Before Yamoshi could react, the top crate slipped out from beneath him, and with a startled yelp, he tumbled down, crashing to the ground along with the crates.
"Ahh!" Yamoshi cried out as he hit the dirt, dazed and rubbing his head.
The loud crash of the crates caught the immediate attention of King Dakkon and his four royal elites. Moshi's eyes widened in alarm as she recognized the familiar figure on the ground.
"Yamoshi!" she cried, rushing over to her son. Kneeling down, she wrapped him in her arms, checking him for any signs of injury. Yamu stood at a distance, his arms crossed, watching silently.
"Are you alright, Yamoshi? Did you hurt yourself?" Moshi asked, her voice full of concern.
"I'm fine, Mom," Yamoshi reassured her, standing up and dusting himself off. His tail, which had come loose from his waist, flicked confidently behind him.
King Dakkon, observing the scene, smirked. "So, that's your boy, huh, Yamu?" he said with a chuckle.
Yamu sighed but couldn't help the pride creeping into his voice. "Yes, that's him."
The king's eyes lingered on Yamoshi's tail, which stood high and strong. "He's got potential. His tail's naturally elevated—shows strength," King Dakkon remarked, making Yamu smirk in agreement.
Moshi, still fussing over Yamoshi, turned her gaze toward the crowd, her expression stern. "Where in the world is Zucci? Isn't he supposed to be taking you to SaiyaPrep today?"
As if summoned by her words, Zucci appeared, rushing forward with two hot buns in hand and a nervous look plastered across his face. "I'm right here…" he said, his voice tinged with anxiety.
Moshi turned on him, arms crossed, eyes narrowing. "And where have you been, Zucci? You're supposed to be watching Yamoshi!"
Zucci scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I, uh, got caught up with something…" he mumbled, trying to explain himself.
"Next time, you keep both eyes on your brother," Moshi scolded firmly.
Zucci nodded quickly, understanding her frustration. Moshi then turned her attention to Yamoshi, who was looking up at her sheepishly. "And no more sneaking off, young man. You stay with Zucci at all times, understand?"
Yamoshi nodded obediently, his eyes wide with guilt.
Moshi sighed, her expression softening as she ruffled the hair of both boys. "Alright, off you go. And stay out of trouble."
She gave them a final glance before returning to King Dakkon's side. Together, the royal party slowly made their departure, leaving Zucci and Yamoshi standing in the aftermath of the commotion.
Zucci let out a deep sigh of relief, turning to Yamoshi with an irritated expression. "Thanks a lot, you got us in trouble, and we're gonna be late!" he grumbled.
Yamoshi crossed his arms and scoffed. "Well, maybe if you weren't too busy talking to your girlfriend, we wouldn't have been late," he retorted, sticking his tongue out playfully.
Zucci's face flushed. "S-she's not my girlfriend, you little runt!" he stammered, before sighing again. "You're lucky you're my little brother."
With a resigned look, Zucci handed Yamoshi a hot bun. "Here, hurry up and eat it before we get there."
Before Zucci could even take a bite of his own, he looked over in shock. Yamoshi had already devoured his bun in a matter of seconds, licking his fingers with a satisfied grin.
Zucci shook his head in disbelief. "What are we gonna do with you?" he muttered, taking a bite of his own bun.
After finishing their snack, the two brothers continued walking through Zukon, winding through the streets until they reached a massive building. The sign above the entrance read, *SaiyaPrep Zenkai*.
"This is it," Zucci said as they approached the entrance.
They stepped inside the building, the air buzzing with energy. At the end of the hallway, a woman sat behind a desk, scanning through some papers. Zucci stepped forward, Yamoshi bouncing beside him, clutching the edge of the desk and barely able to contain his excitement.
The woman glanced at Yamoshi, then looked up at Zucci. "Name?" she asked curtly.
"Yamoshi," he replied.
She rifled through the papers, then paused, looking back up at him. "Yamu's and Moshi's kid, right?"
Zucci nodded.
She slid a piece of paper across the desk along with a small pad of ink. "Stamp your hand right here," she instructed.
Zucci dipped his hand into the ink and pressed it onto the paper. The woman took it, placing it underneath the desk before motioning toward Yamoshi. "Alright, come along now, child."
Yamoshi hesitated for a moment, looking back at Zucci for reassurance.
Zucci knelt down to Yamoshi's eye level, smirking as he ruffled his little brother's hair. "Alright, today's your first day, so try not to cause too much trouble, you little runt," he teased, giving Yamoshi a gentle pinch on the cheek.
Yamoshi winced playfully, rubbing his cheek before flashing Zucci a bright smile. With a quick nod, he turned and followed the woman down the hallway, his excitement bubbling up once again.
The woman, Chiva, led Yamoshi down the hallway, her footsteps echoing as he followed closely behind. They stopped in front of a large door, which she pushed open before calling out, "Suncho, come here."
A towering man emerged from the room, his presence commanding. He glanced down at Yamoshi and then back at Chiva. "What is it, Chiva?" he rumbled in a deep voice.
"This is Yamoshi," she said, motioning to the boy. "He's your new student."
Suncho chuckled, eyeing Yamoshi with amusement. "Another little runt to deal with, huh?" He then looked directly at Yamoshi, his eyes glinting with interest. "How are you, kid? The name's Suncho. I'll be your teacher." He extended a massive hand.
Yamoshi, wide-eyed, stared up at Suncho's imposing figure, feeling the weight of the man's strength before nervously shaking his hand.
"Alright, I'll be off now," Chiva said, turning to leave.
Suncho walked back into the classroom, calling out to the students. "Alright, listen up, you little brats! We've got a new student joining us today."
The classroom buzzed with whispers. "I wonder who it is," one kid muttered.
"Do you think they're strong?" another asked.
"Doesn't matter if they're strong," a third chimed in. "No one can beat Cumber."
At the mention of the name, all eyes turned to the back of the room, where a boy sat with his head resting on his desk, seemingly asleep.
"Yeah, Cumber's unbeatable," one of the kids said.
"He doesn't even care," another added, glancing at the still-slumbering Cumber.
"Quiet!" Suncho barked, snapping the class to attention. Even Cumber stirred, lifting his head slightly to see what the commotion was about.
Suncho turned to Yamoshi, who was still standing at the doorway, and gave him a nod.
Taking a deep breath, Yamoshi stepped into the classroom. He waved shyly, his tail flicking behind him as he introduced himself. "Hi, I'm Yamoshi!"
The classroom went silent, every pair of eyes fixated on the new arrival.
The classroom buzzed with whispers again. "Woah, he's cute," a girl whispered.
"Yeah, he looks adorable," another giggled.
Yamoshi overheard the comments and felt his cheeks flush red, his tail flicking behind him nervously.
"Psst, do you see how his tail's naturally upright?" one boy whispered to his friend.
"Yeah, so what?" the other responded.
"That means he should be strong, right?" the first boy insisted.
"He doesn't look strong to me," Cumber's voice cut through the chatter, loud and mocking, clearly trying to provoke a reaction. But Yamoshi only stared back, his expression blank, not taking the bait.
Suncho clapped his hands, bringing the room to order. "Alright, enough of that. Yamoshi, go ahead and take a seat in the back."
Yamoshi nodded quietly and made his way to the back of the room, settling into a seat a few spots across from Cumber. As he sat down, he could feel Cumber's gaze fixed on him. There was something about Yamoshi that clearly rubbed Cumber the wrong way, though Yamoshi couldn't tell what.
Cumber scowled, not knowing why, but already deciding—he didn't like this kid.
"Alright, class," Suncho began, his deep voice cutting through the remaining whispers, "as you know, I've been given the task of shaping you all into true Saiyan warriors over the next four years. Each year, we'll focus on a new lesson, and everyone must master each phase to move on to the next."
The students listened closely as Suncho continued. "In the first year, we'll study our history and what it truly means to be a Saiyan. The second year will focus on survival skills—how to endure, adapt, and thrive in harsh environments. In the third year, we'll dive into the basics of ki—how to sense, control, and harness it. Finally, the fourth year will be all about combat—learning how to fight, survive, and win."
Yamoshi felt a mix of nervousness and excitement bubbling inside him. The thought of learning what it meant to be a Saiyan, to control ki, and eventually fight filled him with anticipation. He clenched his fists under the table, eager for what lay ahead.
"Now that you all understand the path we're taking," Suncho continued, "let's begin with our first lesson: Saiyan history and what it means to carry the pride of our race."
As Suncho continued his lesson, the monotone drone of his voice began to lull some of the students into sleep. However, Yamoshi remained attentive, scribbling down facts as Suncho spoke about the origins of the Saiyan race. His focus was interrupted by a soft whisper from the boy sitting next to him.
"Psst!" the boy whispered, catching Yamoshi's attention. "Your name's Yamoshi, right?"
Yamoshi nodded slightly, whispering back, "Yeah."
The boy grinned. "I'm Capper," he introduced, extending his hand under the desk. Yamoshi smiled and shook it.
"You look pretty young. How old are you?" Capper asked, curiosity lacing his voice.
Yamoshi held up six fingers. "Six," he whispered back.
Capper's eyes widened in surprise. "Whoa, you're six? You're the youngest here!" he whispered in amazement. He then motioned toward Cumber, who sat a few rows away. "That guy over there, he's ten—the oldest in our class."
Yamoshi glanced at Cumber but quickly looked away, not wanting to draw his attention. Capper leaned in closer. "They say Cumber started late, which is why he's still a first year. But honestly, I think it's because he can never finish the year without falling asleep," he whispered, stifling a giggle.
Yamoshi couldn't help but giggle too. Their quiet laughter, however, drew a sharp glance from Suncho, making them quickly go silent and sit up straight.
Capper leaned back in his chair, flashing Yamoshi a grin. "I think you'll like it here. You're already keeping up with class, and that's more than most."
Yamoshi smiled, feeling a little more at ease. He turned back to his notes, glad to have made a friend on his first day.
As the minutes ticked by, the bell finally rang, signaling the end of class. "Class dismissed," Suncho called out, and the Saiyan children bolted for the door.
"C'mon, it's time for lunch," Capper said, nudging Yamoshi to follow. The two joined the stream of students, heading outside to a large open field where rows of tables and chairs were set up. In the center stood a small shack where the lunch lady served food. Yamoshi and Capper lined up, waiting patiently.
Yamoshi looked around in confusion, noticing the line wasn't moving. "Why isn't anyone getting their food?" he asked.
Capper tilted his head toward the school doors. "They're waiting for him."
Right on cue, the door swung open, and Cumber walked out, slowly making his way to the front of the line. He grabbed his tray of food and headed to a table, where he sat down. Only after Cumber had been served did the line begin to move again.
"Why did they let him cut in line?" Yamoshi asked, still baffled.
Capper shrugged. "The strongest eats first."
Yamoshi frowned at that, feeling the unfairness of the situation. When they finally made it to the front, they grabbed their plates and found a spot at a table with another boy, a chunkier Saiyan with a big grin. Capper clapped the boy on the back before sitting down. "Hey Corget, meet the newbie!"
Corget turned around, eyeing Yamoshi with a mock serious expression, making Yamoshi tense up. "Ah, I'm just messin' with ya," Corget said, laughing heartily. Yamoshi exhaled in relief.
"Anyway, how's it goin', man? You look tiny!" Corget said, extending his hand.
Yamoshi shook it nervously. "Yeah, I'm six," he admitted. "I guess I'm the youngest in our class."
Corget's eyebrows shot up. "Six? Whoa! Starting that early means you'll be crazy strong by the time you're ten!" He then noticed Yamoshi's upright tail and his eyes widened even more. "Whoa, and your Saiyan tail's naturally high like that? Are you some kinda prodigy?"
"Is a prodigy something you eat?" Yamoshi asked, clearly confused by the term.
Corget burst out laughing, nearly choking on his food. "Oh man, this guy's hilarious, Capper!" he said, wiping his eyes as Capper chuckled along.
Yamoshi grinned and finally took his seat, digging into his meal. After a few moments of eating, he turned to Corget. "How come I didn't see you in class?"
"Corget's in a different first-year class," Capper explained.
"Yeah, but even though we're in different classes, me and Capper are still best buddies," Corget added before swiping a piece of meat off Capper's plate.
"Hey! Get your own!" Capper protested, making Yamoshi laugh.
As the three of them ate, Yamoshi's eyes wandered across the field until he noticed a girl sitting alone at a nearby table. She seemed distant, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. Yamoshi kept watching her, feeling a strange pull.
Capper noticed Yamoshi staring. "Oh, that girl? Her name's Raunch. She doesn't talk much," Capper said casually.
Yamoshi looked back at her, sensing a quiet loneliness in her gaze. Without thinking, he stood up from the table.
"Hey, where you goin'?" Corget asked, his mouth full of food.
Yamoshi ignored them and walked over to the girl. "Hi, my name's Yamoshi," he said, extending a hand with a friendly smile.
Raunch glared at Yamoshi, her expression cold and unwelcoming. Without warning, she stomped on his foot, hard. "Leave me alone!" she shouted before storming off.
"Oww!" Yamoshi yelped, lifting his foot and grabbing it in pain. "What was that for?" he muttered, rubbing his throbbing toes.
Capper and Corget appeared beside him, both chuckling. "Well, at least now you know not to mess with her," Capper said, slapping Yamoshi on the back.
"Yeah, I guess so," Yamoshi replied, wincing but forcing a smile. Before he could dwell on it, the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. All the Saiyan kids hurried back inside to be picked up.
"Well, catch you later then," Capper said as he held out his fist.
Yamoshi bumped fists with him, watching as Capper and Corget waved and left. He stood there for a moment, feeling a bit lighter despite what had just happened with Raunch. Just as he was about to head inside, a voice rang out, stopping him in his tracks.
"Hey, new kid!"
Yamoshi's heart sank. He recognized that voice—a voice he really didn't want to deal with. Slowly turning around, he saw Cumber standing there, a cruel smirk on his face.
"Y-yeah?" Yamoshi stammered, nervous.
"Face me," Cumber demanded, crossing his arms.
"Face you? You mean like... fight?" Yamoshi shook his head, his pulse quickening. "I-I don't know... I've never fought anyone before." He thought briefly about the time he sparred with Zucchi, but this felt different. Real.
Cumber's smirk widened. "Figures," he muttered, before charging at Yamoshi without warning. Before Yamoshi could react, Cumber slammed a punch into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs. Then, with a swift kick, he sent Yamoshi flying back, crashing hard onto the ground.
Yamoshi gasped for air, clutching his stomach in pain. His body ached, and tears stung the corners of his eyes, but he held them back.
Cumber stood over him, looking down with disdain. "I thought you were something, but you're just a weakling," he said, turning his back on Yamoshi and walking off.
Yamoshi lay there for a moment, trying to catch his breath and fight off the tears. Slowly, he forced himself to stand, still holding his stomach. He felt humiliated, his pride bruised more than his body.
He made his way into the building, limping slightly, until he spotted Zucchi waiting for him at the front. Zucchi immediately noticed something was off. "Hey, are you alright? What happened?"
Yamoshi shook his head, forcing a smile despite the ache inside. "No, let's just go," he muttered, walking out the door. Zucchi followed closely behind, concerned but respecting his brother's silence.
The walk home was mostly quiet, but Zucchi could sense that something was off. He glanced at Yamoshi, trying to lighten the mood. "So, how was your first day? Did you cause any trouble?" he asked with a chuckle.
Yamoshi hesitated for a moment, thinking about his encounter with Raunch and the one-sided fight with Cumber. "No, it was good!" he replied, his voice trying to sound cheerful, though his smile seemed a bit forced.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Zucchi said, but he could tell something wasn't right.
The sun was setting as the two Saiyan boys made their way through the streets of Zukon, the sky bathed in hues of orange and pink. By the time they reached their house, the night had fully settled in. Zucchi opened the door, letting Yamoshi walk in first, then followed him inside, closing the door behind them.
"You know Mom and Dad are gonna be away for a whole year, right? So that means I'll be looking after you until they get back," Zucchi said, crossing his arms.
"I know, Mom already told me," Yamoshi replied, his voice tinged with a bit of sadness.
Zucchi noticed the shift and knelt down to meet his little brother's eyes. "Hey, I know you're sad about it, but I promise I'm gonna make this the best year ever for you, okay?" he said with a warm smile, holding his arms open.
"Okay," Yamoshi said softly, before running into his big brother's arms for a hug.
Zucchi held him tight for a moment, then playfully ruffled his hair. "Now, take off that cool armor and get your butt to bed! You've got SaiyaPrep in the morning!" he said with a laugh.
Yamoshi nodded, his spirits a bit lifted. He headed to his room, quickly stripping off his armor and hopping into bed. As he lay there, he closed his eyes, letting the events of the day drift away. Soon, he was fast asleep, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring.
End Chapter
Power Levels:
King Dakkon: 1M Sarada: 30k
Yamu: 800k Cumber: 9k
Moshi: 750k Yamoshi: 5k
Shirtless Saiyan: 450k Capper: 3k
Zucchi: 175k Corget: 3k
Bronze Saiyan: 110k Raunch: 1k