Thinking out loud: I'm at a point in What-if Bulma never met Goku that... is proving tricky.
See at this point in the story events have transpired that have made Gero's targets different, time travel has gotten complicated, and Cell is free.
All of this leads to an altercation where Frieza comes to Earth around the same time that 17 and 18 are released, and Cell is on the prowl. 17 leaves Frieza crippled and out of the story. Cell absorbs 17 and becomes Semi-Perfect.
I got to this point and said "how on earth would anyone deal with Perfect Cell?"
My solution is "make him never exist."
18 follows through on her threat to blow herself up, blowing up and leaving SP Cell howling, unscathed, but very, very angry. He realizes that he can still travel back in time and does just that, leaving the Z-Fighters to consider their options.
However, I spontaneously introduced another twist: Cell travels back and meets himself.
Cell goes back and finds Gero's lab, reads the doctor's notes, and has a moment of "what the actual f-ck am I doing following Gero's plans." So Cell waits for his past self to come by in the future, about to travel and become "Future Semi-Perfect Cell," and kills him, because there can't be a copy of perfection. Future SP Cell thinks that he's already the ultimate being - at this point in the story he's the most powerful being on Earth anyway.
I thought this was a neat development but it ran into a few problems:
- Was this accurate to Cell's personality? Cell was all about becoming perfect so would he really turn around and abandon that mission? Maybe that taste of power would satisfy him? What would Cell do if he actually got to know Gero? Canon Cell never did that, I think. He had Gero's programming but he wasn't allied with the doctor or anything. He grew past his programming.
- Cell needed to shrink down and mature for 3 years in order to time travel. This problem was a little easier but a little too fanfic-y for my tastes (ironic I know). I solved this by just making Master Roshi part of Cell's DNA - Roshi can bulk up and shrink back down, so theoretically he/Cell could apply this and shrink down. This way, Cell can sit in the time machine and emerge just as quickly.
- But then I'm thinking - that doesn't make sense, because if Cell could just travel back and leave the time machine he wouldn't need 3 years and that would make his sudden appearance in Gingertown.
- In this story Trunks doesn't go back in time - I'm playing around with the dates of who and what goes back where and when but it's... tedious.
So tl,dr
- Would Cell ever give up or reconsider his mission if he had time to reflect?
- Couldn't Cell have just reduced his body mass to fit in the time machine if he, and others, are capable of instantly increasing their body mass? That idea doesn't sound too out of left-field.
I'd almost rather just have proactive!Bulma insist on the heroes finding and killing Gero early and aborting the entire arc. Goku and Vegeta aren't exactly around to insist on waiting to fight the androids.
Edited by Soble on Sep 3rd 2019 at 12:55:26 PM
I'M MR. MEESEEKS, LOOK AT ME!
Idea:Have Semi-Perfect Cell cause 17 to blow up. The other cell absorbs 18. Then the two Semi-Perfect Cells try to absorb eachother.
![[up]](https://static.tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pub/smiles/arrow_up.png "[up]"){kind=icon}
I ultimately decided to just scrap the idea and have Cell absorb 18. The direction I was headed with the Cell Games (and the Buu Saga) didn't require Cell to have any existential rewiring, and it was getting too complicated to write him as a deviant android. Nobody would have been a match for Semi-Perfect or Perfect Cell anyway.
A sample of an earlier draft I had for the Cell Games:
Cell and Cold meet and the latter wants to destroy the Earth. Cell, realizing that Cold is Frieza’s father, proceeds to make mincemeat of him and his servants, disintegrating them with a release of ki that blows a hole in the ship. The ship sustains damage but Cell stops short of destroying it outright, thinking it could make a fine vessel for him if he gets bored of terrorizing the Earth. He’s learned one thing from traveling to other planets: it can get pretty boring and cold up there. Though, it might not be that exciting considering he’s invited some of the “most interesting people” in the galaxy already.
The tournament begins in twenty minutes. Jimmy Firecracker is already there when suddenly a spaceship modeled after a mini-van appears and Monaka steps out.
Cell is astonished to find out that the various races he came into contact with have turned him down: the people of Yardrat declined, as did Potage of the planet Potofu. Cell promises to blow those planets up later. Monaka hands him a message from an intergalactic criminal named Gryll, which is actually a bomb.
Monaka evades the blast, and Cell, perturbed, asks if there are any more. There’s a letter from the Galactic Patrol stating that they will not be involving themselves with planetary disputes. Cell blows up Monaka’s ship in response, stranding the poor delivery man on Earth.
Bulma, Chi-Chi, and Vegeta are on their way to the tournament. Annoyed as he is Vegeta has no choice but to follow them to Cell’s location, standing on top of Bulma’s jet looking oddly sedated. Chi-Chi wonders if they can really call Vegeta an ally. Bulma thinks Vegeta might be the lesser of two evils and might be their best chance at defeating Cell.
Elsewhere, Jaco is performing reconnaissance and is disappointed to learn about Vegeta and Tagoma’s actions on Omori’s island. While heading for the tournament’s location Jaco stumbles upon an island with corpses along the shore. Further investigation reveals that these were galactic poachers, one of whom describes that their group got wiped out while they were hunting the “last known Saiyan” on Earth. Jaco is visibly displeased to learn about a Saiyan survivor.
At the tournament grounds Hasky is pushed outside and tries to trick Cell into eating a poisoned meal then backs off once Cell shoots her a mean look. Pilaf, Shu, and Mai are angry with her, but Hasky points out that poison probably wouldn’t work any better than a bomb going off in his face. With fifteen minutes to go, the Champion of Earth shows himself and steps out of his limousine. Pilaf is relieved now that Mister Satan is here. He’s supposed to be the strongest guy on Earth, right? Satan ridicules Cell with Firecracker hyping Satan’s presence and declaring Cell’s defeat. Gryll and his henchmen touch down and interrupt the proceedings, demanding that Cell fork over the Superhuman Water that he took from Planet Potofu. Indeed, the sealed container where the water was stored is sitting in the storage area of Cell’s spaceship.
Cell informs them that if they defeat him in the tournament he’ll gladly give them the “special” water, but Gryll points his ray gun at Cell and says that he’s taking the water no matter what. He fires and Cell blocks each laser with ease, so Gryll and his gang make a run for the ship only to be disintegrated where they stand. Monaka faints at the sight of this.
Fortunately though this is not enough to weaken Mister Satan who proclaims that bad makeup and special effects lasers won’t scare Earth’s champion away from a fight.
Cell’s attention shifts when he senses the “real” competition arriving. Six of them - Chi-Chi, Bulma, Vegeta first then Tenshinhan, Krillin, and Launch who Tien carries on his back - and Jimmy Firecracker is stunned to see them flying through the air. Tien and Krillin spot Vegeta and Bulma quickly explains that Vegeta isn’t here to fight them. Launch is wearing a Turtle School martial arts gi in honor of Roshi (2) and, like Satan before her, smack-talks Cell, confident after training with Tien and Chiaotzu.
Vegeta hops down from Bulma’s plane, moves closer to Cell, and the two start insulting each other right away. Cell reminds Vegeta that the tournament hasn’t started and Vegeta, smirking, says that he can stall Cell’s execution a few more minutes, stepping out of the ring. Launch sneezes back into Good Launch, and the first thing she asks is why Vegeta is wearing a leotard of branches and sticks. (3)
Jaco nears the arena and lands in his ship, making his way toward Bulma to find out what’s going on when he recognizes Cell as the one who made a public threat to the Galactic Patrol. Jaco says that he was sent to assassinate Cell, but Jimmy Firecracker cows him into participating in the tournament. Bulma asks if Jaco has any super-advanced alien weapons to handle Cell, but the only things Jaco has are his Galactic Receiver, rocket boots, and a standard-issue ray gun. But Jaco assures her that it should be more than enough to deal with anything from planet Earth.
Tenshinhan scowls when he senses Shen landing nearby. Shen mocks him and says that Tien showed up for nothing because Shen has a secret weapon. Krillin isn’t impressed and mentions having his own secret weapon, energy glowing around his arm. Cell interrupts them to begin the tournament. As Satan is making his to the ring, another car pulls up sporting a rabbit face on the front. Shen snickers as Boss Rabbit steps out along with his Rabbit mob goons. Shen invited Boss Rabbit to participate knowing about his unique ability with the promise of money. Boss Rabbit grumbles about the drive and wants to finish the job so he can head back home. Cell, dubious, allows the gang leader to join the tournament but Satan stands in front of Boss Rabbit, announcing that he’s going first. Jaco finds it silly that the earthlings are lining up against such an obviously superior opponent but allows it.
At the same time that Firecracker and his cameraman arrive, Sorbet, Tagoma, and some Freeza soldiers are watching the event live. Tagoma notices King Cold’s spaceship (4) and gets an idea, looking over at the still-paralyzed Freeza. Yeah, this is going to get him in Freeza’s good graces again. Sorbet orders Tagoma to lead a recon team to recapture that ship so that they can evacuate Freeza.
- Earth is the last planet Frieza visited and the only place Cold knew to search.
- Good Launch put it on.
- This is the same outfit Goku when he came back for the 23rd WMAT in the original story. Seemed like a fun reference. In this story Vegeta didn’t receive armor from Bulma and spent his time training on an island, so he just cobbled together an outfit to keep himself decent.
- Cell left it near the arena because where else would he have left it.
Cell tells someone to hurry up and get in the ring and Vegeta agrees. Krillin offers Vegeta the chance to go first, but Vegeta crosses his arms and says the small-fry should go first. Cell brings up that there are no rules on the number of people who can face him at once, but Satan barges his way to the front of the line and says that nobody else will be after him, as he’s going to beat Cell in one minute.
Satan stands before Cell and pauses, listing off the names of the people from ZTV who Cell killed and dedicating this victory to their vengeance. Those people won’t be coming back and it’s for that reason that Satan is going to be judge, jury, and executioner in this fight. Cell ignores him as Satan continues boasting, breaking a pile of concrete tiles as a threat. Krillin and Chi-Chi warn Satan that he’s going to be killed if he keeps this up but Firecracker shouts them down, disowning them.
There’s no change here and Cell mollywops Mister Satan into the nearest mountain. When he recovers Satan stays out in order to “take a break” while everyone looks on. Launch hopes that he is okay and suddenly sneezes back into Bad Launch who, against everybody’s wishes, demands to get into the ring. Cell browbeats them into letting her join as anyone is welcome. Jimmy reassures the TV viewers that Satan merely lost his footing and will get back in the ring soon.
Launch cracks her knuckles as she, Chi-Chi, and Tenshinhan get in the ring to fight 3-on-1. They all take fighting stances when Boss Rabbit coughs and requests that he be Cell’s next opponent and not waste the rest of the day. Chi-Chi says that he will get hurt the same as Mr. Satan but he ignores her and walks over to Cell asking to shake his hand. Cell doesn’t comply at first but finally extends his hand for the sake of sportsmanship.
A spaceship casts a huge shadow over the arena scaring the TV crew and the Rabbit Gang. The ship’s crew are intergalactic poachers, and their leader announces that they are here to collect the last, living Saiyan from Earth as armed forces descend, surrounding Vegeta and the others.
Chi-Chi nonchalantly kicks one of the poachers out of the way. The others aren’t much of a challenge either and Vegeta flexes his energy just the teeniest bit and blows away the lot of them. He aims at the poacher’s spaceship and threatens to blast them to nothing, but the poachers claim that they can leave him alone and beg that they just need a unique Earth creature to take back with them. It doesn’t matter who it is as they can simply call it a “Saiyan” and anyone would believe them.
They select Boss Rabbit and haul him away with a tractor beam before leaving the planet. Cell is pleased that at least one of his many trips seems to have paid off somewhat. Shen rightfully freaks and grimaces at the thought of leaving Earth’s fate in Tien’s hands. Cell impatiently states that there will be no more interruptions when a third car pulls up.
Arale and Senbei step out of it, along with a crockpot-like device Senbei calls the Reality Machine, but seeing that the tournament has already started decide to sit and wait for Arale’s turn.
Tien, Chi-Chi, and Launch take their fighting stances once more. The fight begins with Cell splitting into three copies of himself and leaving himself wide open for an attack.
Pretty much any use of "Kaioken" in this chapter will be removed or altered to not include that specific technique.
She flies square across the ring and cracks into one of the pillars. Launch grabs the base of the pillar and tosses the whole thing at Cell. Cell raises a finger and shatters the pillar with ki. While this is going on, Chi-Chi tries her best with a flurry of strikes but doesn’t have any better luck. Cell throws her back with a shockwave, flipping her through the air. Chi-Chi recovers and tries her Power Slugger move but history repeats itself and the move doesn’t leave a scratch. Chi-Chi fires up the Kaioken and throws all of her weight into her next kick.
Tenshinhan’s Kaioken aura is already flaring when he goes directly for Cell, trading punches before Cell’s tail smacks him. Tien needles him with a relentless barrage of punches and kicks but is fully aware that Cell is toying with him. They lock arms but Cell’s hand begins crushing Tien’s, making the latter crouch down from the pain and struggle against the wall of Cell’s overwhelming power.
Chi-Chi kicks Cell in the neck and breaks her leg in the process. Cell towering over her, Chi-Chi fires a blue ki-blast that creates some distance between the two of them but does no damage to him. Launch sees this as Bulma panics outside of the ring, and Launch pulls a knife from her boot and dashes at Cell.
Tien multiplies his Kaio-ken to the second level but this still isn’t enough to budge Cell. Then he sees Launch come at Cell with, knife in hand as Cell speeds around her and restrains her. Calling the knife an illegal move for a martial arts competition he prepares to absorb her. Tien shouts and multiplies his Kaioken to the third level and this begins to make a difference against Cell, as the clone that Tien is struggling with is no longer able to keep Tien kneeling. When Cell applies more strength Tien increases his Kaioken times four and completely breaks the hold, rocketing into the Cell restraining Launch and knocking him away from her. He doesn’t get a chance to recover when Tien uses his Kaioken Tri-Beam and blasts Cell clean out of the arena and into a boulder.
The ring-out, hollow though it may be, results in the the Cell clone waiting on the sidelines for the match to conclude. Bulma is trying to keep it together watching Chi-Chi in pain and resorting to using her ki to float, just to stay in the fight. Tien is almost down for the count after taxing his body with the Kaioken and Launch never stood a chance to begin with. She’s gasping for air, thankful that Tien saved her but annoyed at the same time.
Shen is watching wide-eyed. He always knew that Tien was his best student but he’s never seen him fight with this much tenacity before, not even against his brother Mercenary Tao. This starts a change in the bitter martial arts master. He’s still not a good person, but, he’s at least proud of his pupil.
Launch and Chi-Chi soon fall victim to one of Cell’s borrowed techniques, the Thunder Shock surprise, and Cell says that he’ll cease the electrocution if Tien makes him. Tien pushes himself up on his elbows defying everyone’s protests. Then, he activates the Kaioken one final time.
“KAIOKEN TIMES FIVE-”
Just as the words leave his mouth Tien does not power up. The Kaioken aura flashes and Tien’s eyes roll back into his head. There’s a thud as Tien slams into the arena floor. Cell’s attention shifts over to Chi-Chi as her vision goes blank and energy fires out of her. In this berserk state once more Chi-Chi shoots towards Cell and socks him right in the jaw. Cell stumbles from this, observing Chi-Chi’s increased muscle mass which Krillin identifies as Master Roshi’s thing. He wonders where and why she learned to do that and Bulma, with a blush, says that Chi-Chi didn’t spend ten days not learning anything.
But even this is not enough to fix the battle in her favor. Launch passes out from being electrocuted and Chi-Chi is can’t land another hit. She’s out of breath after a minute of this and Cell flicks her several yards back, snapping her out of her berserk state. This is the end of the line for Chi-Chi. She powers up again, cups her hands, and fires a MAX Power Kamehameha aimed straight for Cell. He takes the blast head-on while the second Cell clone moves in, decks Chi-Chi out of the ring, and wins the match.
Cell commends the trio for giving it their all and asks for another challenger. The announcer tells Satan that it’s his turn again, but Mr. Satan feigns a stomach cramp so, yeah, that’s a no go. Jaco starts climbing into the ring and asks that Cell abide by restrictions and not fight with cheap tricks like cloning himself, to which Cell agrees before Jaco is interrupted by Senbei. Senbei told Arale it was her turn and asks Jaco and the others to stay back, as Arale may be the best chance that the Earth has. Jaco thinks it terribly irresponsible to send in a child, but Bulma knows what Arale is capable of and tells him not to worry.
Sorbet and Tagoma have hidden themselves around a few nearby foothills. Sorbet recognizes the spaceship as King Cold’s and wonders what that monster Cell must have done to the crew, but shakes his head because getting Freeza off of this backwater world is top priority. They need to be smart and stay undetected rather than risk a fight with multiple earthlings at once.
Not the least bit amused that a child is facing him Cell plays along regardless, fuses back together with his clones, and lets Arale take the first shot. She doesn’t, saying that it’s important to stretch before doing physical activity. Cell waits while Arale does a few light aerobics and stretches. Ready to fight, Arale smiles, closes her eyes, sprints, and headbutts Cell right in the chest hard enough to leave him gasping for air. (2)
This makes Cell pause to ask Arale why she’s so strong and, skeptical of her being a robot, asks how strong she is. Arale shows him by punching the ground and splitting the Earth apart. Cell staggers a bit but straightens and says that a little girl won’t be enough to defeat him. Senbei gives Arale permission to use “it” and “it” is Arale’s signature N’cha Cannon, which Cell attempts to outlast.
The blast hits, but Cell reappears and fires a ki blast which knocks Arale’s head off, but her lower body runs backward and catches it before it falls out of the ring. Arale, more excited than ever, apes him and fires the N’cha Cannon which Cell evades frightfully.
Vegeta is beyond entertained watching the almighty Cell dodge for his life against Arale. She isn’t very good at aiming because her glasses were destroyed. However, Senbei tells her to stop taking pot shots because she’s wasting her battery, and orders her to go into “Battle Mode.”
Arale pokes a button on her wristwatch, changing into an older form with a more determined look. Bacterian, home in his junkyard watching on a busted TV, is giddy to see Arale become a “total babe.”
- "Battle Mode" was an idea I got from this image of Cell getting Shoryukened by Arale
◊. I always liked it and wanted to reference it.
- Yes, I realize this would have been an aopportunity to have him spit up the Androids. I'm actually considering changing some things around now that I think about it.
- HIIIIN is Arale's signature "battle cry" IIRC.
He hits Arale and she goes flying out of the arena, around the curvature of the Earth, and moments later slamming in the back of Cell’s head with a dropkick. Cell rages about being bested and demands to know the girl’s creator, which Arale reveals despite Slump’s obvious trepidation. Cell charges at him in anger but is halted when Arale grabs him by the tail and restrains him, saying that he was about to fall out of the ring.
Cell screams at her to let go and sends shockwaves rolling through the ground, the air, everything. Arale refuses to let go and starts tugging with both hands as Cell tries to tear Senbei to pieces until, finally, Cell looks resorts to the Solar Flare. This makes Arale let go and Cell flies past the clouds where he’s about to destroy the planet. Arale jumps up to where he is at an even greater speed and asks where he’s going, so Cell punches her further into orbit and watches her travel into deep space, laughing.
There’s no fanfare as he comes back down. Senbei sobs over Arale’s presumed death. Even Bulma is at a loss now. They’ve tried everything: superior numbers and now brute force haven’t worked. Cell is about to call the next challenger when Arale comes tumbling back to Earth, somehow. She crash-lands and Senbei races over, pulling her out of the dirt like a radish. Arale, a little beat-up from the trip, says that she’s okay except for the fact that she landed outside of the ring and lost the match. No amount of arguing from Senbei about Cell being a bad guy in need of a good thrashing gets through to her.
Vegeta tires of this display and says that if the small fry are finished then it’s his turn. Krillin mumbles under his breath that Vegeta’s ki is suppressed and it’s still higher than any of theirs. That Arale girl couldn’t finish Cell, so Vegeta might actually be their best hope. Bulma notices that Krillin is sweating and asks if he needs to lie down, but Krillin declines as he needs to pay attention in case Vegeta loses. Tien doubts that for, just as Krillin said, he’s the only one who stands a chance.
The ki that Krillin sensed skyrockets as Vegeta powers up, shocking everyone when the ground shakes and rocks start floating all around them. Vegeta goes on the attack a split-second later, throwing a cross which Cell blocks with his forearms. Vegeta’s attacks become a hurricane that ends when Cell rams his fist into Vegeta’s stomach. Vegeta reels in agony for a few moments then dodges an elbow to the back, grabbing Cell with his tail. Vegeta winds up for a heavy blow but Cell’s own tail recoils on him, making Vegeta let go and take evasive action. Vegeta retreats in a burst of speed, recovers, and zips back over to Cell, drawing blood when he drives his fist into Cell’s upper lip.
Cell doesn’t take the blow seriously and notes Vegeta is running out of steam. Incensed, Vegeta raises his power to its maximum as Cell looks on and cheekily asks Vegeta if he needs a handicap. Vegeta smiles and tells him that the only person handicapped here is going to be Cell in a few moments. Then, he readies an Artificial Moon in his hand. Cell wonders what this move is, aware that Dr. Gero gathered only a little data on Vegeta during the latter’s time on Earth. Vegeta didn’t do much so Gero’s computer was entirely unaware of the Saiyan ability to transform themselves. Still, Cell is confident.
The artificial moon soars into the sky and Vegeta transforms into a Great Ape.
This size and power increase makes Vegeta hysterical. He never dreamed that he could feel this powerful, believing that he must have become a Super Saiyan in the intervening years without even noticing it and disgusted that a mere germ could stall his ascension. Cell remains silent and points his finger. Vegeta roars and raises his arms overhead for a hammerblow, vaulting towards him. Cell’s finger glows and launches a Super Dodon Ray that pierces Vegeta’s chest, halting his momentum.
Vegeta reverses and falls to the other side of the ring almost flattening the bystanders. Nobody knows what to do or to say as Cell revels in his victory. Bulma asks if Vegeta is dead and if they should even try to save him. Jaco points out that in that giant form the attack might not have been fatal because of the enlarged organs, and that Saiyans will return to normal if their tail is cut off. It takes some coaxing from Bulma for Jaco to agree to save him and when he goes to find a “Hundred-Meter Knife” from his ship, Jaco discovers that his ship’s systems got fried because of Vegeta’s showboating. He’s trapped here.
Kami is on the Lookout, gritting his teeth over the events taking place.
Tagoma and Sorbet are caught sneaking onto Cell’s spaceship. Cell introduces himself, mentioning that Freeza’s DNA was used to create him and that he owes Freeza his thanks. Krillin clenches his teeth thinking that he might have to get in the ring before he’s ready. Jaco asks why Krillin’s palms are open and Krillin freaks, saying that he’s just flexing his hands.
Tagoma is forced to fight next since nobody else is stepping up, but when he gets into the ring he signals a gang of Freeza soldiers to jump in. Cell deflects a bolt from one of their blasters hitting one soldier and clears out of the rest in the blink of an eye. Tagoma is paralyzed with fear as Cell calls him a bore and telekinetically lifts him into the sky. Tagoma explodes.
Seeing this leaves Sorbet in despair. His entire force has been wiped out and now he’s forced to leave Lord Freeza unattended, and be a spectator to this gruesome earthling horror-show. Cell is growing bored of walking through the competition and tells them all to try and bum-rush him all at once and maybe he’ll start to get tired. Vegeta is stabilized so Krillin asks Jaco if he can go and fight to stall for time, to which Jaco refuses. Bulma gives Vegeta a senzu bean and the Saiyan is on his feet, livid.
Vegeta goes right after Cell and punches him right in the face. Cell gives him an unimpressed look even as Vegeta starts to push him backwards and flexes his ki, shoving Vegeta back. Vegeta’s ki starts to shine gold as he unleashes another rapid assault then finishes with a two-handed, point-blank ki blast. Cell swats Vegeta out of the ring but Vegeta recovers and, standing on a cliff, begins to lose control of his anger, his aura flashing bluish-yellow until an even greater energy rips out of him. The newly Super Saiyan Vegeta swears to finish Cell off and Cell eagerly grants him the opportunity to try.
Chi-Chi grabs Bulma and flies her away from the ensuing havoc. Tien and Krillin fight to withstand the sheer force of the shockwaves Vegeta is putting out as he charges his next attack. Hercule, Jimmy Firecracker, Launch, the Rabbit gangsters, Sorbet, and Jaco run for their lives as the ground beneath Vegeta rumbles and breaks apart. Vegeta’s Final Flash move heaven and earth as a blinding, golden beam heads straight for Cell. Senbei is holding onto Arale for dear life as she calls the beam pretty.
Kami is astonished and finally decides to head to Cell’s arena.
Seconds before impact Cell realizes that the attack is denser than imagined. The attack removes the left half of Cell’s body and most of his torso. Vegeta laughs at this before his hair returns to normal. This attack drains Vegeta. He’s still not used to this form and he put everything into the Final Flash so Vegeta faints almost immediately. The others cheer while Cell, his eyes bloodshot, swears to kill Vegeta for what he’s done. He yells at the others to stop cheering. Krillin and Bulma tease him. Tien says that he wants another shot at Cell since Vegeta got one.
Cell regenerates with some difficulty. The merriment ceases. Nobody has seen Kami, or King Piccolo, heal through regeneration before. The only person present not completely surprised is Jaco. He already knew that Namekians had the ability, but he also saw Cell perform the same trick when that Arale girl hit him with that mouth cannon of hers. Cell, surprised that Gero gave him the ability to recover so quickly but nonetheless pleased, is ready to fight once more. Despair falls over everyone. Vegeta’s attack obliterated most of the arena and Cell declares that there will no out of bounds from this point forward.
Arale wants to try doing what Vegeta did but Cell blasts her to pieces first. Senbei finds her detached head and is relieved that she’s still functional, Arale not realizing what had happened to her. Bulma whispers to Krillin and Chi-Chi that Cell really is an indestructible monster just as Gero’s files predicted.
With no other choice Jaco leaps into the fray, announcing that he is an elite Galactic Patrol officer and that it is his responsibility to take care of this mess. He’s sweating and glancing at his ship, hoping that the main cannon is still functioning. Cell tells him to do his worst, but Jaco panics when the cannon malfunctions, forcing him to try a different strategy and toss a smoke bomb. The smoke clears and Jaco has a pile of rocks next to him. He says that if Cell can dodge each of these rocks then he’ll have earned the right to face a Galactic Patrolman in hand-to-hand combat.
Cell turns his back as Jaco winds up for a pitch, throws a rock, and Cell blocks it with telekinesis. Jaco runs out of rocks shortly after and congratulates Cell who, leering, asks Jaco if he can do the same and starts hurling the rocks back at him. Pilaf, Mai, and Shu shiver as one of the rocks shoots through a low mountain behind them. Jaco pulls it off, dodging every rock before Cell appears inches away from him with his palm in Jaco’s face. Someone shouts “DODON RAY” and a beam hits Cell square in the back.
Shen is the culprit, calling this tournament is a mockery of the martial arts and accusing Cell of being a charlatan with, admittedly, impressive amounts of power. Cell rhetorically asks if the tournament isn’t living up to Shen’s standards and fires a beam into the sky. Shen is defenseless as the beam hurtles toward him, disintegrating him with a single shot. Tien, not sure what his master was thinking, struggles with his frustration and confusion.
Jaco fires his ray gun at Cell desperately searching for the latter’s weak point. This does nothing to Semi-Perfect Cell and Jaco eats a five-knuckle sandwich, knocking him out. Bulma and the others run to Jaco’s side with senzu beans. Cell admits that this is starting to go from a tournament to a prolonged torture session and glares at Krillin, expecting him to unleash the energy he’s been hoarding to himself all this time, shocking Krillin.
Kami can sense that Krillin is subtly drawing energy from the Earth. But Kami is unsure if this will be enough to actually destroy Gero’s monstrous creation once and for all.
This one dwarfs Krillin in size. Cell, more than accustomed to letting his foes try their best, says that he can start whenever he’s ready. Krillin asks Tien, Chi-Chi, Launch, and everybody present to lend their energy to the bomb. They do, along with Sorbet, Pilaf’s gang, and the Rabbit gangsters once Krillin explains that all they have to do is raise their hands for the process to work. The Spirit Bomb increases slightly and Cell claps, asking how Krillin plans to hit him with all of that energy. Krillin grins.
He doesn’t throw the Spirit Bomb. Rather, he draws the energy into his body and wreaths himself in a whitish-blue film of energy. Krillin disappears and Cell reacts in time to stop his punch with visible effort doing so, and Krillin distances himself again, acknowledging that his trump card still wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between them. But he’s not going to throw in the towel yet considering he’s their last hope, so he’s going to put Cell’s invulnerability to the test with a super-charged finishing move. He doesn’t want to risk harming himself with the Kaioken like Tien did, either.
Cell guesses that this will be either the Kamehameha Wave or the Destructo Disc. Krillin tells him that it’s something like that and brings his hands overhead. Cell’s ki rises as he concentrates on putting the fear of god into Krillin. Gravity goes out of whack and the people around the arena start floating. Bulma loses the bag of senzu beans and, as it so happens, is wearing a dress. She tries to cover herself and Cell’s attention lingers on her for only a moment. Part of Cell’s DNA is Roshi’s. Krillin uses the distraction and hits Cell with every ounce of energy he has, jumping to the third level of Kaioken even.
“SPIRIT BOMB DESTRUCTION WAVE!”
The light filling everybody’s vision fades and all that is left behind is Cell’s decapitated head, eyes washed with incomprehension. Beheaded, Cell waits for his regeneration to kick in. Bulma points out that the lack of oxygen (or anything else for that matter) should prevent him from regenerating. Sorbet corrects her. He’s observed the battle and notes the similarities between Cell and Freeza, remembering what the creature said about being part-Freeza and that, if true, he shares Freeza’s ability to survive seemingly fatal injury in the worst of conditions. Jaco, up again thanks to a senzu bean, confirms this with his superior vision that Cell’s cells are multiplying and regrowing quickly.
Bulma yells at Krillin to finish him off before that but Krillin is wiped. He threw everything he had and more into that attack and now every part of him is cramping. Bulma tries to get him a senzu bean but they’re scattered in the dirt, so Tien, Chi-Chi, Launch, and Jaco move in to finish the job.
Cell is finished. His body isn’t regenerating fast enough. Chi-Chi helps Krillin while Tien and Jaco debate which of them will be able to destroy what’s left of Cell. Cell glimpses a huge ball of light in the sky and in his dying moments realizes what it is: the Fake Moon that Vegeta threw up earlier. It’s still active and just seeing it fills Cell’s seemingly thoughts with rage, a lot of it. His eyes lose color and the veins in his head start bulging and changing, his teeth getting sharper and more pronounced.
- If any of this is starting to seem far-fetched
- It's fanfiction, so yes it is.
- It's an earlier draft.
- In this version of the story Cell was still in his Semi-Perfect form, and he was based off different people, and Gero didn't have to "scale" him to pre-Namek Goku and Vegeta.
The big changes I'm going to make:
- No "Spirit Bomb Destruction Wave". Ew.
- No Kaioken. I wanted the humans to have it if they died because why wouldn't they learn such a useful, albeit risky technique? But not only did some of them not die I couldn't see Tien using a technique like that, or Chi-Chi.
- Cell being a pervert. It kind of fit with the Dr. Slump-esque humor that Arale invokes, and I wanted to emphasize that Cell has different DNA this time around and that his personality is a bit different, but actually stopping the tournament because the "Roshi" in him reacts to some adult magazines is probably too much.
- Cell is in his Perfect Form for reasons stated.
- Integrate the Super filler characters more organically - Monaka, the Galactic Poachers, and Gryll specifically.
- If it wasn't clear from the cliffhanger in that last chapter outline the plan was to have Cell transform into a Great Ape against his will. This would lead to a finale where everyone scrambled to get the mindless, rampaging Great Ape Perfect Cell off-world before he did any serious damage. Kind of a rehash of when Goku first transformed.
Things I'm happy with and want to point out:
- The Pilaf gang being present
- Cell taking Cold's spaceship
- Launch pulling a knife on Cell
- Vegeta wearing the "branches and sticks" outfit that Goku wore during the interim between tournaments
- Shen being a Tsundere toward Tien
- Finding a way to bring Boss Rabbit back into the story
Wait, how did this version of the Cell Games come to be?
- Bulma didn't meet Goku all those years ago and a very different series of events took place, leading to Bulma and Chi-Chi being closer, Krillin being Roshi's top student, Gero having different targets, and Frieza's arrival on Earth going differently.
- Also, I used a bunch of forgotten characters to fill the void that Goku left behind.
Edited by Soble on Oct 27th 2019 at 7:56:07 AM
I'M MR. MEESEEKS, LOOK AT ME!
Leader of the Holey Brotherhood
So I had a weird idea for a story:
what if, instead of Dragonballs, we had Dragon-children.
People who's souls possess the power of Shen-Long in them, and when all gathered in one place will allow him to appear. It'd add an interesting twist to the quest.
I haven't worked out all the kinks yet, but I wanted to pass this one by you guys, see what you think.
One Strip! One Strip!
But what happens after a wish is made?
Do they take off at Mach 3 to the four corners of the globe?
I'M MR. MEESEEKS, LOOK AT ME!
Leader of the Holey Brotherhood
Like I said, I haven't worked everything out yet.
....though that would be pretty funny.
I'm also considering an idea where the shape the balls take change after the one year time limit, thus adding back a bit of difficulty to finding them.
Keeping them in one form didn't really provide much challenge after the Z Warriors became strong enough. Hell Roshi could collect them all with ease now.
Hell, fucking Chi-chi or Video could probably quickly gather them if they wanted to. By making them change form, we get some extra challenge. Maybe keep the dragon balls, a more vital part of Dragonball.
One Strip! One Strip!
hi there!
longtime lurker on the site, now finally a member!
I'm here to talk about my very first fanfic, which is basically a retelling of dragon ball from beginning to end. it's called" "dragon ball: the tale of bulma and the monkey boy."
now you're surely wondering two things:
-" man, that title's so generic, even vanilla ice cream has more flavor than that title!"
- "oh no, another retelling? so original!"
to both of those, yes, I completely agree with you. that's what happens when a brilliant, but lazy french-canadian who hates writing does a fanfic. and, as you can expect, there are grammar issues, weird dialogues and all kinds of issues with this fic.
so why would I be interested in reading this fic if even the author himself tells you of its many faults, you might ask?
well, despite these shortcomings, I felt like the 32 chapters I have written so far aren't as bad as I thought, to be honest. I really felt like I surpassed myself everytime I wrote a chapter. plus, I'm not afraid to shake things up and I don't pull my punches, so there's that, I guess...
it's on AO 3, under the Kinnikuniverse name. you can read it, if you want...cause, apparently, I can't post any links cause I'm a new account.
oh well, hope you'll enjoy it...or at least, be able to appreciate the effort...yeah.
Edited by kinnikuniverse on Nov 22nd 2019 at 9:06:59 AM
Doesn't sound interesting to me, sorry.
Face me now, Bitch!
Been reading a fanfic recently. Its called Dragon Ball Z: Alter Age, thats essentially if Gohan, instead of being like a human with his half saiyan side coming out during tense moments, was more like a Saiyan from birth instead, and his Half saiyan potential is much more pronounced from the start. Gohan becomes massively OP as hell as a result, as he essentially has Broly Style rage boosts, with an enhanced version of Zenkai boosts where he can intentionally expel his ki in a way when he gets damaged that causes rapid healing and increased strength almost instantly akin to Garou from One Punch Man.
It has so many canon, non canon elements, and even some original ideas (Incuding Dragon humanoids that are very saiyan like, with the one introduced being based on Lucoa from Dragon Maid) that manage to create its own unique Expanded universe. And while its has Harem elements, they aren't going to be as pronounced until he's Older after the cell saga, thankfully.
Its been quite a joy ride if you don't take it too seriously. Right now, its in the middle of the saiyan saga on earth, and a unique Lord Slug saga in space, taking place after a Turles saga, that adds in fox humanoids that are almost made Extinct by Turles with Mystical powers akin to Krystal from Star Fox.
Edited by Demongodofchaos2 on Dec 12th 2019 at 3:30:32 PM
Watch Symphogear
Dragonball F "Frieza raised on Earth as the hero of Dragonball Z"
- Roshi gets surrounded by the Ginyu Force and the Saiyans
- Cooler is running the Planet Trade
- Frieza is Roshi's pupil, has learned martial arts, and the first thing he does is KO Raditz
- Vegeta realizes that they're completely screwed and orders a retreat
- Frieza straight up kills Raditz pretty gruesomely
- Frieza was sent to Earth as a baby, was raised by Roshi, and genuinely loves and respects him as a father figure
- No word on Goku, or any of the humans besides Roshi - it's seemingly a short fan comic
Call me Blast, not Fedetropes
Being honest, I expected that if Freezer trained on earth, he would be able to control his ki and therefore not need the supression forms.
¡PONLE QUE DIGA!:"¡HUMONGOSAURIO HASTA LA MUERTE!"
Now a lurker. See you at the forums.
As of now, I came with the weird scenario: a pair of Metamorans teaching two characters to synchronize like a fusion, but without the need to fuse per se.
In my AU, Cabba and Oren decide to make a truce, and they both fuse similar to Baby Vegeta, but both sides are in control of the body. I think I ended up liking this idea, even if my writing is possibly not the best.
To win, you need to adapt, and to adapt, you need to be able to laugh away all the restraints. Everything holding you back.
Face me now, Bitch!
And The Lord Slug saga of Dragonball Z: Alter Age is done.
Edited by Demongodofchaos2 on May 30th 2020 at 11:34:17 AM
Watch Symphogear
Leader of the Holey Brotherhood
I think this idea has been in my head for a long time now.
I've asked on a few threads which Stands could defeat the Z Warriors, mostly focusing on the stands that aren't really all punchy, namely due to my belief that the DB gang would be less able to adapt to a situation where they couldn't just punch or blow something up....well most of them.
I'm kinda thinking on how such a story would go: I already brought it up again indirectly in the Jojo main thread, namely through asking which non-combat stands are the most dangerous, and now I'm kinda trying to work it out in my head.
Dragonball vs Jojo. It'd be quite a show.
One Strip! One Strip!
Crazy DB Marron Development Lady
Reposting from Fanfic Ideas only You Think are Good:
Proof of concept for a Dragon Ball movie featuring a half-member of Mr. Popo's clan as the villain:
Gohan and Goten are minding their own business, unaware of a red metal ear-shaped object laying near them. At the sound of the name "Gohan", the object transforms into a thin tendril, snaking towards Gohan. It then forms a long spike, penetrating his neck, and then expands, crushing his spinal cord.
Goten is at first shocked, then wheels towards a small chi signature. Goten shoots a blast, and hears a grunt of surprise before a dust plume rises up. A silhouette lays motionless. Goten approaches, but the silhouette is just a human-shaped hunk of red metal! A decoy?!
A red pole races towards Goten. The boy leaps in the air. Another grunt of surprise is heard. Goten aims for it, but the Nyoibo splits into multiple tendrils. Goten changes direction, but one tendril wraps around his leg, and then another covers his eyes. Goten is quickly surrounded by a cage of red bars.
Goten's eyes follow a single outward projection to a jet black hand. The young man looks about his age, but having developed at a more human pace, and wears Arabian clothing that looks oddly familiar. His round eyes are half-closed, and his large mouth is clenching his teeth.
Before the assailant can get a word out, Goten powers up to Super Saiyan, rank one but fully mastered. The cage shatteres. Panicked, the attacker forms his endpiece into a long broad shovel and tries to scoop up the pieces. Goten sees this and manages to grab two sparkling shards. One forms a neat cylinder in his hand. Goten takes the second shard and presses it against the back of his ailing brother. With his right hand, he gingerly shapes a neck brace and welds it together to form a collar. With his left hand, he maintains the other piece in the shape of a broad shield.
"Still breathing," murmurs Goten.
Nypo finally speaks. "Never again... I swore never again... to allow anyone to steal a Nyoibo!"
That's all I got. The whole purpose of this character is as a means to make Goten into what I think he should become.
Even I don't think this could make a good story. One wrong move and it's borderline racist, I just really needed Popo's clan involved.
Finally posted DB Scarlet Mirror: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13689952930A49781400&page=97#2423
Why do you need Popo’s clan involved? As far as I can tell, you just want someone to cripple Gohan as an excuse to make Goten fight, and also to give him a nyoibo. Neither of those actually requires a Popo clan member. In fact, his involvement is odd. Unlike what DBZA shows, Mr. Popo should not be anywhere close to being strong enough to cripple Gohan unless Gohan was actively suppressing his ki.
Also, Nypo’s motivation seems to be to stop them from stealing the Nyoibo... which Goten doesn’t do until after he attacks them? Is this revenge over Goku’s power pole? (Which, notably, Goku did not steal and already returned anyway.) Is he somehow so out of the loop that he thinks Gohan is the same Gohan that Goku got the pole from to begin with? And why can Goten freely reshape bits and pieces of it into whatever he wants? Is this an ability he gained earlier that was just never mentioned?
For that matter, why is there suddenly more than one nyoibo? Or is he using Goku’s power pole (in which case he already knows it was returned)?
Crazy DB Marron Development Lady
Still working out a lot a kinks, if I want to pursue the idea at all. He has to be out of the loop somewhat, maybe Mafuba’d earlier and unwittingly released by Dende. And he either has an end piece or he finds one at Goku’s house, where he last heard that the elder Son Gohan was living.
I think Goten would just be a natural. I can’t imagine Gotenks’ creativity comes from Trunks “Just go SS 3” Briefs.
Finally posted DB Scarlet Mirror: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13689952930A49781400&page=97#2423
- Bulma's in trouble.
I had an idea based off the recent Dragonball Super arc
Legit, just did the one thing only Vegeta did - realized Goku was whooping him, counted his losses, and fled off into space. There's few people other than Beerus and Goku who could legitimately stop him.
We already had some interesting freedom given to Broly, left alive on Vampa, ready to reenter the plot at anytime. Moro? Off in space with enough power that only Master Ul-TRA COMBO Goku could stop him.
But to go a step further.
Moro actually leaves, finally distinguishing himself again after becoming the typical Dragonball end of arc punching bag villain. Moro counts his losses, realizes all he has to do is go to another planet, and bails. Goku lets him leave. Of course he does.
At first Moro just goes to the moon and starts punching holes in it. The focus of this is a little more comedy, so Vegeta or Goku zip over to the moon and tell Moro to knock it off, and he curses and just zips off to another world.
Then we follow Moro's adventures as he tries to be a "better person" in a sort of Negan/Accelerator-esque story. I mean he's not really trying to be a better person, but he's an Anti-Hero now, going to different planets and enjoying life, getting involved in their hijinks, sometimes helping but still motivated by selfishness and ego.
Maybe he bumps heads with the Freeza Force. Maybe he stumbles onto Vampa? Maybe somebody places a hit on him. Maybe he rolls into Jiren's universe at some point. Use Moro to explore parts of the universe that we'd only get to see again in Super Dragonball Heroes.
Akira Toriyama (April 5 1955 - March 1, 2024).
Salad Saiyan does a bunch of fun What-ifs.
Edited by FOFD on Nov 30th 2020 at 8:05:25 AM
Akira Toriyama (April 5 1955 - March 1, 2024).
I've been a fan of Dragonball Multiverse for years now but I always wanted to write a version with more influence from Super. It occurred to me that Sun Wukong is functionally immortal, and Super has Zamasu...
The next fight is Sun Wukong from 2 versus Zamasu from 20.
Zamasu faces Sun Wukong who is standing on his flying cloud, Kinto’un, and tells him to touch the arena so that they might begin the battle. Wukong does so, bragging about how he’s going to win the tournament and take his place among the highest of gods. Zamasu frowns then attacks, missing every strike as Wukong parries with his Nyoi-bo and his tail. Zamasu finally lands a punch, making the Monkey King laugh and call him a worthy foe. Below, Goku and Vegeta discuss Zamasu being alive and the meaning behind it, thinking him immortal and thus unable to lose the battle through conventional means. This proves true when Wukong duplicates himself and gangs up on Zamasu, pummeling him within an inch of his life. But Zamasu breaks into laughter and climbs to his feet, hardly registering the attack as anything but feeble. Here, Wukong senses great evil within Zamasu’s soul and promises to destroy him once and for all.
(...)
Wukong swings his staff with enough force to forcibly snap Zamasu’s neck which, of course, fails, Zamasu gives him a sharp grin. Zamasu pulls his neck back without any assistance, his eyes manic and large. He lets his clones distract Zamasu while he retrieves the Book of Mortals and searches for Zamasu’s name, but cannot find it and shrieks as Zamasu appears behind him and tries to slash his head off. Arm glowing with malicious, concentrated energy, Zamasu compliments Wukong’s skill with his staff then orders him to hand it over, resorting to stealing the staff with the Kai-Kai technique. The Supreme Kai group are, again, alarmed at what they’re seeing, thinking they were the only Supreme Kai participating. Black frowns, thinking that they gave away the element of surprise. He and Zamasu specifically removed their earrings so that they wouldn’t be identified, but then again it was a pointless exercise because they ran into alternate versions of Goku and his allies. Zamasu teleports in front of Wukong and impales him through the gut, drops his body on the ground, and declares himself the winner. Wukong, however, laughs and stands, bleeding from his torso but otherwise unharmed. Zamasu, spooked, asks if he wished for immortality as well, and Wukong confusedly lists all of the ways he obtained immortality.
Zamasu sweats and reignites his blade of ki. He slashes Wukong multiple times, doing little if any damage to the Monkey King who goads him on, trying to wear him out. Zamasu’s mouth curls into a grin. He places his hand on Wukong’s forehead and the two of them disappear. After a few seconds Zamasu returns without the Monkey King, and asks the organizers to begin the count, as Wukong won’t be coming back to the arena anytime soon. They comply, making Zamasu the winner.
Goku asks what happened and Vegito says Zamasu moved Sun Wukong to another universe - whether he left him to die or not they can’t be sure, but only another Supreme Kai would be able to retrieve him.
Edited by FOFD on Dec 22nd 2020 at 8:50:08 AM
Akira Toriyama (April 5 1955 - March 1, 2024).
Crazy DB Marron Development Lady
Dragon Ball: Scarlet Mirror
[Author’s notes will be in brackets. There will be a lot of them, because this is still a rough draft, and because I love the sound of my own text.
If you notice any problems with the science in this story, feel free to scream at a wall. I just wanted to make an appealing story that would fit snugly into the canon of the franchise where a guy blew up half an inhabited planet.
I write this with my sincerest apologies to mangaka Daijiro Nonoue. He had a good thing going in The Last Saiyuki, only for it to fade out after 23 chapters. Sure, it got a bit slow in the middle, and there was one concept I couldn’t wrap my head around. But I hope this man can keep writing. He’s the professional, and I’m the amateur piggybacking off of one of his ideas. But that idea was the spark that lit a fire in me, and I needed to see this project through.
If this is a story you would like to see animated, then I’ve done my job. If not, suggest any little tweaks you would make. I don’t think I would do a huge overhaul, since writing all this was hard enough. But if there’s any fat I could trim, character choices that seem off, or maybe I should just call this movie Red Mirror... let me know.
Hope you enjoy it, somehow. —Sedna]
Dende held the clay bottle clearly in front of Mr. Popo. Popo’s wide eyes got even wider.
“That... where did you find that?!”
“The storeroom,” said Dende plainly, “I was trying to look for a presence farther away, but my senses kept being drawn back here. Your reaction tells me all I need to know. There’s a Mafuuba talisman on this bottle, isn’t there? Who is inside it?”
Popo had been caught at last. Dende’s senses had gotten too good; he could no longer keep the young Guardian of Earth in the dark.
“I didn’t know how to settle our dispute back then, and so I acted rashly and delayed the matter. It’s... trivial now. But it’s still very important to him. Perhaps he wasn’t entirely wrong, but after all these decades, I still don’t know what to say to him.”
Dende nodded, pretending to accept his half-answer. “Fine,” said Dende, taking two steps back, “...I’ll take the blame.”
The bottle smashed to the ground. A green spiral unwound itself, and a young man was left kneeling inside. He had black skin, and features and dress very similar to Popo’s, but his eyes, ears and lips were a little smaller, and his frame was more slender. His hair may have been less than a centimeter if unfurled from its tight coils. He had a small gold hoop on his left earlobe. He looked to be about 15 years old.
The young man gasped and searched his pockets. Popo stepped up to him, and calmly took out a small red tube with a gold cap on one end. The young man reached for it, but Popo pulled it back. He was about to say something, but Dende spoke first.
“This may shock you, but you have been imprisoned for a long time. It is age 781. You are on Kami’s Lookout. I am Dende, the new Guardian of Ear—“
The young man had already fallen into a stiff bow. “I am sorry! Kami-sama, I was only trying to defend your honor! Please, have mercy on Nypo!”
“So you are aware,” asked Popo, “that what you were doing was excessive?”
“I was defending not just Kami-sama’s honor, but the honor of our clan as well.”
The young man had a hint of an accent.
[I’m thinking North African.]
“You can just call me Dende,” piped up Dende, “and I can defend my own honor just fine. Which means that your actions were unneeded.” Dende still had no idea what the boy was talking about, but the bluff was working.
“It was for us!” insisted Nypo, “for our family! I was fulfilling our sacred duty, to safeguard the power that reaches the gods!”
Nypo swiftly snatched the little red tube away from Popo. “Oh!” gasped Popo.
Dende gave Popo a sharp glance. He should have been able to react quicker. Was he playing the fool, or was something wrong?
“I will accept that duty, even if it comes with my punishment,” Nypo declared.
Dende attempted another show of bravado. “Perhaps things have changed,” said Dende, “perhaps I am a guardian who no longer needs your protection?”
Nypo went almost as red as the tube. “He is right,” stated Popo, “things have changed in the decades you have been sealed away. Our family’s sacred duty has... changed. We can be relieved of our duties, and free to let go of our past.”
Nypo grew angry again. “Let go of the past? You left the sacred power in the hands of a stranger! You trusted someone you don’t know, more than your family. More than me, Nypo of the Arapo!”
Popo paused. Finally, he asked, “so, whose honor was it you were trying to protect? Are you ready to admit it? That you were about to kill someone else, just to protect your own pride?”
Nypo bowed his head in shame. “I could only tolerate so much. I took it upon myself to right your wrongs, to take back what you were too willing to let go of! Yes, I did want it for myself, but I refuse to understand why you would want it in the hands of a stranger, after all that our clan has seen.” He clenched the little red tube, his thumb against its golden cap.
“So,” he continued, “it seems you didn’t bring me to Dende-sama because you agree with me. Why am I here, then?”
He had pronounced Dende’s name with the stress on the second syllable, much like how Nypo’s name was pronounced.
Popo said nothing. Nypo turned to Dende, who was also silent. Dende was looking at Mr. Popo, seemingly ignoring Nypo.
“It was time,” Popo tried, “none of it matters anymore. I... forgive you, Nypo.”
Nypo’s response was not what Popo had hoped for. “Even with Dende-sama as my witness, I still cannot forgive you, Mr. Popo.” He looked around. “Which direction is Arapo?”
“That way,” pointed Popo, “the Lookout is over Central City for now, but we can move the Lookout closer, if you’d like.”
“No need.” Nypo was walking away, towards the edge of the lookout.
“I haven’t had much occasion to visit our family,” called out Popo, “things have changed in our absence. It may distress you to know how much so.”
“I’ll prepare myself for it by going the long way,” replied Nypo. After just one backwards glance, he hopped off the edge. Dende thought nothing of this, assuming the young man could fly.
“He’s not going back to Arapo,” said Popo shakily.
Dende looked at him. “Should I pursue?”
“He may not appreciate it if he knows you’re close by. As I explained, the matter is trivial now, but it’s still important to him. So... be ready to heal the boy if he needs it.”
“Where is he going? And, is there time for a full explanation?”
“Mount Paozu, almost certainly,” said Popo. “As for the long explanation...”
“Comet Sion B 737, named for being the second comet discovered in age 737 by the Sion telescope. Its radius is approximately 1400 kilometers, mass approximately 3.9 * 10^22 kilograms. It’s certainly the largest object to pass close to the Earth for the next 50 years or so,” declared Mai.
“What about Venus?” asked Shu. Mai ignored him and continued. “Today is the best chance we’ll get for our crack team at Capsule Corp to send up their newest spaceship to harpoon Sion B 737 and drag it towards Earth’s gravity and make it our new moon!”
“You’d think they could just shrink it,” Pilaf grumbled, “and why are you so excited anyway? Who are you even talking to?!”
“Mission control is being filmed,” explained Mai, waving at a camera on the wall, “they didn’t want the press here yet, but if this mission goes well, then today’s footage is going to be made public!” She winked and blew a kiss to another camera.
“How about introducing the crew then?,” suggested Shu. “Hello, my name is Shu.”
“I’m Mai, and this is our glorious emperor Pilaf. We’ll be helping Dr. Briefs on the ground—“
“Which one?” asked Pilaf.
“Dr. Briefs, founder of Capsule Corp, will be leading mission control from this secluded outpost. His daughter, Dr. Bulma, will be piloting the ship. The crew includes her son Trunks, Krillin and his wife Mrs. 18-go, and... probably not Mr. Vegeta,” admitted Mai, “but Son Goku, Son Gohan, Son Goten and Mr. Piccolo should be arriving shortly!” Mai then turned to Pilaf. "Bulma doesn't have a last name, by the way. Same as us." [A last minute change. Briefs is Bulma's dad's first name. Perhaps watching the dub makes this unclear, but Goku's family seem to be the only ones on Universe 7's Earth who even have family names.]
“How haven’t you found Mr. Vegeta?” asked Shu, “maybe we should have snuck a tracker on him after all.”
“You try making one and see how long it lasts in 600 G-forces,” retorted Pilaf.
“Any idea why he doesn’t want to help?” asked Shu.
Mai shrugged. “Dr. Bulma tried showing him all those research papers and meta-analyses regarding how the lessening tides have impacted shoreline ecology and the eventual de-stabilization of Earth’s orbit. It looks like he decided not to STOP Dr. Bulma, but got angry as soon as she mentioned the possibility that the comet could crash into the Earth without his help to push it. He went like this,” Mai tried her best impression of him, “I’M NOT HELPING YOU WITH THIS FOOLISHNESS!” and pretended to storm out in a huff.
Shu thought about it. “Maybe he knows about the...” he gulped and lowered his voice, “Giant Monkey?”
“Dr. Bulma says that’s not a problem,” said Mai, “she says you can only turn into a Oozaru if you have a tail.”
Shu rubbed his lower back.
“I got a hit!” proclaimed Pilaf, “Mt. Paozu, about ten minutes ago.” Pilaf slowed down the footage he had gotten from his spy bird. Goku had rushed outside to meet up with Vegeta before he could even knock. After a short talk, Goku looked mildly interested, nodded, and took Vegeta’s hand. The pair vanished instantly.
“So fast...” marveled Shu, “we definitely should have gone with a tracker.”
[I almost did. It would have fallen off right at the moment of Instant Transmission, and the bird would have plucked it out of the grass in its beak. I decided not to let the Pilaf gang come so close to planning ahead.]
“And Son Goku hasn’t been answering his phone?” Mai asked Dr. Briefs.
“Well,” he finally replied, “Goten picked up and said Goku and Vegeta went off somewhere. Strange that they didn’t come straight here. They both know where this place is. Where else could they have gone?”
The spy bird was set back to the live feed of Goten waiting outside alone.
- Ksh*
Goten turned to the noise, shrugged, and glanced at the big “crow”.
“What was that?” murmured Pilaf.
Shu took control of the spy bird and moved it to the side of the house. He pointed at the screen. “Window’s broken.”
A dark silhouette jumped quietly inside. The trio plus Dr. Briefs watched dumbstruck as the figure began to rummage around the house.
“It was... THAT EASY?!” blurted Pilaf. Mai grabbed his mouth, but the figure stopped, and turned towards the window. He glared at the mechanical bird. The trio went pale. A red object approached the lens and the feed turned to static.
Mai let go of Pilaf. “WHO PUTS A LOUDSPEAKER ON A DRONE?!” he shouted.
Shu and Mai both glared at Pilaf.
The flying salaryman carefully held his phone, not wanting to drop it or crush it. “I’m almost at Mount Paozu, but I can’t sense my dad anywhere.” He paused. “I said I can’t sense him anywhere!” he repeated more loudly, “or your husband, for that matter. Maybe they’re off world?” A shorter pause. “Off world! Hang on, how’s my reception?” A longer pause. “Oh, right. Forgot about the sound barrier!” Gohan slowed down a little. “...But you wanted me to bring Piccolo back to West City too, right? He’s pretty close b— what island villa?! ...You never told me you had one, of course I’ve never been there!”
Gohan slowed down and dropped at the front doorstep of his childhood home. He knocked twice. “Goten? Mom?”
“I’m right behind you!” shouted Goten. Gohan smiled and approached him. Neither noticed a red metal ear shaped object poking out from a nearby bush.
“Ready to go?” asked Gohan.
“I don’t know what to pack to go on a spaceship, and—“
“Hang on, sorry.” Gohan interrupted and looked back at his phone.
“There they are. Yeah, I got the coordinates, Bulma!”
“Gohan? Is there going to be time for lunch before take-off?” asked Goten loudly.
At the sound of the name "Gohan", the red metal ear-shaped object transformed into a thin tendril, snaking towards Gohan. It then formed a long spike, growing thiner and taller, penetrating his neck, and then expanded, crushing his spinal cord.
Goten was at first shocked, then wheeled towards a small chi signature. Goten shot a blast, and heard a grunt of surprise before a dust plume rose up. A silhouette lay motionless. Goten approached, but the silhouette was just a human-shaped hunk of red metal! A decoy?!
A red pole raced towards Goten. The boy leaped in the air. Another grunt of surprise was heard. Goten aimed for it, but the Nyoibo split into multiple tendrils, as if it had broken open. The tendrils moved apart, and then went in a pincer formation towards Goten. Goten changed direction, but one tendril wrapped around his leg, and then another covered his eyes. Goten was quickly surrounded by a cage of red bars.
Goten's eyes followed a single outward projection to a jet black hand. The young man looked about his age, but having developed at a more human pace, and wore Arabian clothing that looked oddly familiar. His round eyes were half-closed, and his large mouth was clenching his teeth.
Before the assailant could get a word out, Goten powered up to Super Saiyan, rank one but fully mastered. The cage shattered. Panicked, the attacker formed his end piece into a long broad shovel and tried to scoop up the pieces. Goten saw this and managed to grab two sparkling shards. One formed a neat cylinder in his hand. Goten took the second shard and pressed it against the back of his ailing brother.
“If that guy can make cages, then...” Goten hypothesized.
With his right hand, he gingerly shaped a neck brace and welded it together to form a collar. With his left hand, he then then grew the other piece into the shape of a broad shield.
"Still breathing," murmured Goten.
Nypo finally spoke. "Never again... I swore never again... to allow anyone to steal a Nyoibo!"
“Our Arapo clan has safeguarded the Nyoibo for many years,” stated Popo, “it was an object meant to connect Korin’s Tower to this Lookout, but it symbolized so much more for the people of Earth. It meant that there was a way for humankind to reach Kami-sama.” Popo sighed. “Most who managed to use it wanted Kami’s advice or favors from him. A few wanted to better themselves; fewer still wanted to learn chi control. And a significant number... came with malice.”
Dende thought about it. It was obvious to him that he was someone above the capabilities of humans, but with limits as to what he could do for them, or was willing to do for them. If the humans were to learn he was up there, but that he couldn’t meet their expectations....
“There were humans who came to attack previous Guardians,” Dende marveled.
“Indeed,” admitted Popo. “That’s why we had to be careful whom we entrusted with any pieces of the Nyoibo. To cut the Guardian of Earth off completely would make the humans lose hope, but to let just any human have one would result in bloodshed and animosity. Our people had learned to be cautious.
“In age 461, a human named Master Mutaito had gotten himself involved with one of the side effects of all this... the emergence of King Piccolo. He was able to master the Mafuuba and seal King Piccolo inside an electric rice cooker. I had intended to give him the Nyoibo as thanks, but Master Mutaito had over exerted himself to use the Mafuuba, and he succumbed to death. Instead, I approached his students, Shen and Roshi, and decided to put them to the test.
“If they were to break the Nyoibo, then each of them would have received a functional piece. But even when combining their efforts, they couldn’t even crack it. I watched each of them attempt to elongate it in accordance with my hint that it could grow. Shen was unable to grow it; his mind was too rigid. He lacked faith in the Nyoibo.
“Roshi realized the Nyoibo was an object of some power, but it flung him skyward before he had realized it. He then tried holding it outward instead of downward, only for it to nearly puncture his ribcage from stretching in the wrong direction. Roshi was a younger man then, distraught from the loss of his master; he had more faith in the Nyoibo than he did in himself.
“Shen then asked me what the point of this object was. I told him simply that there was someone who lived above the highest heights, someone who could teach them to use their own spiritual energy to better themselves. If they met him, they could learn chi control.
“Just the information that chi control was possible was enough to satisfy Shen. He went off to master it on his own, leaving the Nyoibo with Roshi. Roshi too gave up on the pole and created a chi technique of his own.
“The Nyoibo was indeed stolen. The Ox-King was able to learn the basics of making it longer and short again without losing control. But it wasn’t a good fit for his fighting technique, and just a long pole he could use to smack enemies at range. He considered letting his daughter Chichi use it, but he forgot all about giving it to her once the fire separated them from it.
“Then there was Son Gohan....”
“Son Goku, come back inside!” whined the old man.
“No!” the boy with the tail shouted back, “no more food here, so no more me here!”
Son Gohan raced after him. “But it‘s going to get dark soon! You’ll get lost outside!”
“Then I’ll eat outside, Gohan!”
“I told you to call me Grandpa!”
Goku turned around, “You Gohan? You Grandpa? Pick one!”
Goku sprang away again. Gohan was in hot pursuit, and didn’t notice Nypo at all. “He’s so gosh darn mobile with that tail of his....” Gohan’s old joints weren’t going to last him. He reached for the Nyoibo holstered on his back and pointed it at Goku. “Extend!”
The Nyoibo stretched out and grazed Goku’s shoulder. Goku wobbled, but righted himself and kept running. They were in an unfamiliar part of the mountain, and Gohan still hadn’t closed the distance. “Retract!” The Nyoibo returned to its previous size. “Extend!”
The Nyoibo went straight for Goku’s right kneecap, and shot clear through the boy’s leg. Goku went stiff, and then slumped, and seemed to suddenly sink into the horizon.
“Goku?!”
- kck*
“Son GOKU!!!”
Gohan ran, his breath suddenly back in him. The spot where he had last seen Goku turned out to be at the edge of a cliff, hidden by tall dry grass. Gohan peered over. Blood was pooling around the motionless boy.
“Oh, my...” Gohan held the Nyoibo over. “Extend!”
The Nyoibo reached down to the bottom of the cliff. As Gohan was about to slide down, he felt a compulsion to look to his right. Something red was heading right for him!
“Mafuuba!” shouted a thin voice.
A green spiral pulled the red object and the person holding it somewhere into the forest at the base of the cliff. The green wind arched into the air, and then straight down, and was gone.
Gohan was puzzled, but first he had to help his grandson. The boy was unresponsive.
“Is anyone here?!” called Gohan, “if so, someone please help my grandson!”
Mr. Popo calmly stepped out and picked a clay bottle off the ground. He massaged a seal over the bottle and then pocketed it. “I can help,” said Popo at last, “if you promise not to tell anyone about that Mafuuba just now.”
Gohan eagerly nodded. “Yes, of course!”
Popo reached into his pocket and he stepped toward Gohan. “Feed the boy this.” He handed Gohan a Senzu bean. “I thought I was going to need this for... something else, but your boy can have it.”
The normally ravenous toddler was too still to even chew. Gohan pried the bean into Goku’s mouth, closed it, and rubbed his chin until he swallowed. As Gohan examined him, the gash in his forehead closed, and even the hole in his leg filled and returned to normal flesh without leaving a scar. Gohan turned to thank Popo, but the stranger was already gone.
There was still blood stuck all over the boy, and while his breathing resumed, he wasn’t waking up. Gohan looked up at the sky. The sun had sunk past the top of the cliff. He looked back at the Nyoibo. He could climb out quickly and be back before twilight, but then he noticed the blood still on the end of the pole. He sighed, holstered it, and then climbed out the hard way.
“And he never used it again?” assumed Dende.
Popo nodded. “He left it for Son Goku, who was able to learn the basics. That knowledge was what Goku used to reach this place for the first time he came to train here.”
“So it went to the right person, in the end,” Dende pointed out.
“Even telling him that may not change his opinion. It did reach someone who deserved it, but only by passing through other hands first. Nypo knew this, and did not consider Son Gohan worthy.”
“Perhaps,” ventured Dende, “Nypo felt betrayed by your difference in trust between himself and elder Son Gohan?”
“I haven’t been back to the village much,” admitted Popo, “so I don’t know all of his circumstances. He was born outside of the village, but was somehow able to return and make a name for himself. He has a sharp mind, strong body, and such genius with using advanced Nyoibo techniques in battle, so he was granted the—“ Popo stopped. Dende had sensed it too.
“GOHAN!”
Dende dove over the edge of the Lookout without a second thought.
Bulma hit the redial button and waited. She got an answer after four rings.
“Hello, Bulma? This is Chichi.”
“Chichi?” Bulma asked, “Long time no see. I was talking to your son earlier, about today’s launch?”
Chichi looked concerned. “I’m not sure why he left his phone behind. And there’s a lot blood in the grass near here. Goten seems to have left already, I took my eyes off of him for one second to go clean up a mess in the other room.”
Bulma groaned. She knew Chichi wouldn’t be able to sense energy, so if the boys were out of eyesight and not carrying a phone...
“Half the furniture is in the wrong spot. A bunch of drawers are emptied out all over the floor. I need to sweep up that broken window first.”
Something occurred to Bulma. “Hang on, Chichi? Do you think your house was broken into?”
“Broken into? It’s never happened before, but that would explain it. There wasn’t much noise, though. Maybe it was an animal?”
“Where was the blood?” asked Bulma.
“Right outside. About ten steps away.”
“...Why only there? Chichi, see if anything valuable is missing. I know you probably don’t have one now, but someone might have been looking for... one of THOSE. ...Trunks just said Goten might have powered up a moment ago. He’s probably chasing after a burglar, then.”
“Alright, but it’s going to be hard to tell what’s missing until this is all cleaned up,” replied Chichi, “And don’t worry, we didn’t have a you-know-what here. Everything should be fine.”
Bulma blinked. Was this really Chichi who had just said those words? Still, if anyone knew what to expect from the Son family, it was Chichi. “You’re right. This is Gohan and Goten we’re talking about, of course they’ll be fine.”
“I’m sorry if they don’t make it to your launch today, Bulma,” said Chichi, “and after Gohan requested the afternoon off and everything.”
“I just... I really wanted them to bring Piccolo here for this. It was Kami who brought back the moon the last time, and come to think of it, he might have been the one to destroy it. Oh well, if our plan today doesn’t work, we’ll just wait the four months for the Dragon Balls.”
“Good luck, Bulma!” said Chichi, “hope to hear from you after the mission.”
“OK, I’ll call,” replied Bulma, “see ya!” She hung up and sighed. “I still can’t believe that woman is younger than me.... maybe I’m just a nervous wreck from all the mission planning lately.”
“Is Goten coming?” asked Trunks.
Bulma shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll be OK with just Krillin, Ms. 18 and us two. Can’t call up Piccolo or Tienshinhan, since they don’t have phones—“
“What about Yamcha?” piped up Krillin, “he has a phone.”
Bulma paused, and then abruptly started countdown procedures.
The launch was uneventful. Even Bulma kept her breakfast down. With the ship’s speed, the crew went from glued to their seats to complete weightlessness in minutes. A capsule floated up from the dashboard. Trunks plucked it up and set it down, only for it to rise again.
“Remember where your tape dispenser is?” asked Bulma rhetorically. Trunks reached for his right hip and peeled a section of what seemed like normal duct tape, which he used to tape the capsule back to the dashboard.
“Hopefully you won’t have to use it on your suits,” warned Bulma, “but if you do—“
“Come straight back to the ship to get another suit,” droned Trunks, “I know, Mom!”
“Good. There’s also an alarm test switch on all your oxygen tanks.” Bulma reminded them, “which will make sure the alarm is actually going to work when it needs to.”
Trunks tried not to groan. He had already practiced with the equipment for the past two weeks. And because of all his mother’s emphasis on safety, there wasn’t even much of a window on the ship. There were still plenty of cameras attached, and Trunks could watch the comet come into view on the monitor.
Since they were going to be pushing the comet towards the Earth, they had to slingshot it first to start their work near the tail. Trunks gazed at the features of the pale yellow dusty plains below.
“Symmetry,” Trunks remarked.
“Hm?” Bulma replied. Trunks definitely knew the meaning of the word, she had watched him learn it while practicing fusion with Goten.
“...I dunno. I thought it looked a bit weird down there,” said Trunks in an absentminded tone.
“We can study it all we want later,” said Bulma, “we’re still not sure what sorts of minerals might be here yet.”
Mai turned to Shu. “Try to get me a map from the camera footage.”
“Of the whole comet?” asked Shu, “they’ve only gone over one sliver.”
“They’ll go back around after phase one,” said Pilaf, “and by then it should come closer to the Capsule Corp. satellites.”
Mai narrowed her eyes. “I just can’t shake the feeling that Trunks might have noticed something.” She turned to Dr. Briefs. “Dr. Briefs? Can you get the satellites ready to map the surface of Sion B 737?”
“I’m still working on trajectory for the payload point, sweetie,” said Dr. Briefs, “stopping the ship in the right spot to drop the fuel tanks isn’t as easy as—“
“Pleeease?” whined Mai, “pleeeease triangulate a full surface composite map of the comet? For me?”
“I’ll do it right after phase one, sweetheart,” he promised.
Mai grumbled. “Let’s get this over with, then.”
It was simple Capsule Corp technology, applied to a huge array of fuel tankers. Each fuel tank was in a capsule only about ten kilograms in weight, but once dropped on the comet’s surface, out popped an array of rockets, each weighing nearly ten thousand kilograms. All of the capsules were able to parachute down, and the crew could stay tethered to the ship while watching them fall. The only hard part had been positioning themselves in geostationary orbit.
“That one’s sideways,” said Trunks, “I could try to turn it over if you want?”
“No thanks,” said Bulma, “stay tethered to the ship. I ran simulations of this, and a few sideways fuel tanks will still contribute somewhat to the thrust.”
Trunks couldn’t argue, since he wasn’t an astrophysicist.
The ship moved on before the rockets were all lit. Trunks checked the cameras as the tanks all began to spark. The light around them grew brighter. Trunks could almost feel the heat. “How come I can’t— oh.” He didn’t finish the question.
“In space, no-one can hear you ka-boom,” mused Krillin.
They moved on to the point closest to the Earth. The plan for phase two was much lower tech, minus the use of a ground penetrating scanner. They were going to look for a deep area with soft enough ground to plant harpoons, and then use the ship’s rockets, plus the crew’s brute strength, to try to pull the comet. It was a ridiculous idea, but Bulma had a ridiculously strong group of friends and relations.
“Symmetry,” Trunks said again. Bulma looked down at the camera feed. “From up here, you can tell it’s a sphere,” Bulma explained to Trunks, “The closer you are to the ground, the flatter it seems. But all objects this size are pulled together by gravity towards their own centers.”
“But you see how it’s not smooth?” Trunks pointed out, “and all those craters—“
“The same thing tends to happen on our world. Gravity won’t work faster than plate tectonics or meteor impacts.”
“Right!” exclaimed Trunks, “the meteor craters all have symmetry!”
“Craters are always round, no matter what the size or shape of the rock that made them was. Think of them as shock waves coming out from the center of impact.”
“But the impact wouldn’t do that, right?” asked Trunks, “make them all in a pattern like that?”
Bulma didn’t understand the question.
“Why are all the craters in a pattern, Mom?!”
“...Got it!” shouted Mai, “this is only a projection, but, Dr. Bulma, you have to look at this!”
Mai transmitted the projection. Krillin and 18 leaned in. “Yup, that’s symmetry, alright,” drawled Krillin, “Is this a comet or a kaleidoscope?!” “Whoa,” blurted 18, “let’s hear your explanation for that.”
The craters, mountains, and other topographical features all mirrored each other, arranged in perfect hexagonal symmetry.
Bulma’s breathing went shaky. “It’s probably not good.”
The makeshift neck brace fell off of Gohan as soon as Goten took his hand off it. Nypo’s attacks were coming in all directions for Goten. Goten had to scoop up his brother, legs over Goten’s left arm and neck under his right hand. Goten sprang up into the air just before a Nyoibo mouth burst from the ground and nearly bit Goten’s foot. He angled upwards, remaking the neck brace as he flew. The other piece was stuffed in his left fist.
“Don’t think this is over,” said Nypo, using the pole to lift himself over the top of a tree and land on top like a squirrel monkey. He stretched it again towards a faraway spot on the ground in Goten’s direction. Nypo pulled back, filling the Nyoibo with elastic tension, and catapulted up.
“Dende’s already on his way, from about 11-o-clock” thought Goten, “Piccolo too, from 4-o-clock.” Goten checked behind him, and then above, spotting an acute triangle.
“A glider?!” blurted Goten.
More poles reached down from the Nyoibo glider. Goten swerved left, but the poles sprouted again and stayed on his tail.
“This guy’s relentless!” Goten thought. “I’ll be leading him straight to Dende if I don’t lose him, but I don’t have a hand free to fight!”
Goten let his chi fill up in his mouth. He slowed down to turn and look upwards.
“Haaaa!”
It was a slightly uncomfortable sensation, but one he was used to from making Super Kamikaze Ghosts as Gotenks.
Nypo withdrew the extensions before they could break. The blast hit the right wing and singed it away, but just when Goten thought he had won, the glider sprouted another wing.
“I can’t get him to stop unless I can disarm him,” thought Goten, “and I don’t want to hit a human point-blank.”
Nypo went back on the offensive, shooting out multiple branches in all directions, trying to enclose Goten. Goten angled upwards, and the branches followed.
“Do I just keep trying to fly faster than he can grow those?” Goten didn’t like it, but he was having trouble thinking of anything else. It felt somehow just as wrong as attacking a human would feel. He was having completely the wrong fight-or-flight reaction. All he had to do was disarm this guy to stop him! He just needed to pry this guy’s hand out from the bottom of the glider, or the glider away from his hands.
Goten abruptly turned around and prepared his right leg for a midair upward kick.
“Perfect!” roared Nypo.
The glider handles grew downward, Nypo sinking with them. Goten slipped through the bars, extensions of which were already starting to grow backwards to chase him. Gohan collided and fell. Nypo swung his body back to let Gohan slip.
“Ah!” gasped Goten.
As Nypo turned his attention behind him, a figure in a long white cape swooped down and caught Gohan, snatching up the piece of red pole that had fallen away from his neck again.
“Piccolo!” Goten shouted with relief. Nypo ignored Piccolo and swooped back around to focus on Goten. Piccolo slung Gohan over his back and began charging chi in his fingertips.
“That won’t work!” Goten warned Piccolo, “he’ll just regrow his weapon again!” Goten took his own piece and made it into a sword, but no matter how sharp he made it, a Nyoibo couldn’t cut another Nyoibo. He could only push back, and went back to using it as a shield.
Piccolo held Gohan tightly, but couldn’t look away from Goten. So the rumors were true, about molding its shape, he thought, and while Goten had managed it, it still didn’t seem to be helping him much.
“I’ll come right back!” Piccolo shouted up instead. As an afterthought, he tossed Gohan’s piece up towards Goten. Goten dove, making the shield wide enough to cover Piccolo’s escape, and caught the second piece.
Nypo gave up on the glider and formed a giant flyswatter instead, accepting free fall. He had realized that the battle would go easier for him on the ground. Goten flew right under Nypo and began dividing the Nyoibo to catch him. Nypo pulled the flyswatter down allowing the weight of the Nyoibo to catch Goten and knock him back. Goten was able to stop himself and rub his injured hip, as Nypo lowered his pole to the ground and slid to ground level.
Goten held the two pieces near each other. “You want the Nyoibo?” He turned them into a pair of nunchucks. “Come get it!”
“We’ve put in too much work on this plan to stop now,” declared Bulma, “but it would help to know what we’re dealing with.”
“I’m having a little trouble sensing energy from up here in space,” said Trunks.
“Everywhere,” stammered Krillin. 18 stared at him. “Now that I’m looking for it, it’s everywhere!” 18 took his hand. “We’ll figure this out,” she promised.
“Can’t you just use the ground penetrating scanner?” Pilaf piped in.
“We’ll have to get closer,” warned Bulma, “I’d rather spot what we’re looking for, and not be spotted.”
“How about there?” suggested Trunks, pointing to a gray splotch on the projection. Bulma looked at it. It seemed to be getting bigger.
“Do I even want to know?” asked Krillin.
“Spectrograph, Dad?” requested Bulma.
“Coming right up! Let’s see....” said Dr. Briefs, “Oh! That was fast! About 34% aluminum, and the rest... interesting. Pure lithium!”
“Lithium?” repeated Bulma.
“The stuff they put in batteries?” inquired 18.
“Right,” Bulma replied, “it’s incredibly reactive, the slightest negative charge and it releases a lot of energy. But it’s that reactivity that makes it so valuable.” She stared down at the map. As they got closer, they could see that the formation of aluminum and lithium actually was getting bigger. “There must be enough lithium down there to store energy for an entire city. It must be worth a fortune!”
“Let’s check it out,” said 18, “I’ll go.”
Bulma’s eyes widened, and then narrowed again. “As soon as I say the word ‘fortune’....”
“If this place is going to be our moon, then we need answers,” said Krillin. “Someone or something is down there. We have to find out what.”
Bulma knew she wouldn’t win an argument with this crowd. “We’ll split up,” said Bulma, “Trunks, you guard the ship while I run the ground penetrating scanner. If anything damages this ship, we’ll be hitch-hiking home.”
Trunks knew he had just been shot down, but at least he could watch all their feeds if something happened. Mom was in one of her famous bad moods.
The ship was going to land somewhere five kilometers past Krillin and 18, who detached their tethers and jumped out along the way. “Is that a city growing out of the ground?!” 18 observed. “That’s certainly what it looks like,” replied Krillin. The structures had a cylindrical appearance, domed at the top.
Trunks looked at the buildings carefully. “Huh,” he said. Bulma flicked a glance at the feed. “It’s probably not residential,” she said, “and that must be the aluminum protecting the outsides. The lithium should be safe underneath, as long as nothing disturbs it. I think you guys should land outside rather than in the middle of that city.”
Krillin and 18 did as instructed, touching down on the dusty plain without a sound. They watched the structures continue to expand until they were well over fifty meters high, and then stop.
“I’m starting to sense it a bit less,” said Krillin. “Some underground work crew must have gone home for the day.”
“Where is it strongest?” asked 18.
“Everywhere but the city, for now,” replied Krillin, “but if I had to guess...” he pointed somewhere northeast of where Bulma was headed.
“That doesn’t help me,” Bulma said bluntly, “can you try latitude and longitude?”
“Um... northeastern hemisphere?”
Mai looked at the projection. “It’s one of the two poles of the pattern,” she said, “there’s a little blue dot in the middle.”
Trunks looked around as Bulma was scanning. He was trying to stay alert, but he thought he saw something glowing. Trunks glided towards something that looked like a lamp. He bent down and examined the glowing white cluster of lights arranged like corn kernels, with three thin bluish crystals for leaves. The same crystalline material seemed to make up the short base of the light, coating its neck in scales of crystal.
[This design is inspired by one of the few scenes of Rick and Morty I’ve actually seen. I kind of hope this “planet” is as creepy as that scene. It involved corn cobs.]
Trunks poked the little light, which promptly sunk into the ground. Trunks squinted down at its tiny burrow. A taller structure rose up nearby. This one was still covered in bluish crystal scale mail, but at the top was unmistakably an eye, held in a socket that looked like a snowflake. The eye stalk bent down towards Trunks, squinted as its cyan iris covered more of its round red pupil, and then pulled back a bit.
“Uh... Mom?” said Trunks as another light came up from the ground and approached the boy’s helmet.
“What is it, Trunks?” asked Bulma without looking away from the scanner.
A tentacle burst out of the ground near Krillin. This one had a six-fingered hand that looked almost robotic due to its angular features, with a stoma on what should have been its palm. Again, the length of the tentacle was covered in crystalline scales. Krillin was able to sense it and jump.
“Kienzan!”
[I’m trying to avoid being inconsistent between the use of Japanese and American terms. The Kienzan is the Destructo-Disc in the dub, for those who haven’t figured that out.]
Krillin sent a sawblade of yellow chi through the tentacle. The meter-long appendage silently flopped to the ground. Krillin looked at its crystal outline, thick blubber, bundles of muscles and tendons, and a few vessels which had frozen shut immediately. He didn’t see anything that resembled bones.
Jaco abruptly landed next to the tentacle, bent down and bear hugged it, said something quickly, and took off again. Krillin was left even more confused. He hadn’t even heard what Jaco said. This was probably for the best, as his exact words were, “Thanks, Kribbin!”
[Yes, Jaco just showed up out of nowhere and then left. Blink and you miss him.]
“Well... that’s one down,” said Bulma, pulling up the scan, “and only several thousand to go.”
Trunks looked around at all the appendages dotting the landscape like weeds. “So this is all one big creature?” he asked her.
“Big would be an understatement,” said Bulma worriedly, “it must be over—“
“Aah!” shouted 18. Six evenly-spaced angular fingers were clasped around her ankle.
“18!” shouted Krillin.
“Wait,” she told him. The scale-mailed tentacle supporting the hand dangled 18 towards more eyes and lights. The hand shook her up and down a little. More hands righted her, and the eyes and lights examined her helmet intently. The tentacles gave 18 a quick tilt, righted her again, examined her. Another quick tilt, righted her again, stared at her one more time. It then abruptly threw her towards the aluminum towers. She stabilized herself before Krillin could catch her.
“It doesn’t like my side part?!” 18 guessed.
“First time for everything,” said Krillin jokingly.
“It likes symmetry,” Trunks said, “that’s why it even copied our rocket array.”
“Is that what this place is?” asked Krillin.
Mai looked back at the map.
“Go up a bit,” instructed Trunks, “see how one of those is on its side?”
Krillin and 18 did as instructed and were able to confirm that one of the structures was indeed lying sideways.
“Maybe it fell,” suggested Krillin, “we wouldn’t have heard anything.”
“But there’s no impact crater,” said 18, “and the surrounding structures aren’t damaged.”
“And if one of them fell in the middle, that certainly would have disturbed the—“ Bulma stopped. A copy of the rocket array, made of lithium? And the creature had made it and then left it abandoned?
“Get OUT OF THERE!” shouted Bulma, “NOW!”
The nunchucks had seemed like a good idea at first, but no matter how Goten stretched the chain, he couldn’t land a hit. Nypo could calmly smack it away with just the standard pole. Goten reeled back, and Nypo went back on the offensive, splitting the pole into eight outward branches.
“It’s like a hydra,” thought Goten, recognizing the move that had caught him the first time, “necks pointing out, and then heads pointing in. And if I change direction...” Goten dodged just slowly enough to watch how the “hydra” would react. The “heads” started to grow new “necks” extending outwards, which in turn grew “heads” pointing in towards and around Goten.
“A double-hydra,” he thought, “it was tricky to see because they were going at all different speeds. Or was it the angles that were all different?” Goten now understood the attack pattern, but still wasn’t sure how to keep ahead of it.
[I hope I explained it well, because we’ll be seeing more of it.]
Goten zig-zagged towards Nypo and jumped behind him, attempting a shallow “hydra” of his own. Nypo didn’t have enough time to retract his Nyoibo, but extended the handle to spring away.
“You think you’re clever, pest?” taunted Nypo, pointing the Nyoibo downwards, “let me show you why they call me the Crimson Colt.”
Nypo created a shape which quickly took the form of a red mare, growing larger and larger underneath him. He stood steadily on its back, holding the long handle like reins as the mare realistically galloped back towards Goten. Goten floated up calmly.
“Did you already forget I could fly?” Goten’s Nyoibo stretched too, turning into a long serpent, then growing scales, whiskers, and short three-toed arms. It was clearly meant to look like Shenron. As Goten floated up, he expanded the dragon upwards and arched it over.
“He’s taken the bait,” thought Nypo, holding back a smirk, “the law of conservation of matter does not apply to the Nyoibo. And by adding mass, he’s adding weight.”
The dragon’s growth slowed. It sprouted a broad pair of wings, and then a series of smaller ones down its back.
“He’s beginning to notice the weight,” Nypo thought, “but it’s too late. His grip will weaken—“
Nypo looked back at Goten, but the boy wasn’t breaking a sweat. His grip wasn’t optimal, but he was holding steady, all while holding that enormous dragon-shaped Nyoibo.
Nypo sucked in the mare and scrambled to think of another plan. He couldn’t aim for the boy anymore; he’d still be at the mercy of that enormous dragon. Nypo sprang himself backwards and to the right. Goten steered the dragon and pointed it back at him. The dragon opened its mouth, and out shot a Nyoibo tongue. The size of the dragon was obscuring Goten’s view, but he could sense exactly where his opponent was.
“Hydra,” said Goten.
The dragon’s tongue split and then converged, catching Nypo’s right arm. The dragon glided along its own tongue, and with a horrible crash, Nypo was slammed to the ground and crushed.
Goten kept the Nyoibo on him and approached cautiously, remembering the decoy his opponent had used before. This time, he could sense Nypo actually there, and he hadn’t given him time to get away. As Goten pulled the dragon away, he could see that Nypo had used his own Nyoibo to make a suit of armor, restricting his movement but protecting himself. Still, he had taken heavy damage and even broken some bones. The teen could only stand on one leg. As Goten retracted, Nypo’s armor peeled away with it. Nypo frantically tried to pull back, but winced from the pain. By the time Goten had pulled the Nyoibo back into a pole, Nypo was empty-handed. Goten had absorbed his opponent’s Nyoibo into his own.
“Good,” declared Goten, “looks like I didn’t have to kill you after all. You’re hurt, so don’t try fighting back. And I’m making sure you don’t get this back. So don’t think of trying to come back for it.”
Goten turned to sense Gohan. He and Piccolo were coming back towards him. Goten smiled. A red claw pinched Goten around the waist and quickly spread over his body.
“What?!—“ gasped Goten, managing to turn around and glimpse at Nypo before being completely covered.
“When you broke it earlier,” grunted Nypo slowly, “I didn’t merge all the pieces at once.”
Goten thought back to when Nypo had shoveled up those fragments. Sure enough, Nypo had pocketed his main piece with the gold cap, and had been using those other fragments for the rest of the fight. It was rare for Nyoibo to break, but Nypo had thought ahead, and adapted the situation to his advantage. [He's an average fighter, but a brilliant scientist! ...If you're sick of me already, good luck getting through the other 80% of this fanfic.]
Nypo wasn’t giving Goten room to blast his way out without damaging himself. He formed the outside shape into a coffin, while the inside was suffocating Goten.
“Ever heard of an Iron Maiden?” grunted Nypo. Goten was screaming in pain before he could say he hadn’t. The inside of the coffin had filled with spikes. Unlike the one that had nearly killed Gohan, they were dull enough that they could be felt and leave lasting damage. Goten was now in too much pain to attempt to burst out physically.
A chi blast landed near Nypo’s feet. Nypo couldn’t dodge, and simply crumpled to the ground. He was still holding the coffin containing Goten, which he pulled closer.
“Let him go!” warned Gohan, charging another chi blast in his hand. His khakis and sweater vest were replaced by a blue and red gi matching the one worn by the green man next to him.
Nypo snarled but complied. Goten’s body was covered in bloody holes. Gohan landed next to him.
“I almost... had...” blood was filling Goten’s mouth. “Don’t try to talk,” Gohan told him.
“Can you use that thing to cover yourself?” Piccolo asked, gesturing towards the Nyoibo in Goten’s hand. The Nyoibo moved to cover Goten’s arm, and then the whole thing fell out of his hand. Goten fell unconscious.
Gohan picked up his brother and the pole. A glowing aura sprang up around him. “Look what you did my brother!” he shouted, “and for what?!” He stomped the ground, sending cracks and rocks everywhere.
This was actually Gohan attempting to signal Piccolo that he still planned to do what they had discussed on the way over. Piccolo had suspected that the boy who was after them was part of the Arapo clan like Mr. Popo. He would rather have tried reason with the boy, but if that failed, the next best plan was intimidation. If Gohan and Piccolo could show the boy the difference in raw power between them, perhaps the boy would back down rather than have to experience that power himself.
“Why are you doing this?!” Piccolo exclaimed, “aren’t you one of the Arapo clan?!”
Nypo aimed at Piccolo after pulling himself onto one knee. “You’re half right.”
“Then you must be... Nippo?” guessed Piccolo.
“It’s pronounced ‘Nee-PO!’” he replied, putting up a wall.
[See what I did there?
The main reason I chose to make him a half-member of Popo’s clan was so he’d look a little more like Black Luster from One Punch Man, and a little less like Jynx from Pokémon. It’s important to the plot that he be related to Popo, but as a half-relative, it gives this character more of a motivation to work hard to belong. This opens up another avenue I’m considering. It would be a bold design choice, but what if he was related to Popo on his father’s side, and to Tienshinhan on his mother’s side? He’d certainly look like a guy with talent, but a known oddball back in the village.]
“Don’t try any more funny stuff!” warned Gohan awkwardly, “I know you don’t get this, but my neck is actually stronger after recovering from that move earlier! So don’t assume it’ll work again!”
Nypo pushed the wall towards Gohan and Piccolo, keeping them at a distance. “I don’t care how strong you are, or if you know chi!“ Nypo insisted, “Why was there a Nyoibo in your house?!” Spikes burst from the far side of the wall. Gohan, even while holding Goten, took minimal damage, having adapted due to the infamous Saiyan “zenkai” trait of growing stronger after every difficult fight. Piccolo had responded by kicking the wall, spikes piercing his feet. Piccolo filled his hand with chi and shocked Nypo by slicing through his own lower leg.
“Why would you go so far for someone who stole a power that reaches the Gods?!” roared Nypo.
[Did I make Nypo unnecessarily stubborn just to give Piccolo more action? ...Isn’t Piccolo awesome?!]
Piccolo began to stretch his arms around the wall. He was no longer used to this kind of talk, but a plan was a plan.
“I trained those kids, and I WAS A GOD!”
He grabbed Nypo around the wrist and slammed the boy back to the ground. Of course, Nypo thought, it should have been obvious! Could this man have looked any more like Dende-sama?!
Nypo went completely limp. He let the Nyoibo fall. He looked up at Piccolo, Gohan and Goten, and his eyes started to water. Piccolo relaxed his hold, and Nypo looked back at the ground. How could he have been so stupid not to accept that the Gods would have entrusted anyone else?
“Could you guys turn around?” asked Shu, “we can’t see the explosion!”
“Nope!” replied Krillin, “we’re too cool to turn around and look!”
Obviously this was a lie. He didn’t need to look. The heat was telling him all he needed to know. 18 complied, taking one backwards glance before immediately facing ahead again. “Second big mistake,” she said, “I definitely shouldn’t have looked!”
Plumes of smoke and a towering inferno were bursting from the red-hot towers. Krillin was making a beeline for Trunks and Bulma, since 18 wasn’t able to sense their location. He was using too much of his energy trying to stay ahead of the flames, and before long, the more enduring 18 grabbed his wrist in her gloved hand and took point.
“It shouldn’t last too long, without any oxygen to fuel the flames,” Bulma tried to say confidently, “then again, that was an awful lot of lithium....”
There was little Bulma could do to help them. While putting back the scanner, she was still in a vulnerable position herself. Another angular hand on an ice-covered tentacle reached for Bulma’s equipment. Trunks blasted it back.
“Trunks, be careful!” shouted Bulma, “the suit—“
“How about a ‘thank you,’ Mom?” replied Trunks, looking over his glove. “Dad never had a problem attacking through his gloves.”
“I’m sorry Trunks,” Bulma said, “I just... didn’t want to lose anybody today.”
Trunks didn’t know what to say. Things certainly weren’t going to plan, and the plan had been dangerous from the get-go. “Where do we go from here?” asked Trunks.
The others seemed to understand what Trunks was asking. “If it’s only one creature,” said 18, “then if we kill it, then this planet is ours.”
Bulma chose to ignore the word “planet”.
“If not,” huffed Krillin, “we could just... pull a Frieza. Destroy it. Comet and all.”
Bulma seemed disappointed by both of those choices.
“Can’t we just—“ Mai started to say.
“We haven’t tried to communicate with it,” said Bulma at last.
Mai stopped, eyes wide. “Right,” she said. “I was about to say, maybe it’s possible we can reason with it.”
“Do you see anything reasonable here?!” asked Krillin, looking back at the smoke.
Mai shrugged. “You never know until you try.”
[My philosophy going into this fanfic. Is anyone going to read a story about Nyoibo horses and a tentacle monster the size of Greenland? You never know until you try!]
“It’s making something else now,” said Shu before they could take it to a vote.
Bulma, back on the ship with Trunks, looked at the projection. “It’s not symmetrical this time,” said Trunks.
“Well, it’s still a hexagon,” said Bulma, “but why is it only making one?”
“I’m running the spectrograph,” said Dr. Briefs, “let’s hope it’s not lithium this time.”
“It’s back at the spot where you made the first rocket array,” Pilaf pointed out, “only it’s bigger, and it’s still growing.”
Bulma tried to make out the internal structure of the hexagon, or get an early guess as to the metal composition, but it was reflecting too much light for the satellites to make it out well.
“More aluminum, polyamide, and I suppose that would have been liquid crystal if it weren’t for the cold,” Dr. Briefs reported.
“I don’t see it yet,” said 18, “but we can see the Earth from here. Take a look, Krillin.”
The sight was some small comfort after the “sprint”. “I think that’s... East City,” he said with a deep breath.
“About the comet’s course,” said Pilaf, “it’s sped up; you’ve already managed to affect the comet’s trajectory.”
“Huh?” said Bulma, “that much? We haven’t even used the harpoon yet.”
“Yes, this is unexpected,” Dr. Briefs agreed.
Bulma looked back at the map. “That’s it!” she exclaimed, “a solar sail!”
“A what?” asked Trunks.
“Solar sails use the sun’s energy to move things through outer space,” explained Bulma, “the same way the wind moves a boat if it has sails.”
“You can do that?” asked Trunks. The whole concept seemed strange to him, with Krillin and 18 being just as confused.
“It has worked with smaller objects, like deep-space telescopes, but I didn’t think we’d be able to get enough of the material to move this entire comet.”
[I agree with Bulma. The sail would have to be bigger than the comet. But... it was going to be passing by Earth anyway... what was I going to do, write some genius idiot to purposely pull the monster towards Earth and immediately get killed by it? It would have been more plausible to have the creature stretch its tentacles in the back and start squid-swimming towards Earth! Actually, is that plausible?]
“So is that... good?” asked Shu.
“I don’t know,” said Bulma, “we wanted to bring this comet into Earth’s orbit. And now we’re coming close to Earth. But, now that we know that this thing’s here, and it’s coming to Earth on purpose...”
18 stared down at the Earth. From here, it was beautiful, but...
“Earth is in for one mother of a makeover,” 18 said bitterly.
The crew decided to stay split up. 18 would take Krillin back to the solar sail so the two of them would be prepared to take it out. Trunks headed to the center of the creature so he could do... he wasn’t sure what. Reason with it? How?
A familiar little ship glided towards Trunks. Jaco adjusted his helmet before popping the hood. The back of the ship was filled with canisters less than twenty centimeters long and over five centimeters wide. Jaco grabbed two under his arms and offered one to Trunks, which he took. It felt a bit warm. It had alien writing along the sides, a shallow cone on one end and a plunger on the other.
“What’s this for?” Trunks asked Jaco. Trunks could see Jaco’s lips moving but he couldn’t hear anything.
“What?” asked Trunks, “I can’t hear you. Mr. Jaco?”
“He must be using a different frequency,” Bulma pointed out.
Jaco tried one more time, but quickly realized the problem. He gazed upwards somewhere while saying something else, possibly explaining to headquarters, and then he frantically started to pantomime.
Trunks first tried copying his actions, putting the cone end against his arm and pretending to recoil in pain. Jaco looked mildly disappointed.
Mai was a little better at charades. “I think he’s saying it’s an injection,” guessed Mai.
“A what?”
“A shot!”
Trunks put the pointed end back to his shoulder and was about to push the plunger when Jaco jumped at him and yanked the drug away. He shuffled it back under his arm so that he could aggressively point towards the creature.
“It’s not for you, Trunks, it’s an injection for the—“ Mai started to correct him.
“—for the monster, OK, yeah, I get it!”
Trunks looked in the direction Jaco was looking, and then back to Jaco, outstretching his hand. Jaco gave him back the drug.
Trunks spotted a thick eyestalk and leaped for it. He landed up against a more horizontal bend and held on with his legs and left hand, then punching open a hole in its icy covering.
Jaco activated his jet boots and tried to grab Trunks again.
“What now?!” he shouted, forgetting that Jaco couldn’t hear him either.
Jaco cupped one hand into half a circle, and used his other hand to point where the center would go. He was doing this so frantically that he didn’t notice how unintentionally hilarious this looked.
“It has to go in its core!” Mai realized.
“Makes sense,” said Shu, “just injecting one of the arms in a creature this big, it’d take all day for the drug to get to the main body.”
“And by then, it could just cut that arm off,” added Pilaf.
Trunks nodded to Jaco and looked hard in the direction of the main body. “It looks like Jaco has a plan,” said Trunks, “try to help get me in touch with him if you can. Until then, I’ll cover him.”
The duo began their push for the main body.
Destroying such a large solar sail was going to be no small task.
“Kame... hame... HA!”
Krillin’s blue streak of energy vaporized a three-meter long line in the material, leaving the bulk of the structure still standing. He went clockwise around it and fired off another one, with much the same result. He wasn’t able to take out enough material per shot. He sighed.
“Anyone know of a longer, flatter attack move?”
“Depends,” snarked 18, “wanna go cover it with lithium?”
Krillin put up a Kienzan, but curved it around her, cutting beneath a hand stalk. The tentacles had noticed them. They were an easy matter with the disks, but it was clear they had no intention of letting Krillin work in peace.
“Maybe,” 18 mused, “I’m not as good as my brother at this, but...”
She raised her left hand, and a thin wall of green energy appeared, lacking her brother’s signature curve.
She then rested her right hand on Krillin’s lower back. A neutral energy started to flow to him. She couldn’t give him much at a time, but she could keep this up as long as she needed to, provided the couple could work without distractions.
This lasted about fifteen minutes before the ground shook. Off in the distance, an enormous tentacle erupted from the ground, sending chunks of rock all around, and reached out for the approaching Earth. Krillin and 18’s eyes could no longer follow it. More rumblings, and one tentacle after another followed the first one to the Earth.
“Are we too late?!” asked 18.
Dr. Briefs answered. “East City... and the surrounding areas... they’ve already been hit!”
Nypo woke up to see Dende staring down at him. He seemed angry. Nypo flinched back, only to feel an ache in his ribs.
“You’re injured,” Dende reminded him coldly. A white light radiated from Dende’s hands. Nypo tensed, but the light seemed to be dulling the pain rather than causing any. His broken bones reset, and his wounds cleansed and closed.
“So you’re that sort of Guardian,” Nypo surmised. Dende realized that the boy was more surprised by his act of mercy than by his healing ability.
“I already healed my friends,” Dende said with emphasis on the word “friends”. “They’ve gone on ahead to East City. You see, there’s a crisis approaching. One that I was attempting to sense earlier, before I found you instead. This affair has been an unfortunate distraction that has cost Piccolo, Son Gohan and his brother Goten far too much time.”
Dende neglected to mention that the three of them would have been on the comet had it not been for Nypo’s interference.
“A crisis that cannot be dealt with by a god?” Nypo said skeptically.
Dende looked instead at a thin silver line to the northeast, stretching infinitely skyward.
“I was given the position of Guardian due to my skills in sorcery,” Dende said without mentioning any specifics, “I can help prepare warriors such as those three, and repair the damage after the crisis is dealt with. It is hard for even me to accept this, but my role requires me to stay away from the front lines. All I can do is watch and advise... and have faith in them.”
Nypo realized that this must have been a painful subject for him. There must have been times when he wanted to do the fighting himself, but realized it was of little use, particularly in comparison to whatever “sorcery” he was needed for.
And then there was the subject of faith. Dende had just delegated his three friends with a dangerous but necessary task of defending the Earth, certain proof that he trusted them. Just that morning, Nypo didn’t think they deserved a tool to simply reach his home. Had he succeeded in killing them, he could have possibly doomed the Earth. He didn’t deserve to even be speaking with Dende-sama right now.
“A giant life form thousands of kilometers wide is attempting to reshape this planet. This alone will cause massive casualties. There is also the matter of the beast’s home, an enormous comet that may impact the Earth if the beast is slain. The impact would split the Earth and rupture our atmosphere, damaging the planet beyond my ability to repair it. The comet has come too close; destroying it would only rain destruction. And besides... some of my other friends are up on that comet, trying to find another solution.”
Nypo stared at the silver line in horror. The situation seemed impossible.
“Still, I have faith in them. I wouldn’t have sent them if I didn’t have hope that they could succeed. My concern is in minimizing the damage.” Dende pointed to the line. “That structure is in Hercule City. There are others there who can help the citizens evacuate. East City is further to the northeast, and is being much harder hit. I need all the help I can get.”
[OK, caving to censorship.]
Dende finished his piece, and immediately pulled out the Nyoibo from his robes and offered it to Nypo. Nypo looked to the Nyoibo and back to Dende, not moving his hand to take it, mouth hanging open.
“Why? What could you possibly want me to do?!”
“As I said, my place is not on the front lines,” explained Dende, “I need someone to move the citizens out of harm’s way. If you find anyone seriously injured, bring them to a safe place. I’ll be watching, and I’ll come find you.”
Nypo nodded, and without a word, he took the staff and pole-vaulted away.
Dende could sense that there was no intention of double-crossing him this time. He had accepted Dende’s instructions and was not going to hesitate to follow them.
“Perhaps... all he wanted was for someone to trust him,” mused Dende.
The gray dog stared out the penthouse window and began barking loudly.
“Hold on, Bee!” shouted Hercule, “I’m in the shower!”
Of course, this was not enough to reassure the dog, who kept furiously barking for all the world to hear. A gold-plated phone on the bathroom counter rang. Hercule shut off the water.
“Ugh, hold on!” Without bothering to towel off, he grabbed a bathrobe and tried to put it on and answered the phone at the same time. “Yeah? What— sorry, I’m having trouble hearing you over the dog!”
“Hercule?” Majin Buu looked away from the window and walked over to him, “why that new building hit other buildings?”
Once decent enough, Hercule finally looked out the window. Buu’s description of events was surprisingly accurate. A huge iron-clad tower stood at the northeast edge of the city. From somewhere high up on the structure, many iron clad arms were pushing and smashing skyscrapers. One was about to topple over. Hercule dropped the phone.
The windows started to shatter, and dozens of people started to topple out. A man in a baseball uniform swooped out of the sky and caught two of them who had fallen from higher floors, but he wasn’t going to be able to reach the rest in time.
“Puar! Safety net!”
“Okay!” replied the floaty blue cat with a nod. Puar transformed with a poof.
“That’s more of a trampoline, but that’ll work!” called Yamcha. The people were all caught and bounced to safety, getting off quickly to allow their rescuer to change back. Yamcha deposited the couple and doubled back for the building. It was still teetering.
“I’m going to try to lower it down slowly!” Yamcha shouted for the sake of the crowd below and for anyone who might still be inside. He made a point of moving up to the top floor first, preventing himself from being caught underneath. The crowd had to force themselves not to stare at Yamcha as he started lowering the building into the alley all on his own. A woman toppled out a window below him. Puar hadn’t noticed, as he was busy trying to tell the crowd to keep moving. A pair of yellow gloves at the end of stretchy pink arms caught the woman, and was quickly followed by the rest of Majin Buu.
“You very sexy!” Buu told her. Not the best pickup line, but there was the whole just-saved-her-life thing. “Th-thank you,” she said politely. Buu set her down on the southwest corner of a crosswalk. “You go that way,” Buu instructed, pointing south, “Hercule tell Buu, get everyone that way.” She nodded. “I’ll come find you!” she promised. The fact that Hercule had gotten this guy to help evacuate the city seemed like a big enough hint for later.
Buu then rose further into the sky, above the skyscrapers, and took a deep breath in.
“EVERYBODY GO THAT WAY!”
Buu’s shouting alone was enough to break several windows. He could be very loud when he wanted to be.
The evacuation of Hercule City was proceeding surprisingly smoothly, due to the Paur/Yamcha tag team handling the buildings, Buu finding the stragglers and splitting his efforts (sometimes literally), and Hercule and Bee choosing to help at the hospital, and then the nursing home. Several people were able to recognize Yamcha, who would vaguely respond with “I get that a lot,” and one street reporter recognized him not from his baseball career, but from the Cell Games video. “Yup, that’s me,” was his response to that one, “now go spread the word and get everyone out of here.”
Android 8 offered his thick arm to the redhead, pulling her up another rock face. In her thick winter clothing, Suno was having trouble keeping up, but 8 wasn’t letting her out of his sight. With one last pull, the two had scaled the mountains at the south edge of Jingle Village. 8 gasped, “this is much worse than I thought.”
“So you were right,” said Suno, “something big was coming. At least, there’s something big here. It doesn’t seem to be coming closer.”
8 studied it. “It’s mostly organic, it just stores metal in its body and then covers itself with it. Right now it looks like it’s trying to flatten the mountains, but who knows what it might do if it reaches the village?”
Suno couldn’t see the top of it. She knew her friend was strong, but this was going to be too much, even for him.
“I’ll make sure the villagers are aware. 8-kun, stay here and watch it.”
The bulky android said nothing.
“8-kun, please. I’m begging you not to go and fight that thing.”
“...Alright, Ms. Suno. I’ll stay here and keep watch.”
“Thanks. I’ll come back and find you soon.”
Suno started to careful slip down the mountain. Once she was too far to catch up, 8 slipped away down the southern face.
“I’m sorry, Suno... but I was never one for obedience.”
Chiaotzu and Tienshinhan soared over the clearing and approached the forest.
“It’s like I’ve been telling you,” complained Chiaotzu, “we’re going to keep being late to the party because we don’t have a phone.”
An iron tentacle swept down a clump of trees. One fallen tree pinned down a mother deer, who struggled in vain to get out. A baby fawn watched her helplessly. Chiaotzu landed and effortlessly threw back the tree, and then focused on evacuating animals. Several rabbits and a porcupine floated by telekinesis, swinging their paws in confusion.
“It’s a package deal with these phone companies,” Tienshinhan started to explain as he jump-kicked a large tentacle, “you have to choose how many lines you want and how you’re going to pay for them. And then they insist you get Internet. And even if you don’t get— one second, Kikoho! ...Even if you don’t want Internet, the company makes all their cell phone towers connect with— ugh, another arm? Kikoho! Yeah, so, the phones get internet once you’re on the company’s network, which you have to be to use the phone, and then it becomes one big distraction. ...Hey, don’t throw trees at me, Kikoho! Sooner or later, your friends and family all find out you’re online and want you to start posting, and they want to hear all the boring stuff you’re up to— ow, too many branches. I’m headed further up. Anyway, some big political news happens, and they all say they want your opinion, because if you say nothing they assume you don’t care. But then if you say what you think, you’re just going to make half of them angry, right? So then, why did you ask me to post it if you didn’t want to know?! I’m trying to run a dojo, here, I’ve got other things to worry about besides being hated if I say what I think and hated if I don’t. ...Nope, no more arms up past here. KIKOHO!”
Tienshinhan’s attack burned clear through the trunk of the structure and left the arms inert. Chiaotzu watched the upper section wriggle above it.
“Huh...” Chiaotzu thought, “...so it’s not just because I would get more likes than you?”
Tienshinhan floated back to get a better attack angle. “Any number you get would still be bigger than zero. Nothing you say will convince me to join social media. KIKOHO!”
Tienshinhan seared away as much of the upper portion as he could.
“That ought to do for this one. Did you get all the animals out?”
“Whatever I could sense,” said Chiaotzu. “...what if I did all the posting?”
“Do what you want, then, just with your own money and your own personal account, I don’t want the dojo’s name on any of it.”
Chiaotzu smiled.
[Yes, this was the scene we had to cut to after the one with Android 8.]
“You know, you’re not done yet, Tien.”
“Not done with this giant thing?” he asked.
“You’re still getting stronger. That was five Kikoho just now, and you’re still going. Could you have done that ten years ago when you were pinning down Cell?”
“I don’t know,” he thought, “but you’re probably right that I haven’t hit my ceiling.”
“So that means there’s still time for you get to stronger. And one day when you finally do peak, you’ll have students who can carry on your legacy by then.”
“Hopefully,” said Tienshinhan, “but none of them seem to have gotten strong enough to learn chi yet. I’m not sure I’ll ever get any star students who can take over after me.”
“You will, just be patient,” said Chiaotzu, “and I’m sure you’ll be remembered, Tien, and you won’t need a single blog post for that. So save the internet for the people who need it.”
Tienshinhan smiled.
Chiaotzu looked around, and then started to awkwardly fly backwards. Tienshinhan followed his gaze towards a dark figure pole-vaulting through the meadow towards the edge of the woods. He stretched the pole under him, lifting himself to the top of a tall evergreen.
“What’s he doing?” wondered Tienshinhan.
The teen stretched it again in the pair’s direction, and then sprang forward, shrinking the pole as he rocketed up. At the top of his arc, he quickly turned the pole into a hang glider.
“Whoa,” remarked Chiaotzu.
The pair caught up with him in seconds. Nypo sighed. “More chi users,” he mumbled.
“Where you headed?” asked Tienshinhan conversationally.
“East City. I heard the situation will be the most dire there.”
Tienshinhan swerved underneath him to the other side of the glider. “We could give you a push,” he suggested. Chiaotzu nodded.
It seemed pointless to argue. “Alright,” he agreed.
Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu each gripped the glider and hurled it out as far as they could in front of them. Despite the considerable boost in speed, the pair soon caught up again. Nypo was not amused.
“You seem familiar,” Tienshinhan tried, “do I know you?”
“You first,” replied Nypo.
“I’m Chiaotzu, and this Tienshinhan, or just ‘Tien’,” said Chiaotzu in his friendliest possible tone.
Nypo tried to relax a little, since it seemed he wouldn’t be making the trip alone. “I can’t say I’ve heard of either of you,” he admitted, “I am Nypo, known to the Arapo clan as the Crimson Colt.”
[Please; you’re Nyoibro.]
Tienshinhan looked to Chiaotzu, who shrugged. “Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell,” Tienshinhan said sheepishly.
“I’ve been gone a long time,” Nypo said, stiffening again, “evidentially I wasn’t around for when the secrets of a once mythical art were being passed around like candy at a festival.”
“It’s probably just that all the chi users are heading in the same direction right now,” Tienshinhan said, making a forward gesture with his head, “part of it is being able to sense other life energies, especially big ones like the metal-plated thing that’s attacking right now.”
“It’s actually not all that common,” added Chiaotzu, “or else we wouldn’t have needed to go and investigate it.”
Tienshinhan wasn’t going to admit to being unsure of this; he could already sense that Gohan, Goten and Piccolo were ahead of them.
“Perhaps you’re right,” said Nypo, “it was the stuff of legend, even in my village. It was said that the Gods would only teach it to those who were most worthy.”
“It’s never too late to learn!” replied Chiaotzu without skipping a beat. “It’s all about being in complete control of your body, making it capable of whatever you need it to do. And to get there, just keep trying! You work, and train, and when you’re tired, you get back up and work and train harder. If you feel like you’re about to give up, work and train even harder. And one day, when you’ve learned chi, and can sense and fly and shoot energy, then you train even harder than ever. Set goal after goal, challenge after challenge, and never stop for anything.”
Tienshinhan nodded. “The starting point doesn’t matter. I’ve seen people with different amounts of talent, and I can guarantee you that talent doesn’t even matter if you don’t have willpower. Willpower is where strength truly begins and ends. If you have willpower, then you can surpass anyone.”
Those simple words gave Nypo an epiphany. For all that time, he had simply wanted to belong, no more and no less. Then, when he had become the strongest, it still wasn’t enough for the most eminent member of the clan. It wasn’t even enough to find out who his own father was among them. It had frustrated him for so long, so much so that he had become jealous of those who had gained some strength and become trusted by those superior to him. He had let that jealousy consume him, rather than try to aim high enough to catch up to those he was jealous of.
This pair, however, were so focused on goals and on the present, and the past didn’t seem to matter to them at all. Origins, reasons, previous actions, none of them made a difference. He had been so fixated on his own past, the search for his father, his place within the clan, his heinous actions up to that morning... in the pursuit of future goals, nothing in his past even mattered. All that mattered was the here and now, surviving today and beginning to train for the future.
“Chiaotzu... Tien... thank you.”
Chiaotzu smiled. “Sure,” said Tienshinhan coolly, “we’re almost there. One more push, Crimson Colt?” He nodded, and teen and glider were hurled towards the approaching cityscape.
“Maybe I will put you in charge of social media for the dojo after all,” said Tienshinhan.
“Huh?” asked Chiaotzu, “why?”
Tienshinhan watched Nypo go. “I get the feeling we’ll run into him again sometime.”
“Rolling in three... two....”
“This is Brooke Waters reporting from downtown East City where moments ago, an iron pillar slammed down from the sky, and some of its... appendages have begun lifting skyscrapers and scattering them throughout the city, causing untold destruction. We saw three individuals arrive earlier, seemingly from the sky to the west, but we were unable to get clear footage...”
Chichi’s broom clattered to the ground as she stared at the TV.
“—Grocery store!” she blurted, grabbing her things and racing out the door without even turning the TV off.
“...did obtain this cell phone footage of a skyscraper being lifted away from a gas station, seemingly by the rumored ‘Great Saiyaman’ judging from the orange and green apparel. We’ll try to get you more footage, but this area is under an evacuation order. If you are watching this from East City or the surrounding areas, we ask that you please leave in an orderly fashion. Back to you in the studio.”
The reporter sighed. “Alright, did the drone get anything?”
“Jackpot!” said a man who looked like a badger holding a remote with a screen in the middle. The screen showed Piccolo flying in circles around the central pillar, firing blast after blast, the camera following his upward spiral and then slowly panning to the battered flesh under the charred iron coating. Two of the creature’s other tentacles moved to attack him. Piccolo paused, and then moved just out the way of the impact, the tentacles slamming each other with a loud clank of metal.
“Hopefully this guy stays low so we can keep filming him. If he goes too far up to find where the branches are coming from, then he might go too far out of range, and I’ll have to call the drone back.”
“It’s still excellent work,” the reporter told him, “we were able to confirm that it’s some kind of alien life form attacking us from the sky, and we shouldn’t have too much trouble identifying the guy fighting it. Actually, isn’t his name Majunior?”
The rest of the crew wrinkled their brows. “I think so,” said the cameraman, “but we would have remembered meeting a guy like that... so what do we know him from again?”
[Everyone was made to forget Majin Buu, but would they have forgotten Babidi starting a manhunt for Piccolo, Trunks and Goten? If it’s a humanity-wide subconscious memory, this could have interesting implications going forward.]
The crew were interrupted by a car horn. A building had fallen into the street and blocked the road, and one car had swerved onto the sidewalk to avoid it. The camera crew had no time to clear out.
Gohan in his Great Saiyaman costume scooped up the car.
“You there! Get going!” he tried warning them.
“Uh, Saiyaman, just a quick interview!” the reporter shouted up to him.
He sighed as he deposited the car just past the next intersection.
“This helmet patched me in to Capsule Corp. There’s a creature several thousand kilometers long attacking and comet Sion B 737 is go— never mind, forget the interview, just run!”
[Mai gave the in-story reason why the comet has that name, but my reason is, “Sion” is an obvious pun on “Saiyan”, and the second half is a bit of dark humor. What does a B737 do? It crashes into the Earth, causing mass casualties.]
Gohan grabbed the building that had fallen into the road and lifted it clear over his head.
“The comet that’s supposed to pass Earth this afternoon?” mused the drone pilot. “...Are we screwed even if we run?”
The reporter went white. “Well, guys? How do we want to die?”
The cameraman started crying. “Brooke? I... love you.”
The reporter blinked. “...oh.”
Trunks and Jaco reached the foot of an enormous wall of ice. The structure seemed to be about ten stories tall, and must have had about twenty four sides on its base. The icy facets were well polished and reflective when they caught the light.
Jaco motioned Trunks back and unholstered a heat ray. At least, Trunks assumed it was a heat ray rather than his usual laser gun. It had a slider along a red and yellow gradient, which Jaco adjusted almost entirely to red, and had white and blue flame decals painted on the sides. He could feel the warmth from the oval Jaco was slowly punching shot by shot through the wall. One roundhouse kick later, and a nearly meter-thick chunk of ice fell back into the creature’s home. Jaco re-adjusted the syringe under his arm and motioned Trunks through.
As they ran inside, two hands and one eye stalk passed over their heads, ignoring the two and pushing the chunk of wall back up. As the hands busied themselves, one holding the wall and one seemingly excreting ice, Trunks approached, stopping when he could see the entirety of its central body parts.
It was surrounded by eye stalks pointing both inwards and out, and bioluminescent stalks moving in gentle circles around itself, the light playing of the many features of its perfectly carved icy carapace. The carapace was decorated with all manner of shapes and patterns, like gems and cabochons, spirals and stripes, arches and hoops, Escher-like fading patterns and sharp edges following the curvature of its body. Trunks could make out more organs under the glassy ice floor, possibly for more mineral storage, and at the top of its body, the faint glimpse of a seven-lobed brain underneath what looked like a twelve-pointed crown.
From this angle, Trunks could see that it tried to keep all of its movements symmetrical as well; the tentacles repairing the wall were mirrored by other tentacles pretending to do the same on its other five sides, and the lights and eyes swirling around it seemed to be moving in sync as if dancing.
[The seven-lobed brain is an homage to my family’s hopefully good-natured joke about how the Hindi god Vishnu must have a six-lobed brain to keep track of his six arms. They’re happy to joke about that hypothetical, but when I joke about how much property damage would be caused by Santa Claus in his incredibly heavy sleigh going well beyond the speed limit and probably generating too much force upon acceleration... what the heck is Sedna talking about?
For the millionth time, there are no sound effects in this portion of the story, but I recommend going nuts with theme music. A fun thing to do here would be to take an existing piece and play it backwards, both giving the unsettling feeling when the notes fade in and out the wrong way, and secretly continuing the theme of symmetry. Bonus points if it’s a variation of Nypo’s theme music.]
The interior walls, too, were patterned as well as faceted. More bioluminescent tentacles spaced throughout the hall showed off the variety of abstract ice sculptures, many of which incorporated some metalwork. The larger sculptures frequently included standard metals, while the smaller ones held rarer ones like copper, pyrite, and for at least six pieces, actual gold. Trunks, having grown up in affluence at Capsule Corp., felt a small twinge of jealously.
Jaco looked at the creature, shuffled his syringe back under his arm and pulled out a camera.
“Still rolling, Trunks!” assured Mai. All of them were awestruck by the magnificent creature, momentarily distracted from its rampant terraforming down on Earth.
[Remember the crustacean from Moana? I’m about to end that man’s career.]
Trunks tried to look to Jaco for cues on what to do next, but he was busily snapping photos. Trunks tapped Jaco and pointed his syringe at the creature, as his way of asking which part of its body to inject. Jaco quickly put away the camera and took out the heat ray, moving the slider closer to the yellow end.
“How come it’s not attacking them?” asked Shu.
“Maybe it hasn’t noticed them yet?” assumed Mai.
“But it has over a hundred eyes on it!” said Pilaf.
Shu shrugged. “Maybe it doesn’t know what to make of them. Or maybe it hasn’t had a live audience for millions of years of something. I’m just wondering if they even have to fight. Maybe Trunks should walk over, see if it lets him give—“
Jaco activated his foot jets, swerved around an eye stalk, and shot it off. The tentacle quickly rose up, and then flopped uselessly to the icy floor, motionless. Three hand tentacles converged on Jaco. Trunks kicked one away and shot a small chi blast at another. Jaco’s heat ray took a significant chunk out of the third, with another reaction of pain followed by paralysis. The heat ray seemed very effective even at the lower setting.
“Trunks?” asked Bulma, “how’s your oxygen?”
“You’re asking that NOW?” replied Trunks while pinching an eye between his feet and shooting it with his free hand. “I’m in COMBAT, MOM!”
“You use more oxygen when you’re fighting, sweetie.”
Trunks groaned. “It’s 43%, Mom!”
[I hope that between this and her trying to ‘splain the comet’s symmetry, I was able to capture the feeling of going on an outer space adventure with your mom. Trunks is maybe 15 years old here, right at that age when moms are necessary but embarrassing.]
Krillin piped in. “Uh, mine’s at 22%, Bulma.”
“I’ll be right there, Krillin!”
“By ‘be right there’, does that mean two hours, or...”
“Probably an hour,” admitted Bulma, “just breathe normally until then.”
Krillin sat down, cross legged, and sighed. “So much for doing something useful today.”
18 shot another gash through the solar sail, and then joined her husband. “Well, you did get Jaco that tissue sample. If his plan pans out, then at least we were of some help.”
“We’d be more useful down there,” he said looking at the blue planet in danger of being crushed below. “I guess it’s up to Trunks and Jaco now. And if that doesn’t work, then maybe you should take us all out, 18.”
She shook her head. “We’re too close to Earth now. Besides, I could never do that to you.”
The irony was lost on her.
“Lesson learned,” said Krillin, “lithium is dangerous.”
18 sighed. “I’m probably two percent lithium,” she said in what was meant to be a joking tone.
“The most dangerous woman in the world,” Krillin said warmly, putting his arm around her.
[A few weeks before writing this part, I had heard a news story about the value of lithium. Uranium was too obvious, not to mention would have blown up the comet in those quantities if not leaving Krillin to die of radiation poisoning. And I couldn’t match rocket fuel with more rocket fuel on a comet. Lithium was more subtle, simple, and it’s alluring to engineers; it’s hard to keep enough of a supply of the stuff for the battery needs of us consumers wondering why our phones can’t just be thicker and NOT powered by potatoes. Do not play with lithium at home; that’s You Tube’s job.
I’m also sorry that I couldn’t give Krillin and 18 a bit more to do, but they’ll be important if I make that sequel. For real.]
Trunks ducked under another tentacle. “Mai? Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“What do you mean?” she replied.
“It’s just that... you and Mom wanted to try and reason with it. But I don’t know what this stuff is that I’m trying to give to it, so I if end up killing it—“
“You’re worried about that NOW?!” interrupted Pilaf, “if it was ugly, you would have killed it already! Don’t forget, it’s reaching down and grabbing Earthlings right now!”
Mai was touched, but she had to keep her composure. “Trunks... do you trust Jaco?”
“I dunno, I barely know the guy,” he started to say. Jaco seemed to be riding a tentacle the way a cowboy might ride a bucking bull. He gripped it as tightly as anyone can grab ice with one glove, and then shot the tentacle underneath him. He had waited until he was facing away from the creature’s main body, his heat ray significantly milder than when they had first entered the chamber.
“...Yeah, I trust him,” said Trunks finally, “I just need to give him an opening.” He stomped on a tentacle that was creeping up behind Jaco. “This is actually harder than it looks. I have to push harder going downwards and throttle my movements up and out. This comet’s gravity is nothing compared to the 300G Dad puts me in.”
“I’m proud of you already, Trunks,” Bulma said as quietly as she could.
“It’s still moving symmetrically,” said Shu, “so maybe stay above and give Mr. Jaco room to squeeze in below?”
Trunks jumped up, and threatened to kick the creature’s twelve-pointed crown. Two eye stalks looked at him, and two arms moved lengthwise, forming a flattened X to push back Trunks. He couldn’t keep back both tentacles with just one hand.
“Hang on, am I in Super?” He quickly powered up to Super Saiyan, original version but fully mastered, and kicked the two tentacles apart. By the time he did this, Jaco was pinned under two more tentacles, unable to move his arm to aim his heat ray.
“...How do you distract a thing with a THOUSAND EYES?!” asked Pilaf.
Shu shrugged and said, “toilet paper the walls?”
“Toilet paper the...” Trunks muttered, looking down at the emergency tape dispenser on his hip.
[This idea came to me later on in the devising of this story, in much the same way it occurred to Trunks.]
Trunks slapped half a meter of tape on the wall, and then dove under three tentacles which immediately went for the tape and ignored Trunks, who quickly hung up another piece. The creature grabbed the tape so forcefully that it carved a chunk out of the icy wall. The first piece had been placed a bit loose, but it was soon stuck to the creature’s hand. As the creature awkwardly tried to pry it off, Trunks flew in close circles around a bundle of eight tentacles, tying them together. More tentacles reached for him, and Trunks incorporated these into the bundle.
“Yes!” screeched Bulma.
Lower down, another tentacle appeared to be dripping metal. This soon became a hexagonal plate. It swung the plate up, but Trunks stopped it with his foot. The creature reached back and swung up again, the edge nicking Trunks’s leg.
“Ah!”
Trunks broke off the tape and quickly tore a new piece, covering the tear in the suit. He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he had managed not to asphyxiate.
The creature hurled an icy javelin at Trunks, but the projectile was slow in the low gravity. Trunks picked up an ice sculpture shaped like multiple flattened rings forming a floral shape, and punted it at the javelin, soundlessly shattering both.
Jaco flew back, being chased by a tentacle holding a long icicle. Another tentacle was moving in front of him, holding a cone-shaped hunk of metal. Trunks blasted away the tentacle with the icicle, and Jaco fired off the heat ray at the other.
“It’s getting smarter while it fights!” said Shu, “first it was jabbing with its hands, then it started using its arms, and now it’s making tools!” he exclaimed, demonstrating all these actions on Mai, including pulling an actual kunai knife on her. Mai took a step back uncomfortably.
Trunks watched it cut away the tape with a sharped piece of ice. It was brandishing all sorts of weapons now, icy and metallic, sharp and blunt. One wrong move and his space suit would be in shreds. He would have to stay at range, except his objective was to inject it. This was going to be harder than he thought.
“Oceanview Hospital” read the friendly blue letters over the red address line of the five story building, technically six if you knew about the basement. It had been designed such that the inpatients who could move on their own were on the highest three floors and able to take the stairs and elevator if needed, but even so, it was difficult to move hundreds of patients out of the building.
Nypo examined the west wing of the hospital. He stretched the golden cap down to the ground, and then shot branches out one at a time to every window he could see. Several of these rooms had already been evacuated. In others, nobody had noticed the red bars poking out at the windows. About seven patients noticed and grabbed on immediately, while others weren’t in any condition to attempt sliding down poles. Nypo saw this and turned some of the bars into whole platforms over half a square meter wide. Making do with his load of over twenty patients, he slowly shrunk the Nyoibo to avoid jostling anyone, until the ambulatory patients were low enough to the ground to hop off. The patients on platforms were lowered in one long layer.
An old woman with noticeably swollen legs hobbled towards Nypo. “Such a chivalrous young man,” she remarked, “and a handsome black fox at that. Come and visit me in room 307 sometime.”
“As soon as possible,” Nypo replied with a shoulder bow and a warm smile. There were only two things he would refuse an Elder: his Nyoibo and his virginity. If an Elder were to ask him assassinate someone, he would ask only where to start looking.
“Ooh!” the woman suddenly blurted. Dende had just landed.
“I don’t normally do this, but—“ Dende had begun to say a little too loudly.
“Dende-sama, please leave at once!” hissed Nypo. Dende was taken aback.
“These people are injured. I thought I could do the most good evacuating them now, before this area—“
“Doing the most good isn’t the issue,” Nypo interrupted again. He looked around at the huge crowd the two had already attracted.
“Does the entire population of the Earth expect your help at all times?” Nypo whispered, “because if that is not yet the case, then now is not the time to announce yourself.”
Nypo was right. This crowd was too large, and too many people had cameras. If he did anything else unusual, he’d become public knowledge online, no longer able to deny his own existence to the people of Earth. This was uncomfortably different from Namek, where he wouldn’t have been considered unusual, but that fact was part of the reason he left Namek at all.
Nypo began circling to the north end of the building. “Sir?!” called a woman’s voice. Nypo spun around to see a heavy-set nurse with thick black wavy hair and butterfly-patterned scrubs.
“Sir, thank you, but about the patient in room 309? I just so happen to know that he had a multi-drug resistant pneumonia and was on contact isolation. We’re going to have to clean your... equipment.”
Nypo looked down at his Nyoibo, shrunk just larger than his fist. He looked back at her, and then at the cart she was dragging over. Nypo glared accusingly as he put the Nyoibo in her blue nitrile gloved hand. The nurse gestured to a bottle of hand sanitizer on the cart, and then grabbed the bleach spray and a large gauze pad. Nypo pumped some sanitizer for himself, and went back to watching the nurse’s every move.
“The bleach is going to stink a bit, but I’ll wipe the residue with an alcohol pad after it dries,” the nurse said as she held the pole up to the sunlight. Nypo said nothing and kept watching her examine his Nyoibo.
Dende was watching Nypo. Just that morning, he had been begging him for mercy. Now he was obeying a nurse but trying to order him to leave? Dende couldn’t figure this boy out.
“It is my job to be the sword and shield of my superior. Part of that duty is to attract the attention so that my master does not.” Nypo wasn’t looking at Dende as he said this. “I’ll help just enough in these large crowds until they can organize themselves. Meanwhile, SOMEONE ELSE needs to help the stragglers who are alone or in pairs. The words of those rescued people would be too little to be believed, but just enough to spread hope to others.”
Dende smiled.
“I’ll find somewhere else. This hospital is at a lower elevation, close to the ocean, and has a basement. This place will be impossible to evacuate if the city should flood. But I’ll trust you to convince these people to pool their resources and help one another.”
Dende jogged away, rather than flying. The nurse shrugged and looked back at Nypo.
“At least you’re not asking me why I don’t just pour that bleach into the patient’s lungs,” she remarked.
“At least you’re not asking where all that mass went,” replied Nypo, responding to her effort to diffuse the tension with humor. The nurse unwrapped an alcohol pad.
“Where did all that mass go?” she asked in a joking tone.
“Wherever I want it to,” said Nypo, in a tone that said that they were both wasting valuable time.
The nurse rubbed the pole with the alcohol wipe. “Bleach and 90% alcohol are about as poisonous to people as they are to bacteria,” the nurse pointed out.
“Your job must be difficult,” Nypo finally admitted, “to fight an enemy you can’t see, you must first find it and then predict its movements. It really could be anywhere and everywhere.”
“We’re also running out of drugs that are safe to use in the human body,” she said, finally handing back the pole. “I wouldn’t lick it,” she said. Nypo nodded.
“Your friend said something about a flood,” shouted the nurse as he started walking to another wing of the hospital.
Nypo shrugged. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed the tentacles from space attacking the central areas of the city, so I had different concerns,” said Nypo, who was lowering down an entire gurney.
“A flood?” said a doctor. “...we definitely don’t have enough codes. We got silver for armed intruders, black for bomb threats, nothing for floods or giant space tentacles.”
Nypo grew concerned. After the hospital was clear, his next stop would have to be the coastline.
[Had to tweak this scene. I realized I couldn’t have Dende jump in there like, “‘Sup? Yeah, I just healed that guy’s arm. Cut away his cast, Nypo! Now, where’s that burn ward?” So if just having Dende try to swoop in seemed slightly out of character, at least I could reign him in by having Nypo act just a teensy bit out of character himself, which I am allowed to do because he’s my OC. This version of events is an improvement because it builds upon Dende’s growing frustration, up until Nypo catches on and throws him a bone. More character growth all around.]
The central tentacle crashed loudly into the already turbulent ocean. Lifeguards were scrambling to close the beach, making the rounds to order everyone to leave. The more experienced ones were helping families carry their small children as they packed up their things. Another was pointing a megaphone in the direction of two stubborn surfers.
“Bro, these are sweetest waves we’ve seen in years!” said one with dyed blond hair.
“Dude, they’re gonna kick us off the beach!” the other with short brown hair warned his friend.
“Yeah, bro, we gotta get further out on the water to keep him from chasing us!” the blonde replied, thinking his friend was talking about their specific situation rather than in general.
Nypo easily hopped the barricade, took two sluggish steps across the sand, shook his head and vaulted directly into the mud.
“Hey, you can’t—“ the lifeguard started to say. Without a word, Nypo extended his pole towards the surfers, and then created a horizontal bar for the surfers to hold.
“Whoa!” exclaimed the blonde.
“Does he want us to, like, wind-surf that or something?” asked the brown-haired surfer.
“He’s trying to pull us back to the beach, bro!”
“Oh, screw that, he’s not a lifeguard or anything, he’s just some dude,” grumbled the brown-haired surfer. Neither of them took hold of the bar.
Nypo stretched the outside edges just past them, and then quickly sprouted two chairs. He forcefully pulled them back to the beach.
“WHOA!”
“DUDE!”
They clenched the bar like they were riding a roller coaster. Nypo pulled them back to the beach, twisted around with some effort, and then plopped them into the sand next to the concrete around the showers.
“Uh, thank you, sir!” shouted the lifeguard, running over to check on the surfers.
“Th-that’s our stuff there, blue towel,” mumbled the brown-haired one.
Nypo examined the beach. The lifeguards were handling the evacuation well. There was also a significant amount of muddy sand.
“Does the tide get this low very often?!” Nypo asked a lifeguard who was carrying a little boy. The lifeguard peered over at the water.
“Huh... no, I’ve never seen it this dry before,” he replied.
Nypo left him to continue the evacuation. He tried to look for a high spot to survey the beach. He chose the roof of a one story high boardwalk store. Dissatisfied, he buried the end of the pole into some of the dryer mud and stretched upwards, getting only a brief glance at the ocean.
A woman swooped down from above, wearing a pale green minidress over purple spandex, an orange cape matching her orange and white helmet, and a one-year-old slung in front of her.
“Hey!” she shouted down to Nypo, “I saw what you did with those—“
“A tidal wave is approaching!” Nypo told her before she could finish.
“Wow,” mused Videl. She put a hand on her helmet. “This guy’s saying the same thing, Dr. Briefs!”
“It’s the comet’s gravity,” explained Dr. Briefs, “we never expected it to come this close, but now it’s pulling up the ocean, while the Earth’s gravity pulls it back... if something isn’t done, the whole Eastern coast will be battered!”
[I’m sorry if this part of the story offends anyone. Unlike a giant comet or a Nyoibo-wielding assassin, a tidal wave is a more realistic disaster which may bring back unpleasant memories for some readers. I explained the scientific reasoning for including the crisis in the story, and I didn’t think an off-hand comment such as “the sea was unusually rough” would fully express the gravity of what would happen, no pun intended.]
“Perhaps we should start with a trench?” suggested Nypo. Before Videl could reply, Nypo held his Nyoibo horizontally and widened it, until its diameter was such that he could lay it on the ground and still touch it without kneeling. He pushed it down as he lengthened it quickly, sending the large red log out along the beach. When he could just barely see the ends, he retracted it. The ditch was barely deeper than a bathtub. Videl flew up to scout the length.
Nypo shook his head and climbed down into the bottom, and then buried the pole as far as his arm could reach. He repeated his earlier attempt but was unable to double the size. Sand was caving in, and a regular wave started filling the trench.
Videl swooped down. “Not long enough, either. It’s still gonna hit the city.”
Piccolo and Gohan approached. Gohan faced north. “Double Masenko, Piccolo?” he whispered.
“Hold on,” Piccolo muttered, turning south and looking slightly upwards. “...Dende says you should turn slightly to your right.”
Gohan did so, and then raised his hands over his helmet, one behind the other. Piccolo did the same.
“Masenko...”
“Masenko...”
Both reached out their hands in front of their chests.
“HAA!”
Yellow beams streaked across the beach in either direction. When the light cleared, much of the sand had been dissolved, leaving deep gashes of dry mud where the once lengthy beach had been. Nypo poked his Nyoibo down to the bottom. “About 40 meters,” he told them, “impressive.”
“It’ll have to do,” said Piccolo, looking back at the ocean. The others couldn’t see the wave yet, but Piccolo had the best hearing of the group.
Pan in the harness started to mumble and reach up. Nypo could see that it had some sort of reinforced chain links along the straps. “We’ll go back uppies later,” Videl told her, “the adults need to stop a giant splashy right now.”
Nypo scrunched his face. “I’ll need to construct a dam over a wide area,” he explained, “to make sure it’s in the right places, I’ll need one of you to... carry me.” He seemed to cough up the words like a fish bone. Videl stepped forward and offered her back to him. “I’ll start it at about fifty meters high and two meters thick. If it should start to weaken, spread to either side and reinforce it,” Nypo instructed.
“Why would a Nyoibo weaken?” asked Gohan, “does a magic pole have limits?”
Nypo raised his eyebrows at Gohan. “You know of this?”
Gohan realized he was still in his Saiyaman suit. “I’m the guy whose larynx you skewered this morning.”
There was a moment of awkward silence. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” said Videl, grabbing Nypo’s left arm and pulling him against her back. She tilted horizontally and the pair headed south.
Gohan tilted his head at them. “Piccolo, do you know? Does it have limits?”
“Even a skilled user normally can’t make anything too large or too small to see,” explained Piccolo, “experts have a way around this, but it involves some strain on the user, much like the Giant Namekian form. A Nyoibo large enough to protect a whole city is going to cause him physical pain.”
“So if he loses consciousness, or has to make the Nyoibo smaller...” reasoned Gohan.
“His plan could fail,” said Piccolo, “but we may as well lend him support.”
Gohan nodded.
It was a slightly uncomfortable position for Videl, between Pan’s stinky diaper odor wafting towards her from below, the sweaty young man straddling her back, and the atmosphere of the partially damaged East City on one side of her. She tried to focus on maintaining her speed at the same pace at which her passenger was sweeping the wall into place like it was being painted there with a brush.
For the first few kilometers, they were able to make small talk. Most this was taken up with a brief explanation of Cell, since Nypo had been sealed away during his attack. Videl chose her words carefully, saying her husband had “fought” him, and her father had been “credited” for his defeat. She was secretly relieved to meet someone who hadn’t been there to watch the news coverage and could come to his own decision, and decided to leave him to figure out the truth.
After a while, Nypo stopped responding to her. He was at the point where he would need to focus on the existing structure in order to maintain it while continuing to build it up. After about nine kilometers, Nypo was wincing in pain. Chiaotzu and Tien flew over to him to tell him they had evacuated the senior center, and that they had heard already from Gohan and Piccolo that he had been working on a plan of some sort. Nypo couldn’t even answer them, leaving Videl to explain about the coming tidal wave. With no way to communicate, the two decided to stay near them, but higher up, to see how big the wave was going to be. After thirteen kilometers, just over halfway up the city’s coastline, Nypo was screaming outright. Videl knew this wasn’t just a battle cry for powering up. Nypo was in pain, but there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t afford to ruin his focus. At almost seventeen kilometers, the roar of the water was louder than Nypo’s screaming. At nineteen kilometers, the wall was struck with the force of the wave. Nypo let out a gasp, and then went silent. Videl reached up to touch him. He shook, and continued shaking when she removed her hand. The wall still stood.
“Stay with us, Nypo,” shouted Videl over the water, “you can make it smaller if you have to! Just stay with us!”
Dende was waiting for them at the northeast edge of civilization. The wall had shrunk considerably from Nypo’s initial goal of two meters thick to under half a meter, and from fifty meters high to under thirty. He had been successful in maintaining the southern edge, where Piccolo and Gohan had been posted. Dende wasted no time in extending his hands to Nypo and restoring his stamina as best he could. Oxygen filled Nypo’s lungs and entered his bloodstream; lactic acid was swept away from his muscles; his shaky breathing began to steady.
Still, the water was beating hard against the barrier. Dende kept up his recovery of the boy, but wasn’t sure how long he could keep going himself. Dr. Briefs and his team kept the company satellites focused on the east coast, but were having trouble keeping a focused image on the wall.
“Is it too late to send out another drone?” asked Shu.
“Given how the first one failed to keep up with Mr. Vegeta,” Mai reasoned, “it was too late hours ago to send a drone to East City.”
“If this had been West City headquarters and not the villa,” added Pilaf, “we wouldn’t have even had enough fuel to get one that far.”
“Should we... think about evacuating ourselves?” asked Shu.
“The waves should reach down here in about... three hours,” replied Dr. Briefs, “unless what Majin Buu is trying to do off the coast of Hercule City actually works.”
“Why, what’s he—oh! NO!” exclaimed Mai, “ugh, why did you make me look?!”
“Do I want to know?” asked Shu tentatively.
“Ever see a giant pink guy try to drink the whole ocean?” she replied bitterly.
Pilaf’s blue complexion went even bluer as he repositioned his laptop as far away from Dr. Briefs’ monitors as possible.
“If only Miss Videl could explain to me how East City was able to erect a retaining wall so quickly. She said she needed to be quiet so this ‘Nypo’ fellow could concentrate, so I doubt he’s using our technology. Oh, if only I’d focused on civil engineering instead making so many gosh darn cars and planes!”
“It’s not your fault!” Mai said automatically, “the tides haven’t been like this since the day the moon disappeared, so you couldn’t have known the coast would flood!”
“But... the cities have been building too much on the coastlines ever since the tides stagnated! If I had just seen this coming and bought that land—“
“That’s the local government and the developers’ fault, not yours,” assured Shu, “and anyway, those clean-burning vehicles of yours have really cut down on air pollution! If we were still using the old ones, we might have melted the polar ice caps by now!”
[Hahaha! Imagine, melting the... sigh... sometimes I think we’re Universe 6.]
“Something to work on for next time! Right?” said Pilaf, who had never been good at motivating his own team, much less a brilliant scientist... one whose home he was still squatting at so he could spy on the family for later. “You should definitely work on safety equipment for towns and cities! You’ll stay busy with that and definitely not work with the military,” he said softly.
“If I knew what he was doing, perhaps I could devise a way to help. At least, not if it’s a complicated piece of machinery, but if he’s superheating some sort of metal, then I could reposition the spectrograph to study it further. But the sample size is too small, I’d have too much interference from the surrounding city, or even water particulates. If only the spectrograph was closer, or I had a larger sample to aim— ah. There we go.”
The Pilaf gang looked at the screens, not quite avoiding the one on which the grainy image of a bloated Majin Buu was spitting a deluge of salt water somewhere further out to sea. An enormous red object shaped like a giant ice scraper crashed down from the sky, behind the faint blurry image of the existing wall.
Nypo glared behind him and then upwards. Goten was too high up to make out. Somewhere at the top of the red upward protrusion, over a kilometer high, he could see nothing but a white glint of light, which quickly turned a slightly brighter gold.
There was no point now in resentment or other hard feelings. The boy was Dende-sama’s friend, and clearly talented and capable. He could feel Dende continuing to heal him, not even reacting to the boy’s belated and abrupt arrival.
“He will need your support too, you know,” Nypo said to Dende, “even if he can see all twenty five or more kilometers from up there, casting such a wide Nyoibo must be taking a toll on his body, no matter how strong he is.”
“I know,” grunted Dende tiredly, “He’s only a backup, in case we can’t push the wave back.”
Nypo figured out what Dende was trying to say. “Push this wall forward, like a paddle?”
“We’ll help,” said Chiaotzu. He pressed his hands against the wall to prepare to push. Tienshinhan joined him and nodded to Nypo.
“Videl and I are communicating with Gohan and Piccolo on the south end,” said Dende, “whenever you’re ready to move this side, they’ll push the other.” Videl flew a little above them, just high enough to see over the wall. Dende stood behind Nypo, as if to support him if he should fall.
Nypo stared straight ahead at his own retaining wall, and focused on imagining it moving forward quickly and forcefully. He blocked out the annoying boy showing off above and behind him. He blocked off the water, roaring loud and strong. Even Videl and Dende-sama, he closed away in the back of his mind to think about some other time. All that mattered was making the Nyoibo move.
He took a deep breath in, and then out.
“Ha!” Nypo grunted.
Nypo held the end tightly, and as it grew, the wall jutted forward.
“Now!” shouted Dende to Piccolo through telepathy and Videl to Gohan though her helmet’s radio functionality.
Gohan and Piccolo powered up, and then pushed. The wall jutted over thirty meters forward on Nypo’s side, and slightly farther on Gohan and Piccolo’s side. It wasn’t exactly even, since both sides weren’t exerting the same amount of force, and the wall had been slightly curved to accommodate the buildings and the coastline to begin with.
“It seems to have helped,” said Dende.
The two waves had crashed into each other, and then broke apart. The water bounced back and forth against Nypo’s wall. Nypo caught his breath, and then prepared another push. It was becoming easier each time. Goten moved closer to the ground, readjusting the position of his own retaining wall, which still had hardly even gotten wet.
“I’m still not sure about this spectrograph,” said Dr. Briefs, “aside from a spike of titanium and many particulates... that must be some messy seawater, though. Why would it have a reading like this?”
Pilaf carefully looked at. “That must be wrong. I’m seeing too many heavy elements, including uranium.”
“What could be the problem, though?” asked Dr. Briefs.
“Just focus on the water, then,” replied Bulma, “eventually we can get a crew to contain it in capsules, but not if the whole city gets swept away first.”
“Gohan and Piccolo are doing something down there,” said Krillin, “they’re powering up in short bursts. And I think that’s Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu down at that other end.”
“I wonder if Gohan’s wearing that ridiculous outfit,” joked 18.
He knew 18 was just trying to keep his spirits up so he wouldn’t worry as much, but it was working. He smirked at her.
“Let’s try another angle,” Dr. Briefs said, switching to another satellite.
It was getting easier with each push. Still, there was plenty of water left to push back. After five pushes, they were back at the beach again, but there was so much water there that the city was going to be under at least five meters of water.
“The sea level is sure to rise today,” said Dende, “but you stopped the force of the wave. The civilians are evacuated, and while there will be property damage, it won’t be as bad as if the wave had all come at once.”
“Are you sure about this?” Nypo asked Dende, following his logic.
“I’m sure,” said Dende, “Goten will slow it a little more. Whatever damage is done now can still be repaired, with time. Everyone is safe. You can retract your Nyoibo.”
Nypo looked at Dende and saw the calm and sincerity in his eyes. He retracted the Nyoibo. It took three minutes to shrink away fully, given the size of it. It was like it was being sucked away, south end disappearing first. The area in front of Goten’s Nyoibo began to fill, but once the waters had calmed, he followed suit, and let his Nyoibo leave the ground.
Sure enough, the city was under three to six meters of water, but none of the remaining buildings fell. Goten has been able to see that the origin point of the other Nyoibo had been somewhere to the north, and so he came to rest on a tall hilltop at the north edge of town. Goten tried to spot him, but then looked up and froze.
“There’s more coming!” Dende shouted.
“More water?” asked Nypo. Dende shook his head.
18 and Krillin spun around. “It’s sending more tentacles!” Krillin shouted.
“At least twenty of them this time,” said 18.
“Leave me here,” Krillin said, “Bulma will get here soon.”
18 wasn’t sure they’d be able to find each other again if she split off from him to go fight. Still, it was troubling that the beast had begun its assault on the Earth again after stopping for so long. What changed?
The ZTV cameraman was looking over his footage. “Decent shots of the wall moving to make those waves, but I couldn’t zoom in far enough to get those points of origin.”
“Maybe get some shots of debris floating in the floodwaters?” asked the reporter.
The cameraman glared at her. “Will that please you, your highness?”
He was obviously in a terrible mood. Not only had he failed to get any good shots of the so-called heroes, but he was certain that all their homes were underwater, and he had found out his crush on his co-worker was unrequited. “Why won’t this comet hurry up and crash?” He muttered.
“Mph!” sputtered the drone operator, hitting him on the shoulder.
“Well, what’s the point if all our homes are—“
“Shhh!” The drone operator pointed farther up the hill. Goten glanced down at Grace Hill Hospital, at the camera crew and the recently evacuated patients being wheeled in, and then flew around to another face of the hill, landing beside a boulder under a cliff face that gave way to a meadow of tall grasses that scraped under his knees.
The cameraman had made it look like he was filming the patients, and then when Goten had looked away, he had turned his full attention to the boy.
Goten looked carefully at the sky. He could feel the others coming up to meet him. Still, there would be too many tentacles coming for everyone to fight off, and spread over too wide an area.
Videl would be the last one to arrive, because Pan was getting fussy. Nypo, awkwardly tucked in Dende’s arms, was shaping his Nyoibo like a chicken to try to amuse her, but she was too young to have a sense of humor. Videl suggested a puppy instead, and after hiding it until his work was finished, he showed her his take on a tiny Spaniel with a tongue poking out. She quieted a little and reached out to touch it. Nypo obliged, but just barely. He had already taken the hint from watching Videl that the girl was strong for her age.
“She’s hungry,” explained Videl, “I stopped taking pills to lactate once it became clear that milk just wasn’t enough for her anymore. She eats about five times as much formula as an infant her age should.”
Nypo nodded and said nothing. He seemed deep in thought. The puppy quickly shrunk back to a tiny pole.
Piccolo and Gohan landed near Goten first. Goten looked at them.
“I have an idea, but somehow I think this could turn out to be hard to do.” He looked down at the Nyoibo and imagined a shield. Instantly, the pole obliged. He turned the broad side skyward, and magnified it, more and more. It soon looked more like an umbrella than a shield, the handle touching the ground and the main body stretching from horizon to horizon.
Dende nearly stopped as he watched the huge Nyoibo fill the sky.
“That idiot!” Nypo shouted, knowing he was out of the boy’s earshot.
“Well, what’s your idea?” Dende replied, “and remember, more of our friends are up on the comet.”
Nypo thought for a while. “Is there anything you could say to him to make him stop?” Nypo asked Dende. The pair and Videl landed in another part of the meadow where Goten stood.
“What if it was you standing there?” Videl asked, pointing at Goten. “What could we say to you to make you stop?”
Nypo looked up at the red sky, and then at Goten, still easy to recognize despite his gravity-defying golden hair. Nypo shrugged. “Not a blessed thing,” he admitted.
Goten continued to stretch it higher as well as wider. “Yeah,” said Goten, “this is getting pretty heavy.” Gohan and Piccolo took the hint, and flew up towards the underside.
Videl was about to join them, but the gaggle of onlookers that had formed outside the hospital noticed Pan immediately. “Hey, Saiya-girl, I think her diaper looks full!” “Isn’t that Saiyaman Two?” “Hey, is your kid hungry? We have plenty of baby food in our maternity ward!” Even the reporter noticed Videl’s expression under her helmet and suddenly ripped off her earpiece. “Our producer is an idiot,” she declared, “we have much more worthwhile things to ask about than Saiyaman 2’s kid... like what in the world is going on?!”
Nypo turned to the crowd, and then spotted the camera crew. Before any of them could say another word, the camera shattered, a thin red shape shrinking back from the wreckage and into Nypo’s fist.
“The last thing that boy needs is to be distracted,” Nypo snarled, “if you’re going to watch, do it quietly.” The medical personnel drew back and motioned for the crowd to follow.
“Just one more thing and then we’ll go,” the reporter promised, “what exactly is that red thing he’s using— and that you just used on our very expensive camera, I assume?”
“It’s Capsule Corp technology!” Videl shouted automatically. It seemed safest to divert the attention to them, even if she herself didn’t know the real answer, technically.
“Understood,” nodded the reporter. That would be enough information to give the studio a chance to phone them up for comment. “We’ll stay quiet.” The cameraman nodded, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his capsule case, and something else. He had his previous camera right there in the capsule case, but he looked at Nypo out of the corner of his eye, and put the capsules back in his pocket, keeping the other thing in hand.
“Backup battery for my cell phone,” he whispered. “Don’t tell me...” the drone pilot muttered. The cameraman grinned crazily and plugged the battery into his phone. He resumed filming, and used the bulk of the battery to hide the screen. Everyone looked at Nypo, who simply strode away and walked over to Goten. It was a small victory; Nypo didn’t know enough about recent technology to recognize the object as a camera, but without a tripod or a good look at the screen, the footage was likely to be shaky. Similarly, the drone pilot shielded his display. He wouldn’t be able to watch Goten, but he was able to catch up with Saiyaman at the underside of the red dome. He appeared to be glowing while pressing up on it.
[External batteries for cell phones are very useful, but the good ones are a bit large and cumbersome, and you often need a different kind of cable. Gosh, if only there was a way I could demonstrate that these bulky accessories are funny. Oh well....]
Still, the red dome grew. “Six percent of the planet’s surface...“ said Mai, “seven percent...”
“What even is it?!” bellowed Pilaf.
“How should I know?” replied Dr. Briefs in a rare bitter tone, “I can’t make heads or tails of this blasted spectrograph!”
“There‘a trace amounts of just about everything in there,” Shu explained, “arsenic, mercury, gold, platinum, lead, uranium...”
“Lithium?” piped up Krillin. Even he could see the red mass spreading along the Earth below.
“Lithium, boron, carbon, nitrogen, potassium, phosphorus, silicon, radium, uranium, THORIUM? ASTATINE?!” sputtered Shu.
“No WAY!” shouted Bulma, “there couldn’t be that much astatine on Earth!”
“Well, it sure isn’t normal titanium!” Shu pointed it, “no matter how much you heated it, it wouldn’t just keep stretching like that, let alone keep a fresh coat of red paint. Or maybe the heat is the paint....”
“Then there’s that strange way Goten’s chi feels right now,” said Krillin.
“Goten?” asked 18, “do you think he’s OK?”
“It feels like a war of attrition is happening,” Krillin explained, “I’m used to that waxing and waning of someone trying to maintain something, like in a long beam struggle. But overall, Goten’s chi is growing.”
“So he’s winning?” asked 18, “even though he’s fighting that red thing?”
“It’s not that the strength is trending upwards... more like... I get it now, I’m just not used to feeling this. His chi signature itself is growing, but not its strength. It’s growing in size!”
18 stared at the red circle growing over the Earth. Even the clouds seemed like they were being brushed aside. “So he’s not fighting that thing, he’s... is he creating it? Does metal conduct chi?” asked 18 before she added, “wait, dumb question.”
Krillin kept squinting down at it. “Either Goten is making that red thing... or he IS that red thing.”
“OF COURSE!” shouted Bulma so suddenly and loudly that 18 flinched and Krillin fell over. “Son-kun’s old Nyoibo!”
“Huh?!” said Krillin, struggling to recall the little red pole.
“Or at least, the same material,” said Bulma, “why did we never think about it? I guess it was enough of a surprise just to meet Son-kun. It never occurred to me that the very existence of that red stick was a total mockery of the laws of conservation of matter!”
Pilaf thought about it a little, and then smacked his face. “No, it’s not,” Mai said softly, “if Goku used it like that against us, we’d be long dead.”
“Goku isn’t the type, first of all,” said Bulma, “and second, Goten is a lot stronger now than Son-kun was then. Still, I’m going to have to beg him for some of that material to analyze. Any amount will do, since apparently we can just grow more....”
“Almost ten percent of Earth’s surface is covered,” said Mai.
Yamcha, his back to Buu, suddenly noticed the red thing coating the sky. “What’s that?” he asked nervously. “Not me!” squeaked Puar. Buu paused mid-gulp. “Big magic,” he said, “with big chi making it bigger magic.” Before Yamcha could say that wasn’t helpful, Buu flew farther out to start spitting out ocean water again.
“Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, there’s some chi there,” Yamcha noted, “Maybe Gohan, or Trunks... Goten?”
“Where did he learn to do that?” asked Puar, “we can’t do that in shape shifting school.”
Yamcha just shrugged. “We’ve followed Buu out too far. He’s probably got this, let’s get back to the beach.”
Android 8 examined the red material carefully. “It’s not organic. What could possibly be powering it?” He then noticed another reading. Another tentacle reached down through the atmosphere, iron rippling into place around it, and then pierced through a layer of clouds.
“Oh!” gasped 8. The red material collided with a clank and stopped expanding for just a moment.
Goten concentrated. “Sharpen the edges,” he murmured. He continued pouring power into the metal.
With a loud tear of metal almost like a shriek, the red shield sliced through the tentacle’s iron coat. The end fell near 8, brown blood leaking from between beige bands of muscle.
8 watched the red thing continue to travel outward. “Whatever it is, it’s here to protect us,” 8 realized, noticing he and the surrounding wildlife were unharmed. “But it can only last as long as whatever is powering it.”
Nypo watched the golden haired boy breathing harder and harder. Videl and Pan had been forced by the crowd into the hospital, where she was trying to encourage people to stay calm and trust “that kid”. Gohan, Piccolo, Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu were all pushing the upper interior surface of the shield. Nypo was reluctant to walk those few meters over to the boy he had nearly tortured to death just that morning. Nypo looked to Dende, who began to walk over to Goten, and then stopped, turning around to offer a hand to Nypo. Nypo approached, as Goten finally turned around.
“Oh... it’s you.” was all Goten said, but he didn’t turn back around. He just looked Nypo straight in the eye.
Nypo walked to Dende, but rather than take his hand, he put his small gold-capped Nyoibo in Dende’s outstretched palm. Dende was taken aback, and Goten was too, but only for a moment, before Goten said, “you’re probably hiding another one.”
“I’m not,” said Nypo softly as he approached, flipping the corners of his vest out to show that the interior pockets were flat, but Goten was no longer looking at him.
“I’m not here to ruin your concentration,” assured Nypo.”
“Then leave,” replied Goten. The shape of the metal rippled a little.
“Whoa,” said Gohan as the metal pushed him down slightly, but he quickly rose up to reunite with the shield as the shape returned.
Nypo touched his hand to Goten’s, and then slowly cupped underneath it, keeping it just loose enough so that he was only touching Goten’s hand and not the Nyoibo. Nypo did the same with Goten’s other hand. Nypo’s hands were wide with slightly short fingers, paler at the palms than the dark skin of the rest of his arms, with a warm but firm grip.
“Spread your fingers a little, to reduce sweat,” said Nypo, “cradle the Nyoibo closer to your chest with your non-dominant arm.” Goten spread the fingers of his right hand, and tucked his left arm to his chest, holding the Nyoibo closer.
“Good,” said Nypo, “now use your right thumb to tighten your middle finger. ...That’s good. That’s a steady vertical grip.”
“Why am I still getting tired?” asked Goten, looking away from his hands and back upward.
“How do you see the Nyoibo?” asked Nypo.
“In general, or right now?”
“In general,” said Nypo, “it was clever of you to distinguish those.”
Goten closed his eyes. “If I think of it like an extension of my body, then I thought I could move it as easily as I move my own body, or spread it as easily as I shoot chi. But with complex shapes, I have to think of one part at a time, and then focus on adding on without losing the rest of it, so it’s still a lot slower than you would do it.”
“Speed can wait,” said Nypo, “survive now, or you won’t be able to practice at all. But you are doing well. It’s good that you see it as part of your body. Such is the basis of Nyoibo synchronization.”
“Huh?”
“You know what your body is doing without having to see it,” explained Nypo, “so to make a shape too large or too small to see, you must become one with it.” Nypo paused. There were some people who had bored it into their own skin in order to obtain this sense of oneness with the Nyoibo. Nypo himself had managed to avoid this exercise and still learn to make sharp points too tiny to feel. But it had taken him weeks. Perhaps Goten’s sentiment of making it feel like part of his body had been his approach from the moment he had grabbed those two shards. Perhaps his chi training had helped him. Or perhaps this boy had a talent that only came about once in a generation. Whatever it was, the boy had managed Nyoibo synchronization faster than anyone he had ever heard about, in their planet’s time of greatest need for it.
“Are you bracing it against the ground, or is it buried deeper below?” asked Nypo. He didn’t want to say anything to make the boy’s current feat sound like a fluke; he needed him to maintain his confidence.
“Should I make it go deeper?” asked Goten.
Nypo nodded. “Give it roots, like a tree. Slow the top, if you have to. The more you spread it through the ground, the more the Earth carries the weight.”
Goten imagined an underground network of mostly ninety degree angles, as one might draw the descendants on a family tree. He struggled to continue this in three dimensions, but he soon had a pattern where every vertical branch would form four horizontal ones at the bottom, which would then drop deeper into the ground. He paused the expansion up top, continuing his network of roots until he started to feel the resistance of bedrock.
“This next part will be easier,” said Nypo, “focus on the areas near where the main peg meets the top. Form diagonal struts. Forty five degrees would be best.”
“Like the metal things in an umbrella,” said Goten. Eight of them formed immediately.
“It’s still pretty heavy,” said Goten. Gohan, Piccolo, Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu noticed the struts and chose to move further outward.
“They’re having trouble holding it up,” said Goten.
“I’m not certain of this,” Nypo admitted, “but handlebars may help.”
The underside sprouted many vertical pegs, which then sprouted horizontal ones, looking like upside-down letter Ts. Gohan shrugged and took one. Piccolo and Tienshinhan did the same, but switched back to pushing the flat area after a while. “We’re supposed to push, right, not pull?” Tienshinhan asked Chiaotzu. “Yeah, that’s what I was trying to do,” said Chiaotzu as he straddled one of the bars and was able to still reach the top, “although this feels pretty sturdy now.”
“This part will be the hardest,” said Nypo, “but if you are now one with the Nyoibo, then it is possible. You will need more support beams to descend from the shield.”
[You must construct additional pylons.]
“What if someone gets crushed underneath?” asked Goten, “I won’t be able to sense that well what’s happening if I’m making all the vertical poles far apart.”
“Do it slowly, and it should be fine,” said Dende, standing on Goten’s other side, “I’m keeping watch.”
Multiple vertical poles began to stretch downward from the underside of a shield. Over a third formed over the ocean, and a few were beginning to crush trees. The only problematic one was over a pasture, and Dende halted Goten until all the cows were at a safe distance.
Goten let out a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t having to hold so much of the weight anymore. Still, he felt the strange sensation of every muscle being pulled.
“You will still feel some strain. The Nyoibo has been stretched beyond its limit, and is using your strength to support itself,” Nypo explained, “A Nyoibo this size is only possible because of your unusual strength and that Golden power of yours, Son...”
Nypo then realized that he wasn’t sure of the boy’s name. Goten, catching on, realized he didn’t know the name of the young man standing beside him either.
“Uh, thanks, Mister...” Goten prompted.
“I am Nypo, known as the Crimson Colt to the Arapo clan, of which I am a half member.”
[Sure thing, Nyoibro.]
“Nypo...” Goten repeated, “I’m Son Goten.” He tilted his head and eyes upward to gesture towards his gravity-defying golden hair, “a half-Saiyan.”
Nypo couldn’t understand fully, but was able to glean one nugget of wisdom. “Perhaps we have something else in common, then.” Goten was a half-member of his own people.
“I’m not sure how long I can keep this up,” Goten admitted.
“You shouldn’t have to make it any bigger,” said Dende, “the creature is struggling, but it is unable to penetrate.”
“Focus on maintaining and reinforcing the structure,” Nypo continued to instruct, “give those other supports struts and roots of their own, if you can. Feel it, don’t see it. It is as if the fibers of your muscles and nerves run through the metal. You are the structure, and the structure is the canopy of an enormous forest. Hold it all in your heart, canopy, branches, trunks and roots.”
One word was enough to send a ripple through the whole thing.
“Don’t pull back!” Dende warned.
“The shield!” Nypo snapped, “imagine the shield as a forest canopy.”
Nypo was tempted to be harsher to Son Goten, but years of training made him aware that simply shouting “focus!” doesn’t put a mental image back into one’s head once dislodged.
The structure was big enough not to suffer much damage. “I’m sorry,” said Goten while also thinking about how to fix the roots, “it’s just that I sensed my friend up there before, but now I don’t.”
Dende closed his eyes, and when he reopened them, he still looked deep in thought. Showing Goten what he had seen would not only be difficult to accomplish, but could throw off Goten’s concentration. The payoff would be...
Enough. It was a risk, but one worth taking.
Dende reached for Goten’s temples. “It will be difficult to use telepathy on a non-Namekian, but you need to see this.” Goten closed his eyes. He saw the comet in its near perfect symmetry apart from the clump of ice-covered tentacles reaching toward Earth. He then saw 18 holding her husband in a full Nelson hold. He heard the voices coming over their radios.
“You can’t possibly make it there in time!”
“But if I could just reach Bulma and get more oxygen, we could head over—“
“You’ll use up too much oxygen trying to reach her! Stop struggling, or I’ll give you mine and see if my lungs are any different from yours!”
“Don’t you dare, honey, as soon as you open your valve—“
Goten then heard Bulma’s voice.
“Vegeta... Son-kun... anyone!” She cried out. She could only head in the opposite direction. Her going to Krillin would help him, but her going to Trunks would only cause more problems. But there was no one left who could help Trunks.
Goten saw inside the alien’s igloo palace, the walls and sculptures being repaired all at once by hundreds of busy tentacles. He saw the carapace of the alien’s main body, its elaborate carvings having already been repaired as its first priority. Many of its eyes had shifted back on itself, dilating more and more, moving less and less frantically, fixing upon its own details.
The alien started to rearrange the sculptures, making room for a new one. Jaco, encased in ice, his heat ray pressed close to his chest, gritting his teeth under his helmet. Throughout the room, five metal and ice replicas of Jaco were being created, sparing no detail of his stretched cheeks, multicolored weapon, and icy prison. Five other sculptures then emerged after. Ice covering a boy applying some sort of thin metal patch to his left shoulder, his head twisting away from his work. Under the helmet was spiky golden hair and Trunks’ horrified expression.
Goten gripped the pole so tightly that the metal chipped around his fingers. The pieces boiled away to nothing. Goten closed his eyes tighter, but the visions only grew more vivid. Goten saw more clearly as the alien repositioned Trunks among its art pieces, swapping out sculptures to his left and right. Blue electric sparks formed in the air around Goten. Nypo quickly stepped back, realizing that it hurt just to stand near the boy, but pushed back as if through a tornado to return to Goten’s side. Dende cast Nypo a knowing smile as Goten shouted, “you leave my best friend ALONE!!!”
Power rippled through the air and into the Nyoibo. Chiaotzu, Tienshinhan, Piccolo and Gohan let go as the Nyoibo glowed with heat and power. It ballooned upwards and outwards. Goten didn’t seem to care about the weight anymore, or feel any more stain from it. All he could feel was fury.
Krillin stopped resisting and looked back at the bright red glow coming from the Earth.
“Goten?” asked Krillin to no one.
Bulma’s expression went from despondency to curious attention.
“Is he OK?” asked 18.
“I wish I knew,” said Krillin, “all I know is, this reminds me of... how it felt from Gohan, when he fought Cell.”
“Let my friend GO!!!” yelled Goten.
Dende focused on Trunks. The ice began to crack, and then shattered all at once, the shards slowly twirling away in the lower influence of gravity.
“Go TEEEEN!” called out Trunks, fearful for his friend after suddenly feeling a surge of desperate energy from him.
Goten opened his eyes, wet with tears from relief. Mai and Bulma reacted just the same.
Trunks surveyed the surroundings. He saw the eerily accurate statues of himself and Jaco perfectly spaced around the room, but was still able to make out the real Jaco, and the syringe canister laying on the ground near him. Trunks scowled at it, and flew back towards the ceiling. “Forget it. No more Mister Nice Guy!”
He twisted his upper body to the left and cupped his hands behind him. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to practice this without my Dad around... Galek Gun!”
The ray removed one seventh of the creature’s main body mass and down through its storage organs, all despite it being a gentle shade of pink.
“Um,” stammered Bulma, “that was impressive, but isn’t—“
“I SAID I’M WORKING ON IT!” shouted Trunks.
Mai assumed that he already knew that his attempt at a Galek Gun had been caught on his body camera.
[I changed my mind TWICE about that part. It seems that you always get to decide what part of your body beams come out of, but who makes the rules about color?
I decided not to have Trunks go Super Saiyan 2 here. Maybe I have the canon wrong and he already knows it, but if not, blame Wrath of the Dragon for almost being Trunks’ story but then refusing to change the status quo at the last second. Could have given the kid SS 2 and the sword that he’s more famous for than Tapion, but nope, had to give Goku the kill steal and make everything go back to normal. That was my only problem with that movie. Okay, that and the old man who was too dumb to live.]
“Is Jaco OK?” Mai said, quickly changing the subject. The creature seemed preoccupied poking the wound, only to flinch away, a clear sticky goo stringing from its tentacles like hot melted cheese.
Trunks carefully cracked away the ice around Jaco, peeling it slowly to avoid any ice crystals breaking his space suit. Jaco was cold to the touch. Trunks momentarily wondered if this could be normal, but Jaco wasn’t moving.
“Mr. Jaco? Mr. Ja—oh, right, you can’t hear me.”
Trunks borrowed his heat ray and fired at the ground around them. This was a mistake given that the floor was made of ice, but it turned to steam rather than water and simply gouged out holes around them in the floor. Trunks felt Jaco flinch. Trunks smiled and evened out the holes by carving out more. The steam rose up and provided a bit more heat. Jaco shook and finally opened his eyes. Trunks could see that he was trying to say something. Trunks simply pointed to his ear and shrugged. Jaco seemed to sigh, and then turn away and said something else, presumably to other Galactic Patrol officers. Trunks offered him his heat ray back, and then looked to the canister on the floor. Jaco took both and then looked at the creature. It was applying a layer of ice to the wound, and probably wouldn’t stay incapacitated for long. Trunks considered blasting it again.
“Dende? Tell Trunks to stay back. And keep showing me the monster,” said Goten.
Dende said nothing, but complied. Goten had a clear view of every elaborate detail as the creature tried to fix its burned side.
“You just want everything perfect, don’t you?” Goten snarled, “your body, that comet, and even our world. You think you can just make everything how you want, huh?!” taunted Goten as a mound rose from the side of the shield facing the comet. It looked at first like tree roots sitting on top of the ground, somehow growing into the tree from the bottom up. “Well, so what?” Goten declared, “we like the Earth just the way it is!”
[I hope that line is cool in Japanese.]
The shape in the middle of the shield continued to grow out towards the comet. As Dende kept Goten’s vision focused on the creature, Goten carefully shaped the Nyoibo.
The creature’s eyes began to swivel towards Earth. More eyes joined. Goten copied every intricate detail, every swirl and facet, stripe and cabochon, shape and angle, arch and loop. The creature’s hands tore open a hole in the roof of its home, and the creature precariously leaned in the direction its eyes had moved. Every last one of them was pointing in the same direction.
The creature had seen things that moved, or that responded when touched, albeit infrequently. Today, it had received one of few visits from such beings. And obviously it had seen itself; it almost never wasn’t looking at itself. But for the first time in the millions of years it had existed, it saw something that looked like itself, but wasn’t. Perhaps something was wrong, such as its vision, or this was a fake duplication that could sometimes happen when it placed things in front of certain flattened metals.
Or perhaps this was real. Perhaps, somehow, this was a real thing that was there, and that looked like it. This thought filled it with both hope and fear.
Jaco activated his jet boots and placed the syringe against an injured portion of the creature’s body. He pressed the plunger, and the light on the canister blinked yellow for about a minute, and then turned solid blue. Jaco tossed it to the ground and stretched an arm behind him, indicating that Trunks needed to stay back still.
The creature with great effort tried to push itself towards its doppelgänger, but it wasn’t used to doing so, and much of its body was still embedded in the ground. Still, it was desperate to see if what it was seeing was real. Only now, after millions of years, had it finally occurred to it that it had been so alone.
Fifteen seconds after the injection, the creature slumped, and then with a great but silent crash, tumbled to the ground.
Jaco jumped and pumped his fists in the air a couple times before hurriedly taking out a gadget of some sort and fiddling with it, while frantically talking to headquarters, at one point celebrating again before bringing his attention back to his equipment. After Trunks felt like he had been watching Jaco forever, he finally heard, “what about this one? Hey, Trunks? No, of course he wouldn’t be on this frequency, I’ll try another—“
“Jaco, it’s me! I can hear you!”
Jaco smiled again, “oh, Trunks, finally! You wouldn’t believe the time I had trying to find your frequency,” he grumbled, showing Trunks the display on the gadget despite him not understanding it, “6.7 gigahertz exactly? Who picked this crazy frequency? You know, Deneb 5 gave that one to a law office!”
“Great,” said Bulma sarcastically, “you can call them and sue me.”
“Oh, hi Bulma,” Jaco said sheepishly.
“Save the greetings for later, is it dead or what?!” asked Pilaf.
[The radio delay between the comet and the Earth would be about a second here, despite how close the comet came to the Earth. There would still be an awkward pause, like an anchor talking to a foreign correspondent.]
“Of course not!” said Jaco, “I think it would violate every endangered species law to kill the only known Cryothak in the galaxy, wouldn’t you? No, the exobiologists are on their way, they should have her patched up while the towing crew hauls her away to some other comet, all before she comes to in... about two earth weeks.”
“Can I just ask you the obvious?” said Bulma cordially before changing her tone of voice on a dime, “why didn’t you come help us sooner?!”
“Well, we found out she was in your system only after seeing those satellite images you guys composited—“
“You mean hacked from us?” wondered Mai immediately.
“—and after I came, I had to first bring that tissue sample Kribben obtained to the exobiology team.”
“It’s Krillin!” he said in lieu of “you’re welcome.”
“But yes, all of this could have been done so much faster if we only had put some sort of tracker inside the Cryothak’s body...” Jaco lamented.
“I think I know where he’s going with this,” muttered Shu.
“...Oh, look!” Jaco showed the gadget to Trunks again, with yet another display that he didn’t understand, “I just did!”
[The Cryothak is one of the dumbest ideas I’ve ever had from a physics and biology standpoint, and one of my proudest accomplishments in writing. Even if the second half of her name comes from an Animorphs creature, and her bioluminescent organs are a reference to a joke about corn, I hope that my take on a giant tentacle monster from space is something refreshing and new.
When I first came up with Nypo, I knew he couldn’t last long as an antagonist. He was a means for Goten to take up the Nyoibo and begin using the advanced (shape-changing) techniques, and him taking out Gohan would be the thing that forced Goten to fight. Still, I had to go somewhere with Goten’s new toy, and Nypo would only keep fighting as long as he wasn’t fully informed that Earth’s godhead was OK with the Son family having a Nyoibo.
I had been sitting for some time (couple years, maybe) on the idea of Bulma wanting the Dragon team to capture a large comet and pull it into Earth’s orbit, and then have it turn out that the comet was inhabited by some hostile being. Comets are known for being icy, so instead of having a tentacle monster, I considered an ice queen like in the Sailor Moon S movie. We’ve had no female villains since 18, but it might still be a cliche to have an ice queen gloating, “now you shall be frozen here and forced to gaze upon my beauty forever! Oh ho ho ho ho!”
I forget how the tentacle monster idea and the ice queen idea merged, but boy am I happy that happened. And because it’s outer space, I have an excuse for her not to gloat. She can’t. She never developed a means to speak, because it was completely pointless in space. She lets her environment, her actions, and her appearance do the talking. She keeps herself moving symmetrically whenever possible, but when flustered, she furiously grooms herself. She is so vain that her actions make words unnecessary. So I knew this was a perfect way to introduce the comet subplot and tie it back to the Nyoibo. The Nyoibo in this story is like clay in the hand of an artist, and the Cryothak fits that creativity theme.
Whether you pity her after all the damage she caused is optional. Just remember this: she spent millions of years alone, with no one to disturb her while she perfected her body and took control of her surroundings. She was so caught up in making everything look perfect that she forgot about how alone she was. Goten’s plan was to make her doubt her own perfection, but what happened was that she finally understood her aloneness.
She’s more of an author insert than the girl Buu caught falling out her window.]
“So that injection... was to track her?” Trunks realized.
“A tracker and a sedative all in one go, and designed not to harm her. She’ll clear the sedative in about two Earth weeks, but the radioisotope should stay in her system for millions of years, and we’ll be able to replace it easily by then, if we have to. Good thing I didn’t let you use that on yourself, Trunks, since our exobiologists concocted it for her biology and proportions.”
Trunks looked at the continent-sized being and realized what could have happened if he had let that amount of sedative into his system.
“Heh...” he chuckled with one hand behind his helmet.
“They’re almost here, along with the towing company we have a contract with,” Jaco continued, “we’ll get her checked up and towed to another comet, off to explore the unknown, creating a trail of confusing tourist attractions wherever she goes. Anyway, good work not hitting her vitals, Trunks; you did a number on her, but our team can take care of her. If you had killed her, or if she hadn’t captured a Galactic Patrol agent, you’d be in serious legal trouble!”
Trunks thought back to a moment ago. He was angry, and had wanted to kill her. Why hadn’t he? Was she just too big burn through in one shot? Was he trying to fight slower so she’d feel more pain? Or was Jaco actually right, and he had instinctively held back? It had only been a moment ago, and he couldn’t remember.
“I... I’ve never killed an opponent. Not once in my whole life,” Trunks admitted.
Bulma blinked. Her husband had killed plenty in his day, and Goku had begrudgingly killed unreasonable opponents like Buu. Even Trunks’ alternate self had killed Frieza and the androids. Had she confused her own son for the other version of him all this time? He had seemed so eager to fight during every opportunity he got.
“Well, it’s true that reasoning or restraints wouldn’t have worked in a situation like this...” Jaco stammered, and then sighed. “I’ll help you through the paperwork, kid, then we’ll talk.” He pulled up something else on his device. “I already translated it, so you can put down your birthdate in Earth years— oh, just say ‘hybrid’ there, you’d be surprised how rare hybrids are. Saiyans are even rarer, we just list them as ‘other’ now. You’ll have to give your report of what happened before I came back, and while I was knocked out and didn’t see you fire that pink Galek Gu—“
“I KNEW IT!” Trunks snapped.
“You were wide awake back there?!” added Bulma.
“I just couldn’t break out! Trunks, stop! Legal trouble, Trunks, don’t threaten a Patrolman!”
“Uh, one more quick question?” interrupted Krillin, “this moon isn’t going to crash into the Earth anytime soon, is it?”
Trunks and Jaco stopped. “This moon? You mean, you want this place? The Cryothak will be taking most of the resources with her when she goes, and those darn patterns are going to really confuse incoming pilots—“
[Not all incoming pilots. Just you. Who else crashes into a moon?]
“Just answer the question,” said 18, “calculate this thing’s orbit and tell us if it’s stable!”
“Uh, sure, but I’ll have to talk to headquarters. Sorry if you don’t hear from me for a minute.”
Jaco began speaking silently again.
“...You’re lazy and you’re going to try to take all the credit!” Trunks shouted gleefully. No response.
“They’ll have to read whatever you write in the report,” Bulma pointed out, “just remember, he’s going to read it too.”
“Well then... I won’t mention that I didn’t have to learn what it’s like to... kill someone.”
“You’ll be OK,” said Bulma, “you’re strong, Trunks. Whatever comes next, you’ll be ready.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Krillin, “you’re a good kid. You’re not going to do something you regret... not like your dad,” he chuckled.
Trunks actually had heard the story of his father’s conquests, including the Namekian village that wasn’t revived by Shenron.
“Maybe don’t make fun of Vegeta,” 18 advised Krillin, “weren’t you trying to imitate him with that attack?”
“It’s probably an older Saiyan move,” Trunks explained, “the Final Flash and the Big Bang attack are my dad’s moves, but the Galek Gun is different. I figured it must be some sort of tradition for Saiyans to learn it, but Dad never tried teaching it to me. So I thought, if I could learn it on my own...”
“But you’re not a Saiyan,” said Krillin, “you’re—“
“Human-enhanced,” 18 said instead. “So what’s the attack that a human-enhanced Saiyan would use?”
“How should I know?” asked Trunks.
“Gohan—“ suggested Krillin.
“—learned some of Piccolo and his Dad’s moves. And your Dad just teaches you sparring and strength training, right? You learned how to use chi from him, but he never taught you a charged attack. Why not?” asked 18.
“Because they take too long, and I’m wide open?” pointed out Trunks.
“Because that’s what finishes people off,” said Bulma.
“I was going to say, it’s because you’re not Vegeta, and you don’t have to be,” said 18.
“So what you’re telling him is, come up with a charged attack that works for him,” Krillin translated.
“I’ve never come up with a special move,” said Trunks, “all those Gotenks moves were his idea, I think.”
“I don’t have a special move either,” said 18, “my brother and even 16 had me beat there. How about if each of us tries to come up with something interesting?”
Trunks took the bait. “Deal,” he said, “you’ll see, I’ll think of something that’ll knock your socks off!”
18 smiled, oblivious to the irony, and then shot Krillin a look that said ‘help me!’
[Gotta love the Burning Attack.
After what happened here, I think 18 should have an attack that sweeps like a blade over a wide area. Something that would have been useful on the solar sail. But... status quo.]
“Practicing for the big talk with Marron?” asked Krillin.
“The one where all her friends and family are strong, and she wants to be strong too? And how I’m not letting Bulma lay a hand on her until after she’s strong enough on her own?” said 18 bitterly, “it’s bound to come up someday. And if she has to work twice as hard as you did to get there, then that’s what she’s going to do. If we even get to that conversation, then we’ll know it’s because she compares herself to others, so we’ll have to make use of that competitive streak. Except, she’d be comparing herself to Saiyans—“
“Lie to her,” Krillin said.
Trunks and Bulma heard everything and were just as shocked as 18.
“When I first trained with Goku, I thought I would catch up if I just trained hard enough. I had no idea he was a Saiyan, and when I found out, I had no idea what a difference it would make. And when it sunk in—“
“You gave up on getting stronger at all,” said 18.
“Almost,” corrected Krillin, “the point is, if she wants to be strong, she has to keep wanting it, no matter how.”
[Can you tell that I like to think about what the characters are going to think and do?
Ah, Marron. Unless Lamarck was right, her genetics are normal. Meanwhile, her parents are strong, as is everyone she’ll grow up with outside of school.
Maybe she’s a sweet girl with a gentle disposition like Gine, OK with watching violence as long as she doesn’t have to hurt anyone herself. If her parents make sure she’s disciplined, maybe she won’t be a big problem.
She’ll be a HUGE problem. I’ll explain it later, but I invite you readers to try to figure out where we’re heading here.]
18 was still wondering whether to agree to this when Jaco spoke up. “Here’s me at the Three Gems Park with Elina,” he said, saying each syllable of her name individually while showing Trunks a picture on his camera. He was posing in front of another symmetrical celestial body, next to a woman with a Galactic Patrol vest over gleaming white skin, with four large ears and an unreadable expression, which Trunks quickly realized was because he couldn’t see any eyes. “Probably not the best spot to take her, I tend to forget that the Ericey are blind, but she seemed to be having fun bouncing sound waves off the models.”
Trunks was about to suggest Jaco stop dating outside his species, but said nothing.
[I came up with the Ericey for a franchise I shall not name. I can’t even convince my Dad that aliens can work there. They spent many years living with an algorithm that limited their interactions with each other to avoid conflict and stifle the exchange of ideas. Exo-anthropologists termed it the Bubble World, and feared the spread of it the way 1950s Americans feared the spread of communism.]
“The moon, Jaco, is it crashing into the Earth or not?!” Bulma reminded him.
“Oh, right.” Jaco put away the camera and took out the gadget. “Fifty four to seventy three, in Earth days,” he said conversationally, “is that a bad time for a mass extinction event?”
Even if the Dragonballs didn’t still need another ninety seven days to recharge, Bulma’s answer still would have been “yes.”
“I think Trunks powered down to normal,” said Goten, “the monster’s still there, but if feels more relaxed. I think Trunks knocked it out!”
“You can let go of it to retract it, if you’d like,” suggested Nypo, “it can’t possibly damage anyone that way, but it may take some time to return from that size.”
“It’s fine,” said Dende, closing his eyes, and then almost falling over backwards.
“DENDE-SAMA!” shouted Nypo, catching him and tipping him onto his back. The guardian was unresponsive. His skin looked slightly yellow.
“Huh?” said Goten, flickering out of Super Saiyan, “Dende? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“He turned it off,” whispered the drone pilot, “like a gold-plated light switch.”
“Wait a second, I recognize him,” the cameraman whispered, “now that his hair’s black again, I’m sure I know him from... something.”
“Son Goten, I think?” mused the reporter, whipping out her phone, “hang on, I’m looking this up.”
Piccolo and Gohan swooped down, having forgotten to tell Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu that they could come down now. Piccolo noticed Dende immediately.
“He passed out,” Nypo tried to explain, assuming he might be blamed. Piccolo felt Dende’s forehead and peeled back his sleeve to examine his forearms.
“He’s dehydrated,” Piccolo discerned.
Gohan looked down the hill at the flooded city. “Water water everywhere...” he complained as Piccolo cut a small slit on Dende’s wrist. His blood was darker purple than usual, and slow to come out.
“If he doesn’t drink soon, his blood will start to clot,” warned Piccolo, “what was he doing to exert himself so much?!”
“Just teenagers...” mused the cameraman, “Son Goten, the other boy, the green one on the ground... I don’t care if he’s junior martial arts runner-up whatever, they deserve some privacy.”
“Brooke’s not going to like that,” warned the drone pilot.
“The teenaged me wouldn’t have liked that, after promising not to mess up like the Cell Games cameraman. But thinking about it now,” the cameraman admitted, “it bothers me, wondering what would have happened if the kid from that video had become world famous. And to do that to teenagers in today’s society? I don’t want to do it.”
Brooke shrugged. “He’s already famous. We all knew him, right?”
“Did you ever see him fight before today?” the cameraman pointed out. The crew looked puzzled.
Nypo and Goten both looked away from Dende. Nypo clenched his fist. Back when he had formed the dam, Dende had to constantly heal him to compensate for the strain. If he had just waited for Goten rather than try to save the city himself, Dende wouldn’t have had to work so hard to help him.
“But if Dende dies—“ Gohan hadn’t wanted to follow up, and was interrupted by something being hurled at Nypo. With a quick grab from his left hand, Nypo caught the projectile, which turned out to be a plastic water bottle.
“That’s two things you owe us now, that and our very expensive camera,” grumbled the cameraman from the news crew. He was holding his capsule case and leaning out of the news van, which he had apparently re-deployed in a hurry to grab the water bottle he had in the back.
Nypo hurriedly ripped off the cap and passed it to Piccolo. The reporter stepped toward the group. “I admit, we were able to get some video footage of you guys, but it wasn’t as good as it would have been if you hadn’t broken the camera. So in the interest of journalistic ethics, we’ll ask you: do you want us to blur your faces if they appear in the footage?”
“We’re going to be on TV?” Goten realized, “well... it’s OK if they can’t tell who I am, right?” Goten asked Gohan, who was still wearing his Great Saiyaman costume. Gohan shrugged. “If you just put him down as someone presumably working with or related to the Great Saiyaman, that could work.”
“I’ll accept no questions about—“ Nypo tried to say.
“Capsule Corp technology!” Videl shouted again as she dashed out of the hospital. “Sorry I missed the action, guys, she needed her diaper changed—“
“I tried speaking with Capsule Corp, a representative didn’t recognize—“
“It’s a prototype,” said Videl, “they can’t let just anyone even test it yet.”
“Don’t expect a public release, ever,” added Nypo.
“Nobody wants the military involved, right?” Videl tried.
The reporter scratched her head. “We’re not here to interrogate you. You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”
“You can tell us where to get more clean water around here,” said Piccolo, handing back the empty plastic bottle.
“There’s a tall drink of water right there!” shouted an old lady standing outside the hospital.
Nypo bowed to her slowly with one hand across his waist and the other stretched out behind him, and then turned back to Piccolo, his expression stern again.
“How much more water will he need?” Nypo asked.
“At least ten liters.”
“Uum...” Videl stammered, “what about saline?”
“Don’t risk it,” warned Piccolo, “not even orally.”
[Stop it....]
“Right,” she said, heading back into the hospital, “ten liters.” She motioned Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu, who had just landed to follow her. Nypo looked at Dende and followed. The crowd at the entrance parted as Videl spread the word to them.
Goten watched Nypo disappear. “Good... he’s gone.” He shakily stood up and stared straight into the cell phone and nodded.
“You can edit him... but not me. Here’s my statement: I’m Son Goten, and I don’t care who knows it, or if I’m armed or barehanded.”
“Goten, stop,” warned Gohan.
“The world’s gonna know my name one way or another,” declared Goten, “think I’m just going to quit fighting, or try to protect the world in secret, Saiyaman?” he said mockingly. “Like it or not, I’m going to become stronger to protect the people I care about, so I might as well become a legend while I do.”
“Ouch,” whispered the drone pilot.
[If you haven’t figured it out, I’m saying that the world already knows Goten, the same way the news crew knew “Majunior”; the world may have forgotten Majin Buu, but they weren’t entirely made to forget Babidi’s manhunt for Goten, Trunks and Piccolo. Therefore, people would have subconscious memory of Goten and Trunks wherever they go, and nobody would understand why. Because of one decision they made as kids, they really don’t have a choice in whether to stand out or fit in.]
Goten stuffed the pole down his belt, trying to look forceful, but his arms felt stiff like he was moving through a blizzard. Gohan watched him wince in pain.
“Sorry, old friend, but the kid’s made up his mind not to do things your way,” Piccolo said over his shoulder as he laid Dende on the ground and started chest compressions. “You were always the one healing us. And now—“
“Come on,” pleaded Gohan, “just hang on a little longer.”
“I’m surprised you’re not still filming,” remarked the drone pilot to the cameraman, “Why did you turn it off right before the kid gave us his name? You have the backup battery and everything.”
“We’ll describe this later. And I told the studio to say that my footage came from an amateur. I’d ruin that excuse if I use the same phone here.”
[He’s trying to play it cool, but he already gave away the real reason. It took me multiple tries to think of a character arc for this camera guy; watching Goten at about the same age his brother was when facing Cell makes him finally see things from Gohan’s point of view.]
“Still beat the Cell Grains,” joked the reporter, “Even if we’re not going to win any journalism prizes, at least we aren’t ruining those heroes’ lives. Especially when one of them’s still down and needs his space.... Thanks, Evan. I was so fixated on results, I never really thought about ethics. Wanna talk more over coffee?”
The cameraman flinched. “You really mean it, Brooke?”
“Only if you don’t mind my girlfriend being there,” she winked.
“...Oh.”
Nypo ran up to the group, carrying two large plastic jugs of roughly five liters each. “Staff lounge,” he panted, “and she’s at the gift shop.”
Gohan took one and carefully tipped it while Piccolo cradled Dende’s head. The news crew stared. Nypo watched the whole scene equally in awe.
“Back on the Lookout, he seemed so...” Nypo thought, and then stopped himself. “No. He is strong. It’s his faith in his allies that makes his will unshakeable.”
“You’re starting to understand,” said Piccolo, “but I’m still not ready to trust you.”
Nypo looked away, but Goten tugged on his pants. He looked down at Goten, who gave him a wink and a thumbs up before pretending to fall asleep.
[Probably another useless scene, but it seemed logical after all I had Dende do here. But between his sensory abilities, telepathy, and healing, he was so darn useful.
I also admit that I wanted to explore his character more without putting him in a combat role, and had him do what would seem logical for him. He probably wakes up every morning and tells himself, “you’re Dragon Clan, act like it”. He knows that as the pillar supporting the Dragon Balls, he has to stay alive even if it means leaving the fighting to his friends. So I thought he would throw himself into every other role he could, in whatever way would make him useful. I wanted to show that by having him push himself harder in the sorcery department.
So he pushed it a little with the in-sync healing on Nypo. Then when he was weighing the pros and cons of using telepathy for Goten, it was solely in regard to whether it would ruin Goten’s concentration or give him a rage boost. That was all. Dende wasn’t even thinking about himself, and he almost died because of it, because let’s see you try three minutes of vivid telepathy on a non-Namekian. Damned if you fight, damned if you support.
Nypo almost thought that his Guardian was just a tired teenager, compared to how cocky he sounded on the Lookout in that first scene. But then he started seeing things from Dende’s point of view, and how he still tries his best when his best isn’t enough. He’s merciful because he’s brave, he’s brave because he has friends, and seeing how hard his friends try makes him try harder to perform his duties.
Don’t ask me what specifically his duties are.]
Her socks were soaked under the 12 centimeters of water surrounding the building she lived in. She couldn’t see the crack running along the foundation but could assume that water was seeping in. There was no way she would be allowed back in.
“Ah!”
She stepped away before the shard of broken glass could penetrate her foot any deeper. She looked up at the completely empty frame on the seventh floor where her window had been. There was home behind that rectangular hole, so close and yet so far. At least it had been propped back up after being lowered into the alley, but maybe the building would have been just as inhabitable sideways.
“Wha?!” She shouted as a shadow fell above and then behind her. She stepped farther forward and to the right this time to evade the shard of broken glass, only to step on another. “Stupid, ugh!”
“Hi, pretty lady!” beamed Majin Buu in a friendly and unhelpful way.
“Oh, uh...,” she tried to be friendlier to the man who saved her earlier, but was too flustered to get out more than a “...hello.”
“This where you fell, so Buu came back,” he explained.
“Right,” she said, and then she thought about it. “You remembered. What brings you back here, uh, Buu?”
“Buu came to meet you,” he smiled, “what your name?”
“Oh... it’s Senna.” Was this guy stalking her?
“Me Buu, Majin Buu,” he said with a bow before reaching into his vest and pulling out a business card, “nice to meet you!”
Senna shakily took the business card and was too busy admiring its neat composition to notice that Buu’s vest had no pockets. It had his signature “M”, a headshot, a job description of Martial Artist/Magic User, and a surprisingly honest bio on the back, which gave a lot of credit to his mentor Hercule for teaching him the more traditional moves and strategies, and most importantly, when to show mercy and when not to.
Senna had never been sure what to think of her city’s namesake, so the bio came as a surprise as she read it, just as much as the previous section admitting that Majin Buu had blindly followed his creators’ instructions to “kill people” and “destroy everything in sight”. It seemed completely out of character for this jovial pink man. Somehow, though, its blunt honesty was refreshing.
“That your door?” he asked Senna, pointing a yellow glove at the missing window on the seventh floor.
“Pretty much— ooh!” Buu scooped up Senna and gently swooped into her apartment, setting her down next to a bed that had tipped into its right side. Seeing it made her dizzy and unsure of which way was up. She regained her composure and sighed.
“Not again...,” she complained at the mess. Her things were everywhere, except her bed-stand, which was nowhere to be seen. Her prescription drugs and retainer were going to be a pain to track down. She looked at the piles of things all around the bed before pushing it right-side up, catching her breath, and then righting the couch in her TV room. She then caught sight of her TV, looking as if it had been shot. She fell onto the couch, which then cracked down the middle. Her eyes welled up.
Buu offered Senna his hand. Senna didn’t take it.
“Buu fix couch,” he tried explaining. Senna blinked and stood up on her own. Buu’s hands glowed, and the light spread to the couch. It was whole again in five seconds. “WHOA!” Senna exclaimed. She felt her descending aorta pulsate in shock as Buu did the same for her TV.
“How—“ she said before changing her question mid-thought, “why are you so nice to me?”
Buu tilted his head. “Buu was told to be nice.”
“And that’s the reason you saved me, I take it?” asked Senna dryly.
“Uh huh,” Buu affirmed.
“But what if you had been somewhere else, in another part of the city? Maybe if you had been there, you could have saved someone else. Or maybe you could have saved ten people.”
“Buu sense more people here,” he tried to explain.
“Wha?”
“Buu sense bad thing was here, and Buu sense lots of people here. That mean more trouble, so Buu come here.”
Senna thought it over. “So you knew this area was densely populated at the time, and that we were being attacked by that thing?”
“Uh huh,” Buu said again.
Senna’s depressed ramblings were not penetrating Buu’s straightforward logic, but she felt the need to try again. She got up from the couch and limped into the kitchen, having trouble putting weight on her cut foot.
“I wanna show you something,” she said as she walked to a drawer that had been on the side where none of the drawers had fallen open. The drawer contained flashlights, batteries, chargers, candles, matches, a radio, a tightly closed pocket knife, some capsules, and a conspicuously large white rock, perfectly round, and about six centimeters across.
“This is the reason I needed such a quick, cheap fix on my window a couple months ago,” Senna said as she picked up the rock, “I came home from work one afternoon and there it was, in the middle of what seemed like a big mess at the time. I kept it in case I could get it fingerprinted and figure out who to send the repair bill to, but I just needed a window ASAP, but insurance paid the bill eventually, so I didn’t bother wasting time and money trying to find out who did it.”
She offered the rock to him and looked him straight in the eyes. “You see, Buu, I’m like this rock.”
“No, you Senna. You a lady.”
She sighed. “I get in the way. I make a mess. I don’t fix things or help people... I’m just a waste of space!”
Buu scratched his head. “You kill people?”
“What?” Senna thought about it. “Well, maybe. Back in my early days at work, I wasted a lot of units, and that blood could have—“
“You go to people who alive, hurt them, and make dead?” Buu clarified.
“Well, no,” she said with more certainty.
“Then you no bad.”
Senna almost laughed. “Looks like someone needs to raise their standards a little.” Senna picked up a box of crackers off the floor. “Think about this box of crackers. Someone else could have had this food. Instead, I bought them. If I eat them, my body will suck out the nutrients and turn the rest into crap, literally. And it’ll keep happening as long as I live. I’ll make food into poop, oxygen into CO 2, body wash into little bits of plastic that slowly dissolve off my shower pouf and end up in the ocean... and for what? Some lady who’s been dragged through school and work for 37 years and could be easily replaced by a machine one day?”
Buu didn’t skip a beat. “Lady is Senna. No other lady is Senna. And Senna no bad lady, so Senna should stay not dead.” Buu took the box of crackers and swallowed it, cardboard and plastic sleeves and all.
Yeah, Buu definitely wasn’t her type, she thought. But he was still sticking around and trying to cheer her up. After saving her life, the least she could give him was an explanation. She pulled out her usual chair at the kitchen table and another one for Buu.
“You’re sweet, Buu,” she admitted as they sat, “and you seem like the kind of guy who’d believe me.
“It was my first year on my first job. I was nervous, and was making mistakes. Nothing huge, mind you. Not like choosing a type A unit for a type O patient. More like I wasn’t sure of the storage conditions and had to throw out a couple of units after they sat at room temperature for too long. Or trying to thaw cryoprecipitate the same way you’d thaw plasma and it would still be freezing when the nurse came for it. ...Sorry, I was in the weeds.”
“You right here.”
“One day we heard this weird voice, but we could barely make it out over the whooshing refrigerators. It wanted an 18-go or something. Then there was this huge boom, like an earthquake. The platelet tilter fell over, and I almost did too. My co-workers and I were OK, but we were terrified. We had no idea what just happened. We were wondering whether to evacuate, or if that might get in the way if they wanted to get the patients out first. Then the decision was made for us when the PA system called Code Black. Do you know what that is, Buu?”
“What Code Black?”
“It means there’s a bomb threat. Somebody could blow up the hospital. And after that first explosion, we knew it was real. Everyone had to get out or die. I left my lab coat and gloves on and started running. Everyone smooshed into each other, all trying to get out at the same time. I wasn’t even out of the lab before everything went white. I felt pain and heat in every nerve ending, felt myself being stretched apart.
“Then I was cold. I was completely lost, and couldn’t think because of the cold. I realized that I was in the water, and couldn’t breathe. I had to look for the sunlight, but it was dark everywhere. I felt someone pull me up. One of my coworkers. We had kicked our way to the surface and caught our breaths, but we were lost in a cold dark ocean. Us and three hundred and seventy thousand other people.”
[Anyone who paid attention during the Cell saga should be able to figure out what happened. If so, you have my permission to find this funny.]
“Day had turned to night, and then suddenly back into day. I honestly thought we were dead. That this ocean was the afterlife. Nobody had any of their belongings unless they were wearing them. Those of us who had phones in their pockets couldn’t use them. The phones were soaked. They probably wouldn’t have gotten a signal anyway. There was no way to tell people we were out there, or even where ‘there’ was. The first boats that found us had trouble calling in enough for all of us. After what felt like an eternity in the cold, I was pulled onto a lifeboat being towed to the mainland.
“All my immediate coworkers made it. Someone in Gen lab who I didn’t really know well had died of exhaustion or hypothermia or something. A lot of our patients didn’t make it. Several had been in the middle of surgery or childbirth. I can only guess at how many people were naked in the shower at the time. Most of them probably died from the cold. The total estimates are that over two hundred people died.”
[You can still find this funny.]
“It turns out that we hadn’t gone anywhere. But the islands were gone. Our workplaces and homes were gone. Our cars, computers, pets. My cat Lulu—“
Senna felt a whoosh of steam, and realized it was coming from Buu.
“Sorry!” she said quickly. “I know, I... I was angry too. It wasn’t fair what happened to any of us, whether they lost pets, or friends, or family, or jobs, or had nowhere to go... none of us deserved what had happened! I’m angry too, Buu. They said Cell, the guy responsible, was dead, but I still can’t get over it!”
[It’s so hilarious I could bust a gut.]
Buu had stopped steaming, but was shaking. Senna put her hand on his glove and continued.
“My parents and I reunited at my brother’s place, in what was then southwest Orange Star. We were shacked up in a tiny appartment, sharing my sister-in-law’s old clunker. But after a while, the insurance company got us back some of the money from our house and cars. My parents bought a small one-story house, and got me a very safe car. We also still had all our savings from stocks, retirement accounts, and bank accounts, because all our information was online, and not all the servers were on the islands. So I was able to keep saving up.
I got a job at a hospital in the same network. The company policies were the same, and the transition to the new job went smoothly. I was recommended by my bosses, and since a lot of my coworkers had moved to Orange Star city, I ended up knowing three of my new coworkers already. The community grew considerably after the islands went, and the hospital had wanted more blood bankers on the night shift. As I got more comfortable with the job, I was able to save enough for this place. I pay mortgage here, not rent, by the way.
“The point is, my parents and I were considered among the lucky ones. Think about it. We’d had to replace our jobs, houses, cars, computers, couches, beds, clothes, cookware, our CAT. We were the LUCKY ones. What does that say about the people who couldn’t get their jobs back? Or had nowhere to go? Or lost all their money, or DIED?!”
[Is it funny? If you want my opinion, it’s definitely awkward. One of the guys who made the wish should have thought about what was lost with the islands, or maybe the oversight was on Toriyama’s part. It doesn’t surprise or shock me that nobody considered the problem, since it took me years to realize it myself. But taking anything for granted results in very awkward situations like the possibility of displacing a large population of civilians.]
Buu responded with another puff of steam.
“Yeah,” she said. “So here I am again. A useless Senna who lives in a broken condo, knowing that her suffering is nothing compared to the people who died or lost a loved one.”
“That not important,” said Buu, “what we fix next?”
“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!” she snapped, “why aren’t you helping someone who deserves it?!”
“Because... you sweet. Buu like Senna!”
Senna put her elbows on the table and buried her head in her arms. “So it’s just because I’m cute. That’s a terrible reason, Buu. It’s almost sexist. I... I think you should go.”
Buu slowly stood up. “You have Buu number.”
Senna felt her pocket. She still had his card. Buu went back to the window. He seemed sad.
“Buu, I’m sorry!” she pleaded. “It’s not your fault. None of this is! You were just trying to help me. I should be grateful, I really should, but I just...”
Buu waited by the window.
Senna ran into the kitchen, and then ran back to Buu, handing him the round white rock again. “Here. Take this and remember me.”
Buu stared at her, his eyes actually wide open. “Buu no want to be friends with a rock. Buu want to be friends with you, Senna.”
Senna froze. Friends? As in, platonically? The friend zone? Being friends with a guy and not dating? It seemed... nice. Almost too good to be true.
“...OK,” said Senna, nodding and beginning to cry. “OK.” She leaned in and hugged him. He wrapped an arm around her gently. It was squishy, but warmer than she expected. It wasn’t unpleasant at all.
Buu let go, nodded to Senna, and flew out the window. Senna watched him go until she noticed the weight in her hand. She was still holding the rock. But she had given it to him, right?
Senna looked over the business card, re-reading the part of his bio in which he had obeyed his creators without question when they told him to kill people. “Probably not gonna mention that part to my parents.”
[I probably could have left this scene on the cutting room floor, but I have no cutting room floor. And yes, she’s somewhat of a self insert. A lot of my white guilt crumbles in the wake of common sense, and putting her in a scene with Buu showcases that. The real me could use a friend who convinces me that I’m worth the support I get in life. I still find it funny that Buu would probably friend zone me if he met me.
Game of Bang/Marry/Kill with the Dragon Ball singles has a runner up in every category. Bang Yamcha (runner up: modern Broly), marry Kabba (runner up: Tapion), and kill Zen-oh (runner up: Jiren). Sedna the cougar stalks her prey...
And duh. It’s the two star ball that Bulma found in her basement. I would wish for all humans to understand that just about anyone can tell good from bad, but only a real leader knows what to do about it, and to pick their leaders with that fact in mind. Or just let the aliens conquer Earth for a few generations. Question is, would I have the chutzpah to go through with even that?]
Gohan was beginning to worry that the trip back would be two hours of awkward silence, with Dende and Goten too tired to speak and Nypo and Piccolo too brooding.
Tienshinhan and Chiaotzu had gone back to their dojo, and Videl took Pan home to Hercule City. Gohan had wanted to go with her, but he realized he had left his phone at Mt. Paozu.
With Goten and Dende so exhausted, they couldn’t fly back. Gohan and Piccolo were prepared to carry them, but Nypo had constructed a bench with a safety bar, with a glider-shaped awning on top. There were two handles on the ends for Piccolo and Gohan to carry the seats. The awning was designed to block wind resistance, and to make the structure less conspicuous when seen from below. Indeed, people down below would look up only momentarily and then back to what they were doing, instead of the prolonged stares Gohan usually dreaded. He had even felt comfortable enough to disengage the Saiyaman suit and remain in his navy blue gi.
Nypo showed little interest in the view, seemingly focused on maintaining the shape of the craft. Finally Gohan spoke.
“So you finally went Super Saiyan 2 back there?”
“I think so,” Goten thought, “with the sparks?”
“That’s the one,” Gohan said proudly. “You got it a bit late, though, I learned it was I was...” Gohan thought, “actually, almost your age, since it was after that year in the Time Chamber.”
“I liked the stamina,” Goten remarked, “but... it’s so tingly.”
“Like your skin is crawling. I never liked the sensation of it, which was part of the reason I wanted to find a way to make my base form stronger. It actually has more stamina than Super Saiyan 2. That way I can stay in a fight longer and wear down my opponents.”
“...To stall for time until someone like your father shows up,” piped in Piccolo, “Someone who doesn’t mind fighting, and isn’t there to defend the Earth out of a sense of duty, the way you do.”
Gohan shot him an accusing look.
“I know you played the role of the finisher once already. But if you let it haunt you, then you’ll never be able to do it again, should you need to,” advised Piccolo, “stamina is there to help you survive against evil, but the next step can’t always be just to wait for a hero. So be one. Even if it means destroying evil.”
“Why not just teach me the Mafuuba?” asked Gohan.
“Killing your opponent quickly is far less cruel,” said Nypo sternly.
“He’s right,” affirmed Piccolo, “it’s a good way to make your opponent resent you even more, when he’s locked away with nothing but his hatred.”
“Sooo...” said Gohan, desperate to change the subject, “have you gone back home since you were released?”
Nypo shook his head. “It may be strange for them to see me still fifteen years old. I should wait four or five years, when I appear more mature. Arapo age gracefully, especially our leader.”
“Mr. Popo,” Gohan clarified, “Piccolo told me a little about your clan while we were on route to East City.”
“It may be troublesome if they have learned of your existence,” Nypo warned.
“Saiyans?” asked Gohan, “why’s that?”
“...Anyone strong enough to break a Nyoibo,” clarified Nypo, “a Nyoibo cannot cut another Nyoibo. Even a saw that cuts diamonds cannot scratch it. But your— what was it—“
“We could stretch it and fragment it over and over, creating countless copies,” Gohan realized.
“He got really mad when I—“ Goten inhaled sharply, “broke it that time.”
“We would return to the strife of ancient times. Mortals would use the many Nyoibo to reach the heights of the Lookout. They will demand the Guardian to grant them all their desires, or worse, they would blame the Guardian for the strife of their own lives. Even if our leader protects him, his trust in mortals would fade—“
Dende rested his hand on Nypo’s and smiled weakly. “It’s...”
“Don’t speak,” Nypo told him, “I’m beginning to understand what Popo saw in you, and it wasn’t just a talented sorcerer. You are always kind, always loyal, always trusting in your friends and in the people of Earth, even when it seems hopeless, or pointless, or undeserved. I hope you don’t change, Dende-sama. You must keep that resolve of yours, no matter what the next era brings.”
Dende thought he was going to faint again. Piccolo swallowed air. If what Nypo described was what a Guardian needed to be, then Kami had been a failure, even after splitting with himself. Could he have ever fit the role then? What role could he possibly have now?
[“Sedna, must you open every character’s old wounds?” No. But their insides are so gooey... don’t you just want to suck them right out?
Also, I think you should make a mental note that Dende really liked hearing that from Nypo.]
“But not everyone can use it though,” pointed out Gohan, “at least, not like you and Goten. He let me borrow it on the way over, and I could just barely put a ninety degree bend in it just by focusing.”
“But you were able to make it as long or short as you wanted, and choose the direction of extension?” asked Nypo.
“Well, yeah. Is that the easy part?”
“It is for most,” Nypo elaborated, “not all of those who try it can instinctively master the basics. But the important thing is not to lose faith in yourself or the Nyoibo. Those who are discouraged by a poor first attempt can no longer trust themselves to control the Nyoibo, or the Nyoibo to follow their will.”
“It did feel a bit stubborn, for a Compliant Pole,” remarked Gohan.
“Don’t think about that,” said Goten, “think about the shape you want.” He caught his breath. “The sooner you know what shape you want... the faster it changes.”
“You said that last time too,” replied Gohan.
“You’ve always been more of a conceptual thinker than a visual one,” said Piccolo, trying to put things delicately for both brothers.
“Even I must confess that Son Goten’s level of talent is rare,” Nypo finally admitted.
“Really?” he asked, “you would have been a lot faster than me.”
“But you were able to use advanced techniques from the moment you took it up. The number of people with that level of skill from talent alone is probably one in a million.”
“But I already saw you doing it. Like when I fired that warning shot? You left a decoy in the dust in just that split second. You probably didn’t even know I had chi attacks, and you still managed to trick me right after I fired one!”
“Speed comes from practice,” Nypo explained, “Before I was given my own, I had to beg for every chance to practice with one that I could. And if I was to receive my own, I would have to convince one of the few holders to make me her successor. I was the errand boy for every Wielder and Elder in the village, working until I should have been too tired to fight, but I would become so excited with every chance to learn. But then I would be so tired from the work, or too nervous knowing who was watching. I have painful memories of failing to meet expectations. Those moments kept me from realizing that I was progressing faster than most.”
“Is that what it was like there?” asked Gohan, “everyone working or competing for just those few?”
“Your existence changes everything,” reiterated Nypo, “even though I hated the competition and pandering of the time, I much prefer that to having them go to those who didn’t earn one.”
“So that’s why you got mad?” asked Goten, “because you worked hard to earn one, and I didn’t?”
“Ihihihihihi!” Nypo chuckled oddly. Dende looked at him, and then smiled.
“Has Piccolo told you the story of the Blood Widow?” asked Nypo after catching his breath.
“Can’t say I know that one,” admitted Piccolo.
“The Blood Widow?” echoed Gohan incredulously.
“An Arapo man was given the Nyoibo after the skill he gained from his hard work. The men were sure that he would protect the village, but the women were not. One night, he picked the lock of a house. The home of a woman who had rebuked him.”
“He stole from her?!” gasped Goten.
“Something that a man should never take from any woman by force. The one thing he never deserved.”
Goten waited for Nypo to explain, but he didn’t. Piccolo whispered something to Dende, who looked neither shocked nor angry, just disappointed.
“I see...” said Dende, “it does happen...”
“I’ll explain when you’re older,” Gohan promised his brother.
“A wise man was summoned— perhaps you know of him— who suggested that this woman show the village exactly how she would have defended herself if she, too, had been armed with a Nyoibo. The results convinced the village that she had the skill not just to defend herself, but the entire village. The Nyoibo was granted to her, and the previous owner was exiled.”
[That wise man? Korin.
I understand the sentiment that women should buy guns to be equally as well armed as the men who might assault them. I just don’t agree. Go with billy clubs, pepper spray, maybe a taser, something that wouldn’t kill if the attacker stole it and used it on you. Guns are for trained professionals only, people who know how not to kill bystanders or get them twisted out of their hands.]
“I suppose there’s no reason why women couldn’t use them,” reasoned Gohan.
“That is the lesson the Arapo came away with, even if the message was supposed to be about character,” Nypo agreed, “that woman was my mentor, Elder Atema. She was skilled, but ruthless. There was an incident before I arrived, so I may not be telling this correctly. Three bandits came and began to ransack the village, but she trapped all three in a separate burst of her signature Anantzi move. It’s named after the spider from folktales, known for his tricks. The move looks like the eight legs of the spider, pulling the thread, and with it, his prey, into his waiting trap.”
“And the Double Anantzi?” asked Goten, “after they dodge it?”
“Ihihihihi!” laughed Nypo, “you call it whatever helps you visualize it.” Nypo tried to remember where he left off. “She asked the three if they had told anyone else that they had come there. The biggest and strongest confessed that he had told his girlfriend, and then he begged for his life. The other two, she killed on the spot.”
“Whoa!” shouted Gohan. Dende shook.
“Sure enough, a young woman came in search of the prisoner, and the Blood Widow released him, giving him only two healing beans. She tasked him to save two lives, in exchange for the two that she had taken. But what she really wanted was for that big, strong would-be pillager to spread the word of how our village was not to be trifled with.”
“She decided that so quickly?” marveled Goten, over Piccolo blurting, “healing beans!”
“Quickly?” echoed Nypo, “no. She had planned far in advance, and not just moments before. Years before. That’s how she had the resolve to carry it out. And I take it you’ve heard of the Senzu beans?”
“Heard of them?!” Gohan blurted, “How many times have we gone dashing off to Korin’s for a handful before some horrific battle?!”
“You had them in your village, too?!” Piccolo exclaimed, “why did Popo never say anything?!”
“It does seem odd that you weren’t told,” Nypo thought out loud, “we take the growth and distribution of Senzu beans seriously. That’s why we took the land a short ride north, instead of directly underneath Korin’s Tower. There was much more good soil to work with. We ration three per person, including the tribe to the south. We trade or sell any surplus, it we have it. In exchange, we expect the southern tribe to fully cooperate with us in defending the Tower, since they too hold it sacred. They are to notify us of any threat.”
“Something’s up, then,” said a concerned Piccolo, “I’ll look into it later, after we’ve let Dende rest.”
[I did notice the problems with my own story of a clan that protects the Lookout. Why aren’t they the tribe that lives under the Tower? Shouldn’t they know about the Senzu beans? How come the tribe that lives under the Tower failed to warn the Arapo when Taopaipai came? I did think about it, and I came up with one possible answer. And that answer is, something has been very, very wrong since the time Nypo was sealed away. Not having an answer makes it unsettling in a way I liked, despite it pointing a big red arrow at the flaw in my writing.]
“You were just selling them?” asked Goten.
“For one thousand Zenni each in the cities, at the time,” said Nypo, “I was a quick traveler, but a terrible salesman. I was too eager to explain that they are medicine, not food.” Nypo bit the wristband on his right arm to reveal a thin beige line that circled his entire wrist. “If you swallow one while pressing the severed limb to the stump, it attaches in the correct place, without any shrinking or lengthening of the extremity. Otherwise, you re-grow the limb. We considered it a steal at a thousand Zenni, but the point was to help others while buying medicine for what we couldn’t heal, like antibiotics.”
“For that price, I’d take a hundred!” exclaimed Gohan. Goten stared at Nypo’s wrist as he pulled the armband back up. Nypo met his gaze and smiled.
“Dodge it or block it, Colt, you have less than one second to decide!” snapped Nypo in his best impression of an old woman’s voice, “or do both, if you have to!”
Gohan chuckled and looked at Piccolo, who smiled back after a while.
[I know the Dodge gag was Team Four Star’s idea and not canon, but it seems too in character not to have happened to some extent.]
They agreed to stop by a waterfall where Piccolo often meditated. Dende was still very dehydrated. Nypo, though, had the opposite problem, and the group moved on when Nypo explained that he needed to use the “latrine”. All the healing from earlier had allowed the lactic acid from his muscles to move quicker through the bloodstream and into the kidneys.
They flew over the plots of autumn vegetables nearly ripe enough for harvest. “The squash vines look a little yellow in the leaves,” remarked Nypo.
“Is that bad?” asked Goten.
“The soil needs more nutrients. Plant them farther apart next time, in two years. Rest the soil in between then. Introduce more soil from those forests nearby, if you can’t obtain enough manure.”
“Or do both, if you have to!” Goten joked in an old woman’s voice.
“How did you irrigate them so well?” Nypo remarked, admiring the pumpkins.
“We’ve been filling the shipping bins and carrying water that way,” explained Goten.
“By hand? But— ah,” Nypo realized, “of course.”
Gohan was starting to feel comfortable around Nypo. Here was someone beginning to comprehend their family’s strength without getting scared or interrogating them any further. Nypo’s acceptance was refreshing. Piccolo was more dubious. Could he be lulling them into a false sense of security just to murder them all later? It had irked him to see an Arapo of all people acting with such malice just hours before.
[Nypo doesn’t like to ask questions. He likes to figure things out for himself, even if he has to make assumptions or just eavesdrop. It’s a habit that gets him into trouble.]
They arrived outside the house. Nypo felt a pang in his chest seeing the spot where he had nearly assassinated Son Gohan that morning. Gohan knocked.
“Oh?! Is that Gohan and Goten?!” blurted out Chichi.
“Yeah, it’s them!” answered the Ox-King, “didn’t I tell you they’d come back OK?”
The group could hear Chichi scampering for the door. “But we’re nowhere near done yet!”
Chichi threw open the door, a dripping ladle in hand.
“Gohan! Goten! You’re— why do you always have to run off without telling me?!”
“At least let them come in the house,” pleaded the Ox-King.
“But we’re not— oh, fine.” Chichi ushered them in. “Your phone’s charging under the TV.”
“Thanks, Mom!” Gohan headed for the living room to check that the phone was there, and did a double take after passing the kitchen.
There were shopping bags coating the floor in two layers. Meat and eggs filled the refrigerator so fully that the doors wouldn’t close. Pilaf’s broken spy bird sat in the trash can under some egg shells and onion peels. The Ox-King was emptying a pot of stew into soup bowls, and then immediately filling it back up with the chopped vegetables that had covered an entire cooking sheet. The table was covered in similar stew bowls already starting to get cold, while another series of bowls were being stacked in odd places like the coffee table or the glassware cabinet. Piccolo spotted five bowls in an open sock drawer.
Nypo dove into the kitchen and picked up a knife near the cutting board.
“Ah!” gasped Piccolo, who wasn’t sure if he could let go of Dende yet.
“What?” asked Nypo after he had already chopped a carrot into pieces about the same size as the ones floating in the pot. “Oh, was I supposed to peel it first?”
“No, it’s fine!” stammered Chichi. Nypo nodded and quickly cut up another, tossing the ends into the trash.
Chichi and the Ox-King watched him, slightly awestruck. She had known her family and Piccolo would always help her out if instructed, but she had never seen someone help out first and ask questions second. Everyone fell silent. The only one moving was Nypo, who finished the bag of carrots in less than one minute and had moved on to a bag of parsnips. Goten’s stomach gurgled.
“Um...” Goten spoke up, “when can we eat?”
“How about we get one more pot on the burner, and then you two boys can start?” suggested the Ox-King, cutting up a leg of lamb, “anyone who’s not too hungry is more than welcome to help us, of course!”
Gohan’s stomach groaned.
“Oh, Mom...” Gohan lamented, seeing all the work she had half-finished in just the few hours he had been gone, “I must have worried you, haven’t I?”
Chichi froze again. Gohan’s tone was so solemn that she couldn’t tell if he was talking about the last few hours or decades.
“I just... figured...,” stammered Chichi, “it seemed like it was going to get dicey from what I saw on the news, and I can never talk you boys into ignoring this stuff, so I knew you were going to be fighting off something or other. And you’re always hungry after a big fight, right? So—“
“But that’s what I might expect from Bulma,” pointed out Gohan, “but you? Aren’t you the one always telling us to stay out of trouble, or try to act more like a normal family?”
“You were gone before I saw you even arrive! Your phone was on the ground, I had no way of knowing where you ran off to! And then the news broke, and I knew you would—“
“OK, Mom, I get it!” shouted Gohan. “Mom, I really mean it, I’m sorry. I should have stopped to tell you before going off to fight that comet monster. You probably would have tried to convince me not to go, but still, I... I get it, Mom. I get that you’re worried about me.”
“Gohan, thanks, but I get it too. I know why you always rush headfirst into danger. Someone has to, I suppose.”
[“Sedna, stop opening everyone’s old wounds!” But... I thought you hated Chichi! Here I was trying to make her more reasonable for you! See, I even had her work out the Saiyan Gastronomic Formula. Trouble = Fight = Using up Calories = Saiyans coming home hungry enough to eat a whole soup kitchen.]
“But don’t tell me that was Goten taking charge back there on that news feed,” marveled the Ox-King, “and was that all Goku’s old Nyoibo?”
“How’d you know?” asked Goten.
“They blurred your face, but who else could it be?” bragged the Ox-King.
“They did?” asked Goten.
“Don’t look at me!” Gohan blurted defensively. Goten simply shrugged.
“We were searching the house earlier, because it looked like someone had broken in,” explained Chichi, “the Nyoibo was the only thing missing. Looks like you got it back, though, thank goodness,” she said, seeing it tucked through Goten’s belt.
“Was this guy coaching you?” asked the Ox-King, looking at Nypo, who was squinting down carefully at an onion.
“Sure was,” said Goten without pause, “this is Nypo. He says he’s from a clan called the Arapo on his dad’s side.”
“Wait, aren’t they...” the Ox-King wondered.
“Nypo, this is my Mom, and Grandpa Ox. They taught me the basics. Regular martial arts, sparring, and strength training.”
“The Ox-King?” Nypo turned away from the onions, but kept squinting, “your reputation proceeds you....”
“Ah-ah-I’ve retired since then, I promise!” the Ox-King blurted shakily, “I don’t do any more fighting or, or any bad stuff anymore! I’ve got grandkids and a great-granddaughter now.”
“Good,” said Nypo warmly, “we all deserve second chances, even thieves. Were those two Senzu beans of any help?”
“Well, I didn’t know how they worked back then, so I tried giving them to my wife the day Chichi was born. I thought, I was supposed to save two lives, hers and Chichi’s. But I fed them both to my wife—“
“I am sorry,” said Nypo, “you are never supposed to give anyone more than one at a time. And depending on the nature of her condition, even one wouldn’t have saved her. For instance, if it was a metabolic problem rather than a bleed or tear—“
“Senzu beans would only have worked on an injury, I get it now,” acknowledged the Ox-King, “but when the first one didn’t work, I panicked, and then I gave her the other one, and she was gone!”
“Dad?” Chichi called to him. She hadn’t heard him tell the story in years, and never in this much detail.
[OK, fine, I’m breaking everyone wide open. No one is safe. Hide your kids, hide your wife, and hide your husbands, because I’m writing every character’s insecurities out here.]
“At least I have you, Chichi. After that, I wanted to make sure you’d be well off, and if I couldn’t do that, then I’d find you a husband who could. I made a lot of mistakes even then, but I just didn’t know how to raise you on my own.”
“It’s OK, Dad, you never had to. You found—“ she paused. “Well, you’re there for me whenever he isn’t. But the kids are turning out OK. So I’ll always have somebody.”
“Oh, Chichi!” he cried over her shoulder for about three seconds before shouting, “well, who’s hungry?!” with a big smile on his face.
The stew wasn’t as spicy as Nypo’s hometown fare, and he ate slowly and politely at first. However, it was filling, and Nypo found himself famished, and downed nearly four thousand calories. Piccolo tried a small helping of every dish before heading to the sink to scrub the dishes. Dende offered to help him after finishing his water, which turned out to be 38 liters. Feeling refreshed, he then picked up a dish towel and dried off the cookware. As surprised as Nypo was to see a Guardian and former Guardian cleaning dishes, Dende simply explained that he wasn’t as used to washing dishes, and was much better with laundry.
Of course Gohan and Goten ate enough to have fed the whole Arapo village. Nypo wasn’t sure where they were putting it all, especially the smaller Goten, who ate almost twice as much as Gohan did.
[“Hey, Gohan? I heard a rumor that you’re doing something weird for your thesis. Something like people flying and shooting lasers? Is that, like, with technological equipment, or...?” “No. Well, in a couple cases, yes. But mostly I’m trying to work backwards from what I’ve, uh, seen, and elaborate on the physics of how it should be possible. I’m having some trouble, though. Obviously E = mc squared and the human body mass could have that much energy to counteract G-forces, but to generate enough thrust to lift your own body weight, the numbers aren’t working out. You’d have to burn away your own muscle mass by the time you could go anywhere.” “Well, I don’t envy you, Gohan, I’m just trying to find out if my gut flora are stealing my pills after I swallow them... Snickers bar, Gohan?” “Oh, sure. Thanks, I could use— THAT’S IT!”]
“He’s a growing boy,” said the Ox-King, “your Dad had his growth spurt sometime between when he was fifteen and eighteen.”
“That’s still a long way off,” said Goten, “I’m only thirteen.”
“Plenty of time to get that haircut,” pointed out Gohan, “or you’ll wake up one day looking exactly like Dad.”
Nypo had plenty of time to notice the photos on the mantle. He saw one of what could have been Gohan’s wedding, featuring Gohan looking a little nervous, Goku trying not to tear off his tuxedo, Goten running his hands through what was more gel than hair, and Chichi actually looking ravishing in a navy blue gown. The photo next to it showed the three of them looking more comfortable, with Goku in tan and while work clothes, Gohan in another sweater vest, and Goten in his usual orange gi. They seemed proud of their day’s work, but poorly visible since they had been photographed while completely in shadow. They were standing side by side holding baskets of cabbages, cauliflower, and kale. The drab background behind them turned out to be a shipping bin full of radishes. Goten suddenly pulled down the wedding day photo, revealing another photo hidden behind it.
“You trim your hair all the time, Gohan, but that’s because it always grows back.” Goten showed everyone the photo, which turned out to be from the day Goten was born. “My hair never gets any longer. It never changed since I was born. So if I get a haircut and I don’t like it, there’s no going back!”
“There’s a way back,” said Dende, “if you don’t mind having an awkward conversation with Shenron.”
[Masako X already had an episode of his Dragon Ball R&R project concerning whether Goten should cut his hair to look less like his father, but they may have neglected to mention the wrinkle that Saiyan hair never grows back.
Highly recommended anyway, though, since Masako and Co were a huge inspiration to me in writing this. I love the character exploration and the lighthearted moments, and I need to work on striking the same balance they did.]
“Well, you kept the picture like you promised,” Gohan mumbled to Chichi. It was the one picture they had of Goten before pulling out his tail.
Nypo swallowed an umeboshi plum.
“I had no idea he found it,” whispered Chichi, “let alone that he’d be showing it to guests.”
Nypo recalled that before he was sealed, Son Gohan’s namesake had been chasing after a toddler with a tail. Everyone waited with bated breath for Nypo’s reaction. Nypo drew his large lips inward, tasting the plum. He quickly downed another spoonful of stew before speaking up.
“I had a mohawk once, around the time they started calling me the Crimson Colt,” he admitted, brushing the hair behind his almost-pointed ears, “but I prefer these short curls better.”
Chichi and Gohan blinked in confused relief. Even Dende was surprised, not expecting small talk from a big-picture guy.
[Or so you think. Recall what I said at the beginning. I considered having Nypo be related to Tien on his mother’s side. Having a mohawk wouldn’t just make a younger Nypo look prickly; those long bangs in the middle would cover up his third eye, leaving the other two unobstructed. Shaving it and choosing a shorter, more even cut shows maturity and formality, but also self-confidence. An older Nypo with a stronger reputation would feel no need to hide any detail of who he is.]
“What kind of razor do you use?” the Ox-King asked Nypo.
“Don’t ask,” answered Gohan instead, “you can’t have one.”
“Just know that the decision is your own, and not your family’s. If you let them make that choice for you, it will only lead to regret,” Nypo advised Goten, as he chopped up the remainder of his portion of umeboshi plums, “although I can understand why they felt the need to decide the fate of your tail.”
“Actually Nypo, you have no idea,” piped in Piccolo.
“He explained it to me,” added Goten, “you don’t want to know.”
Nypo threw the chopped plums into the stew and stirred them. “Then I’ll trust that your family chose wisely, even if I personally prefer to make up my own mind. Not every decision I made for myself was the right one.”
“Then aren’t you giving the exact opposite advice you just gave Goten?” pointed out Dende
“Because I assumed that my path had been marked for me,” Nypo pointed out, “but now, I see one more fork before me, before wide open wilderness.”
Piccolo looked at Nypo. Perhaps that was what he didn’t like about the boy. Both of them had walked the wrong path, and once Piccolo had left that path... he could feel himself standing there, in that same wilderness, with only his desire to protect his friends left to guide him.
“Son Goten,” said Nypo, with his usual stress on the second syllable, “I must request one last favor of you. Dende-sama, I will need you for this as well. Once you have rested, we can begin.”
Mai looked over her footage on the laptop as Pilaf huffed into the room, followed quickly by Shu. Pilaf was carrying a device the size of a small shoebox and several coils of cabling over his other shoulder. Shu had another of the same sort of device and a toolbox.
“We brought both external amplifiers, just in case,” puffed Shu, “when’s the guest of honor coming here?”
“About five minutes ago,” drawled Mai, pointing her thumb at the park ranger waiting in the corner of the room, arms folded and one foot propped against the wall.
“Ack!” gaped Pilaf, “Mr. 17-go, in the actual flesh!”
“Don’t act so surprised,” mumbled Shu, “we saw his sister this morning.”
“You’re lucky this villa is close to where I work, or I wouldn’t have shown up,” grumbled 17, “so, Doctor, what do you and these kids want?”
“Mr. 17-go, this may be of interest to you as well,” explained Dr. Briefs, “as it concerns the tidal wave which will soon be here, and while it may have dissipated somewhat by the time it reaches the island where you work—“
“Lift up your shirt!” barked Pilaf, having regained his air of authority. 17 slowly tilted his head down to glare at him. Pilaf thrust the shoebox-sized device into his hands.
“You see, Mr. 17-go, while your engine is efficient enough to provide you with unending stamina for routine operation and energy-based combat,” Pilaf began, “the limits of the system meant that your output was sorely lacking—“
“I can put out enough energy to blast a hole clean through this planet,” 17 interrupted as Shu and Mai pushed 17’s shirt up as high as they could reach.
“He belts his tank top?!” exclaimed Shu. Before 17 could talk back or protest, Pilaf kept shoving the device into 17’s hands as he continued, “but this device, in simple terms, can bypass your limits and expand your output, without tiring you out or damaging your internal circuitry! And it’s completely reusable! Just recharge it for a couple of days and plug it back in!”
“Hey, cut it out!” 17 complained as Mai pulled away his belt and Shu shoved his tank top upward.
“Here it is!” exclaimed Mai triumphantly as she stuck her finger into a small groove on 17’s lower back. The flesh of 17’s back popped up like the trunk of a car.
“Eee!” Mai squealed in what 17 thought was horror at first, before realizing it was excitement.
“Are these the model 7 circuits? Look at this insulation! Such thick and rubbery poly-carbon, it must be perfectly waterproof! And it it ever gets wet, it just collects down here and gets filtered— he could refill his coolant tank just by taking regular showers!”
“Yeeeeeah,” he sighed, wondering if he really needed to stand there and be dissected by children, “you’d know better than I would what goes on in there. But I do know that the model 7 circuit wasn’t old man Gero’s seventh design, it’s just so we don’t end up like Android 6. He was a cyborg kinda like Sis and I, except loyal to the Red Ribbon Army. Once he got too injured to fight, he gave his body to Gero, and was so proud of his cybernetic parts that he never even bothered covering them up, so the story goes. Point is, no more showers for that guy.”
“There we go!” said Shu happily, “you’re all plugged in! Guaranteed increased output with no damage, or your money back!”
“What money?”
“Well, it’ll be seventy-five thousand Zenni for rental, or one hundred and seventy-five thousand Zenni to own, plus our twenty-five thousand Zenni installation fee,” said Shu as quickly as possible.
“First of all, I guarantee I’ll pay 0% of that,” 17 said mockingly, “and second, does this look installed to you?!” He held out the device, three long thick cords snaking out from it and into his back, which was still popped open.
“Well, we couldn’t make it small enough to fit in there,” admitted Mai, “but come on! Step outside and try it out!”
“Outside? Looking like this?!” 17 snapped, failing to pull his tank top and shirt down over his open back hatch.
“It’s a private villa,” Dr. Briefs assured him, opening the door. He had forgotten that Mai was still filming.
17 calmed down a little as he took in the view.
“The water has receded significantly,” Dr. Briefs remarked as he looked at the shoreline, “you had better get started soon.”
“Right,” said Mai, “Mr. 17-go, shoot an energy blast as you normally would, straight upward. Don’t aim for the comet.”
17 nodded, stuck his arms up, and shot two white orbs.
“That didn’t feel any different,” 17 said accusingly.
Shu ran up to the device laying at 17’s feet and cranked a dial from 0 to 2.
“Try again now!” Shu shouted as he bolted away.
17 glared at him, and then at the device. He shrugged and shot upward. The shock of the towering white blast shoved him into the bottom of a six meter crater which had just formed in the ground under him. Dr. Briefs and the Pilaf gang were thrown onto their backs.
“Whoa!” shouted Bulma, watching from the back of the ship as a white blast shot past the comet.
“What the heck was that?!” shouted Krillin, who was sitting between her and 18, “It didn’t feel like anything except... just, whoa!”
“If that was my brother trying to annoy me, I’m clobbering him,” 18 grumbled.
Dr. Briefs shakily stood up. “Right... Mr. 17-go, you get that shield of yours up before that wave gets here. I’m going to head back inside and... see if I need to recalculate the orbit of this planet, after that one.” He shuffled away, rubbing his back.
“Mr. 17-go, are you OK?!” Mai ran up to him as he picked up the device, carefully cranking it back to 0 before flying up out of the hole, “how’s your hydraulics? We didn’t calculate how much the recoil—“
“I’m fine,” he insisted, “and so is your— amplifier.” He looked down at the three of them. “I take it that none of this was Dr. Briefs’ idea.”
Mai pressed her index fingers together shyly. “Well... we may have... made some personal copies of your blueprints, after finding them in a drawer somewhere...”
Her cute act wasn’t fooling him for a second. “Don’t pretend you had no plans to enhance yourselves one day.”
“And what would you do to stop us?” Pilaf bragged.
“We’re already pros at stopping ourselves,” Shu pointed out.
17 smiled in a menacing way. “Fine. Go ahead and try it. Try renouncing your biological lives forever.”
He turned around. “Maybe avoid carbonated drinks. You’ll be OK if you drink something alkaline right after, but your cooling system will sting for a while.” He picked up the amplifier in his left hand, flew up a little, cranked the dial back up, and erected a barrier. The sky turned turquoise around them.
“For a guy without his real kidneys, he’s so cool,” Mai gushed.
“It’s still tempting,” admitted Shu, “given that my parents died in their thirties.”
“Let’s just table it and move on to our new plan!” proclaimed Pilaf.
Shu and Mai nodded.
“We gotta get that tracker!” “Let’s get a Nyoibo!” “We need some duct tape!”
Each of the three had said something different at the same time.
“Really, Shu?” asked Pilaf, “duct tape?!”
“But it’s so useful!” Shu said defensively, “and what are you going to do with the tracker for the Cryothak?! You can’t control that thing! You can’t even drag it back to Earth!”
“You could if you had a Nyoibo,” bragged Mai.
“And how would you steal one?” asked Pilaf. “From Goku’s kid? Not a chance!”
“Sneak in through the window,” said Shu, “and how do you get it open? Duct tape!” he exclaimed as if one thought had logically followed the other.
“Of course!” said Mai, “steal the Nyoibo, get the tracker, lure back the Cryothak—“ she said with full confidence in the series of events happening as stated.
“—and then the whole world is ours!” concluded Pilaf. The three chuckled, satisfied with the bare bones of their plan.
[I wanted to explain this scene to someone, but he didn’t know enough about what was canon to figure out what I had come up with, let alone why I was comparing it to Marty Mc Fly plugging his guitar into Doc Brown’s amplifier. However, I was able to explain what sort of characters the Pilaf gang are. “Oh, so they’re like Team Rocket!” “Right!”]
The towing company was a conglomerate which the Galactic Patrol had a long running contract with. The Galactic Patrol was not going to be charged for towing the Cryothak, but towing the comet out into stable orbit would be another matter.
However, Jaco explained that because the comet had come so close to the Earth already, the Earth had legal claim to it as their property, along with all the assets located on it, including all the remaining lithium deposits and the artwork. The Galactic Patrol didn’t need it as evidence, and had wanted to reward the Earthlings for their cooperation anyhow. Once Jaco had adjusted their communication frequency, the Earthlings were welcome to barter a fair price for towing the comet.
At first, Bulma had wanted to keep as much of the lithium as possible, but Krillin pointed out that some of the artwork was metal rather than ice, and could be brought to Earth and auctioned off. The proceeds could pay for repairing the damage. Meanwhile, the sculptures that were mostly or entire ice could be sold to the towing company, and they could worry about the details. They could then let the towing company collect enough lithium to make up the difference.
Krillin’s plan won out, since it was the most economical choice for the Earthlings. Bulma’s crew would be left with only about thirty percent of the lithium slag, but it would still be a good haul, once they had a plan to transport it safely back to Earth.
The towing company seemed to already have one, as Krillin watched some workers dumping piles of lithium slag into boxy white hovercraft drones. One of the workers, Krillin noticed, was wearing a company uniform instead of a space suit. Aside from the uniform and some sort of mask over his nose and mouth, he had leathery skin over his hands and head completely bare. Krillin inched closer to this man. He was lifting noticeably large piles of the dangerous metal.
“You don’t need to stare,” the man pleaded, “if it’s about the mask, I still need enough atmosphere to hear and talk.”
Despite the man’s ivory and indigo complexion, he looked almost exactly like that form of Frieza’s that had gored Krillin through the chest.
“Um, excuse me, sir, I know you’re busy...” Krillin was desperately trying to be polite, but if this man really was a relative of Frieza, there could be no doubt he was strong.
“You’ve probably met one of our kind before,” the man assumed, “since we’ve evolved to withstand deep space, some evolutionary psychologists point out that we also tend to like traveling.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Frieza by any chance, would you?”
The man nearly dropped the dangerous slag.
“Are you out of your mind?! How could you possibly think a working-class guy like me could be related to that freak?! I’ve got two clones at boarding school I need to pay for, and what does that spoiled brat have that he didn’t just inherit from his father?!”
“Well,” Krillin tried to point out, “there’s his Golden form—“
“Great, he has a fifth one. We must totally be cousins, then!” The man put his load into the hovercraft, and then put one hand against his lower back, swishing an imaginary glass of wine with the other. “Oh, look at me,” he drawled an octave higher, “I’m Lord Fureezah. I wasn’t satisfied with my four transformations, so I went and got a fifth one—“
“Cut it out, Tundre!” exclaimed a woman with a pointed pale blue face, helmet mostly filled with water, “if King Cold hadn’t sold our people that habitable world when he did, we would have overpopulated and starved ourselves. And by the way, our home-world’s exports have always sold better whenever King Cold or Frieza were active.”
“Oh, sure, just enjoy your bread and circuses, Tramma,” said a tall man with dark brown skin and wide-set yellow eyes, “you and those shameless Heeters.”
Krillin thought about saying that some of his best friends had four transformations, but he decided that he had done enough damage and quietly backed away.
[This big lipped alligator moment was brought to you by Worldbuilding, something I would have loved a bit more of from Toriyama-sensei. ...Until he delivered. In fact, we get so little of it pre-Granolah arc that we STILL don’t know if the Icelings are even really called that. I’d consider Frost Demons to be almost as insulting as “the Frieza Race” because one of them is literally named Frost. This was me throwing an average Iceling a bone, admitting that the rest of them must hate being compared to the strongest and meanest of them. Tundre’s kids are named Boria and Tiaga.
The third guy is meant to be in a similar boat, as he’s from the same race as one of his non-canonical brother Cooler’s top mooks. He’s me saying that those who know Frieza best hate him the most, just like those who know real-life bad guys the best know they’re the worst.
And then you have Tramma, whom I made up almost entirely. Her personality is based off the sort of people I am sick and tired of lately: those who excuse despots for their evil deeds, as long as they personally benefit, or even just think they benefit. There’s actually some people in my own “group” who think this way, assuming we’re going to benefit from the terrible things that are happening to other groups and making excuses for them.
In terms of design, I went only slightly outside the box for her. She has a pointy face like a fish, but other than that, she’s a biped with two arms and a head on the top with two eyes and a mouth underneath. She’s in the rubber forehead category of alien life that is so common in Dragon Ball, despite the wide range of appearances within the category. I left it at that to make her more plausible within the category. But, for some added fun, she comes from an obviously aquatic moon orbiting a gas giant called “God”. When your people live underwater, it can take a few too many generations to set the record straight.
Ah, the Heeters. A last minute change since the main body of this draft was finished in January of 2021. Want to know what I almost said there? "Arcosians." I know they were only mentioned in filler before the Frieza force was introduced, but I wasn't convinced the muscle that is the Cold/Frieza force also handled the business negotiations, tech procurement, and exploration. So I pictured the Arcosians more like a mafia group than a species. Remember, if you’re clearing planets to sell, then who buys them? They need to find robber barons that rich, or a desperate enough race with something valuable to offer in exchange. Probably the reason Earth hadn’t been cleared was because they wanted to buy the blueprints for Hoi-Poi capsules. Same for the Namekians, whom they had probably hoped to recruit much like the Saiyans. Imagine if one or two of them actually did. The Frieza force takes all kinds. Point is, I saw a hole in the worldbuilding and thought "Arcosians" were just the peg to fill it. So, imagine my surprise when Toriyama wrote the Heeters, exactly the sort of mafia types I had in mind! They must be a ruthless bunch, if you're classifying planets. If they came across a world with an evironmental crisis coming, or overpopulation, they'd think "buyers". But if they meet a race carefully living in harmony with a planet to conserve its resources for generations to come... have the Frieza force clear them out, and then house-flip the planet for a profit. It's cruel, and for writing non-antagonistic villains, it's sheer perfection. Toriyama not only met the expectations that I thought I would have to meet on my own... he knocked them out of the park.]
“That company hires a wide range of people, so it makes sense they’d have their workplace squabbles,” Jaco explained, “they have to keep a fair image, since they’re such a big conglomerate. You remember the company Monaca works for? Bought out years ago.”
“Of course,” mused Bulma, “Monaca! Why didn’t we just call him?!”
“Ooooh, that might be hard, his number doesn’t have its own commercial jingle,” jeered Jaco, continuing to mock Bulma for her choice in frequency earlier. “Compensation; get the works! Call 6.7 gigahertz.”
Bulma stood up slowly. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to go and check his oxygen.” She was almost to the airlock when 18 grabbed her.
“Bulma... he’s probably kidding... why would they even be Metric?”
“Hey, Mr. Jaco?” asked Trunks, “Why did they tow it a different direction from the one it came from?”
“Are you asking about this moon, or the Cryothak?”
“The Cryothak,” specified Trunks, “if it’s the only one of its kind that you know of, shouldn’t you try to send it back home?”
“I... don’t think it has a home,” admitted Jaco, “we’re sending it in a direction where it won’t cause any more damage to habited worlds any time soon, and it can just do what it likes to any little astral bodies passing by. Also, maybe it wouldn’t be fair to hurl it straight towards the black hole at the center of this galaxy.”
“OK,” said Trunks, “but if you ever find another one, you could track the first one and help them meet, right?”
“We could try, if it isn’t too dangerous to them both. They may not react the way you’d hope.”
“I think they’d want to meet again, after a long time far away from each other,” Trunks said confidently, “because everything comes from somewhere.”
Supreme Kai Shin sneezed. Kibito handed him a handkerchief.
[Yeah, you’re PROBABLY meant to pity the Cryothak. It’s an abandoned and forgotten experiment, and is therefore unlikely to have a sequel. “Supreme Kai! Supreme Kai! I think I’ve got something that’ll really raise our mortal level this time!” “Really, East Kai? Is it another one of your parasitic wasps?” (Somewhere, a Dragon Ball fanfic loving entomologist is rolling on the floor laughing.)]
“Bulma, are you sure you installed it near where you’re standing?” came Dr. Briefs’ voice, “I’m having trouble getting a matching signature back.”
“Installed what? Wait, do you mean the retroreflector?” replied Bulma over her father trying to answer, “your retroreflector!” The delay was beginning to affect conversation.
“Sorry, Dad, I haven’t put it up yet!” she called back to him, peeling the capsule off the dashboard, her gloves making it difficult, “I thought we were going to wait until they were done pulling us!” she shouted exactly while her father was saying, “oh, for goodness’ sake, why not?!”
Both paused awkwardly. “Now is the perfect time to measure the distance, to see when it’s safe for them to stop!” Dr. Briefs finally replied exactly while Bulma declared, “heading out now!” She had almost forgotten her oxygen in a rush.
She stepped out of the ship, oxygen thankfully flowing. “I’ve got a good view of the Earth out here, Dad! Uh, over!” she said with a smile. The capsule was hard to throw, on account of the remaining tape residue, but she hurled it in time to avoid the signature but silent poof.
Trunks hadn’t seen this device yet. It was smaller than he was. There was a thick rectangular plate full of round holes on the front, over a more solid metal sheet. It reminded him of a mesh park bench, but was shaped like the brake petal of a car. Everyone gathered around to look at it.
“Our new Lunar Retroreflector,” Bulma said proudly, “Dad set up a ruby laser back at the villa, which only emits light at a certain frequency. So, once he detects a matching photon back, he’ll know it could only have come from the laser light bouncing back.”
“Is he shining it at us now?” Trunks asked.
It took two seconds to get an answer. “I sure am!”
“Then why can’t I see it?”
“Over this distance, most of it would have diffused,” Bulma explained, “but even if one photon makes it back to Dad, that’s enough to calculate distance—“
“Because the speed of light is always the same, right?” Trunks interrupted, “and the atmosphere just diffuses it, it doesn’t slow it down.”
“That’s right!” said Bulma happily, “just multiply the speed of light by whatever the time delay is, and you get distance! Round trip, of course.”
“Wait a sec,” asked 18, “isn’t the laser light coming at us at an angle? Do you need to adjust the angle of that device, then?”
“If it was just a mirror, then yes,” Bulma answered, “but this is a retroreflector. Normally, the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection of light, of course. But a retroreflector can bounce light in a lot more directions. I built this one myself, of course, but it’s nothing special. It’s actually very similar to the ones that were put on the old moon, ever since we Earthlings first set foot on it.”
“Because if you can bounce light back from the moon, then it’s proof that somebody went!” Krillin realized, “and you keep track of how far away it is whenever you want, right?”
“Until it gets blown up,” sighed Bulma, “by someone who doesn’t care if it leaves any debris behind....”
“I’m still not getting anything back from your reflector, Bulma!” Dr. Briefs grumbled.
“Can I try?” asked Mai.
“Hm? Oh, sure. That’s Bulma’s location, and these knobs here adjust the angle, and this button fires a pulse of the laser. Now, this display shows all the light frequencies we’re getting back, but we need one that matches—“
“Got it!” declared Mai.
“Oh! My goodness, on your first try?!”
[I researched this on Wikipedia. Scientists compare getting a laser to hit a retroreflector to trying to shoot a moving dime three blocks away. Any astrophysicist reading this would wonder if Mai is a really good sniper or just incredibly lucky. The answer, of course, is yes.]
“So I guess that makes this moon just like the old one now,” said Trunks, “and this retroreflector proves we were here, and that this moon is ours now.” He stared back at the Earth intensely.
“Want to howl at it?” joked Krillin, watching him.
“Please don’t,” pleaded Shu.
“I’m... going to have to step it up,” Trunks said quietly, “I need to be more of a grown up, once it’s my turn to protect Earth.”
“Hey, don’t worry. You won’t be doing it alone,” Bulma promised.
“You got that right,” added Krillin, “it may look empty down there from here, but that planet is crawling with friends, family, and allies who’ve got your back.”
“I’ll be here waving at you with this ruby laser, Trunks!” exclaimed Mai after two seconds, “think of it as the red thread of fate, connecting us!”
“Ew, Mai!” spluttered Trunks.
“So much for being more of a grownup,” chuckled 18.
“See?” said Chichi, “nothing to worry about!”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all!” the Ox-King spluttered, “I’m saying, that boy with that Nyoibo is dangerous! If Goten doesn’t have his guard up for just a second—“
“Dad, listen to yourself!” Chichi exclaimed. She paused.
“Listen to you, too! Chichi... what happened to us?”
Chichi blinked. She turned back to the window. “Gohan finally understood me today. He apologized, for worrying me. Except... I haven’t worried about Gohan in over a year. Ever since meeting Pan, it occurred to me. Gohan turned out fine. He has a job, a life, and a family of his own. In spite of all my worrying and controlling—“
“Not in spite of it!” the Ox-King insisted, “because of it! How would he have turned out without you? He wouldn’t have known what a normal person even was.”
The Ox-King looked back out the window at Goten. “I get it. Goten is strong. Much stronger than his dad was at that age. But you need to make sure he keeps one foot on the ground. Metaphorically, anyway,” he corrected.
“OK... you’re right. I’m not done parenting yet,” declared Chichi, “He won’t have the choice to be a normal man if I don’t teach him how.”
Chichi burst outside. Goten and Nypo were staring each other down, Nyoibos in hand.
“Goten! Are you caught up on your homework? You still have that book report, don’t you?!”
Two hours later, the group was back in their same positions, only with slightly longer shadows behind them. Gohan thought that Goten looked kind of cool wearing their father’s old rope holster after Piccolo had fixed it up.
“You shouldn’t complain about researching historical conditions faced by authors; you’re lucky to have a brother who has a library in his pocket,” remarked Nypo, “in my day, the library was a day’s ride.”
“It’s called a smartphone,” explained Goten, “Mom promised I could have one for high school.” Gohan took the hint, and pulled it out to start recording.
“A telephone...” mused Nypo before grinning, “I was right! Ha, I knew they would shrink those, too! Those old fools...”
“Can we go over the rules again?”
[“Really, Sedina? Another fight during the falling action?” First of all, it’s “Sedna”. You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Second, the story didn’t have enough of that Toriyama feel yet. I wanted to cram as much Toriyama thinking into this fight as possible, so I came up with a list of bullet points with very little flow to link them up. Needless to say, writing this scene was hard. I actually thought that this was where my dream of completing this draft would die. So I’m begging you, please keep reading.]
Nypo nodded. “A fair duel. No accepting outside help until the duel is over. Because killing is not allowed, the duel ends when one of us disarms the other, or absorbs his Nyoibo. If by mistake I should kill you, the Nyoibo will go to your next of kin.” He gestured to Gohan, who raised his eyebrows. “If I should perish, I ask Dende-sama to return the Nyoibo to Mr. Popo.”
“So I’m here for that reason, too, as well as healing,” Dende surmised. Nypo had said Dende would be needed for this. Nypo nodded. It seemed obvious that healing would be needed. “Remember, give no outside help until the duel is over. All three of you must ensure that the rules are followed, and the fight is fair.”
“What about chi? Am I allowed to fly or shoot?” asked Goten.
“You are only prohibited from killing me.”
“Oh. I guess that answers the question about whether I can use punches or kicks.”
“You can try,” Nypo said with a grin. Gohan and even Piccolo seemed puzzled by his cocky attitude.
“This guy’s got a plan,” Goten said with certainty, “he wouldn’t have challenged me if he didn’t.”
Piccolo blinked. Was this the same boy who had underestimated Majin Buu six years before, now being cautious about a human carrying a magic stick? Perhaps it was the rules that were concerning him. If Goten killed Nypo, he would lose his right to the Nyoibo.
“You know you don’t have to accept the duel,” Dende reminded Goten. Nypo glared.
“Don’t worry. I won’t back down,” Goten said confidently. He drew the pole, trying to remember the grip Nypo had taught him.
[So you wanna play with magic? Boy, you should know what you’re falling for. Goten, do you dare to do this? ‘Cause he’s coming at you like a Dark Horse.]
“Now I understand,” said Piccolo, pulling Gohan away as he murmured, “this is the first opponent since Trunks whom Goten has been able to respect and learn from.”
“Huh?!” blurted Gohan, “I mean, he got me, sure, but Goten explained that when it’s too small to see, the wielder is like part of it, so their chi is in it. Goten’s not going to make that same mistake.”
“Neither is Nypo,” pointed out Piccolo. “Nypo’s mind is as sharp as his blade, and Goten is eager to learn from him. But if Nypo can adapt just as quickly, he could take back control of the fight.”
Gohan pondered this as he focused the camera on Nypo. Dende glided up to join them.
“Begin!” shouted Dende, assuming it was his job to act as an officiant.
Goten formed multiple after-images in a wide ring around Nypo. Nypo expected some mocking ones, doing handstands or blowing raspberries, but all of Goten’s poses were guarded or carefully tucking away his Nyoibo, all intently staring down Nypo.
Nypo straddled the pole and rocketed upwards, forming a seat underneath him. Multiple arches curved out the top like bent fan blades, but quickly filled in, becoming full wedges. Goten stretched his Nyoibo, pushing it between two wedges, avoiding being crushed. Before Nypo could follow up, Goten kicked off the ground and seemingly vanished.
“Not it!” blurted Goten, flying towards the woods.
Nypo pole-vaulted after him. “Familiar territory for you, isn’t it? Not a bad strategy.”
It was early autumn. The ground would be covered in a thick layer of dry leaves, and jumping too forcefully into the trees would cause more to fall with a loud shake. Goten, with his mobility, would have the advantage of stealth here.
Nypo heard a brush of leaves and quickly extended the pole. A pterodactyl slowly flew away with an angry screech. Nypo scowled.
He peered through the trees, trying to think of an advantageous spot where Goten could have gone. Goten must have played in these woods many times as a child. Nypo found himself walking in a direction he hadn’t remembered consciously choosing. The path between the trees wasn’t a straight line, but the footing was easy, with a strange lack of rocks or tree roots to stumble upon. He kept trying to listen for Goten, all while wondering what it was about this one path that had compelled him. He almost didn’t notice his foot start to drop. The tall grasses had hidden the edge of a cliff.
Of course, Nypo thought.
The tree line had grown well past what used to be a meadow, and the branches had become thicker and more numerous, but it still felt to Nypo as if he had been here yesterday. This was the same cliffside where he had nearly killed the elder Son Gohan, and was sealed away instead. This was where the rebellious Son Goku had suffered an injury that left him with amnesia, changing his personality. Apparently fates changed at this spot, because this was where the hunter would become the hunted.
A Nyoibo shot up from under the cliff, beginning to fork into the eight branches of the Hydra. Nypo vaulted over them, flipping over the cliff. He noticed Goten, hovering just under the cliff edge. Nypo attempted to pin him, but Goten parried. Nypo retracted, needing to cushion his fall, and swung gracefully into the creek bed.
Goten jumped down from above, his Nyoibo shaped like a baseball bat, aiming for Nypo’s right arm. Nypo parried, but was pushed by the force of the attack. He bent his knees and front-flipped over Goten, and landed a kick inside Goten’s right knee. Goten started to crumple, and extended the Nyoibo to push himself back up. Nypo jabbed his pole into Goten’s left Achilles’ tendon. Again, Goten crumpled, and had to use chi to push himself upright. The movement was slow, giving Nypo time to aim for Goten’s right thumb. Nypo shaped the Nyoibo into a thin hook, catching Goten’s thumb and pulling it just enough for the Nyoibo to wriggle loose.
“Ah!” Goten exclaimed, but formed a red band around the back of his hand, and then shaped the Nyoibo into a curved sword. Nypo retracted the hooked end. Goten swung, aiming for Nypo’s left shoulder, but Nypo easily blocked the blade, pulling his left arm back to hold the pole in both hands. Goten pushed the blade harder. Nypo gave him a bored look.
“Even if a Nyoibo could cut another Nyoibo, what good would it do?” Nypo asked rhetorically. He stomped on Goten’s knee and back flipped away from him. Goten lunged forward to stab. Nypo kicked up his feet and formed the Nyoibo into a wall full of holes underneath him. The sword became caught in one. Nypo jumped down onto it as Goten made it thinner again to pull out. Nypo slid away, but Goten quickly realized that Nypo’s Nyoibo was around his wrist like a bracelet.
“That speed of yours means nothing, if you make it so obvious how you’re going to move,” Nypo scolded. Goten’s expression changed from horrified to dumbfounded as his wrist was released.
“I’ve trained with all manner of melee weapons,” Nypo continued, “dagger, spear, flail, candelabra, shovel... have you practiced the use of weapons for even one hour?”
“He... let him go?” Gohan was dumbstruck.
“This hasn’t been the sort of duel Nypo wanted,” Dende explained, “not yet, anyway.”
Goten tried extending faster, but was parried again. Nypo wrapped his Nyoibo around Goten’s and tried to absorb it before Goten nervously retracted it. Goten scowled before taking off up the cliff to regroup.
“Perhaps you weren’t ready to fight me as Nyoibo user Son Goten?!” called out Nypo, extending his way out of the creek bed as he added, “fight me with your own strengths. What assets does Son Goten have that Nypo does not?”
The moment Nypo landed back at the top of the cliff, a Hydra pinned him to the ground. Goten carefully shrunk it as he swooped down. Nypo grunted, entwining his Nyoibo into the ground to make it harder to pull away. Goten reached with his left hand for Nypo’s abdomen. What followed was a horrifying campaign of tickle torture.
“Eeeheheheheh!” shrieked Nypo. It was an unsettling sound that made Piccolo cringe.
“Well... he is losing air in his lungs,” pointed out Dende.
“As a non-fatal tactic for stopping an opponent, this seems surprisingly effective,” Gohan agreed.
[This is actually how a young Goku “disarmed” Korin.]
Goten suddenly heard a nearby tree creak loudly. “Ack!” blurted Goten, instinctively pulling away from the mass of branches tumbling onto the pair. Nypo was released, and rolled, back facing up, avoiding most of the impact.
“He was quickly able to spot that this particular tree had decayed somewhat,” Dende realized, “so he would have an easier time pulling it down.”
“Goten was hoping to make use of this terrain,” added Piccolo, “but there’s nothing to stop Nypo from doing the same.”
Nypo rolled over again and kicked himself to his feet. Goten swerved around the branches. A Nyoibo sprouted from the ground in front of Goten in a strange shape. It looked like a human face with hallowed eyes, a crooked nose, and broken but sharp teeth. Goten faltered for less than half a second before kicking it on the upper lip, bending the shape.
“Guess you’re not like the village children,” Nypo complained as he retracted with an upward tugging motion, hopping backwards. Goten continued to charge Nypo, only to see the red pole appear out of nowhere, right in front of his face. His eyes followed it upwards and backwards, noting the significant bend.
“Elastic ten—“ Gohan almost blurted out before covering his mouth.
With a loud snap, Goten was hurled up and over the trees. He stopped in midair with a skidding motion. He was still puzzled over how he hadn’t seen the Nyoibo until he was right in front of it.
“Nypo shrunk it down as he pulled it into a tight bend,” Dende commented.
“So he was able to create that elastic tension while making it too small to notice,” Gohan reasoned.
Nypo prepared another flyswatter, which Goten dodged before it struck the ground. Nypo swerved behind a tree to avoid Goten’s next strike. Nypo ran along the edge of the tree line. Goten fired a blast, creating a crater in Nypo’s path. Goten had made sure he wouldn’t hit him, but the pause had given Nypo time to vault up a tree. Goten shot another blast near the top of the tree. As Nypo fell, Goten prepared to kick him. Nypo pulled the Nyoibo behind him, shaping it like a sledgehammer. When it was right over Goten, he increased the size.
“Force equals mass times acceleration,” remarked Gohan, as Goten landed but formed a crater under him, “he kept the acceleration, but increased the mass right before he struck.”
[Feel free to imagine a cartoonish sound effect for that blow.]
Goten had landed on his feet, but was slow in standing fully upright. Nypo was already up in another tree, readying his next move. By the time Goten was under the tree, a giant red horse’s leg appeared from above him, almost stomping on Goten’s hair before hitting the dusty earth with a ka-CLOMP.
“What the—“ blurted Gohan before a second leg followed, landing in the wooded side of the tree line with another ka-CLOMP. Nypo jumped onto the newly formed horse’s rear end, holding what looked like some strands of tail hair. As Goten zoomed between trees, the horse’s rear chased him down, knocking over many trees in the process. Goten didn’t like the idea of having to dodge trees and the horse, and flew back into the clearing.
“Is my brother being chased by the back half of a horse?” Gohan asked, hoping to confirm his own sanity.
“You expected your little brother to be in a normal fight?” came the rhetorical question from the green man who could regrow his limbs.
Dende kept his attention fixed on the mare, mouth slightly agape as its torso burst out, quickly followed by its front legs, and then a longer pause, changing its direction and continuing to chase after Goten with newfound speed, before the head and neck appeared. Goten moved in zigs and zags, assuming that moving upward would be met with an increase in size or random protruding spikes.
“It’s exquisite,” Dende said at last.
Goten hurriedly erected a giant Goten, arms outstretched to stop the charging mare. In comparison to Nypo’s creation, it looked like a vaguely Goten-shaped blob, but it was enough to stop the mare. The mare stepped back and shook its head side to side, as if it had actually felt the force of the impact. Goten’s creation, meanwhile, began to topple forward, its center of gravity too far down its outstretched arms. Goten retracted the arms and sprouted them again at the giant Goten’s sides, while the mare mockingly flicked its head up.
“You can change its shape, but you can’t actually move it, right?” called out a bored Nypo.
“Is there some kind of expert technique for that?” mused Piccolo.
“Well, we aren’t allowed to advise Goten, but I supposed explaining it would come too late to help him now,” Dende decided, “he wouldn’t have time to master that complicated internal structure.”
“Internal structure...,” mused Gohan, “wait, did he replicate its entire musculoskeletal system too?!”
“He must have either studied and copied the entire inner workings of these creatures, or created his own,” Dende reasoned, “there must be about a hundred interlocking components. Parts that bind, parts that stay fixed, parts that stretch and contract like real muscle... he’s carefully moving these parts in sync to make the creature run, stop, change direction.”
“But to learn that,” gasped Piccolo, “must have taken him years—“
“Nineteen months,” corrected Nypo, as Goten busied himself fidgeting with his copy, trying to retract and regrow its legs with proper timing to resemble walking.
“Nineteen months that could have been spent training, meditating, stretching his muscles—“ Piccolo was cut off.
“Even before the Mafuuba, I was already insane,” Nypo smiled proudly, “such a huge waste that could have been prevented if someone had simply lied to me, claiming to be my father, or that my father was dead. Even after showing this to the village, not one man came forward to claim me. Do any of you know what that’s like?!”
Piccolo looked at Gohan, who looked back at Piccolo.
“I believe such vain expressions of human emotions in physical form are what you would call ‘art’,” suggested Dende.
Goten suddenly looked serious. “It means more to him than that.” The head of the giant Goten inflated like a balloon, its mouth growing wide, towering over the horse. “It’s not just about finding out who his father is. He’s been worrying all this time about what his father THINKS about him!” The mouth crashed over the horse. Nypo hurriedly retracted the whole thing before his Nyoibo could be absorbed. He couldn’t hope to win if it became a battle of larger and larger sizes trying to enfold each other. Goten’s strength could support a larger Nyoibo than he could.
[Father-son relationships, so universal and yet so different on each case by case basis. Maybe that’s why they’re so compelling, even in an empty-headed action show like Dragon Ball. I bet you were so enthralled with it that you completely missed me stealing another Team Four Star joke— whoops!]
Goten’s Nyoibo was still large, looking more serpentine than Goten-shaped. “Let’s see if you have a counter for this yet.” The Nyoibo started to look convincingly like Shenron. Nypo froze. “Aah-ah!” he exclaimed as the still-forming dragon’s tongue lashed out, scraping Nypo’s cheek. Nypo had been staring not at the Nyoibo but at Goten. “Must I explain the Unspoken Rule?! Don’t hold it so low!”
“Huh?” asked Goten, cradling his long serpentine Nyoibo at the level of his inguinal area, “why not?”
“What unspoken rule?” asked Dende, “is something unfair about Goten’s grip?”
Piccolo and Gohan went red in the face, despite Piccolo’s purple blood. “I thought this should have been self evident to humans,” Piccolo stammered.
“It’s more my fault than his at this point,” admitted Gohan.
[Of course a clan of Nyoibo wielders would need a rule against holding one near the crotch, especially since some of them can make whatever shape comes to mind. “But Senda! That’s something we would expect from Goku; Goten’s going through the public school system!” First of all, it’s “Sedna”. Second, exactly. Some things are assumed to be taught at home. And when it comes to raising Saiyans, with their long childhoods and disinterest in dating, it’s hard to know when to give one “the talk”. But hopefully I convinced you that you want to see this animated.]
Nypo kicked himself upright as Goten begrudgingly lifted the Nyoibo, supporting his right hand with his left.
Nice grip, thought Nypo, for brushing one’s teeth. Goten’s thumb was along the length of the pole, rather than fixing his fingers into place. Not that it mattered, with his strength.
The dragon grew, obscuring Goten. Nypo wrapped himself in Nyoibo armor, preparing for impact. The dragon seemed to stop. Nypo extended the Nyoibo under his feet to spring back. He still couldn’t see Goten, slowly blowing a gray substance out of his mouth.
“Is that the Super Ghost Kamikaze attack?” whispered Gohan.
“It is,” Piccolo whispered back as the gray blob shaped itself like Goten, “but I thought he needed the magical influence from the fusion dance to pull it off.” Goten checked that the Ghost was finished before blowing another one.
“While it’s true that the fusion dance is a spell,” Dende explained, “the Super Ghost Kamikaze attack is entirely about chi control. Think of it as a variation of the Multi-form technique.”
[I hope I’m right. I’d hate to lose a plot point, even a small one, just from misinterpreting the canon.]
Goten quickly whispered instructions to each Ghost. Piccolo smiled, but Gohan couldn’t hear what Goten was saying. At one point, he saw Goten hold up two fingers.
He’s plotting something else, thought Nypo, if he wanted to swing that thing down or use Anantzi, he could have done so by now.
Nypo kept the armor up, but extended underneath himself, trying to get the height advantage. Finally, he could see Goten, and—
“Nya ha ha ha!”
“Agh?!”
The Ghost gave Nypo a “hug” and then exploded. The armor had mostly shielded him, but he was sore, and the force of the explosion knocked him off balance.
The second Ghost swooped over to a canyon, peeked up at Nypo, and then slipped inside. It couldn’t go all the way down or risk touching the sides of the chasm, but it was mostly shielded from view.
“It worked,” whispered Dende, “Nypo has no idea there’s a second one waiting.”
Nypo knew he had no time to relax. The enormous dragon still towered over him. Goten swung down. Nypo couldn’t get up and run in time. He extended the Nyoibo under him again, trying to dodge to the left, but one foot was caught.
“The armor wasn’t enough,” Dende informed the other observers as Goten retracted the dragon to look over him, “his right ankle is broken.”
“Good,” replied Gohan, “that ought to throw off his concentration.”
“You mean the man who memorized a horse?” asked Piccolo. Gohan shrugged.
“Well, he’s lost any possible advantage of movement. It can’t be easy to move in that armor as is,” Gohan remarked.
“That’s a technique my friend Trunks helped me develop,” Goten admitted.
Nypo breathed heavily. “Don’t expect Nypo to lose to you,” he panted, “in originality, or in anything!”
The Nyoibo puffed out, large and bulbous, in front of him. Goten held out his left palm to catch it, but his arm seemed to sink into it, followed by the rest of his body. “Ah!” he gasped as the puffy Nyoibo touched his own.
“He softened it!” shouted Dende.
“Of course!” Gohan exclaimed, “if you can change its size and mass, then why not its density?!”
[“Why not?” continues to be the phrase guiding this story.]
Goten punched and kicked the puffy red blob as best he could, turning his own Nyoibo into a bat to punch it away, and then a machete. The red mass started to drip away, like it was melting.
“Runny,” Dende observed, “viscous....”
Goten tried to pull away, only to find strings of Nyoibo attaching to his body.
“Sticky!” exclaimed Dende.
“Incredible,” gasped Piccolo, “that kid and his magic staff can be more adaptable than us Namekians.”
Goten could feel his Nyoibo getting pulled away from him. He had no choice, he thought, as chi flared up around him.
“Ha!”
Goten glowed as energy poured out in all directions, blasting the resin away.
“Aaauuuuuugh!” Nypo howled.
Goten’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting the stringy Nyoibo to conduct the flow of chi back to Nypo.
“Are you OK?!” blurted Goten, desperately hoping he hadn’t killed him.
Nypo shook. He had expected a direct hit with chi to feel like fire or electricity, but it felt more like it had penetrated his body, trying to crumble it away.
[Again, I’m reaching a bit.]
Goten tentatively approached him before he held up his palm to motion him back. Nypo extended the Nyoibo to just under a meter and started... dancing?
“Has he lost his mind?” Piccolo murmured as Nypo twirled his “baton” every which way, over one shoulder, the other shoulder, inward, outward.
“Don’t you humans have a saying,” Dende asked, “about the calm before the storm?”
“Don’t... pity...” Nypo said at last, before slamming the golden capped end into the barren earth. Goten’s eyes traveled up from the cap, along the pole, to the tip.
“...Nypo!”
Red spikes filled the arid terrain. Goten was off like a shot.
“Wait, he can extend through that gold part?” asked Gohan.
“He was toying with Goten’s expectations,” Dende explained, “there’s a thin red band down the back, behind Goten’s line of sight, extending around the bottom of the Nyoibo and into the ground.”
“He completely hid where his next attack was coming from,” Piccolo realized.
Goten swerved upward, but the spikes grew higher.
“Using the ground to obscure the Nyoibo, Goten can’t see the full extent of where it’s spreading, to have any idea of where it’s about to move,” Dende continued.
“And we can’t sense the Nyoibo, unless he synchronizes with it,” Gohan added.
Goten moved down and back in among the spikes, only for the vertical spikes to grow horizontal ones. Goten’s pants were caught. He flew faster, tearing a gash in them.
“Nypo’s getting serious now,” Dende murmured.
“So was the rest just to size up Goten?” asked Piccolo.
Dende shrugged. “It was probably all just for show.”
Goten grew the Nyoibo into a shield to block more spikes, giving him more room to dodge back upward.
“Must I put up a ceiling?!” growled Nypo mockingly.
Goten formed an entire ball around himself, with small holes for vision and a pair of handles he could hold. He quickly felt himself being swatted away, forcefully bouncing twice before Goten pulled back up. That was going to leave a bruise.
[Pinball sound effects are acceptable, but a better choice would be Sesame Street counting up to twelve.]
Goten retracted again. I keep trying to find a safe place to go, he thought, but he keeps driving me away! Goten extended out towards him, trying to attack, but Nypo grew another spike in its path. Goten bent the Nyoibo around it, only for another to grow. He tried going over, and the spikes grew taller.
If he keeps me at a distance, Goten thought, he has time to react to every move. That’s why he keeps driving me away. But the only safe place I could go is...
Goten’s eyes went to the clearest part of the battlefield: the area directly around Nypo. Goten adjusted his shield and dove straight for Nypo.
“He’s seen it,” said Piccolo jubilantly, “I didn’t have to tell him by mistake.”
Goten was protected from every spike that could keep him from reaching Nypo. A strange grimace formed on Nypo’s face before he looked visibly angry.
“You pesky little gnat!” Nypo growled.
Goten flew past the last line of spikes guarding Nypo and swerved around him to kick.
“That’s it’s weakness!” shouted Goten. The kick connected with Nypo’s spine.
“Alright!” shouted Gohan.
“Finally, he’s taking control of this fight!” declared Piccolo as Goten delivered blow after blow, twisting around Nypo, never moving more than a decimeter away from him.
“Can’t use armor because it restricts your mobility, and there’s nothing else you can do against an opponent who sticks to you like glue, right?!” Goten rattled off as Nypo’s spine was crushed, right humerus broken, left eye bloodied. Nypo clenched the pole limply in his right arm, seeming to shake as he tried to transfer it, but his left hand was hidden. Goten was about to punch Nypo’s other eye when Nypo extended his left arm.
“Eef!” gasped Goten, as a handful of sand was flung in his eyes. “Hey—“
“Don’t complain, boy,” grunted Nypo as he transferred the Nyoibo to his left hand with a broad motion, “only a naive child doesn’t know that trick.”
“I’m not a child, I’m thirteen!” protested Goten, closing his eyes and sensing Nypo, readying another kick.
“He’s erected another one—“ Dende murmured as a thin Nyoibo strand grew into a long plank, hurling Goten out and swatting him down.
- Plish*
- Clonk*
Goten was hurled into an almond-shaped pond at the base of a rocky hill, and the entire mouth was covered.
“GOTEN!” shouted Gohan in panic.
“Relax,” chided Nypo as he turned another extension underneath him into his signature mare, “he has just enough room to breathe.” Nypo allowed the mare to slowly carry him closer, while keeping the cover in place over the pond. “Room to maneuver, however...”
“Now that Goten’s discovered his weakness in melee-range combat, Nypo is using everything at his disposal to keep Goten away from him,” Piccolo surmised.
Goten swam up and took a deep breath, staring at the red ceiling over him. The air was humid and stuffy, and he would have to break out eventually before running out of air. Goten swam back down, plucking a smooth pebble off the bottom. He surfaced and threw it at the ceiling, the pebble shattering with a loud “pang”. A large red hollow cylinder crashed straight down from the source of the sound, nearly hitting Goten as it collided with the floor of the pond.
Goten thought, “he’ll be on me as soon as try to break through. Guess it’s time to use my ace in the hole.” Goten moved the Nyoibo to his left hand and extended through the wall of the pond. He examined his right hand as he held up two fingers.
Nypo watched the Nyoibo rise from a spot on the ground near the pond. He extended his own to it, preparing to try to absorb it, as it took on the shape of a giant arm, its hand holding up the same two fingers.
“Is he mocking me?!” Nypo thought.
Goten stretched the rest of his fingers and started charging energy, knowing Nypo wouldn’t sense it. Question is, thought Goten, how’s he gonna dodge it? I’ll be giving him plenty of time, and he’s probably going to leave a decoy somewhere in the dust. Then again, he’s pretty beaten up. Maybe he’ll stay there and use armor.
“Dodge it or block it, Colt, you have less than one second to decide!” Goten remembered Nypo mocking his mentor’s tone. “Or do both if you have to!”
Goten nodded. He’ll dodge, but he won’t go far, Goten thought, and once that armor’s off, he’ll be wide open.
Just when Nypo returned his attention to the pond, he heard a shout behind him.
“Weh heh heh heh heh!”
“Aaah!” shouted Nypo.
The second Super Kamikaze Ghost had seen the signal and attacked on cue.
Nypo pulled up his armor and extended the thin branch connecting himself to the pond cover to push off.
Goten fired, punching a wide hole through the cover.
The Ghost collided with the pole. Nypo felt the heat whoosh into the hole he had left for his eyes. Nypo changed trajectory, angling around the hill. Before he could search for a place to leave a decoy, he felt that terrible sensation again, like his body was about to crumble. Goten had escaped, tracked him, and fired a chi blast. Nypo let out a gasp and pulled away the armor. The sensation dissipated.
Goten charged, aiming for Nypo’s remaining good arm. Nypo stuffed the Nyoibo into his mouth as he took the hit. His arms and spine now broken, he wound a spiral around himself, and then stretched an extension around the rock hill.
“Just go unconscious already!” Goten practically pleaded as he kicked Nypo away from the hill. Nypo wanted to reply that this pain was nothing compared to making the dam earlier, but he couldn’t with the Nyoibo stuffed in his mouth. He could only stare up at Goten with a mad look in his eyes. He pushed himself further away from the hill. Goten suddenly heard the sound of crumbling rock. Goten turned around, and saw the cracks forming all over the hill. Goten put up a shield.
Piccolo clapped his hands over his mouth, keeping himself from saying anything, while Goten was completely covered in tumbling boulders. Once the rocks came to a rest, Goten was silent.
“He’s pretending to have been knocked unconscious,” Dende murmured, “he’s hoping to use Nypo’s trap to his advantage.”
“That Nypo will just use whatever he has left, won’t he?” remarked Gohan.
“You’re mistaken,” said Dende, “the rockslide was planned in advance. Every rock formation a kilometer around here has been hollowed out from below.”
“What?!” blurted Piccolo.
Nypo had withdrawn the spiral from around his body. His plain stub of Nyoibo was sitting between his teeth, golden cap facing his throat. Nypo kept careful watch as a basic Hydra formation burst from the rock pile. The Hydra was met with an “Anantzi” from Nypo, the eight bent branches clasping Goten’s.
Goten had plenty of energy left, and focused on his reserves of chi, slowly letting it flow into the metal. Nypo studied the formation formed by the two Nyoibos and pictured them as one elaborate unit. He pictured the shape fully in his mind and retracted. The entire shape came away, leaving a lengthy pole hanging from Nypo’s mouth.
Piccolo gasped.
“Goten!” shouted Gohan.
Energy glowed from between the rocks of the pile, and the boulders were flung away in all directions from Goten. Goten sprung forward just slightly, but then hung his head as he glided to the ground. He was empty-handed.
[Yeah. Take it in. Let yourself chew on that one for a bit. OK?
Right. Elephant in the room, maybe Goten in his base form could have been fast enough to zip in, grab the pole, and yank it away before Nypo could think of another shape for it. I have two lame counter arguments for that. For one, Goten probably thought he would need to move as precisely as possible not to kill Nypo from the sheer force of his fast movements; or two, it seemed too obvious and he would have thought Nypo would have planned for that.
There’s also the Cosmic Halo; get it around Nypo’s wrist and cut his hand off. Again, Goten would have been too afraid of killing Nypo. He may have been saving it as a last resort, but if Nypo stubbornly kept fighting with one hand gone, maybe he could have bled to death. More likely, though, he would have passed out from blood loss, giving Goten enough time to take the pole, and Dende time to heal Nypo. Perhaps that would have felt like a cheap win for Goten. Perhaps Goten was being the stubborn one and thought he could win it his way.
What really would have felt wrong to me, though, would be taking Goten up three pegs and leaving him there. At first, I thought about having Goten win, but he seemed overpowered from his high point of holding off the Cryothak. So there we go, back down two pegs for a net gain of one.]
Dende was the only one who didn’t land right next to Goten, rushing instead to Nypo to tend him yet again. “Your approach is effective in a duel, Nypo, but it would be too risky if you were fighting alone in a real battle. I can’t always be here to heal you.”
Nypo groaned.
“Still, you surpassed everyone’s expectations, especially Mr. Popo’s.” Dende chuckled. “A trivial matter, he claimed.”
“Oh, come on!” groaned Gohan. Goten said nothing.
“Goten, he set a trap for you, and you chose to remain inside it,” chastised Piccolo.
“I was trying to approach it like you would a tournament,” mumbled Goten, trying to wipe the mud off his face, “I thought I’d have him knocked out if I could just get that last chi attack off, or force him to let go.”
“You were focused on fighting fairly and not killing your opponent. He didn’t have those worries hanging over him,” pointed out Piccolo, “that, and his experience, were his main assets.”
“So then those rules to make it a fair fight did just the opposite!” Gohan complained.
“But I fought other humans in tournaments before,” Goten pointed out.
“Well, this was different than a tournament because the win conditions were different. Knocking him out would have been one way to win, but he kept his eyes on the prize. The focus for him was on absorbing the Nyoibo, which meant having you keep it still long enough for him to absorb it. It almost wasn’t a fight to begin with; it was a game of strategy. You have more experience in straight-up fights, but he has more experience in manipulating his opponents.” Piccolo finished as Dende had finished healing Nypo. Nypo plucked up the lengthy pole and used it to stand up.
“Gohan, go back through your footage,” requested Dende, “just when he was about to create the array of spikes through the landscape.” Gohan rewound the footage as Dende examined Goten for cuts and bruises.
“First, he scanned the horizon as he twirled it. He was surveying the landscape, looking for anything he could use to obstruct Goten. Next, he slammed the inert end piece to the ground in a way that would draw attention. One would presume he was about to hoist himself up, rather than attack underground. Then....” Gohan continued to play the footage. “He pushes them out and out, forcing Goten to keep away from him. This gives him time to hollow the rock formations from underneath.”
“He carved them out?” asked Goten.
“So he’d have an easier time knocking them onto you,” Gohan explained.
“Notice also that these spikes are not the sharpest ones he is capable of making. The sharpest ones have the advantage of not being noticeable, but since they require Nyoibo Synchronization, they would carry his chi, which you were on alert for, this time,” Dende said.
“I held back,” Nypo commented, “I too had no intention of killing you. Slicing your limbs off would have been my last resort.”
“Mine too,” said Goten, “I know a move that’s good for cutting through things.”
“There’s one more thing I want to show you,” Dende continued, “the formation of the spikes as Goten turned around to look at them. Notice the path his eyes followed. Don’t you find yourself looking at them the same way?”
Gohan’s eyes followed the spikes to the clearing around Nypo’s feet.
“...Perspective lines?!” blurted Gohan, “that’s how artists get you to look at specific things in a painting or photograph! Did he actually do that on purpose?!”
Nypo smiled. “I prefer distanced combat. I need time to respond to my opponent’s moves. I am weaker against an opponent who stays in melee range.” Nypo leaned on Gohan’s shoulder, swung his whole body over him, and quickly gave Gohan a roundhouse kick to the inner knee joint. Gohan barely moved, but he could understand how a human opponent would be knocked off balance.
[Saiyans have Zenkai boosts, but humans can only strengthen their bones and muscles, not their tendons and ligaments. Hence the targeted strikes to the joints and Achilles’ tendon.]
“...Those are the assumptions I wanted Son Goten to have,” Nypo explained in direct contradiction to his earlier statement, “I took more hits after that than I would have. Once I gave Goten the idea of what his strategy should be, I was able to make his moves predictable. I even warned him, his speed means nothing if I can predict his moves.”
“So you took that heavy damage just to trick him,” Piccolo couldn’t help but smirk, “you even had me fooled.”
“So my brother lost because you faked him out?!” Gohan’s hair was flicking gold before Goten reached up to him (thankfully after Dende had cleared away the mud all over him).
“How is it unfair? I could have done everything he did. I had a Nyoibo. I could have absorbed his. We had the same terrain. I could have used it against him. He used his brain. I could have done that. I had everything he had and I just... didn’t use it as well, because I didn’t think of it.” Goten looked down again. “If anything, I had an unfair advantage by being half-Saiyan, but he beat me anyway. Fair and square.”
“You were going easy on me,” Nypo admitted, pointing above his head, “you never once used that Golden power. Perhaps it didn’t seem fair if I couldn’t be taught that technique.” Goten simply nodded.
“So I could have learned everything you displayed in that fight?” Nypo gathered.
“As much as I could have learned every way you used the Nyoibo, like a moving horse or getting it stuck on me. Except... now....”
“Goten,” his brother tried to console him, “maybe you can get another chance. Challenge him to a rematch someday!”
“You’ve already grown a lot in the past six years I’ve worked with you,” Piccolo assured him, “you’ll continue to be an effective fighter, with or without that tool.”
“About that—“ Nypo was about to say before being interrupted by the sudden appearance out of thin air of Son Goku and Vegeta. Vegeta violently jerked his hand away from Goku.
“YOU ALMOST GOT US KILLED, KAKAROT!”
“Well, how was I supposed to know Trunks would be in space?” complained Goku.
“So you really did forget?” grumbled Vegeta as he scanned the evening sky, shielding his eyes instinctively from what turned out to be only a waxing gibbous still.
“Bulma’s moon thing!” Goku finally realized.
“Actually, I forgot too,” admitted Gohan.
“But, Vegeta, didn’t you tell me you’d treat me to lunch today if we went to go tag-team Beerus and Whis? Because that’s what distracted me fr—“ Vegeta covered Goku’s mouth and looked back up at the moon.
“Kakarot, listen carefully. And you half breeds as well. You are to remain far away from any sort of eclipses, do you understand? Do not look at any solar eclipse, partial, annular or total. And stay away from the blood moon. Go off-world if you have to. That goes for all three of you!” Vegeta folded his arms and took off.
“Uh...” Gohan struggled, “is there something about Saiyan biology or lore he isn’t telling us about? Because he didn’t make it clear what he was talking about.”
[What was Jeets thinking? Probably this: “Compensation? Get the works! Call 6.7–AARGH, damn it!”
So, the secret origin of the entire “capture a comet and make it the moon” subplot: fun with exobiology. Unfortunately, after all that time spent integrating that plot and getting our Pandora’s Box in place... we’re out of time to open it. I probably would have come up with something cliche anyway, like losing their powers or going into a mating season. Hopefully I can figure out something better before sequel time, if there is one.]
“That’s my best friend’s dad,” murmured Goten, still clearly in a funk over his loss.
Gohan fidgeted with his phone. “What are you doing?” asked Goku.
“Looking for an app for eclipses. He sounded serious, so—“
“So you’re looking for the eclipse schedule for a moon we only just got?” asked Piccolo.
“But they make apps for every— oh,” Gohan realized. “Wow, Nypo was right, I’m spoiled by this thing!” Dende chuckled as Goten forced himself to look up at the moon.
“Smaller than I thought it was going to be...” Goten muttered.
[First time in his life he gets to see it. All that talk about it may have inflated his expectations of how big and beautiful it was going to be. He might change his tune once he hears the tale about the symmetrical topography.]
“I see that you’re in no mood to introduce me to your father,” Nypo finally said.
“Oh, right. Nypo, this is my dad. Dad, this is Nypo. He’s a weapons and strategy expert from the Arapo clan.”
“Hi, Nypo,” Goku said with a friendly wave, “nice to meet’cha.”
Nypo bowed at the waist. “Son Kakarot, I—“
“Oh, no, that’s just my Saiyan name!” Goku corrected, “could you just call me Son Goku, please?”
[As awesome as it was that he ended the Super Broly movie by saying that Broly could call him Kakarot, it seems like something he’d only do out in space. When on Earth, he would probably prefer his Earth name, since it’s what the people of his adopted homeworld have always called him.]
Nypo remembered the old man chasing after the monkey-tailed boy. Of course. He survived his injuries in spite of him, and grew up to be the man he saw before him.
Goku looked at him, and then at everyone else. “Is he here because of all these gopher holes?” asked Goku, making the wrong assumption about the spike array. Goten could no longer hold back tears.
“Dad, I’m sorry! I lost your Nyoibo,” he admitted, “I was trying to get it back, and I even challenged him a second time, and I lost! I lost to him, dad.”
Goku took this in, staring at his son, and then long and hard at Nypo. Nypo felt uncomfortable with the long, curious glare, not realizing that Goku was attempting to read his chi. In terms of raw power, it ranked somewhere between Chichi’s and Videl’s, but the feeling was vaguely familiar.
“Are you related to Mr. Popo?” asked Goku at last.
“Ah, yes!” Nypo was startled a bit, “but only on my father’s side.”
Dende smiled at Piccolo and bent his head, telling him something telepathically. Piccolo looked flustered.
“Oh, he put me through the ringer!” Goku continued, “especially his training in the room of Spirit and Time. One day I’d be up against the Pilaf machine, but then another I’d have to fight King Piccolo or an Oozaru! And there was this one guy I could barely even be in the same room with! As soon as he stopped talking and started fighting, I thought I was—wait, was that Puipui?!”
[Goku, first rule!
My assumption was that the Hyperbolic Time Chamber is a different facility than the Room of Spirit and Time. One dilates time, the other sends you to fight people from other times and places. The latter turned out to simply be called the Pendulum Room. It only appears in episode 17 of Z, and is probably not Toriyama canon, but still plausible filler. And here I have Goku make the same mistake I used to, because Goku.
Puipui was a joke when he was introduced in the early Buu saga, but having Goku fight him between Piccolo sagas would have been pure torture for Goku. Seems like something Popo might do if Goku annoyed him enough.]
Nypo heard the sincerity in his voice. He was certain he was standing in the presence of someone incredible. For one, his sons had gotten used to his appearing out of thin air, and had become strong fighters themselves. This man, Son Goku, had been trained by Mr. Popo because he deserved it, and became a legend because of that training.
“Son Goku, you may not remember, but I made a mistake long ago, and another one today,” Nypo tried to apologize, “Son Goten... this in no way rectifies my mistakes, but...”
Nypo pointed the long pole skyward.
“...don’t miss,” Nypo smiled softly.
Goten’s eyes quickly turned from puzzled to excited. “You really mean it?!” Goten asked.
“He had every intention of giving you one, as long as you accepted his challenge,” Dende explained with certainty.
“For real?!” Gohan stared at Nypo, who nodded and smiled. “So all of that was for—“
“For his own sake,” Dende said as Goten traced a golden loop of energy in the air with his finger, “to see if he himself was worthy of keeping the Nyoibo.”
Goten tossed the Cosmic Halo over the pole and let it dig in halfway down the metal. “So if you lost, you would have given it up?!” Nypo smiled at him as the ring of energy squeezed through the metal with a loud metallic shriek. “Perhaps I would have given EVERYTHING up.”
“In the end, this was the best possible outcome,” said Dende, as Nypo caught the other piece, “both of you have grown stronger from this encounter.” Nypo compared the two pieces, each just under a meter, and threw the one with the gold cap to Goten.
“I am still uncertain of my worthiness,” Nypo said as he bent the pole around his neck. Goku noticed nothing odd about the motion, despite the lack of sound from the metal. “Perhaps I have been relying on this crutch for far too long.”
Piccolo finally gave himself permission to like the young man.
“You didn’t deserve to be kept alone in the dark for decades, Nypo. Not just so someone could keep a secret, and with it, his position of authority,” Piccolo told him.
Dende nodded. “He may not have been trying to lead you astray, but Popo will need to answer some questions from me... for your mother’s sake.”
Nypo shook.
[Let’s see... Nypo was born outside the village, went there at about age three to find his father who never came forward. Meanwhile, Popo never bothered to talk to him except to try to talk him out of attacking the elder Son Gohan, but when Nypo persisted, Popo resorted to the Mafuuba. Popo kept the bottle in the storeroom but had the Nyoibo stub on his person. Also, Piccolo, meaning Kami, had some vague recollection of a half-Arapo with the name Nypo, but Popo never spoke of how talented the boy was.
No need to call Maury for this one. Popo had been covering his own tracks this whole time. Technically Nypo was never lied to. He is related to Mr. Popo on his father’s side. He was never able to ask how directly.]
“Depending on the answers, or lack thereof,” Dende continued, “I may need to find a new guide.”
“You can’t replace Popo, he selected you!” Piccolo warned him.
“You can if you know the pecking order,” Dende winked.
“Korin,” Nypo grinned, “you’re a perceptive one.”
Piccolo shook.
[Pecking order: Dende, Popo, Kais, Korin, Yemma, Baba, Hakaishin, Zen-oh, angels, Super Shenron, that lost god that made him, Toyotaro, Toriyama, the big animation studios.]
“One cannot fire Korin if he has no position,” Nypo explained, “he is an excellent judge of strength and character, and rose to prominence on reputation alone. The rumor goes that he was the one who granted Popo his longer lifespan.”
Goku scratched his hair.
“It’s true, he knows how to test people,” pointed out Dende, “for instance, seeing if a brash young man would assist an overburdened elder and an endangered child, revealing his position to do so.”
Nypo hung his head. “I went to Korin, after Popo denied me. Korin claimed the old man would soon perish under the weight of a power he could not control. Perhaps that was all said just to test me, and see if I would consider that man disposable.”
“What’s he talking about?” asked Goten.
“An event that even Korin couldn’t have possibly foreseen,” chuckled Dende, “life is full of strange and unpredictable events. For instance, I tried to search for a maddened, creative creature all alone in the dark, and I found Nypo instead.”
Nypo couldn’t help but laugh.
Goku couldn’t help but notice the way Goten was staring at amazement at the golden-capped Nyoibo in his hands, holding it with as much care and awe as he used to hold his grandfather’s four-star ball.
“Gee, if I’d known you wanted one so much, I’d have given you mine,” Goku said, a little bit puzzled.
“I’ll show you a little later what I’ve been working on,” Goten said, struggling a little to sheath it behind him. Nypo chuckled.
“I just gave a Nyoibo to a boy who can’t even use a holster.” Goten glared at him. He never took jokes at his expense very well.
“I made the decision before I issued my challenge. The result only strengthened my resolve,” stated Nypo, “You showed restraint, respect, and understanding for an opponent who didn’t deserve pity. You even figured out my true motivation to fight. Experience will come with time and practice, Son Goten. I can think of no one more worthy of protecting the Nyoibo.”
Goten blushed. Goku bent down and whispered, “I guess you went easy on him, but he figured that out?”
“He’ll figure anything out,” Goten replied, “he’s the smartest guy I ever fought.”
“If you lost to me, you’ll be in trouble against an even smarter opponent,” Nypo warned.
“I know,” Goten nodded, “but I’ll plan in advance next time.”
“Then I’ll train enough to survive a real killing blow,” Nypo replied.
“Looks like Goten isn’t the only one who’s aiming to become a more well-rounded fighter,” Piccolo observed.
Gohan gave the group a sad smile. Gohan wouldn’t need to be the one protecting Goten for much longer. If that morning was any indication, it would be Goten’s role to protect Gohan, and the rest of planet Earth. Gohan could step back and live that normal family life he had always wanted, but it felt wrong to leave the burden to the little brother he thought would never surpass him. There was no doubt in his mind. One day, sooner or later, Goten would be stronger than him.
[It’s that motivation thing. Goten and Trunks want to get stronger, not to fit in. Gohan only wanted to fight just enough to keep the peace, no more and no less.]
Chichi drove up, almost as suddenly as Goku had appeared. “Hey, guys, I’m back from the post office!”
“Huh?” asked Gohan.
Chichi thrust several sheets of stamps and some envelopes to Nypo. “Just take it and don’t complain,” huffed Chichi. She looked at Goku. “And look who finally showed up! Let me guess, Beerus’s place?”
“Don’t look at me, it was Vegeta’s idea!” Goku pointed out.
Gohan looked at Nypo, who was carefully folding the stamps and sliding them into his vest pockets. “You see, Son Gohan, meeting your mother made me realize the full extent of my mistake. I had been in regular correspondence with my mother, but now—“
“She probably hasn’t heard from you in years!” Gohan realized. Nypo sighed.
“Meeting with her in person would only shock her if I do so before I am fully grown. But I must make my amends to her in any way I can. I had taken her for granted, even before.”
Chichi put her hands on her hips triumphantly. “I hope you find some honest work and buy more stamps yourself.”
“I will endeavor to do so, even while training.”
“Your goal is to train on the Lookout some day, right?” Dende asked him.
“One day, when I am worthy, Dende-sama” agreed Nypo.
“It’s not a question of being worthy. I just need to know that you’re ready first. You’ll be the death of me if I have to keep healing you as much as I have already,” Dende chastised, “luckily, I know someone who could assess you. He trained on the Lookout for nearly a year, and you’ve already been acquainted. If he decides to take you on as a student, I’ll make sure to pay all the needed fees to the dojo. Just don’t be disrespectful to your new sensei. I know you have trouble respecting your superiors.”
“You are too kind, Dende-sama,” Nypo bowed, rather than making any promises.
[Does that get you hyped? Nypo, learning the Tien Shin style? Becoming the star student Tien needed to goad the others on? I can already picture Tien being impressed with his student’s success after Nypo fires his first mouth blast. “That was a spectacular breakthrough, Nypo... albeit an inelegant one.” “Sensei, how would you continue to fight if you ever lost the use of your arms?” “...Probably like this.” (Tien sprouts two extra arms, ripping out the back of his robe.) “You are truly the picture of elegance, sensei.]
“And another thing. You never listened to the first thing I told you,” Dende scolded.
Nypo tried to think back to their first meeting on the Lookout. Dende prompted him.
“I told you to just call me Dende,” he reminded him, “if you can’t listen to me, it may sour our friendship.”
Nypo gasped.
“I consider you a friend, Nypo. Someone I can trust and rely on,” Dende assured him, “and in return, although I’m not a fighter, I am very protective of my friends. We may need each other in due time.” He gave Piccolo a stern look. “It concerns a series of enchanted relics. I’ll explain on the way.”
“Allow me to say my goodbyes before we go,” pleaded Nypo. Goku was already looking bored, until he saw Goten step forward and bow.
“You are... your father’s reflection,” Nypo began.
Goten sighed.
“His greatness reflects upon you, and your achievements reflect his parenting and genetics. You must endeavor to improve each other’s reputation—“
Goten shook his head and took a step back.
“You know a lot of things, Nypo, but you’re wrong about that one,” Goten stated, “I’m not just a copy of my dad, because it wasn’t my dad who lost that fight any more than it was my dad who stopped that monster. Just like I’m not the one who stopped Buu, or made the mistake that got him released in the first place. What dad does isn’t what I do, so his successes and failures aren’t mine. I follow his example, but he doesn’t make the choices for me. I make my own decisions, and I’m making my own legend. I’m not just Son Goku’s other kid. I’m Son Goten, and everyone will remember me for it.”
[The idea for that speech actually came from my mom, when I was trying to explain the premise of this story. It’s more than just proving that Goten has his own strengths, but that he should be judged on his own merits.
I may be reaching again, but I think Goten has some talents his father doesn’t. His creativity seemed like the most obvious distinction. It’s not that Goku lacks creativity, just that Goten surpasses him there. Hence why I selected him to be the main character of a story about the Nyoibo. Again, apologies to Daijiro Nonoue, creator of The Last Saiyuki, which showcased a shape-changing Nyoibo. I just thought, if that sort of fighting was going to break into Dragon Ball, who better than the master of Super Ghosts, Son Goten?
Other talents Goten might have? Learning from others, a faster and more adaptable mind, a formal education giving him a better understanding of social cues, and by extension, more effective tag-teaming. Even outside of fusion, I could see him leading and strategizing in a group or pair setting, more effectively than his father or even Gohan. Eventually, not quite yet.
See, I gave him his Jackie Chun moment, and of course he still earns his Nyoibo. Now he has it, and all of his knowledge of how to use it, and the motivation to do so. By understanding that, and that he’s not just his father’s “reflection”, I set him on a path for awesomeness.]
Nypo laughed and folded his arms. “Then prove it... Scarlet Mirror.” He laughed even harder as he turned and walked to Dende. Goten looked ready to punch him.
“Don’t mind that,” Gohan assured his brother, “he’s just trying to make you mad at him so you don’t hold back next time.”
Goten relaxed. “Right....”
Dende stood behind Nypo and clasped him around the waist. Nypo smiled a little gentler.
“Try ears sometime, it really works!” They took off.
“Huh?” said Goku, who hadn’t been paying much attention.
Goten tugged his ear and winked.
“We’ll meet again!” Nypo promised. Goten and Gohan waved as they flew out of sight.
[Ever try to write a character who’s smarter than you are? It’s hard. But aside from the “Do you know what an Iron Maiden is?” scene, I loved writing this guy. I hope you guys are rooting for him or someone like him to become a true blue member of the Dragon team, even if I took a big risk by having him be the bastard son of a walking minstrel show. I hope I was able to convey enough personality and motivation to him that he felt like a real character.
I still thought that last fight would break me. Thank studios that’s over.]
Goten smiled. “So, dad?” He drew the Nyoibo. “How about a quick demonstration of what I’m working on?”
“Alright,” shrugged Goku, having apparently missed something important to him.
“Careful, Goku, he seems to have a real knack for it,” Piccolo smirked.
“Well, let’s see!” urged Goku as Goten circled him, carefully adjusting his grip. He looked like a little league softball player trying to hold a bat, and the circling seemed pointless if the whole point of the Nyoibo was to close the distance. He kept pointing it at Goku’s chest. Goku was already getting bored again. Swerve left, grab it, hurl him...
“Jan... ken...”
“Huh?” Goku had barely noticed Goten had stopped.
“Paper!”
A massive palm burst from the Nyoibo and clapped Goku in the abdomen before he had time to dodge. He hadn’t been expecting the Nyoibo to be that large, and had mistimed his dodging because of it.
The red palm slammed Goku into a rock formation, which crumbled on him instantly.
Oh, thought Goku, that explains the circling.
Goten pulled back the Nyoibo just slightly as he sprang forward. The opening move had gone as planned, but it would be wasted without a proper follow-up!
“HYDRA!”
[Consider yourselves lucky that I decided not to do a credits gag. I would have pretended that this had been a movie, everyone’s names were floating up, and the Pilaf gang had stepped into the frame, at first to do some plotting but then to make some MST 3 K style jokes. Mai being relieved Vic wasn’t in it, Pilaf and Shu surprised that Nypo had that African accent but Ronald Funches was voicing him, and a lot of jokes at my expense at my poor knowledge of physics. They’d also make jokes about other “bad” movies like Avatar, which Shu would then claim Pilaf only hates and calls it a cliche because it’s “how Pilaf’s parents met.” Mai has no way of knowing if Shu is lying unless she can get that hat off him.
I guess a better way to thank you for reading is to warn you about my next big plot.
You see, Goten would get a normal education, but still have an abnormal brain chemistry. His amygdala would be almost as hard to keep stimulated as his father’s. So he’d try to go on dates like normal high school students, but would find it much more boring than his peers would, no matter how hot the girl was.
Goten would inevitably try to grumble about to Trunks. “I don’t get how you can stand dating a normal girl.”
“She’s brave, a great sniper, a real good engineer... she’s funny...”
“I guess. It’s just that none of these school girls are interesting enough for me. If I didn’t still have high school, I might just run away to Universe 6 and try to find that Saiyan planet. Nypo might want to come along, he wrote that he likes his women like he likes his curry.”
“Guess you’re both sick of normal girls.”
“Can’t help it if they’re boring.”
And there, unfortunately, is where Marron comes in. Genetically normal, not much stronger than other girls, unable to be sensed walking into a room... boring, unremarkable Marron.
If Goten is less than two years younger than Trunks, then Marron is less than two years younger than Goten. She would have spent a lot of her free time with them, allowed to tag along but never capable of fully participating in their antics. At first she would appreciate the gesture and feel happy to be included, but as time wore on and the gap widened, she would wonder if they had ever been her friends to begin with. Goten would be out of high school soon, and the one boy she thought could still be her friend might slip away from her entirely.
Why couldn’t she be worth his attention? Why couldn’t she be someone amazing enough to not just watch Goten from behind, but be able to stand by his side? All this wishful thinking and yet...
Oh. Right....
And that’s how it would begin. Marron, wanting to become someone who wouldn’t lose the boy she admired, would wish to change herself, making everyone around her fear that THEY would lose HER.
It’s the kind of female-centered story that I’m not sure if Toriyama or Toyotaro could write. I don’t know if I’m good enough to write it myself. But hey, at least there’d be a role for Krillin this time, and a HUGE role for Vegeta. I had to keep him out of Scarlet Mirror, but he’s essential for what I have planned for Marron. If it’s something you’d want me to work on, as much as I’m excited for it now, then I hope I’ll be good enough to write it one day.
Until then....]
Dragon Ball: Scarlet Mirror
FIN
Edited by Sailor11sedna on Oct 12th 2021 at 12:10:23 PM
Finally posted DB Scarlet Mirror: https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13689952930A49781400&page=97#2423
Leader of the Holey Brotherhood
Just had a brainstorm that I think hasn't been mentioned here (but probably has been done):
- Goku gets found by Emperor Pilaf instead of Bulma.
I can prove your grammar needs work, dude. But I agree there is a genuine problem with the way Dragon Ball fanfiction is handled, as the characters are very simple and don't invite much for an original story.
Likewise, the fan writers often forget that, as impressive as the fight scenes are, they are still fight scenes made to enhance a story, but if they forgot the story and characters they aren't doing a good job.
Edited by Tomodachi on Aug 19th 2019 at 8:30:43 AM
To win, you need to adapt, and to adapt, you need to be able to laugh away all the restraints. Everything holding you back.