Dragon Ball Human

Jaco felt that Yamiru was undeniably strange, especially since he seemed to have an unusual amount of knowledge about Saiyans.

He had even considered whether he should take Yamiru away or at least conduct a thorough investigation.

After all, in the eyes of the Galactic King, Saiyans were nothing more than intergalactic terrorists and war mongers, pillaging and slaughtering wherever they went.

Anyone connected to such a group could hardly be considered trustworthy.

The Galactic King hadn't dealt with the Saiyans simply because he couldn't. The Saiyans' ability to transform into Great Apes en masse turned them into unstoppable war machines. They could conquer almost any planet in the galaxy and win every battle. And the individuals they couldn't defeat? Unfortunately, those were often their boss's colleagues under the same employer.

"Are you scheming something?" Bulma glanced at Jaco, who seemed deep in thought.

Jaco broke into a cold sweat but kept his composure. "No, I was just thinking about how much I'd like some milk."

The little girl, holding a gun in her hands, wasn't directly aiming at him, but the barrel unintentionally pointed in his direction as her body shifted.

"Bulma, don't wave that dangerous gun around," Tights said when she noticed. "This kind of weapon is way too powerful. You should put it away unless it's absolutely necessary."

"But I really like it!"

"You just enjoy inventing and tinkering with machines," Tights replied knowingly. "Why don't you make a new gun? One that's less dangerous."

"Regular guns are boring!"

"Then," Yamiru interjected, raising a finger, "how about inventing a handgun with a normal appearance but capable of firing bullets with varying specifications and power levels? For example, the strongest bullets could kill a bear or a dinosaur, while the weakest would just hurt someone a lot without causing serious injury."

"..." Bulma tilted her head to look at him. "That sounds unnecessary, but fine."

The little girl reverted the dangerous energy gun back into capsule form and stashed it away. Then she wandered off to watch the monkey-tailed boy playing in the mud and catching bugs.

With the capsule house in the forest, the group naturally rested inside while waiting in the mountains.

The capsule house, a private possession of Dr. Brief's family, was not for sale and had been specially modified by the doctor. It featured a built-in central air system with excellent control over temperature, humidity, air cleanliness, and freshness. Of course, the doctor's favorite sound system was included, capable of playing epic music so immersive it felt like one was exploring the galaxy or reaching out to the stars.

Tights and Jaco started singing along. Jaco seemed particularly fond of "Rocket Idol" An Azuki's space-themed single. Tights, having once served as Azuki's stand-in, was also familiar with the song.

Dr. Omori, disliking the lively atmosphere, retreated to the study to browse the books available in the capsule house.

Yamiru, browsing through the music library, found no Jay Chou, no MJ, no Eminem, none of the karaoke hits he was familiar with. He couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness and boredom.

Might as well train.

He quietly left the capsule house and found Son Gohan watching over the two children playing nearby.

Because of Jaco's stern warnings, Son Gohan couldn't fully trust the Saiyan child either. For now, he wasn't willing to let the little princess of Capsule Corporation be alone with the monkey-tailed boy. If something went wrong and the Saiyan child hurt Bulma — whether by twisting her head off or scratching up her face — who could bear the consequences?

"Master," Yamiru called as he approached.

Son Gohan smiled and nodded but kept part of his attention on the two children. Yamiru, understanding the situation, knew that until the full moon night passed, their strongest fighter — Son Gohan — couldn't devote his energy to teaching him. Proper martial arts training would have to wait.

Still, even if he couldn't practice, he could talk.

Yamiru took the opportunity to chat with his master about anything and everything. Fortunately, Son Gohan's easygoing personality meant he answered whatever questions he could.

Meanwhile, Son Gohan took the opportunity to learn more about Yamiru's past experiences —cprimarily to understand the hodgepodge of skills he had picked up.

To properly guide his only disciple in the future, Son Gohan felt it was necessary to assess Yamiru's current abilities. He wanted to identify which movements were unsuitable, which were redundant, which should be preserved, which could be improvised, and which were better forgotten entirely. While actual teaching and sparring would ultimately be the best way to align their styles, some preparation never hurt.

Street fighting with no real technique.

Combat styles learned from aliens.

Pointers from an old monk from the Orin Temple.

Tips from special forces soldier Delat.

Ox-King's half-baked Turtle School techniques.

Even some exposure to Crane School moves he had seen and remembered.

It was a mess, chaotic and without structure.

But it was precisely this jumbled collection of skills that had helped Yamiru survive and make it this far.

"Orin Temple, huh..." Son Gohan seemed to recognize the name. He gestured with one hand to Yamiru. "Come on, spar with me."

Yamiru responded immediately, raising his fists and charging in.

Son Gohan, a master martial artist who had retired to a quiet life, easily handled Yamiru's attacks with just one hand. After all, Yamiru wasn't a smaller, weaker Saiyan child, so the old man didn't need to worry about accidentally hurting him. Of course, Yamiru wasn't going all out, either. The sparring reminded him of the time he saved the old monk from the Rabbit Army and practiced moves with him on a bed in a motel. Back then, he couldn't have imagined all the troubles that would follow.

Thunk!

Son Gohan found an opening in Yamiru's technique and flicked his disciple on the forehead, leaving a small red mark.

"You need to focus when practicing martial arts," the master advised.

"But, Master," Yamiru said, rubbing his forehead, "you're also distracted, watching over them..."

He had meant to refer to Kakarot, or rather, Son Goku. But at that moment, he realized that none of them had even thought about giving the Saiyan boy a name. Perhaps they should check the spherical pod for any written identifiers.

Son Gohan chuckled. "Oh, Yamiru, for you, this is training. For me, it's not."

"Fair point," Yamiru admitted. "But, Master Son Gohan, shouldn't we give that child who fell from the sky a name?"

"A name..." Son Gohan murmured, glancing at the tall capsule house beside them. "If tomorrow night, under the full moon, this child truly reveals the violent and dangerous nature of Saiyans, as Jaco claims..." It was clear the old man was concerned about this possibility.

"It'll be fine," Yamiru reassured him before heading off to train alone.

His practice mainly involved basic physical exercises — nothing groundbreaking and less effective than working out with proper equipment.

Son Gohan watched him from the side, observing the habits Yamiru had accumulated so far, intending to plan for his training later. Unlike his own master, the Turtle Hermit, this was Son Gohan's first time teaching. He was still figuring out his approach and planned to copy the training methods he had undergone as a Turtle School student.

So, with the Saiyan child and Yamiru, Son Gohan alternated his attention, maintaining a calm and peaceful atmosphere.

The next morning, Dr. Brief from West City contacted them with news. He suggested they all visit, as the preliminary medical results for the Saiyan child were ready.

Moreover, the doctor specifically noted over the phone that the Saiyan child was certainly not as young as he appeared, which was merely one or two years old.

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