Dragon Ball Human

"So, what was it Dr. Gero mentioned... about Android 7's defect? What kind of defect is it?"

Inside the command center of the Red Ribbon Army headquarters, the red-haired, one-eyed dwarf commander casually asked the question, seemingly on a whim.

The tall, dark-skinned adjutant with his sausage-shaped lips froze for a moment, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his egg-shaped, glossy black head. Snapping to attention with a loud clap, he bowed and replied, "I'll ask Dr. Gero immediately." He inwardly cursed himself. Just days ago, Dr. Gero had briefed the commander on Android 7, yet he had failed to commit the details to memory. This was a glaring oversight.

With a mixture of self-reproach and urgency, the adjutant hurried out of the room.

The dwarf commander blinked, bemused. I was just idly curious—it's fine if there's no answer.

Moments later, the adjutant returned in a rush, wiping his sweat as he reported, "Dr. Gero said that Android 7 exposed a persistent issue in the Android modification project. Specifically, a mismatch between the energy intensity of the modified subject and..."

"Keep it simple!" The commander waved impatiently, indicating he needed plain language.

The adjutant paused, then summarized, "The modification was too intense—it fried his brain. The subject's intelligence was damaged, rendering him incapable of performing complex tasks efficiently. Dr. Gero deemed him a failure."

---

Yamiru was quietly chewing on dry rations by the side of a deserted highway when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching from the distance.

Sitting on the ground, he could feel the vibrations of the road growing stronger beneath him.

He took a gulp of water, twisted the bottle cap shut, wiped his mouth, and turned to look. It was an old, rumbling tractor speeding down the empty road. As it passed, it kicked up a cloud of dust that billowed toward him. Yamiru raised his collar to shield his face, waving his hand to dispel the dust, while wondering to himself: If I had Goku's power, could I clear this dust with just a gentle wave of my hand?

On his journey to Mount Paozu, Yamiru's thoughts always seemed to circle back to martial arts, no matter what he encountered.

The rumbling sound suddenly returned. The tractor was reversing.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing sitting out here alone on the road?"

Yamiru looked up. The tractor driver was an elderly man in his fifties or sixties, wearing a straw hat that seemed to have leaped straight out of an old painting. The tractor was towing a trailer loaded with hay.

From the pile of hay in the trailer, a young girl with dark blue hair tied into two braids popped her head out, bits of straw sticking to her hair. Her face was smudged with dirt as she curiously asked, "You're weird, aren't you?"

She wasn't wrong. In the middle of nowhere, this boy, looking barely older than a child, was carrying a massive backpack nearly as tall as himself, with utility pouches strapped to his waist and a military-style canteen. And yet, he was sitting there with a calm, unhurried demeanor—nothing like a typical kid.

Being called weird didn't bother Yamiru in the slightest. He simply smiled faintly.

His attitude had shifted during these past days of traveling alone. Yamiru was no longer as obsessive as he had been at the start of his journey, feeling compelled to walk every step on his own. Now, he had begun to embrace a more laid-back approach.

"Sir, could you give me a ride?" Yamiru asked naturally.

The old man immediately invited him to climb into the trailer with the hay, gesturing for him to sit next to his granddaughter. He even got out of the tractor, intending to lower the trailer's gate for Yamiru.

Before he could, Yamiru grabbed the edge of the trailer and, with a simple flex of his arms, vaulted himself into the back, backpack and all.

The young girl with the dark blue pigtails blinked in amazement. What a strange boy.

The old man was stunned. He looked at the trailer gate, measuring its height from the ground—easily over 1.6 meters, taller than the boy himself! Yet, with seemingly no effort, the boy had leaped in while carrying such a large pack.

The old man laughed heartily. "Well, no wonder you're out here on your own, kid. You've got some serious skills!"

Earth in the Dragon Ball world was never short of extraordinary people, and its inhabitants had a remarkably easygoing attitude. While the old man was initially surprised by Yamiru's agility, he quickly accepted it as normal.

The tractor roared along the dusty road.

Throughout the journey, the old man occasionally called back to Yamiru, asking him various questions—the kind Yamiru had been asked countless times by anyone he met on his travels.

"What's your name?"

"Sato Yamiru."

"Strange name. How old are you?"

"About 10."

"Where are your parents?"

"I can't find them."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Are you looking for them, or heading home?"

"No, I'm looking for a place called Mount Paozu. I'm going to learn martial arts there."

"Martial arts? What's that… like fighting?"

The conversation usually ended there.

Most people Yamiru met couldn't comprehend why such a young boy would dedicate himself to searching for an obscure mountain forest to learn a skill as seemingly impractical as fighting. Yamiru, uninterested in explaining, often let the topic drop.

Luckily, such encounters were rare. Most of the time, Yamiru traveled alone, enjoying the solitude.

"Hey, Yamiru," the girl covered in bits of hay called out, scooting closer to him.

"Hmm?" Yamiru lay back on the hay, hands behind his head, legs crossed atop his backpack, and turned to face her.

The girl leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, "When you've learned how to fight, will you help me scare off the boys in town who bully me?"

"Bully you? How bad are they?" Yamiru asked, swinging his legs leisurely.

"They're always pulling my braids—it's so annoying," she complained.

Yamiru reached out his hand.

Startled, the girl whipped her two dark blue braids behind her back, only to see Yamiru chuckling, his hand raised only to tease her.

Annoyed, she twisted the ends of her braids in her hands, lowered her head slightly, pouted, and stared at him silently.

Yamiru laughed heartily, relaxing on the hay and gazing at the boundless sky. Life, he thought, was peaceful and beautiful.

When they reached the next small town, the old man arrived home.

As it was nearing evening, the old man, despite Yamiru's intention to continue his journey, insisted on inviting him to stay for dinner.

Yamiru didn't refuse. After all, he was tired of eating dry rations with water.

"Come on, let's go teach them a lesson," Yamiru whispered to the girl.

"Really?" She lit up with surprise and joy, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the town to seek revenge.

Yamiru let her go ahead while he informed the old man of their plans. The old man waved it off, saying everyone in the small town knew each other, and it was perfectly safe.

When Yamiru caught up, the girl had already confronted a group of dirty, scrappy boys. With her braids held protectively in her hands, she puffed her cheeks and stared them down.

"Ah, the beauty of innocent childhood emotions," Yamiru thought as he observed from a distance.

What boy hadn't teased a girl in his youth? That awkward and indescribable feeling was something that, when recalled in adulthood, left one with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.

Yamiru finally approached the group.

Perhaps he could give these boys a kind lesson: girls their age are more mature than boys, and such behavior seems childish in their eyes. Instead of increasing their chances of friendship, it significantly diminishes them. But Yamiru had no intention of doing that. As he walked forward, smiling, he thought it might be more amusing to leave these scruffy boys with a "childhood shadow".

"Yamiru! They're pulling my braids again!" the girl called out as soon as she saw him.

"Who gave you permission to pull her braids?" Yamiru pretended to be indignant, stepping in front of the girl with a righteous expression. He pointed at the boys and said sternly, "You're not allowed to do that anymore!"

The boys looked at each other, scratching their heads and unsure what to make of the situation.

The tallest boy sneered, "Who are you? Never seen you before!" He walked over and attempted to shove Yamiru.

With a quick move, Yamiru grabbed the tall boy and effortlessly lifted him over his head. The boy screamed in terror as Yamiru swung him around, imitating dramatic sound effects: "Whoosh! Waaah!" The boy was left dizzy, pale, and trembling. When Yamiru finally placed him back on the ground, he stumbled into his companions' arms, eyes spinning.

"Don't bully her again!" Yamiru glared at them, exaggerating his expression to appear menacing. The boys, now thoroughly frightened, scattered like birds fleeing a predator.

Yamiru chuckled to himself, feeling a little too proud of his theatrics.

The girl's eyes lit up. "Yamiru, you're so strong!"

Yamiru waved it off and walked her home. As they neared her house, faint sounds of commotion drifted from the other end of town. Yamiru glanced in that direction but didn't see anything unusual, so he let it go.

After enjoying a warm dinner at the old man's home, Yamiru politely declined the offer to stay the night and set off into the quiet night.

The town was peaceful, with barely any people on the streets and no streetlights. Only the area near the convenience store had some illumination spilling onto the road.

Walking through the tranquil night, Yamiru wondered what the nights on Mount Paozu would be like. Would they be just as pleasant and comfortable, giving him a sense of home? Surely, they would. Definitely.

He soon reached the edge of town, stepping into the last patch of light before the long, lonely journey ahead.

Yamiru pulled out his map, biting down on his fully charged flashlight as he checked his route.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure approaching from the dimly lit edge of the street. It was an ordinary-looking middle-aged man, though his clothes were tattered, giving him the appearance of a vagabond. However, despite his ragged attire, he didn't seem dirty, setting him apart from the typical drifter.

By the time Yamiru noticed him, the "vagabond" was already within two or three meters.

---

Meanwhile, in the Red Ribbon Army's regional base, Blue was punching a sandbag in frustration.

The spy he had assigned to monitor Yamiru's movements and assist Dr. Gero's android had gone silent a few days ago. Blue felt humiliated, worried this might reflect poorly on him in front of the influential Dr. Gero.

However, based on the last transmission from the spy, Dr. Gero's android would undoubtedly catch up to Yamiru soon. That much was certain.

---

"Hello…?" Yamiru mumbled around the flashlight in his mouth, his words slurred.

The man continued approaching, his expression blank, almost rigid and lifeless.

A sudden surge of unease welled up inside Yamiru. He immediately spat out the flashlight and dropped his map, compass, and pen. But before he could act further, the vagabond hurled a shadowy object at him.

A dull thud rang out—whether in his ears or his mind, Yamiru couldn't tell. His vision was immediately obscured by a vivid crimson. He vaguely felt something warm and sticky trickling down his face and nostrils. His limbs went numb, as if his soul were leaving his body. The world spun violently before everything went dark.

The vagabond lowered his bloodied fist, droplets staining his knuckles. Without any change in expression, he caught Yamiru's limp body as it fell.

---

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