Dragon Ball Human

…"Finally found you, Number 7."

"Did you capture the target? Oh, so it's this kid? Such a small fry?"

"I heard the soldiers tracking him were taken down by this kid. How did you manage to locate him?"

"I started from the swamp… and slowly worked my way through…"

"Forget it. Just bring him back to headquarters already."

…"You didn't just throw the kid into a trash bin and stand there waiting for us this whole time, did you?"

"The task… was… to capture… him…"

"Did the doctor forget to tell you to return to headquarters after completing the task?!"

"…"

Jostling, noise…

Consciousness flickering on and off…

When he occasionally opened his eyes, all he could see were blurry, overlapping images…

The shadows would move closer, and from their forms, a faint "mist" would emerge, making him lose consciousness again…

…"This kid was dumped into a trash can by Number 7, knocked out whenever he woke up, and yet his head's still intact? He's definitely not ordinary!"

"Of course he's not ordinary. Would the doctor order us to capture a normal person?"

"If he were ordinary, inhaling that much knockout gas on the way here would've left him in a vegetative state by now!"

…"This kid is so heavy! He doesn't look that big, yet he weighs almost as much as me. How strange."

"Ha, could his bones and muscles be denser than ours?"

"But his body's so soft after being knocked out. I can't feel any muscle on him…"

"I wonder what caught the doctor's attention. His weight, maybe? Haha."

"Who knows? Let's just finish the mission."

His body was moved roughly, colliding into hard objects—maybe walls, maybe the edges of tables…

Yet these sensations became increasingly distant…

The voices around him faded, as if receding with the tide…

Finally, he slipped into complete unconsciousness…

"Yes, you're no worse than anyone else!"

Who?

Who was speaking?

In the darkness, Yamiru abruptly opened his eyes, confusion filling his pitch-black gaze.

He looked around and found himself in a space of complete darkness. It was as if there was nothing here—only eternal darkness, infinite depth, and endless void.

"Who was that just now?" Yamiru shouted.

A sudden anxiety surged within him.

But why? He couldn't remember.

This place was so empty that even his voice didn't echo. The boundless, dark void around him seemed like an immense sponge, absorbing every sound he made.

"Weren't you looking for a clear path? I'm here to show it to you."

Who is it?

Yamiru yelled again. Suddenly, something smacked him on the forehead, and his entire body was sent tumbling backward through the air.

Suddenly, in the surrounding darkness, a single point of light appeared, then another, until the void was filled with countless shining stars. As Yamiru continued to fly backward at an incredible speed, these stars streaked across his vision, forming bright white lines.

These lines came together, creating what looked like a wide runway. The starting line receded further and further into the distance, and a figure appeared to be standing on it, growing smaller with each passing moment.

Who was that?

The figure in the red gi… with golden hair… Who was it?

Yamiru was still tumbling backward through the starry cosmos.

The distant figure seemed to glance back at him.

Yamiru opened his mouth, but no sound came out. However, he suddenly remembered where he was. This vast, surreal space, where his spirit seemed to float and race through the stars… Wasn't this the same vision he experienced that day when the mysterious elder struck him?

He never thought he would see it again.

"I don't need to tell you who lives at Mount Paozu, do I?"

Son Gohan lives there! Son Goku will live there!

Yamiru screamed silently, unable to control his racing form in the starry void.

"That's where I feel the last remnants of belonging in this world!"

For Yamiru, a traveler from another world, there was no other place in this foreign land where he felt a stronger sense of belonging than with the Turtle School. As long as he kept these thoughts close to his heart, his efforts didn't seem futile. They were connected to something—his past life wasn't just a fleeting dream, and he wasn't a lonely, wandering soul.

Bang!

The sensation of flying abruptly ended as Yamiru crashed heavily into a chair.

He looked around and found himself back in the shabby little house in South City.

Not the one he had fixed up, but the rundown, mold-infested shack by the roadside on the outskirts of South City from before he moved in.

The chair beneath him was so old and rickety that every tiny movement elicited loud creaks, as if it might collapse at any moment.

Yamiru stood up and pushed open the window. Outside, on the distant road, he saw a boy with lifeless eyes, a gaunt face, and an aura of despair slowly walking his way. It was none other than himself from a little over a week after his transmigration.

"So that's what I looked like back then?" Yamiru muttered in shock. "I was practically a walking corpse! Like I was one second away from blowing my brains out!"

A sudden gust of wind blew an old, tattered poster into the air, plastering it onto the face of the zombie-like version of Yamiru outside. He peeled it off, staring at it for a long time as he stood blankly in the deserted street. No one knew what he was thinking or recalling at that moment.

Inside the house, Yamiru whispered to himself, "So that's how that poster ended up in my hands. I'd almost forgotten about it."

He closed the window and sat back down in his chair, only to find the room cleaner than before. A table now sat in front of him.

Looking up, he noticed the window pane was pitch black—it was nighttime.

Behind him, he suddenly heard faint, muffled sobbing. Yamiru remained seated, not turning around. He waited until the quiet weeping faded before sighing softly. Then he turned and saw himself curled up against the wall on the small bed, seemingly asleep.

Standing by the bedside, Yamiru gazed down at his younger self. He suddenly reached out to grab him but caught nothing but air.

"…" Closing his eyes, Yamiru took a deep breath. When he opened them, they shone a radiant gold. With a decisive motion, he grabbed his younger self, locking eyes with the dazed boy.

"I won't give up!" Yamiru declared firmly. "And neither should you!"

A wave of intense spiritual energy surged through him. Pain erupted as his senses returned, his consciousness alternating between fading and clearing. His vision turned dark red—it was the inside of his closed eyelids.

He shifted slightly and heard a muffled, sloshing sound.

There was buoyancy.

But his nose and mouth felt dry, with airflow coming in… with oxygen.

:Am I wearing an oxygen mask?"

Yamiru's eyes snapped open!

Twin beams of golden light shot out from his piercing gaze, slicing through the green nutrient fluid filling the upright cultivation tank.

"Oh? You've finally woken up."

Outside the tank stood a middle-aged man with disheveled black hair, wearing a white lab coat. He observed Yamiru's naked body floating in the green liquid with great interest.

"Your eyes… heh, interesting. Blue was right—your eyes are quite unusual."

Yamiru instantly recognized the man.

Dr. Gero.

You're dead meat, you son of a—!