Stay Away

Disclaimer: I'm but a humble author. This here is something made by a fan, for other fans.

In the words of a notorious abridged group: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, and Dragon Ball Super are all owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Shueisha and Akira Toriyama. Please support the official release.

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Chapter 4: Stay Away

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The sun glared down on me, warm but in an intense sort of way. The ground beneath me was hard, a few small but sharp things poking into my back. Groggily, I sat up, the warmth shifting to the top of my head as I yawned. I blinked a few times before I realised this wasn't my room at all. I swiped my hands over the ground, the action kicking up a small amount of dust.

"The hell?!" I sprung to my feet in an instant and took up a stance, spreading a small amount of ki around me.

Usually, simple ki sensing would work, but depending on how much someone suppressed their own, it'd take too long. This way was much faster but had a far smaller range.

I found nothing and relaxed a little, turning my eyes skyward. A sudden gust of wind seemed to raise me into the air, my aura roaring to life, flickering angrily as I speared my way through the air.

Once I was high enough, I peered around, a quick search telling me that I was close enough to the monastery – specifically at the bottom of the steep, winding track that led up to the only entrance and exit.

I relaxed my aura, drawing the comforting power into myself but still left enough to remain in the air. Unconsciously, I stuck my hands into my pockets, eyebrows jumping up once I felt the slip of paper within one of them. I pulled it out, reading the exquisite penmanship written across its length.

"A good morning… banned from the monastery unless… sleeping, eating or bathing?" my eyes grew progressively wider as I read. "Best wishes… Abbot?!"

For a split second, sheer disbelief dominated my heart. I had no idea why I'd been more or less thrown out, not at first. After that came the fear – small at first but growing as allowed my thoughts more and more freedom to run wild. How had he brought me out here without knowing? Sure, I was completely unguarded when asleep but surely I'd recognise being moved around for that long?!

After a while, when the immediate shock and horror died down, I began to laugh, realising the meaning behind it all. It was more or less an extravagant and absurd way of telling me to go out and explore. The question was, where would I even begin?

"Let's see…" I breathed out, slowly descending and raking my eyes over the sprawling city.

I fixed my eyes on a particular area, flying well above the morning's commuters. Some bundled groceries into bags that they tucked beneath their armpits, others simply struggled to suppress yawns as they floated over to the Bazaar.

The Bazaar was by far the poorest part of the Capital. The abandoned construction projects around were enough evidence of that. Its only saving grace was that you could find all sorts of stuff here. If you could think of it, the Bazaar probably had it. If not, there was probably some seedy bastard lurking around who'd find it.

My stomach growled and I momentarily looked back to the monastery, the beginnings of an idea forming in my head. It would be all too easy to simply fly over the fence and head into the hall of nourishment.

"You know what? Let's grab some breakfast!" I decided, hurtling downwards at speeds that would bring tears to most eyes, marvelling at how the dirt track cut through the city, trailing from the base of the mountain range leading towards the monastery.

Flying above it was one thing, but walking along the streets of Sadala's capital – simply known as the Capital – was another experience entirely. It was something I didn't know I'd missed. The tracks hadn't been paved using any machinery at all. If you looked close enough, you'd notice that they were simply the paths cut into the earth by the citizens. Countless footsteps from people of all races stretched across every street corner and winding path.

As I walked between crowds of people going about their day, I immediately realised how much it sucked to be knee-height. With how spacious the monastery was, it wasn't something I noticed very often. I was dwarfed by more or less everyone around – besides a few pasty-skinned, oval-headed people that looked similar to Tarble's wife – something that annoyed me to no end.

I stretched out my senses, taking stock of the average battle power of the Capital's population. Most were about half as weak as Bage. Granted, most Saiyans rarely fought in active combat unless in preparation for the annual tournament, if they were in the military or were serious about martial arts. The rest simply loitered around, working odd jobs, a few attending schools, and living mostly ordinary lives. Every so often, I'd catch wind of some absurdly strong people. First a Namekian, then an insanely muscular, four-armed red-skinned alien, and after that, a Saiyan.

She was a very tall woman; bulky but managing to not look too wide. Thick locks of hair cascaded down her back and shoulders, fanning the small, golden hoop earrings looped around her earlobes. Her densely muscled arms were riddled with deep and shallow scars. She wore a black unitard, leaving her tree trunk-like thighs bare; a set of black and gold Freeza-force-like armour held up by straps wrapped itself around her shoulders.

Her brown eyes lowered as she walked past me, a curious smile lifting the corners of her lips. "A strong little tyke, ain't ya?"

"I've got to be," I replied as I walked away. Damn did it feel good to be noticed for my efforts. "Gonna win the tourney after all."

Her raucous laughter followed me up the incline leading to a shadow-covered trail. The path eventually narrowed as I moved my way into the bazaar, a familiar sense of déjà vu making itself known to me. These were my old stomping grounds; where I used to rob and pillage to make a living.

The abandoned infrastructure and scaffolding slowly crept inwards as I followed the long line of people heading into the Bazaar itself. The cries of vendors and the tones of a flute grew louder, all sorts of scents and sounds coming together.

"Freshly roasted triangular beast!" one boomed, a round man with a bushy moustache, waving around the large wing of what seemed to be a pterodactyl.

It wasn't really of much shock to me. I'd see them from time to time during martial arts sessions with Avaco and the rest. The beasts would swoop over the courtyards, bringing with them great gusts of winds, circling overhead as they leered down at us. A couple of ki blasts fired off in warning were usually enough to scare them away but the real confident ones got a thrashing from one of the older monks.

Those were always a treat to watch. I closed my eyes and smiled a little wistfully, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting towards me. My lips curved upwards as I made my way over to a familiar stall.

"Yo! How've ya been, hag!" I yelled, pushing myself through the tide of people going back and forth.

My smile widened as she walked out, her face thunderous, with a pan in hand almost out of habit. Mayze sported a deep tan thanks to a decade of hard work in the sun. She was short but pretty curvy, only about a half a head taller than me (making her around four-foot-five funnily enough), with messy dark hair that curled around her shoulders, wild orange eyes, and fanged canines. From what she'd told me, she was a quarter Saiyan, Tuffle, and only Kami knew what else. She wore ragged brown robes, cut out to make some kind of dress, thin slings pulling it up by her shoulders and accentuating her already big enough chest.

"Ya sorry brat! Are ya stealin' again? Don't ya ever learn?! I'll beat some sense into y—!" she yelled, her voice cutting off midway as her eyes found mine. Relief flooded across her face, as I leaned over the wooden counter of her small stall. "Korn?! I… I thought ya died!"

I scratched the back of my head a little embarrassedly. I'd all but forgotten about her after Escar more or less kidnapped me. "Yeah… nah I'm still alive, Mayze."

"Where've ya been hidin'? Stopped stealin' too," she added. "Everyone 'round here thought ya died. It's been ages since we've seen your damned tail flyin' about."

I laughed at that, wiping mirthful tears from my eyes at the mental image.

"Sheesh… I was a real bastard, huh?" I coughed out the last of my laughter and cleared my throat. "I've been livin' in the monastery with Escar an' them."

Her face scrunched up into a frown at the mention of him and she spat out on the side of her stall, derision clear in her voice. "Escar. That damn bastard walks around here every day, carryin' around one floozy or another. Scares off my customers too. At least he buys a crap-ton of bread once he realises how piss-drunk he is."

She stomped back into the cloth-covered area of her wooden stall. "Well come in, why don't ya?"

Without a moment's hesitation, I followed her, knowing that I'd probably get some food out of it. The inside of her tent was about as threadbare as it was when I last saw it. A double bed was shoved into a corner, the rest of it relatively empty save for the bare necessities and cooking equipment taking up most of the centre.

"Here," she shoved a piping hot loaf in my hands that I tore into gratefully, soon returning with a glass of water.

"Thanks," I smiled, sitting down on the floor.

For a few moments, I enjoyed the slight sourness of the bread, my eyes roaming about the place in search of her daughter.

"Hey, Mayze… where's Carole?" I asked. "Doesn't she usually help you bake right about now?"

Her face twisted at my question. I leaned forwards, the loaf in my hands momentarily forgotten.

"The dickwad thugs makin' us pay a "protection fee" turned up a few weeks back. Jacked up the price of it cuz of the tourney. Bastards probably wanna gamble it all. Carole's been goin' 'round the Capital, workin' odd jobs to get enough money to help pay it."

"...And the Defence Force?"

She damn near growled at the mention of the planet's military-cum-police force. "Bribed."

I blinked several times. "Wait… all of them?!"

Mayze swatted a fly from somewhere around her head. "No… not all of 'em. Just the ones patrollin' the Bazaar."

"Shit…" I cursed. There wasn't any other way to put it. I sighed and stood up. "If it gets too hard, go all in on me when betting. I'm plenty strong and it's the least I can do to help you out. Ya did feed me when I was a little gobshite after all. Any idea where she'd be?"

I swallowed the last of my bread, washing it down with a glass of water, enjoying the clash of endearment and irritation that swept itself across her face.

Eventually, Mayze simply shook her head with a wry smile. "Ya can try the Royal sector. Said she was movin' around some training equipment to the Anvil for the tourney next week. The organisers came by a month back to grab some people from here. Pay sounded pretty decent if ya want a crack at it as well."

"Thanks, Mayze, and the bread's as nice as always."

She snorted, lightly swatting my arm. "Yeah, yeah. Love to flatter me, don't ya? Right before runnin' off with four other loaves. Off with ya, brat."

I rolled my eyes as I walked out of her tent, swiping a few loaves with a chuckle as I reached the roof of the opposite building in a single leap.

(Break)

Two Oozaru statues greeted me on my way in, forcing me up a set of large, glimmering steps to the Anvil. Its oval shape stretched far beyond my field of vision, taking up everything I could see. I drank in the sight, focused on the carved artwork on its pillars and walls depicting the story of a civil war past. The Saiyans engaged in bitter combat, not against an invader or evil overlord, but each other. The tailed, waging war in their Oozaru forms and laying waste to the planet and those against them. The tailless, banding with the Tuffles to defend their home.

I wandered around the structure, almost as if in a fever dream. King Sadala stood tall, once a scrawny child, growing into the tall and imposing man I saw statues of on my here, rousing his people to action. Eventually, I sat down and did nothing but stare at the architecture, losing myself in its intricacies. It was like I found something new to admire about it the longer I stared. But eventually, I had to leave, slowly floating upward, my eyes lingering with reluctance.

The Anvil was a military training facility for most of the year. But on a special week, it was home to the planet's most popular event. Overlooking it was King Sadala's palace, its opulent stained glass windows glimmering in the noontide sun. It wasn't nearly as ornate as the Palace but the sheer size of it was astounding. Not unlike the Roman Colosseum I'd seen pictures of on Earth. A large oval-shaped structure, held up by countless pillars spanning the entirety of its circumference.

I touched down near a familiar ki signature a ways off the entrance to the Anvil at a landing strip. I was happy to notice that they had grown stronger in the last six months. Admittedly not by much but it was still something.

I angled around a corner, coming out onto a stone pathway, the roar of an aircraft's engines growing louder. Sweat-soaked crowds marched in and out of its back door, carrying large metal boxes over their heads. Some were larger than average carrying multiple crates stacked atop each other. The first wave receded and I entered the aircraft with a spurt of ki-fuelled movement, my sight latched onto a single ki signature.

Creeping around the ankles and knees of the workers, I jumped up latching onto the shoulders of a short but lithe, pony-tailed girl. Her usually wild hair was tied back into a ponytail, held down by at least a dozen rubber bands. They weren't enough and a few bangs managed to escape, hanging down her sweat-covered forehead.

"Boo!" I yelled, cackling as she suddenly jerked. All the equipment she held went flying, slowly drifting to her feet.

"Wha-! W-What the fuck are you—!" she grabbed the scruff of my shirt, pulling me over her shoulder and dangling me in front of her face. Her eyes were the same shade of amber as her mother, glaring at me for all of a single second before shock slackened her taught facial muscles. "K-Korn?!"

I gave her a mock salute, painfully aware of how easily she towered over me despite the relatively small age gap. Damned Saiyan genes. "Yo."

"Don't "yo" me!" she thundered and she shook me back and forth like a ragdoll. As always, she was completely oblivious to the dozens of curious eyes on her. "Ya don't call! Ya don't visit! Goddamn it, I thought ya died, brat!"

"I know, I know," I stuck up my hands. "Though I met ya ma earlier. She said you'd be here. I've been livin' at the monastery for a while now. You could've just visited me? And what do you mean by "brat"? You're only three years older than me!"

She plopped me down, muttering something about the age difference being two-and-half years and not knowing how she'd find me before getting down on a knee to return the spilt armour and bodysuits to the container.

"C'mon, Carole," I picked up an armour set, stretching it out with little effort. "I forgot and it's nice there. I don't have to fight for food, steal money, or sleep with an eye open and my door locked shut. Oh, wait. The abandoned buildin' I was squatting in didn't even have doors."

She grunted and rose, closing the container beforehand, before bracing herself. "Alright. I get it, 'kay? But it still sucks that ya forgot about us."

She wore a pair of shorts white and a dark orange tank top but even through them, I could see each of her muscles flex as she heaved it up. Tattoos of two open-mawed Chinese dragons coiled up her arms and into her shirt. The thick, inky scales peeked out of the gaps between her sleeves and crossed at the base of her neck. She trudged out of the aircraft and I followed her before chucking the chestplate into one of the open boxes behind me.

"...Sorry, Carole." I broke the silence whilst I stretched out my senses out of idle boredom. "Where are you taking this stuff anyway?"

"The Anvil." she continued marching on, one foot after the next, even under the blistering sunlight. At least her voice had lost most of the heat from before.

"Want some help?"

She snorted. "Be my guest. Just know that I ain't payin' ya for it."

I chuckled as we approached the place, the sounds of combat easily picked up by ears. Carole walked through a side entrance, entering a tunnel that I damn-near sprinted through.

"Oi, calm down."

"Huh?" I scrunched up my brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Carole laughed. "I can hear your tail goin' wild back there."

True to word, I looked back, my tail was unconsciously lashing wildly from side to side, in step with my thundering heart.

"Well… what can a Saiyan do?" I smirked.

I couldn't see her face, but I'm pretty sure she rolled her eyes. "Whatever, hotshot. Just don't do anythin' stupid."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Carole." even then, I clenched my fist as my heart continued to beat even faster. "Wouldn't dream of it…"

The sudden sunlight blinded me as we came out of the tunnel but it didn't matter. I could sense most of what was going on anyway. Thunderous clashes of fists rang out dozens of times over; the place was flooded in ki. Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I noticed a short-haired, armour-clad man leaning against the wall beside us, a stack of crates to his right. His beard was neat, the same for his armour, but everything about him screamed of laziness.

"Set those down right here," he grunted, scratching at his beard. A little intrigue coloured his face when he saw me. "Huh. You're a strong little bastard, ain't ya?"

As Carole placed the crate down, I sized him up – metaphorically speaking. Slowly stretching out my senses to get a grasp of his ki, my ki was abuzz in anticipation when a flash of pain erupted across the back of my head.

"Hey!" I rubbed the sore spot, my focus completely shot. "The fuck was that for?!"

Carole leaned down and hissed into my ear, "Dumbass! Look at the band on his arm! He's Royal Guard!"

I froze immediately, seeing the black and gold striped band tied to his left bicep. That put the guy in an entirely new light to me. If he was part of the Royal Guard then he had to be the best of the best; the King's guard. There wasn't anyone stronger than them besides King Sadala himself.

"Nah, don't let that scare you," the man smirked and jutted his chin at my tail. "Are you interested in a career in the military?"

"...Not really, no."

"Don't be like that. There are a ton of benefits for tailed Saiyans. You get free housing in the Merchant Sector after completing five successful tours – ten if you want in on the Royal Quarters – some support with your first kid, and some extra space credits when you retire. That Oozaru form of yours is pretty darn useful to have, you know?"

"Free housing, huh?"

Now that was tempting. After all, housing in Sadala got pretty damn expensive depending on what you wanted. All the nice things were in the Merchant and Royal sectors – which meant state-of-the-art training equipment and food – since that's where most migrant races moved to. Smaller settlements circled the Capital, but most of Sadala was wilderness outside of the spherical city.

Carole placed a hand on my shoulder and attempted to steer me away. I snorted and simply dug my heels into the ground. "Head back if you want. I'll meet you at your ma's, 'kay?"

"Fuck it. Can't say I didn't try. I swear on everything, Korn, if you get blown to bits that's on you!" she gave me the deadliest glare I'd ever seen before stomping off, her tattoos rippling; almost like the twin dragons would burst out of her at a moment's notice.

The Guardsman chuckled, "Now there's attitude and then there's that."

I smacked a fist against my palm, ignoring his comment. "Alright. I'll join up. But first, I'm going to fight in the tourney's junior division and get even stronger."

He gave me an amused glance and went back to leaning against the wall.

"And I'll win it."

"Really? I'll admit, you're a strong brat, but there are other strong brats around, you know? What if you don't get past the first stage?"

"That won't happen," I flashed a self-confident smile. "And if you bet on me – or the monastery – you'll go home a happy man."

"The monastery?" he kicked off the wall and eyed me up. "You aren't wearing that ragged brown robe."

"It's too uncomfortable," I grunted. "I don't like how it feels when I fight in it. Honestly, I dunno how Escar does it."

"Ah, Escar," he grinned. "He's a favourite of the Royal Guard."

"He is?"

"Yeah. We bet on him every year. Sure, he doesn't win but he goes far enough and is always the underdog when it comes to betting. Dunno why. Don't the organisers ever learn?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "Good on ya, I guess."

He leaned over and ruffled my hair so fast I was sure I'd be sporting a bald patch. "Don't forget what you just promised, kid."

I slowly floated up, searching for the ongoing fight between the two fighting too fast for me to track. "Oh, I won't. If I get to fight like that, I'll come running."

His booming laughter was evidence enough that he liked the idea. I smiled to myself, eyes alert, darting around as I followed the shockwaves exploding throughout the arena.