The morning light filtered into the cave, its warmth a stark contrast to the cool stone beneath me. My body ached in ways I didn't think possible. Every muscle screamed in protest, but I welcomed the pain. It meant I was alive, and more importantly, it meant I was working toward something.
I sat up, rolling my shoulders to shake off the stiffness. The crude weight I'd made the night before was propped against the cave wall, the vines frayed from repeated strain. It wouldn't last much longer, but I'd already thought of ways to improve it. Saiyan ingenuity wasn't just for battle—it was for survival.
"Okay," I muttered to myself. "First priority: ki suppression."
The memory of Goku and Piccolo tracking the old Raditz haunted me. If I couldn't keep my energy hidden, every training session, every burst of ki would be like a beacon to the Z Fighters. They might be recovering now, but that wouldn't last. I had to act before they decided to come looking for me.
Crossing my legs, I closed my eyes and focused inward. The warmth of my energy flickered in my chest, familiar and untamed. It was like holding a live wire—powerful but volatile, radiating outward in every direction.
I tried to visualize it again, picturing the energy like a roaring flame. This time, I didn't try to snuff it out completely. That had been my mistake the day before. Instead, I imagined covering it, shielding it like embers buried under ashes. Slowly, the flame dimmed in my mind, shrinking into something faint and controlled.
The scouter beeped softly, breaking my concentration. I cracked an eye open and checked the screen. My power level had dipped slightly—from 1,500 to 1,200. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Good. That's good."
The rest of the morning was spent honing this technique, alternating between bursts of training and meditative suppression. It was grueling, mentally more than physically. Every time I thought I'd mastered it, my energy flared up again, forcing me to start over.
By midday, I decided to shift my focus. Ki suppression was important, but so was raw strength. If I couldn't overpower the threats coming my way, hiding wouldn't save me.
The forest became my training ground. I swung my makeshift weight like a club, smashing through trees and boulders, the impacts sending shockwaves through my arms. I practiced flight, pushing my speed and maneuverability to the limit as I weaved between treetops. Each movement felt more natural, more fluid, as I grew accustomed to this Saiyan body.
Hours passed, and hunger gnawed at me. My stomach growled loudly, reminding me that even a Saiyan's body couldn't run on empty forever.
I glanced at the forest below, scanning for anything edible. The old Raditz's instincts kicked in, and my eyes zeroed in on movement—a boar grazing near a stream. It wasn't much, but it would do.
Descending quietly, I crept through the underbrush. The boar didn't sense me, too focused on its meal. With one swift motion, I lunged, pinning it to the ground. Its squeals echoed through the forest, but it didn't stand a chance against my strength.
As I sat by the fire that evening, roasting the boar over a makeshift spit, a strange feeling settled over me. This wasn't the life I'd imagined—not as a human, and certainly not as a fan of Dragon Ball. Yet here I was, surviving, adapting. The universe hadn't given me much of a choice.
I took a bite of the boar's charred meat, the flavor surprisingly rich. My tail flicked lazily behind me, a habit I was starting to grow accustomed to.
"This isn't so bad," I muttered between bites. But even as I said it, a part of me knew better. This was the calm before the storm.
The scouter beeped again, and I glanced at the screen out of habit. The reading was faint, barely registering, but it was enough to put me on edge.
Power Level: 10.
I frowned. It wasn't strong, but it was moving—circling the forest. Another animal? Or something else?
I set the scouter aside, extinguished the fire, and pressed my back against the cave wall. The world outside was growing darker, the shadows deepening as night fell.
For now, I was safe. But I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.
The forest was quiet in the early dawn, the only sounds the rustling leaves and the distant chirping of birds. I stood in a clearing, my hands clenched into fists, and my breathing steady. My training was starting to pay off, but there was still so much more to do.
I activated the scouter, checking my power level. 950.
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. It wasn't that my strength had diminished, but my ki suppression was improving. By focusing on containing my energy rather than outright diminishing it, I'd managed to give the illusion of being weaker. At least for now.
"Step one, accomplished," I muttered.
But suppressing my ki was only part of the equation. The real question was, what would I do with this newfound stealth? The obvious answer was to keep hiding, but that wasn't a long-term solution. Eventually, Vegeta and Nappa would arrive, and when they did, they'd bring destruction on a planetary scale.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn't let that happen—not to Earth, and not to myself.
I crouched on a flat boulder in the clearing, my tail flicking behind me as I mapped out a plan in my mind.
Option 1: Escape Earth
Leaving the planet would solve several immediate problems. I wouldn't have to worry about the Z Fighters tracking me, and I'd be far away when Vegeta and Nappa showed up. But where would I go? My pod was wrecked, and I had no idea how to pilot a ship.
I frowned, crossing that option off my mental list. Without a way off Earth, this plan was dead in the water.
Option 2: Stay Hidden
This was the safest option—stay in the shadows, keep suppressing my ki, and hope the Z Fighters never found me. But it also felt like the most cowardly. If I wanted to survive in the long run, I couldn't just rely on hiding. I needed to be strong enough to face whatever came my way.
Option 3: Train and Overcome
This was the riskiest option but also the one that felt most… right. If I trained hard enough, I could bridge the gap between myself and the others. Maybe even surpass them. Saiyans grew stronger after surviving battles, and while I wasn't planning on getting myself killed, I could use this body's potential to my advantage.
I stared at my hands, the calloused palms a reminder of my hours of training. The old me would've laughed at the idea of becoming a warrior, but now it was my reality. If I wanted to survive, I had to embrace it.
"Alright," I said, standing up. "Time to stop thinking and start acting."
---
The Training Regimen
Over the next few days, I fell into a strict routine.
1. Morning Meditation
Ki suppression became my top priority. Every morning, I sat in the clearing, focusing inward. I imagined my energy like water in a jar, sealing it tightly so not even a drop escaped. The scouter was my gauge, and little by little, I managed to lower my apparent power level to under 500. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to stay under the radar—for now.
2. Physical Conditioning
The forest became my gym. I fashioned heavier weights from rocks and vines, carrying them as I ran through the trees. Each swing of my arms and each leap over obstacles pushed my body to its limits. My Saiyan physiology adapted quickly, the soreness fading faster with every session.
3. Combat Training
I practiced my strikes on boulders, shattering them into rubble. My movements grew sharper, my punches and kicks faster and more precise. Occasionally, I fired small ki blasts, testing my control. I kept them small, just enough to avoid attracting attention.
---
The Fruits of Labor
A week passed before I allowed myself a moment of rest. Sitting in the cave, I stared at the scouter. My apparent power level now hovered around 400—low enough to avoid detection by the Z Fighters and any passing threats.
But I wasn't satisfied. Lowering my ki was a defensive measure, not a solution.
"Alright," I muttered, my tail curling around my waist. "If I'm going to survive, I need to think ahead."
The first order of business was to gather more information. The scouter might pick up ki signatures, but it couldn't tell me much else. I needed to learn what the Z Fighters were doing, how much time I had before Vegeta and Nappa arrived, and whether there were any other threats on Earth.
Stealing a communicator from Bulma crossed my mind, but the risk was too high. Instead, I'd have to rely on observation and my limited knowledge of the series.
---
The Next Step
The scouter beeped softly, pulling me from my thoughts. A faint power level—15—moved through the forest. Another animal, probably.
I leaned back, staring at the cave's ceiling. For now, I was safe, but safety was a fleeting luxury in this world.
If I play this right, I might just survive.
But a darker thought lingered in the back of my mind: surviving wasn't enough. If I wanted to change the course of this story, I couldn't just react to the threats coming my way. I had to be proactive.
The Saiyan in me stirred, a fierce determination lighting a fire in my chest.
This time, when Vegeta and Nappa arrived, I wouldn't be the weakest link.