Dragon Ball: Taro Saga Chapter 5 — Wasteland Survival

Taro dropped to the alcove floor and slammed out one thousand push-ups on his knuckles with his legs extended straight behind him and his tail wrapped tight around his waist while he kept his back perfectly straight and his core locked so that every rep burned deep into his shoulders and chest until blood dripped from the reopened scabs on his hands and pooled in small red dots on the stone beneath him. 

He flipped onto his back without pausing and cranked out two thousand sit-ups with his fingers laced behind his head and his elbows driving forward to touch his knees each time while he twisted his torso left and right on alternate reps to carve his obliques into sharp lines that stood out under his skin. Sweat poured off him in rivers and soaked the dust into mud that clung to his back and arms but he did not slow down and he powered through the burn until his abs cramped hard enough to make him grunt with every exhale. 

He rolled to his feet and exploded into five hundred squat jumps where he dropped low enough for his thighs to brush the ground before launching upward with enough force to crack the air and touch the alcove ceiling with his fingertips on every leap. After he was done transitioned straight into shadow boxing and threw ten thousand punches in rapid combinations that blurred the air in front of him with hooks and jabs and uppercuts that he aimed at invisible enemies while he ducked and weaved and pivoted on the balls of his feet to keep his footwork sharp and his reflexes honed. 

He imagined it looked a lot more awkward than it felt as he didn't have any experience fighting in this life or the previous ones—barring getting beaten or his fight with Parro. But as far as he knew Saiyans didn't have much in the way of formal martial arts and simply relied on their battle instincts. It had worked well enough for his fight with Parro, so until he could get some formal training he'd have to rely on it too.

He added ki to the mix halfway through and channeled small bursts into each fist so that blue glows flared with every strike and left scorch marks on the walls where the energy grazed the stone. He finished the punches and dropped into a handstand and walked across the alcove on his hands for one hundred laps while he did leg raises with his body inverted and his toes pointing toward the ceiling to hammer his core and shoulders until his arms shook uncontrollably and veins bulged across his forearms. 

He collapsed out of the handstand and rolled into a bridge position where he held his body arched with only his hands and feet touching the ground and he pulsed his hips upward in five hundred reps that made his glutes and lower back scream for mercy. He ended the routine by flipping back onto his feet in one fluid motion and planting his stance wide while he drew every ounce of ki from his core and pushed it outward until his aura ignited in a brilliant white flare that filled the alcove with crackling energy and whipped dust into spirals around him.

It had been a full week since he had crawled out of the mine entrance and every single day since then he had dedicated to training, from the moment the twin suns peeked over the horizon until they dipped below the ridgeline again. He had pushed his body past limits he did not know existed and he had felt the Zenkai boosts stack one after another without the ore's radiation choking them off and the progress showed in the way his muscles filled out harder and denser under his skin.

He reached into the pile of scavenged parts he had dragged back to the alcove over the days and pulled out the scouter he had pieced together from parts that he had analyzed and rewired with his enhanced brain working overtime to make sense of the alien tech even when half the components were melted or corroded beyond recognition. He slipped the device over his left eye and pressed the activation button with a thumb that still trembled from the workout and the lens flickered to life with a faint green glow before it beeped and displayed his PL. 

Beep

 [102]

Taro ripped the scouter off and tossed it onto the ground and he threw his fist into the air with a shout that shot straight out of his chest and bounced through the ravine walls. His whole body jolted with the release and he barked out a looud laugh that made his ribs ache, then slapped his thigh hard enough to sting.

"I knew it!" he yelled his voicee cracking with pure excitement. "I knew it wasn't me! It was that damn radiation holding me back!"

He paced in a small circle, his breathing fast, his grin stretched wide across his face. The excitement made his hands shake, and he didn't bother hiding it. Seven days. Seven days of bruises and sweat and pain and that was all it took to break past the barrier that had held him in the mines like a leash around his throat. He spun again, arms thrown out, head tipped back toward the empty sky.

"One hundred and two!" he shouted. "Triple digits! Baby!"

He planted his feet and jabbed a finger at the distant horizon as if the mine sat just beyond it. "If I can jump thirty points in a week," he said, "Then give me a few months. Hell give me a year. I'll walk back into that place and tear every one of those bastards apart."

His voice dropped into a low, fierce growl, not angry but hungry. "I'll crush them. Every overseer. Every guard. All of them."

He laughed again, almost disbelieving that he could feel this much pride after only jumping 30 points. He looked down at his hands, still dust-covered, still shaking.

"I can really do this," he said quietly to himself. Then the grin returned. "I'm actually getting stronger."

He powered down and the aura vanished with a soft pop that left the alcove dim again and he collapsed onto his back on the cool stone with his chest heaving and his limbs spread wide while he stared at the ceiling and waited for his heartbeat to slow. He reached blindly for the water skin that lay beside the pool and he shook it upside down over his open mouth but only a few lukewarm drops splashed onto his tongue before the container gave up nothing more and he tossed it aside with a frustrated growl. 

Rumble

His stomach let out a loud hollow rumble that twisted in his gut and he pressed a hand to it. The hunger had become a constant companion that gnawed at his insides like a beast trying to claw its way out.

That was the real problem with holing up out here in the wasteland was that the the lack of food and water hit harder than any beating he had taken underground. Saiyans burned through calories like starships guzzled fuel and an empty stomach sapped strength faster than anything else. He had not eaten a single bite in over a week and the half ration bar he had brought was a distant memory. Slowly the weakness crept into his muscles now that the adrenaline faded but it did not feel as crippling as he expected and he figured his other half whatever mysterious bloodline mixed with the Saiyan side must dampen the hunger pangs or stretch his reserves further than a pureblood could manage.

He pushed himself up to sit and then to stand with his legs shaking under him and he rolled his shoulders to shake off the fatigue; he had spent enough time hunkered in this cave, and it was time to hunt something that could fill his belly and find a water source that would last him a while. He stepped out of the alcove into the open ravine. The air outside hit him with a dry rush that carried the faint metallic scent of old hull plating. He didn't hesitate. He bent his knees, kicked off the ground, and launched himself toward the wall.

His feet struck the rock with a loud crack. He pushed off again, then again, bouncing between both sides of the ravine in a rising zigzag until the walls narrowed and he used the last kick to flip upward and land cleanly on the rim above. He dropped into a crouch, his hand brushing the ground for balance, and looked around as a slow grin crept over his face.

"I'll never get used to that," he said under his breath. "Darren couldn't even do a pull-up without shaking. And now I'm doing this like it's the easiest thing in the world." He stood and stretched his arms out, rolling his shoulders until they loosened and the stiffness faded. His spine cracked several times as he twisted, and the morning heat from the twin suns washed over his skin in intense waves. He let his eyes drift up toward them. Their brightness forced him to squint, but he didn't look away.

Whenever he stepped into their light the dull ache in his stomach faded, the dizziness in his head eased, and a nice feeling built inside his chest that felt almost like power. He didn't understand it. He didn't question it either.  "I'll take whatever advantage I can get," he murmured. He slipped the scouter over his ear, tapped the activation button, and the lens flickered before stabilising. The numbers jumped as it scanned the desert.

Beep

[532]

Another pulse.

Beep

[1,104]

A longer reading.

Beep

[2,977]

Taro lowered the scouter slightly and exhaled.

"Yeah. Not going anywhere near that."

He scanned again, turning slowly.

Beep

[864]

[402]

[1,200]

[698]

All way out of his league. Even one hit from those things would turn his bones into paste.

He kept turning.

Beep

[182]

He paused.

Beep

[167]

Another one.

Beep

[153]

Now that was different.

Those weren't impossibly high. They were in the range where his strength, speed, and instincts could at least give him a fighting chance, especially if he fought smart. He let the scouter hang loosely in one hand and looked across the wasteland in the direction of the readings. The terrain rose in uneven ridges with clusters of dead vegetation around old impact craters. Whatever those signals were, they were alive, moving, and close enough that he wouldn't starve today if he was careful.

He should've gone for something weaker. Something below 100. Something safe. His rational brain told him that clearly. He hadn't eaten in a week, his water was gone, and one wrong strike could end him before he ever had the chance to grow stronger.

But he felt something else under his ribs. A slow heat rising. A wrong but thrilling urge building up through his spine.

He knew exactly what it was.

His Saiyan blood.

Even diluted, it stirred at the first scent of a possible fight, and he felt that pulse of excitement roll through him. His fingers tightened around the scouter. His breathing quickened just slightly. He could hear his own heartbeat thump a little faster.

"This is stupid," he said quietly to himself. "I should hunt something weaker."

He waited, giving himself a chance to listen to his own advice.

He didn't.

A small, controlled smile crept across his lips as he slipped the scouter back over his eye and tightened the strap. "Alright," he said. "One fifty. I can handle one fifty."

Not because it was safe.

Not because it was smart.

Not because he had anything to prove to anyone else.

But because every instinct he had screamed at him to take the risk, to push forward, to fight something that could hit possibly kill him. And he knew if he wanted real power, he couldn't keep training in a cave forever, he had to fight. He tightened the knot on his water skin, even though it was empty, and flicked a speck of dust off his forearm.

"Let's see what's out there."

Taro sprinted across the wasteland with long, powerful strides that kicked up red dust behind him in billowing streaks. His speed built quickly once he found a rhythm, and before long he was moving faster than any animal he had ever seen on Earth, faster than a cheetah, faster than anything that should have been possible for someone who had spent most of his life behind a desk or in a cramped apartment. His muscles fired cleanly with each step and even though his stomach was hollow he felt light on his feet, almost weightless.

The landscape blurred at the edges as he ran, ridges and dunes rushing past in streaks of rust and gold.

"I need to learn how to fly," he muttered between breaths. "Be much better if I want to cover ground faster." Every fighter worth anything in Dragon Ball could fly. Even kids could do it. It wasn't optional.

He knew the theory. He had watched the episodes where Gohan broke it down in simple steps. Lift yourself with your Ki. Push the energy downward like you were standing on a platform of your own power. Keep your center stable. Don't let the output spike or falter. Maintain balance so you didn't flip in midair and crash headfirst into the dirt. He understood the idea well enough, but understanding and doing were two completely different things, and right now his Ki behaved more like an untamed fire hose. He could burst with power, but shaping that power into something controlled was going to take work.

He frowned as he ran. "How do I fix that?"

Then a memory clicked into place. In the show Goku was blindfolded on the Lookout by Mr Popo and forced to 

Ki sensing.

Internal focus.

Manipulation

"If I can recreate that..." he said, narrowing his eyes, "I might actually get somewhere."

But thinking time was over.

The scouter beeped once.

Beep

[153]

He slowed and dug his heels into the dirt, skid­ding to a halt at the edge of a shallow rocky basin.

That was when he saw it.

The creature stood in the center of the basin; a dog-lizard hybrid the size of a car, thick-bodied with scaled plates running down its back. Its legs were long and muscular, ending in hooked claws that scraped lines into the rock. Its face was wide, with a blunt snout and rows of jagged teeth visible even in its resting state. But the worst part was the tail, a thick limb ending in a long curved stinger twice the length of his arm.

It swayed slowly, tapping against the ground.

Taro's breath caught. His entire body froze.

His rational mind reacted first.

Turn around.

Run.

This is stupid.

You're starving, dehydrated, and your power level is barely above one hundred.

This thing is stronger, bigger, and probably faster than you.

Every logical voice in his head lined up to shout the same thing—

Leave.

Now.

However before he could take any action it noticed him. The creature's head snapped toward him. Its pupils tightened into thin slits and a growl came out of its mouth before it roared. 

The sound hit Taro like a pressure wave, vibrating through the ground and up his legs. Taro flinched at first, but instead of taking a step back he actually walked forward. Heat flared through his chest. His heartbeat spiked. His hands curled into fists. The pit of his stomach twisted not with fear but with a rising boil of anger that felt like someone had flipped a switch in his blood.

His body recognised the sound for what it was.

A challenge.

And something deep inside him rose to meet it.

A dangerous smile spread across his face.

"Well," he said calmly despite the adrenaline rushing through him, "Looks like there's no running now." He bent his knees, dug his feet into the dirt, and pulled every ounce of Ki he could reach up from inside his core.

"RAAAAHHHH!"

His aura burst into existence with a violent flare, kicking up a ring of dust around him and slamming hot air upward in a strong wave. His muscles tightened, veins standing out along his arms and neck. Pain shot through his ribs but he pushed past it and threw himself forward into a sprint.

The beast reacted instantly. It lowered its stance and lunged to meet him, claws tearing through the rock with each step as its massive body accelerated with shocking speed. Its stinger arced behind it, ready to strike. Taro closed the distance first with a burst of speed that made his joints scream. He swung a fist straight into its snout, putting all his strength behind the punch.

The impact sounded like stone hitting metal.

The creature's head jerked back but only slightly. The hit barely made it flinch. Taro's knuckles split open again, pain exploding up his wrist. And before he could jump back, the beast lashed out. A clawed forelimb swiped horizontally, catching him across the chest. He didn't dodge fast enough. The blow launched him sideways like a ragdoll, and he slammed into a rock slab hard enough to crack it down the middle.

His lungs seized. The world flashed white.

He staggered up with a cough, spitting dust.

"Okay," he rasped, "this is gonna be a lot harder than it looks in the show."

The beast charged again, giving him no chance to rest. Its claws scraped sparks from the ground as it closed in. Taro braced and sprang upward at the last second, barely clearing the creature's snapping jaws. He twisted midair and aimed a kick at its eye, but it jerked its head aside and he only skimmed the top of its skull. 

The tail came next.

The stinger thrust forward with a sudden snap. Taro threw himself sideways, feeling the air warp beside his cheek as it missed by inches. The stinger pierced the rock behind him with a sharp crack. Taro rolled, gasping, sweat and dust caked on his skin. He pushed himself up just in time to see the beast yank its tail free and swing it around again.

In those simple exchanges the difference in their power was immediately made clear.

He was faster, but not by much.

He hit hard, but not hard enough.

One mistake and he would be skewered.

But he felt that fire in his chest again, that same pulse he felt when the creature roared. Damn his Saiyan blood, because of instead of being scared he had never felt more alive, it was a rush bigger than the one he had felt when he had killed Paro. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand and glared at the beast as it circled him.

"Come on," he muttered. "I'm sure we're both hungry. Let's see who gets to eat tonight."

He charged forward again.

(AN: Is Taro being a fool probably, but Saiyans aren't the smartest. Vegeta let cell get his perfect form and Goku endangered all of his universe, both so thry could have a good fight.)