Dragon Ball: Taro Saga Chapter 4 — Training

Taro cracked his eyes open long before that damn siren had a chance to wake him up, and he let out a low groan that rumbled deep in his chest as he shoved himself upright from the alcove's stone floor. His ribs protested with a sharp stab that made him suck in a hiss through his teeth, but he just shook his head and muttered to himself, "Yeah, yeah, I get it, body. You're pissed. Join the club." 

Kale must have slipped out sometime in the dead of night, because the space beside him felt empty and cold now, though she had left behind that clever little water skin she had fashioned from a scrap of cloth and tied off tight. He snatched it up and slung the strap over his shoulder, feeling the half-full weight slap against his back with a soft slosh, and then he dragged his callused hands across his face to scrub away the crusty remnants of sleep and the ever-present grit that seemed to cake everything in this pit. 

The scabs on his knuckles tugged under the pressure, pulling like fresh wounds. Though Taro liked them, it was as if his fists refused to forget the crunch of Paro's nose under them, and he paused to flex his fingers one by one, testing the ache with a wry smirk. "Not bad for a mongrel's first kill," he whispered. His left arm hung a touch looser than the right, the shoulder joint still sulky from the dislocation he had popped back in himself, and every time he drew a full breath, it felt like inhaling shards of that cursed ore, but pain like this? It was fuel, a reminder that he was not just surviving but clawing his way toward something better.

He rolled to his feet with a grunt, extending his arms out in front of him until his shoulders let out a series of satisfying cracks that echoed faintly off the walls, and then he tilted his head side to side, working the knots loose from his neck with deliberate rolls that made his spine pop in rhythm. He peeled one bandage away from his forearm to inspect the gash beneath, watching as it revealed a sealed line of red flesh that still wept a sluggish bead of yellow pus, "Damn radiation..." he mutturer as he knotted the bandage back into place with a firm tug that drew a fresh wince across his face. 

He reached into the fold of his waistband and pulled out the last half ration bar he had squirreled away from yesterday's and he snapped it cleanly in half with his teeth before cramming the first piece into his mouth to chew slowly, letting the chalky, metallic sludge coat his tongue while his mind raced ahead like it always did these days. 'Screw the mines. I'm out. No more hacking at that glowing trash for the overseers perched up there like kings of the shithole while they dole out scraps like we're pets.' The thought hit him full force as he swallowed. 

The ore's radiation did not just weaken the body, it sabotaged the soul of what made a Saiyan strong, seeping into his cells and throttling every Zenkai boost before it could ignite, leaving him trapped in the 70's when he should have been surging past a hundred after the beatings, the cave-ins, the swarm that had nearly turned him into bug chow. What a joke. Back on Earth, he'd be a martial arts champion with that Power Level, but here? It's a death sentence waiting for Ruko's next errand boy to sniff me out. He pocketed the remaining half-bar with a pat against his hip. I need to get out of here abs away from the radiations poisonous effective .

He eased out of the alcove with the soft pad of his bare feet on the dust-caked floor, moving quietly to avoid rousing the main cavern where the other weaklings lay sprawled in their sleeping holes. The air felt better as he neared the main shaft, and he froze at a junction point to tilt his head and strain his ears for any shuffle of footsteps or the rumble of a guard's patrol, but all he caught was the distant, irregular drip of condensation echoing off the walls. 

Satisfied, he pressed forward and began the climb up the rough-hewn stone stairs, his fingers wrapping around the frayed rope handrail that bit into his palms with fibers worn smooth from countless years there, and he powered through the burn in his legs from the previous night's fight. By the time he reached the lift platform, hanging empty and rusted in the feeble glow of overhead strips, sweat had begun to bead on his forehead and trace salty paths down his temples, but he hauled himself aboard without pause and gripped the chain, yanking it hand over hand, because the motor had crapped out last week and no one wasted repairs on the likes of them. 

His shoulders ignited with fire by the tenth heave, the muscles bunching and screaming under the strain, but he locked his jaw and kept at it, grunting with each link that rattled upward until the platform shuddered to a halt at the surface hatch, and he drove his shoulder into the rusted panel to shove it open wide, welcoming the rush of hot, dry air from the outside world that blasted across his face.

He hauled himself through the opening and into the wasteland', blinking hard against the glare of Alecto's twin suns as they clawed their way over the horizon, their light turning the cracked red ground into a mosaic of deep fissures that snaked outward in every direction like the veins of some colossal beast. 

The mine entrance loomed behind him as a black scar etched into the cliff face, he turned his back on it resolutely, flipping it a casual middle finger over his shoulder just to feel the petty thrill of defiance bubble up in his chest. "Catch you later, you damn shithole," he said aloud. 

He adjusted the water skin's strap to settle more comfortably against his collarbone and set off walking north toward the ridgeline, drawing on the fragmented memories from Taro's life that sketched out a graveyard of old crash sites from Saiyan scout pods that had met their end during the planet's early surveys. His bare feet kicked up puffs of red dust with every stride, the fine particles clinging to his ankles and calves in layers that itched under the heat, while the whipping wind tugged at his tattered shirt, flapping the open front wide enough to expose the tight-wrapped bandages around his ribs that shifted with each breath. 

Scrap littered the landscape in abundance, twisted metal panels thrust half-buried into the sand drifts, shattered viewports catching the sunlight, and rusted engine casings protruding from shallow craters, all of it stuff he could potentially use to get off this rock. He stepped over a warped bulkhead door that had fused solid with the ground, his feet scraping along its edge, and kept his gaze sweeping the terrain for anything salvageable. But for now, he just walked, he could always start building later.

First things first, I need a hole-up spot that's off the radar, some cave tucked in the ridges where the overseers skimmers won't ping me during perimeter sweep. While they wouldn't actively look for me for escaping they wouldn't not come after me if they knew I'd left on purpose. He needed to stay out here for a while and dedicate time to making himself stronger and bringing up his power level.

He cringed as he thought about his power level, it lingered in his mind like a nagging itch, a number that burned with inadequacy, even the weakest 

Saibaman would treat him like a chew toy at that output, he flexed his tail experimentally against his leg, feeling the muscle respond with a twitch. Zenkais are my cheat code here, and here with no ore radiation to gum up the works, I can get a lot stronger. 

He squeezed the water skin in his grip and lifted the spout for a quick pull, the liquid hitting his throat with a rusty, mineral tang that made him cough once before he capped it tight, rationing the supply for the midday scorch when the suns would turn the ground into a skillet. He crested the lip of a dune with a heave, the ravine below unfolding like a tangled graveyard of pod husks choked in creeping vines that strangled the rusted hulls, and he veered his path to drop down into its shade, sliding on loose gravel with heels digging furrows until he landed down below.

Taro moved deeper into the ravine with slow steps, his feet scuffing through gravel that shifted under him while the broken remains of old scout pods rose around him. He let his eyes drift across every torn panel and warped engine cone, it could be something he used later. The deeper he walked the quieter it became until the only sound left was the soft crunch of his feet and the faint whisper of wind carving its way between the rusted wreckage.

He passed a ruined pod with its entire front torn away, its cockpit crushed inward as if something huge had landed on it, and he slowed when he saw a spine of intact metal beams leaning into the rock wall, forming a natural barrier that guided him toward a darker hollow set back beneath an overhang, he felt his shoulders loosen as soon as he stepped into it. The alcove dipped inward farther than he expected and widened enough that he could turn around without brushing stone, so he dropped his water skin onto the ground and sank down with his back against the cool wall, letting his breath spill out in a long, tired exhale that rolled through him like a sigh from someone much older.

He stayed there for a moment, head tipped back, staring up at the ceiling while dust motes drifted in the thin shafts of light, he felt the stillness press in on him in a way that made him aware of just how long it had been since he had stopped moving. The ache in his ribs pulsed in slow waves and the dull sting in his knuckles throbbed with his heartbeat. He rubbed his thumb over the rough skin of his palm and let his mind drift toward a thought he had been avoiding for days, one that made his stomach twist with equal parts longing and doubt.

'If I cannot manipulate Ki, I am nothing but a person waiting to die.'

Back in the mines he could feel something in him, faint and buried under exhaustion and radiation and fear, a flicker of heat behind his sternum that he had never managed to reach, but now he knew this was the moment to try.

He slid down until he was sitting cross-legged with his hands resting on his knees, and let his eyes close. He knew trying to force his way in with tension would do nothing but shut the door tighter so he relaxed, and he breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth in long, steady pulls, letting each exhale push out the grit that clung to the edges of his thoughts. His mind drifted across old memories of Dragon Ball Z and how the fighters back on Earth reached for and started shaping their Ki, and he tried to imagine what it would feel like to do the same.

At first, there was nothing, only the uncomfortable awareness of his own heartbeat and the pulse in his bruised ribs, he frowned because he expected something, even a spark, but all he felt was the emptiness he had carried since he arrived on Alecto. He tightened his fists and forced himself to keep breathing, drawing each breath deeper than the last until the air scraped against the tender spots in his chest, and then he pushed his attention inward, searching for anything warm.

Hours slid by. Sweat gathered on his brow and trickled down his temples, and he felt the frustration rise in him like the first heat of anger, this was supposed to be instinctive, a birthright, and yet he sat here like some helpless slave. He clenched his teeth and pushed harder, imagining himself reaching into his own chest and digging for that spark.

Then he felt it.

A small ember buried deep behind his sternum, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat within a heartbeat. His breath hitched and he leaned into it, letting his focus press around that heat and hold it steady, and the moment he did, the ember flared in response as if surprised to be noticed, he felt warmth begin to crawl through the center of his chest in slow ribbons that spread outward into his arms and stomach and spine. It was shaky and thin at first, like the warmth of a dying fire, but it was real, and he guided it as best he could, letting it slide into his shoulders and coil down through his legs until every limb felt wrapped in a thin sheath of heat.

He inhaled again, deeper than before, and with the breath he tried to push the warmth outward, imagining it flowing into every cell until it had nowhere else to go but out, and for a long, strained moment nothing happened, but then the warmth surged and expanded and roared through him like a sudden rush of air bursting through a sealed tunnel. His fingers twitched and his back arched forward, and the heat inside him pressed against his skin with a pressure that bordered on pain.

He dug his heels into the dirt and gave one more push, forcing the Ki outward not with technique but with raw instinct, and the pressure broke in a sudden blast that erupted from his body in a thin shockwave of dust and grit that rippled across the alcove and rattled the loose stones around him. His eyes snapped open as a faint glow clung to his skin, flickering unsteadily like a candle fighting for oxygen, and for a heartbeat he simply stared at the pale aura that wrapped him in a trembling outline of light.

Then he laughed.

It tore out of him in a raw burst, the sight of his own aura made everything in him feel real in a way nothing had since he came to this universe, and the absurdity of it hit him all at once, that he was actually sitting in a cave on a dead planet with a power level in the gutter and a half-broken body, with his ki now bursting around him.

"I have a damn aura around me," he said, still laughing, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his arm as the light flickered around him. "I actually have a damn aura. I'm really in Dragon Ball." And for the first time since he arrived on Alecto, he felt hope bloom inside his chest with the same warmth as his Ki.

Taro pushed himself upright and he wiped his palms on his torn trousers before rolling his shoulders back and letting out a slow breath. The glow around him flickered, rising and falling with each inhale, and he felt a tight thrill in his chest as he focused on pulling more Ki up from inside himself. He planted his feet wider apart and clenched his fists at his sides.

"Alright," he muttered, "bigger."

He tightened every muscle he could, dragging air deep into his lungs. His heartbeat thudded harder, matching the gathering pressure in his chest, and he let out a slow growl as he pushed everything outward. His aura sparked again, brighter and more stable this time, and the ground beneath him trembled with a soft vibration. Dust collected around his ankles, disturbed by the small waves of force pulsing off him as he pushed harder and harder until his skin prickled and his arms tingled.

A pulse ran through him, and his ki jumped to a brighter glow. His breath came out faster now, his chest rising and falling like he had been sprinting, but he held the power as long as he could before forcing more of it into his arms, feeling the heat coil inside his forearm like a pressurized line.

"Come on," he said through clenched teeth. "Do it."

He raised his hand in front of him, fingers spread, palm facing the far wall. The Ki inside him wavered, then rushed upward in uneven bursts that made his arm shake. He could feel it gathering, but it refused to hold a shape. Sweat ran down the side of his face as he tried again, focusing as hard as he could on keeping the energy from slipping away. Every time he thought he had it, the warmth scattered through his chest again and he had to pull it back.

He shifted his stance, tightened his grip on the air, and forced everything he had into that single point in his palm. His arm trembled harder, and for a moment he thought it would fail again until something clicked inside him. The energy condensed instead of scattering, and the heat in his palm formed into a controlled point.

His eyes widened.

"There—!"

The Ki snapped forward before he finished speaking. A small blast tore out of his hand with a crack, a fist-sized burst of light that shot across the alcove and struck the far wall with enough force to scorch the stone and blow out a shallow crater the size of his head. Dust puffed outward from the impact, drifting through the air in a lazy cloud while the echo rolled through the ravine outside.

Taro stared at his hand, breathing hard, and then he stared at the new dent in the wall.

Then he broke into a grin that stretched across his face.

"No way," he said. "No way I actually did that."

His aura faded as  the Ki drained from his limbs, and he felt the sudden drop in pressure like someone pulling a cord out of him. He let it fall away, shook out his arms, and then threw his head back.

"Wooohooo!"

He jumped, clearing almost a meter off the ground despite the pain in his ribs, and landed with a hard thud that sent another puff of dust into the air. He laughed again, louder this time, his hands in his hair as he walked in a small, excited circle.

"I actually fired a blast," he said, half-disbelieving, half-proud. "I'm doing real Ki shit. I'm actually doing it."

He turned back toward the scorched crater and pointed at it in triumph.

"That is just the start."

(AN: Our Boy Taro has left the mine. Some of you may be confused as to how easy it was. Well the whole planet is a prison. With thousands of mines across it. But the planets also a wasteland with little to no food and water. The only places with them are the prisons so if prisoners left they'd just die, so of course none of them leave. It's basically just that simple.)