Dragon Ball V: Chapter 6 (Patreon)

Sweat rolled down the back of Piccolo’s head as he lifted himself above the edge of the rock face. The weighted clothes he was draped in tried to drag him back down to earth. With a growl, he pulled himself the rest of the way up, collapsing on the edge of the rocky cliff.

​His muscles burned, but he dropped into a crouch despite the pain, beginning a set of squats that caused his thighs to scream in protest.

​“Not enough,” he growled as he pushed himself to the very limit. The demon king was on the brink of collapsing, but it still wasn’t enough.

​Standing, he turned and struck out against the nearby cliff face. His fist landed with a thunderous thud, sending cracks spider-webbing up the side of the mountain.

The rocky wall rumbled as the cracks spread upwards and outwards. After a second, it gave way completely and crumbled down on top of him.

​He turned, punching through a boulder nearly the size of his chest, and then spun to kick through a rock twice that big. The stony hail rained down on him, and he met it with his fists and feet, annihilating every single piece as the mountain crumbled down around him.

​He growled as he felt a piece of rock slip past his guard, followed by another. He continued his flurry of blows, but he was beginning to lag behind. His patience snapped as a rock careened off his forehead, and he let out a roar, throwing his arms wide and releasing a maelstrom of ki that destroyed anything and everything it came into contact with.

​When the dust cleared, he was surrounded by mountains of rubble and ash, as if some greater being had placed a burning finger on the earth itself, burning it down to its foundation. Piccolo panted, taking in the devastation around him with a smile.

​Said smile faded as he pushed his senses out and came across his original source of frustration. His fists clenched so hard his arms shook.

​It still wasn’t enough. No matter how much he trained, he couldn’t catch up to him. Goku... He could sense him from even here, a violent storm of energy in his senses. That bastard was leaving him in the dust.

​“What kind of training could be making him so strong, so quickly?” Piccolo growled, trying to make sense of it. Just a few months ago, they were neck and neck, as rivals should be. But something had changed, and now Goku was slowly but steadily pulling away from him. It was infuriating! No matter how hard he trained, he was being left in the dust!

​“RAAAGH!” Piccolo lashed out with a hand, sending a wave of destructive energy soaring towards a nearby outcrop. It disappeared in a flash of fire and heat. He panted, watching rubble rain down upon the earth.

​He’d improved too. He was stronger and faster than he’d ever been before. If he were like this just a few months ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to find Goku and take his revenge. But now...

​Piccolo clenched his fist and blasted off into the sky, the wind whipping his cape behind him as he soared over the wasted landscape. He flew for miles, putting distance between himself and the ruin he’d made of his training ground until he found a fresh series of mountains jutting up from the earth like the teeth of some ancient beast.

​He descended, his feet touching down on the rocky soil. He’d barely taken a step forward when the ground trembled beneath him and a massive shadow fell over his form. Piccolo turned slowly to find a giant dinosaur stomping toward him, jaws parted to reveal rows of yellowed teeth the size of his forearm. The thing eyed him, clearly deeming him an easy meal.

​Piccolo glared at it with pure malice. The dinosaur’s mouth stopped only a foot away from his skull as a wave of killing intent washed over the animal. It let out a confused roar, scrambling backward and turning tail. It stomped away into the distance, its tail flicking behind it in a panicked swing as it tried to get as much distance between itself and Piccolo as physically possible.

​Piccolo scoffed as it disappeared, turning back to his original task. A massive cliff looked down above him, pitted with erosion but sheer in every other way. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, suppressing his ki until it was no larger than the animal he’d just scared away, and then began to climb.

​Hand over hand, Piccolo hauled himself up the mountainside, ignoring his protesting muscles as he trained in the most primal way he knew how. The weight on his chest and shoulders was excruciating, but he pushed past it.

​As he worked, his mind wandered back to Goku. Even now, with his ki suppressed to nothing, Piccolo could feel him at the edge of his awareness. His ki was a flickering bonfire, dangerous even at rest.

​As much as it enraged him to admit it, they were on different levels now. Goku had surpassed him, and by a wide margin.

​And yet he keeps training, Piccolo thought, as he pulled himself over a ledge. His fingers bled against the rock. What could he possibly need all that power for?

​The question gnawed at him. Goku wasn’t a man who trained for the sake of dominating others... So what had put that kind of fire in him?

​Piccolo didn’t know. And though he wouldn’t admit it, in the back of his mind, that scared him more.

​When Yamcha heard that Bulma was delivering some kind of suped-up training device to Kame House, curiosity got the better of him. His own training had slowed down a lot since the tournament a while back. He just never got back into the swing of things. But the martial artist in him was interested, and he found himself tagging along for the delivery.

​Roshi’s island looked exactly like he remembered it, down to that little pink lawn chair his old master always used to sit in. Yamcha and Bulma rolled up around noon. Roshi was outside, but there was someone else there, too.

​“Who’s that guy?” Yamcha asked, nodding towards the figure swimming laps in the distant ocean. Bulma glanced over.

​“Oh, that’s Hercule. He’s the one that the machine is for.”

​“For real?” Yamcha had never heard of the guy before. He definitely wasn’t in their little circle. How did Bulma know him?

​He frowned in the guy’s direction, before a voice called out to him. “Yamcha my boy, is that you?”

​A smile spread across Yamcha’s face as Master Roshi finally noticed him. “Yo, what’s up, old man?”

​A couple hours later, Yamcha was catching up with Master Roshi while Bulma fiddled with her latest contraption. Just then, Hercule finally crawled out of the water, gasping and dripping, and Yamcha got his first good look at the guy.

He was… honestly kinda goofy looking. Maybe a few years younger than Yamcha himself and pretty well built judging by how his gi fit around him. He carried himself like a martial artist but if you didn’t know what to look for, you wouldn’t be able to tell.

What’s up with that hair? Yamcha wondered, eying the pseudo-afro the guy was working on. Hercule ran a towel through it and it sprang back almost instantly, looking just as wet as it had before.

Hercule looked up and noticed Yamcha standing there and squinted. ​“Who’s this guy?”

​“This is Yamcha,” Bulma said, waving a hand. “He used to train under Master Roshi too, a while ago. He just came along for the ride.”

​“Is that so?” Hercule stuck out his hand with a grin that made Yamcha feel bad for his earlier jealousy. “Well, any student of Master Roshi is a friend of mine. I’m guessing you’re pretty good in a fight, huh?”

​Yamcha took the hand and shook it. The man’s grip was pretty good. “I do alright.”

​Roshi squinted at Yamcha for a long moment, stroking his beard. “Hmm... You know, Yamcha, I have to say you look a little softer than I remember. Been slacking off, have you?”

​Yamcha’s eye twitched. “What? No, I’ve been training.”

​Roshi peered at him over his sunglasses. “Really? Because you look a little bit flabbier than the last time you visited. Maybe it’s these old eyes. They don’t work quite like they used to.”

​Yamcha looked down at himself, finding nothing out of the ordinary. Still, Roshi’s words caused heat to burn in his cheeks, because he had been slacking off a little bit. It wasn’t much! Just a session here and there... Every couple days. B-But he was still in great shape! He’d been doing his kata, at least... when he remembered.

​“I haven’t been slacking,” Yamcha lied again.

​“Mhm.” Roshi returned to his magazine with a dismissive wave. “Well, if you say so. Though I notice Goku’s been training pretty hard lately, and Hercule here has been putting in the work too. It’d be a shame if one of my former students fell behind the new blood.”

​That did it.

​“Actually,” Yamcha said, his voice coming out a little strained, “I think I’ll stick around for a while. Mind if I use that gravity thing too, Bulma?”

​Bulma blinked. “I mean, sure? I made it for Hercule, but I don’t see why you couldn’t both use it. Just don’t break it.”

​“I won’t.” Yamcha turned to Hercule, who was still drying off. “Mind if I train with you?”

​Hercule shrugged. “Sure, the more the merrier! Just don’t expect me to go down easy!”

Yamcha snorted. This guy was going to give him trouble? Please.

​Two days later, Yamcha was reconsidering that assessment. Hercule may have been a newbie, but damn, he was tenacious! It was like he didn’t know how to give up!

​Yamcha wiped sweat off of his brow as he watched Hercule climb to his feet across from him. Both of them were soaked in sweat and covered in bruises, but it was clear that Hercule was the worse out of the two of them. Even so, Yamcha was bone-tired and almost annoyed as the man took up a stance yet again.

What’s driving this guy? Yamcha wondered as Hercule sprang forward with explosive speed. The gravity chamber was set for twice Earth’s gravity, and it was slowing both of them down quite a bit.

​Hercule came at him with a leg that Yamcha slipped under, countering with a shot to the older man’s body. The older man grunted but didn’t back off, twisting around in yet another kick that made Yamcha back off. His stance and footwork were full of holes, but he was making it work.

​Yamcha threw out punches as fast as he could. The first day in here, he was a little frustrated as he noticed that he was slower than usual, and not just because of the gravity. He really was getting rusty.

​Hercule blocked attacks and fired back with a body shot. His fist shot out with explosive speed, moving fast that was caught by surprise. He tried to dodge but he couldn’t manage it and caught it square in the ribs instead.

​“Oof!” Air left Yamcha’s lungs in a rush. He staggered back a step and rubbed the spot where Hercule’s fist had landed. That actually stung.

​Hercule grinned, bouncing on his feet. “Got ya good that time!”

​“I noticed,” Yamcha muttered, before moving in again.

​In the beginning, Yamcha didn’t really take this guy seriously. He thought their spars would be nothing but an opportunity to shake off a little rust and get him back in shape. He was sort of right. Hercule wasn’t anything special, but Yamcha quickly learned that he couldn’t just laugh in the guy’s face either. He had to actually try.

You know, just a little bit.

​They clashed, and this time Yamcha pushed himself just a little harder, focusing on his opponent and the way his own muscles moved.. One exchange later, Hercule hit the mat with a heavy thud and Yamcha immediately climbed on top of him, one fist cocked back to swing down into the man’s face.

​Hercule stared at him, and for a second, it looked like he was going to try and get up. After a second, though, he relaxed with a laugh. “Damn, you really got me, huh?”

​Yamcha offered him a hand up, unable to keep the grin off his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been doing this for a while. You’re giving me a run for my money, though. Can’t say I thought you had it in you.”

​Hercule took the hand and hauled himself up, rolling his shoulder where he’d hit the mat. “I’m no stranger to some fancy martial arts; my old master taught me well. Though Master Roshi ain’t no slouch either!”

​Yamcha laughed. “He’s got his quirks, but he’s also the best there is, there’s no denying that.” He stretched, feeling the burn in his muscles. He forgot how much he missed that feeling. Training with this guy was pretty fun.

​“One more time?” he asked, and Hercule responded with a grin, taking his place across from him.

​“Yeah, I think I got another one in me.”