I'm hungry. First I'll eat a reader, then I'll start writing.
Dragon Ball World.
Age 765.
Son Goku contracted the Heart Virus and died because there was no cure.
Age 766.
Trunks was born.
That same year, Dr. Gero, a remnant of the Red Ribbon Army, awakened the vicious Android 17 and Android 18.
The Z Fighters were forced to face them.
After that, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Krillin, Vegeta, and Piccolo were killed one after another.
Nine-year-old Son Gohan escaped disaster because he was out searching for the Dragon Balls.
Twelve years passed in silence.
One day in Age 778.
On this day, the sky was as black as spilled ink.
Wisps of smoke rose everywhere.
The shattered earth, the decaying, collapsed buildings, and the mold-scented breeze.
Seen from high above, the countless things one could say about Earth all came down to one word: despair.
This was the forgotten Dragon Ball World 1.
Location: the ruins of a city destroyed by the Androids.
A strong gust swept through, lifting half a yellowed newspaper from the ground and carrying it into the distance.
Among the disordered ruins stood a conspicuous little mound of earth.
It was actually a grave.
Several differently colored flowers had been planted on it, swaying in the wind.
Neatly arranged before the grave were a few bananas, several apples, and a bottle of water.
Clearly, someone had deliberately left them there as an offering.
The soil was fresh, the yellow flowers had not yet withered, and the bananas and apples were still fresh.
It was obviously a new grave.
The only question was who had been buried inside.
"Rustle!"
Just then, a faint sound rang out.
The mound trembled, and the soil on top was shoved in all directions, tumbling down.
Then a pale hand burst through the earth.
A one-armed young man crawled out of the grave.
His face was pale, his body covered in wounds, and he was incredibly weak.
Just crawling out of the pit had used up ninety percent of his strength.
He lay on the ground and rested for a while. At last, he recovered a little strength and struggled to sit up.
Once seated, he spat out the dirt in his mouth. "Ptooey! Ptooey!" Then he pinched his nose with his only remaining right hand to clear the sand from his nostrils.
Only after that did the young man gasp for breath and stare blankly at his surroundings.
"Where am I?"
As soon as the question surfaced in his mind, it felt as if an iron needle had been driven into his skull. A sharp pain struck, as though his head were about to split in two.
"Ugh..."
He dug the fingers of his right hand into his scalp, pulling out quite a bit of hair.
Then he buried his head between his knees and let out a low, beastlike growl.
With each stab of pain, a flood of unfamiliar memories surged into his mind.
A few seconds later, the young man panted and wiped the bead-sized drops of sweat from his forehead. His whole body was drenched in cold sweat.
He had been reborn.
This was the Dragon Ball world, and he was Son Gohan.
But not the Son Gohan who could turn Super Saiyan 2 at the age of nine and beat Cell to a pulp.
He was One-Armed Gohan from another timeline.
Now, his left arm had been severed at the shoulder, leaving him with only his right arm.
There was also a conspicuous scar over his left eye. If it had been any deeper, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
The Androids had caused all of this.
The scar on his face had been left by a battle with the Androids several years ago.
His left arm had been blasted off by Android 18 more than a year ago when he tried to save Trunks.
Even the terrible injuries he had now had been inflicted by Android 18.
He and that woman were sworn enemies.
Android 18 had not only killed his family and friends, but had even killed "himself."
Those two demons, who took pleasure in killing and destruction, had slaughtered hundreds of millions of people in a single year.
If he had not crossed over and breathed a spark of life back into Son Gohan's soul, this time he would have been doomed to die.
He never would have crawled out of his grave.
The two souls merged in an instant, becoming one, and grew countless times stronger in the blink of an eye.
His gravely injured, dying body regained some strength as a result.
"Ptooey!"
Son Gohan spat out another mouthful of phlegm mixed with dirt, then picked up the purified water in front of the grave.
He clamped the bottle between his legs and twisted off the cap with all his might.
With difficulty, he raised the bottle, tilted his head back, and gulped down several mouthfuls until it was empty.
Then Son Gohan ate all the bananas and apples, too.
They had been left as offerings for him, after all. It would have been a waste not to eat them.
In the apocalypse, wasting food was a shameful thing to do.
Besides, his body needed a great deal of energy to heal.
A few bananas and apples were barely a drop in the bucket. They were nowhere near enough.
Son Gohan sat cross-legged and rested for a long time, but the expected "Ding!" never came.
"Ah, looks like I don't have any of the usual systems that come with crossing over."
He sighed helplessly, then slowly stood up.
As he moved, his battered body immediately protested, sending a tearing pain through him.
"Ugh, this hurts way too much..." Son Gohan grimaced, sweat rolling down his forehead.
He had no idea how many bones were broken or how many internal organs were bleeding.
But his willpower was extraordinary. Even though his whole body was in agony, he could still endure it.
The most urgent thing now was to find somewhere safe to hide and properly treat his injuries.
Otherwise, if he kicked the bucket again right after being reborn, it would all be for nothing.
There was pitifully little ki left in his body, but it was still enough for him to fly, barely.
After figuring out which way to go, Son Gohan gathered his ki and rose into the air, slowly flying toward Bulma's home.
Given the situation, going to Bulma's was the best choice.
Capsule Corp had been attacked by the Androids several years ago. Many facilities and research projects had been destroyed, and it was no longer as glorious as it once had been.
But Bulma, the heart and soul of Capsule Corp, was still alive.
As long as Bulma was around, Capsule Corp would continue to exist.
After that attack, Bulma moved Capsule Corporation to an obscure corner of West City.
And Son Gohan knew very well that ever since that attack several years ago, the Androids had never visited Capsule Corporation again before they were killed.
So, for now, Capsule Corporation was a safe place.
At least it would be safe for the next few years.
More importantly, Son Gohan wanted to tell Bulma and Trunks as soon as possible that he was still alive.
Trunks had personally buried him yesterday. He must be heartbroken now.
An hour later.
Son Gohan finally arrived at Capsule Corp.
The distance was only a little over a hundred kilometers, but it had taken him a full hour to make the trip this time.
That showed just how weak he was.
When he was healthy, he could have covered that distance in less than half a minute.
After landing, Son Gohan's legs went weak and his vision darkened. He nearly fell over.
He forced himself to stay alert, staggered over to the familiar gate, and knocked on it with effort.
"Who is it?" A sharp shout immediately rang out from inside.
It was Trunks.
"Trunks, it's me..." Son Gohan felt as if his eyelids weighed a million tons. He could barely keep them open.
A rush of hurried footsteps sounded inside, then the door was flung open.
A twelve-year-old boy with purple hair dashed out.
He stared at Son Gohan, his lips trembling, tears already blurring his eyes.
Son Gohan placed a hand on his head and said, "Trunks, what have I always taught you? You didn't even notice someone coming up to you..."
After saying that, Son Gohan could no longer resist the overwhelming drowsiness. His head tilted, his body went limp, and he fell forward.
Trunks reacted quickly and caught Son Gohan.
"I understand, Gohan."
"Waaah..."
Trunks could no longer hold it in. He burst into tears, his face covered in both tears and snot.
Son Gohan was covered in dirt, but Trunks was still afraid his snot and tears would drip onto him. He kept wiping his face with his sleeve until he had smeared it all over.
Bulma ran out right after him.
Her eyes were just as misty when she saw Son Gohan, but she was an adult, after all, and held back her sobs.
She sniffed deeply, then patted Trunks on the shoulder. "Stop crying. Hurry and carry Gohan to bed so he can rest. His injuries are far too serious."
"Yes, Mom." Trunks glanced back at Bulma and stopped crying, then carried Son Gohan inside.
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