The Start of Training

Early morning on Mount Paozu, and the thin mist had yet to disperse.

I had already been standing in the yard for ten minutes, while my dad, Son Goku, was still leisurely putting on his shoes inside.

"Gohan, wait a little longer! I'll be ready soon!"

(You've been saying that for the past five minutes.)

I took a deep breath and tried my best to be as patient, well-behaved, and non-pushy as a four-year-old child ought to be.

Three minutes later, Dad finally appeared in the yard.

He stretched and let out a huge yawn.

"Let's go, Gohan!"

"...Dad, where exactly are we training today?"

"Of course, the back mountain!" Dad said as if it were obvious. "It's quiet there, and we won't disturb anyone."

(So you spent all that time dawdling inside just thinking about this?)

We arrived at an open clearing on the back mountain.

It really was a good place to train—mountains surrounded it on all sides, the view was wide open, and it was far enough from Mount Paozu that we would not disturb the neighbors.

"Alright, Gohan." Dad turned around, and his expression suddenly grew serious. "Are you ready?"

I nodded.

Although I had no idea what Dad was going to teach me, judging by his serious expression, it should have been something important.

"Good." Dad nodded in satisfaction, then used Instant Transmission to appear behind me and threw a punch at the back of my head.

I instinctively dodged sideways, and Dad's fist grazed past my ear.

"Not bad reflexes." Dad's voice came from beside me. "But you let your ki leak out just now."

"What?" I steadied myself and looked at him in surprise.

"Your ki..." Dad scratched his head, seeming to search for the right words. "How should I put it... it was just... too obvious."

"Too obvious?"

"That feeling of 'I'm about to attack' was too strong." Dad gestured as he spoke. "In a normal fight, your opponent shouldn't be able to guess what you're going to do. But just now, your whole ki was shouting, 'I'm gonna dodge, I'm gonna dodge!'"

(...What kind of description is that?)

"So, Dad, you mean I need to control the leakage of my ki?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Dad's eyes lit up. "That's exactly what I mean! You got it so quickly!"

(Isn't that just common sense?)

"Then how exactly should I do it?"

"Uh..." Dad tilted his head and thought for a moment. "Just... don't use too much force?"

"..."

"Ah, no, that's not it. Not using too much force." Dad furrowed his brow. "It's more like... how should I say it..."

He fell silent.

Looking at his expression, I suddenly had a bad feeling.

"Dad, don't tell me you don't know how to teach this?"

"Ahem." Dad coughed awkwardly twice. "Well... I can do it, but I'm not very good at explaining it..."

(Of course.)

(The whole 'battle genius who can't teach others' trait had already been obvious in the original story.)

(Can you imagine it? A man who could easily defeat Frieza actually didn't know how to teach someone else the techniques he knew.)

"Forget it, Dad. I'll figure it out myself." I sighed.

"Okay!" Dad became excited again. "Then I'll demonstrate!"

He vanished in an instant, and the next second, I was already face-down on the ground.

"Did you feel that move just now?" Dad's voice came from above my head.

I struggled to raise my head and found that he had already returned to his original spot, as though nothing had happened.

"I felt it..." I covered my face. "But I couldn't see anything at all..."

"This is ki control." Dad crouched down. "Completely conceal your ki so your opponent can't detect it. Then release it at the instant you attack."

"..."

"Do you understand?"

"...A little," I said. "But Dad, can you do it again? Slowly this time."

"Of course!"

Dad stood up and vanished again—then I was sent flying once more.

"Did you see it clearly?"

"...No."

"Strange, I was obviously already moving very slowly..." Dad looked utterly puzzled.

(Your "slow" and my "slow" are not even the same concept!)

(What standard are you even using to judge whether something is fast or slow?!)

Over the next two hours, Dad "guided" me countless times.

Every time I had just regained my footing, I was sent flying the next second.

Every time I tried to see his movements clearly, all I saw was an afterimage.

By the end, I was practically lying face-down on the ground, not wanting to get up.

(This isn't training. This is practically one-sided abuse...)

(And the kind where he doesn't hold back at all—where he beats you half to death...)

(I have every reason to suspect you're taking this chance to get back at me for not eating properly!)

"Gohan, get up!" Dad's voice was full of energy. "Rest for five minutes, then we'll continue!"

"Dad..." I said weakly, "could I rest for ten minutes...?"

"No, no!" Dad shook his head. "Training means striking while the iron's hot!"

(Hot, my ass. I'm practically cold already...)

I forced myself upright and frantically replayed Dad's movements in my mind.

Suppressing ki... releasing it in an instant...

I understood it in theory, but putting it into practice was a completely different matter.

"Oh, right, Gohan." Dad suddenly leaned over. "About how high is your power level right now?"

"Uh..." I hesitated. "If I go all out, probably a few hundred million..."

"A few hundred million?" Dad blinked. "Then you should be really strong."

"But my combat skills can't keep up at all..." I gave a bitter smile. "It's like... like holding an invincible gun but not knowing how to aim it."

"Hmm..." Dad stroked his chin. "That really is a bit troublesome."

"Dad, how do you usually improve your combat skills during training?"

"Me?" Dad thought for a moment. "I just keep fighting. Fight enough, and you naturally learn."

"..."

(As expected, it's the beast-style training method.)

(Just what you'd expect from a man who could spar with Krillin for three years.)

"So do I need to fight lots of battles to improve too?"

"Yep!" Dad nodded. "So let's keep going!"

"Wait, wait, wait—" I hurriedly raised a hand. "Let me rest a little longer..."

Meanwhile, at Bulma's home in West City.

"What? You want what?"

Vegeta stood in Capsule Corporation's laboratory, looking at the control panel in front of him.

"A gravity chamber," he said. "A room that can generate high levels of gravity."

Bulma blinked, thinking she had misheard.

"A gravity chamber? What do you want that for?"

"Training," Vegeta said coldly. "Any more questions?"

"Uh... we do have the technology for something like that..." Bulma scratched her head. "But wouldn't it be too dangerous for you to use it alone?"

"None of your concern."

"But—"

"I said," Vegeta turned his head, and his icy gaze made Bulma instinctively take a step back, "none of your concern."

Bulma swallowed.

"Then... then how many times Earth's gravity do you want?"

"What's the highest it can be adjusted to?"

"The maximum... is probably three hundred times."

Vegeta fell silent for a moment.

"That'll do."

"Three hundred times?!" Bulma cried out. "Do you know what three hundred times gravity even means?! An ordinary person's internal organs would be crushed just standing there—"

"I'm not an ordinary person." Vegeta cut her off. "I'm the Prince of the Saiyans."

His tone was calm, but Bulma heard an unquestionable resolve in it.

"...Fine." Bulma sighed and began operating the control panel. "The gravity chamber is on the left side of the second floor. Go by yourself."

Vegeta said nothing and turned to leave the laboratory.

Bulma watched his back, then suddenly called out, "Vegeta."

Vegeta stopped, but he did not turn around.

"Are you... competing with someone?"

Silence.

"...Who it is doesn't matter." Vegeta's voice came from ahead. "What matters is that I won't lose to anyone."

He continued walking.

Bulma watched his figure vanish at the end of the corridor, lost in thought.

"What is that guy... so obsessed with, anyway...?"

Vegeta entered the gravity chamber and closed the door.

He pressed the switch, and the numbers began to climb.

10... 50... 100... 200... 300.

The gravity abruptly increased to three hundred times normal.

"Ugh..."

Vegeta's knees bent slightly, but he quickly steadied himself.

Under three hundred times gravity, an ordinary person would have been crushed into a pancake long ago.

But he was the Prince of the Saiyans.

This was still nowhere near enough.

He began throwing punches, one after another.

Every punch carried all of his strength.

"Ha!"

"Hah!"

"Aah!"

Sweat flew, his muscles burned, and his bones gave faint creaks under the crushing pressure.

But Vegeta did not stop.

(Kakarot...)

(You've already surpassed me, haven't you...)

(That so-called Super Saiyan...)

(You achieved it...)

(What about me?)

Fire burned in his eyes.

(I'm the Prince of the Saiyans...)

(I'm the... strongest Saiyan...)

(What you can do...)

(I absolutely—absolutely won't lose!)

"AAAH!!!"

He roared, and the ki within him erupted violently.

Even under three hundred times gravity, the laboratory walls trembled.

That afternoon, after finishing training with Dad, I slipped away to find Piccolo.

Piccolo was waiting for me in the woods.

"How did the investigation go?" I got straight to the point.

Piccolo was silent for a moment before speaking.

"Dr. Gero does exist."

My heart skipped a beat.

"After the Red Ribbon Army was destroyed, most of its members were captured. But Dr. Gero... disappeared." Piccolo's tone was grave. "The last place he was seen was a small island in the south. After that, there was no news of him."

"Your dream..." Piccolo looked at me. "It might not have been a dream."

I took a deep breath.

(Just as I thought...)

(Although I had long known Dr. Gero was real, hearing it confirmed with my own ears still made my heart sink.)

"Thank you, Uncle Piccolo," I said. "Keep investigating. If you find anything, tell me immediately."

"I will." Piccolo nodded. "You need to be careful too. If that doctor really is creating androids..."

"I know." I clenched my fists. "What happens three years from now... absolutely will not happen."

Piccolo looked at me with a complicated expression.

"...You brat," he said softly. "Sometimes, the way you talk really doesn't sound like a four-year-old."

I didn't respond.

Because that was my greatest secret.

That evening, I walked home.

When I passed in the direction of West City, I suddenly stopped.

Not far ahead stood Capsule Corporation's newly built gravity training facility.

And at that moment, I could clearly sense the energy coming from inside.

Wild, scorching, and brimming with fighting spirit.

It was Vegeta.

He was training like a madman under three hundred times gravity.

That energy... was stronger than it had been a few days ago.

I stood there, looking at the building.

(Vegeta...)

(You really are giving it everything you have.)

(To grow stronger, to prove that you are the Saiyan prince...)

(You're gambling with your life.)

I withdrew my gaze and continued walking.

(Three years from now, you really will be one of the strongest fighters.)

(But right now...)

I shook my head.

(You're still far from it.)

(But that's all right.)

(Three years...)

(We're all fighting desperately for that day.)

As the sun set, my shadow stretched long behind me.

In the distance, Goku was chopping firewood in the yard while Chi-Chi cooked in the kitchen. Everything looked no different from usual.

But I knew that everyone was preparing for the day three years from now.

Piccolo was investigating Dr. Gero.

Krillin and Tien Shinhan were keeping watch in secret.

Vegeta was training with his life on the line.

And I...

I was desperately learning how to fight.

(This time...)

(I will definitely change fate.)

Night fell, and the stars began to light up one by one.

The night on Mount Paozu remained peaceful.

But beneath that peace, a storm was quietly gathering.