Dragon Ball Human

Immortals, huh...

Yamiru couldn't help but lift his head to gaze at the night sky.

In the manga, the main characters — Earth's warriors — had all trained at the Lookout at some point. But it's worth noting that they were granted access to train there under specific circumstances: two incredibly fearsome Saiyans were set to arrive on Earth in just one year!

If we set aside this apocalyptic backdrop, would Krillin, Tien, Chiaotzu, and Yamcha have been qualified to train at the Lookout? The answer is uncertain.

Between the time Son Goku descended from the Lookout and Raditz's arrival, there was a five-year gap. In those five years, not a single one of them went to train there.

Was it because they were unwilling? Yamiru didn't think so.

Martial artists — who wouldn't want to become stronger?

Was it because they wanted to forge their own path to strength, rather than follow in Goku's footsteps? Again, Yamiru doubted it.

If they were that insistent, they wouldn't have bothered learning martial arts in the first place. Why not just figure it all out on their own? Why take discipleship under the Turtle or Crane Schools?

Krillin and the others had already climbed Korin Tower and sought out the Sacred Water, just like Goku had.

It stood to reason that if they had the chance to train at the Lookout, they would've taken it. After all, Goku's transformation into a powerhouse upon returning from the Lookout was undeniable proof of its benefits.

The only explanation Yamiru could think of was this: Krillin and the others simply didn't have the strength to reach the Lookout back then.

The Power Pole, which connected the top of Korin Tower to the base of the Lookout, was likely a bonded artifact that wouldn't heed their commands to retract and carry them upward.

Climb the pole? Perhaps they lacked the stamina.

Fly up? Their ki likely wasn't sufficient.

This led Yamiru to conclude that when Goku went to train with King Kai, the Guardian of Earth had made a special exception, lowering the entry threshold to the Lookout so that Krillin and the others could train there.

"Among the Dragon Ball warriors, Goku has always been in a league of his own," Yamiru mused as he gazed skyward. "The others are perpetually eating his dust... Could I climb to that Lookout on my own? Or will I have to wait for that year before Vegeta arrives, only to be dragged there for some last-minute crash course training? And then what? Just end up as cannon fodder under the Saiyan Prince's boots?"

After some reflection, they arrived back at the inn.

The old monk thought Yamiru was still pondering the origins of animal people and smiled. "The past is the past. Digging into the origins of animal people, monster people, and ordinary humans doesn't hold much meaning. If you truly want answers, perhaps only the gods could tell you. But then again, who knows if gods even exist?"

"The gods do exist," Yamiru said as he snapped out of his thoughts, smiling faintly. "And I will meet them!" He then firmly added, "Through my own strength."

---

That night, before sleep.

The elder and the Boy sparred between their two beds.

Neither exerted much force, merely using various techniques to counter each other's moves.

As always, the old monk didn't teach Yamiru any fixed techniques. Instead, he let him rely on his imagination and respond as best he could. Of course, if Yamiru developed any bad habits between moves, the old monk would promptly correct him.

The old monk believed this boy had exceptional talent for martial arts. Even more admirable was his lofty ambition and the guidance of a master—qualities that made him like a pristine sheet of high-quality paper waiting for ink. The paper's quality was so good that the monk had to resist the urge to take up the brush himself. In fact, he felt as though this blank canvas was on the verge of painting itself.

"A disciple this gifted is best suited to be trained by the Martial God's greatest student, Son Gohan," the monk thought. "It aligns perfectly with his aspirations." Yamiru had saved him, earning the monk's goodwill from the start. After these past few days together, he had grown even fonder of the boy and began thinking about his future.

The old monk seized Yamiru's wrist and, in the dim, unlit room, gazed into the boy's bright eyes. He thought, "This old monk... should not interfere too much with the path ahead of him."

After working up a light sweat, the two of them each took a quick shower and soon fell asleep.

---

The next day.

"You're leaving too?" Yamiru asked in surprise.

The old monk smiled faintly. "Amitabha. I've taught you everything I could. It's time for us to part ways. From here on, it's up to you. The road ahead will have many challenges... Yamiru, you must reach Mount Paozu."

"Got it," Yamiru replied.

"And," the monk continued, pressing his palms together and bowing slightly, "perhaps you really will find the gods. Don't forget your promise from last night." He looked up and winked at Yamiru with a face full of kindness.

Feeling moved, Yamiru raised a hand and nodded firmly. "Understood!"

The monk chuckled, clapping his palm against Yamiru's much smaller hand. Then, he chanted a soft "Amitabha," turned, and walked away, vanishing into the bustling crowd alone.

Yamiru stood at the street corner with his pack, watching in silence for a long moment. Finally, he turned and strode off in the opposite direction, heading toward the northern part of the city.

---

With adequate preparation and the survival skills he had learned from Delat, Yamiru's journey went relatively smoothly.

Of course, "smoothly" also meant uneventfully.

That same day, Yamiru left Haier City, following the highway north. Under the cover of night, using a small flashlight to consult his map and compass, he veered off the main road and into the wilderness.

That night, he slept on the sloped side of a rocky hill in the vast and desolate wildlands. There was no wind or rain, and hardly any mosquitoes, so he didn't bother pitching his tent. Instead, he wrapped himself in a blanket, leaned against his pack, munched on some dry rations, and stargazed until he drifted to sleep.

---

The next morning, Yamiru confirmed his route and continued forward.

He walked the entire day without leaving the wildlands. Fortunately, his supplies were holding up—plenty of food and enough water. According to the route he had planned, once he crossed the wilderness, he would come across a small town where he could restock.

"Crunch, crunch," he muttered as he gnawed on his hard rations and downed a few gulps of water.

Tossing his pack aside, Yamiru placed his palms on the ground and flipped himself into a handstand. His arms, shoulders, and core muscles were far beyond ordinary, making his inverted posture appear effortless—almost weightless.

"One, two, three…"

---

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Like a child playing hopscotch, he alternated his hands as if they were feet, moving in a circle around his pack while maintaining the handstand.

Under the not-quite-full moon, in the silent, vast wilderness, a boy with dreams quietly trained, finding joy in his solitude.

But two kilometers away, a night-vision scope was watching him.