Dbs Dragonball: Royalty: Goten's Saga Season 3

Chapter 31 Back Home

Chapter 31

Back Home

Whis, Berus, and Goku landed back home with a crash. “Bruagadacksm!” Hearing the noise Bulma rushed out to see the badly beaten group. Seeing both Whis and Berus bloodied and injured, the sight seemed incomprehensible . . , and for a moment the woman stared in wonder.
“Go get a Sensu Bean for Goku”. Whis stated calmly, to the shocked woman.
Immediately she ran back inside to find the small stash of the precious beans that she had kept for such a time. Unknown to them, Bulma had wished for Shenron, the dragon from in the dragonballs, to grant her wish of a Sensu Bean manual with a plant in order to learn how to make her own. And though she had the plant in her laboratory under scrutiny, its beans had never been tested, to see if they would work.
Running back to the group, Bulma went to place one of the beans in Goku’s mouth, but the Saiyan was still 'lights out'.
“Hand me the bean, Bulma, and go bring a glass of water..” Handing the angel the bean away Bulma went again for a glass of water. Upon returning, Whis took the glass of water and ground the bean to powder between his finger tips, and the curative substance poured down like dust into the glass. Handing the glass back to Bulma, Whis motioned for her to give it to the unconscious man.
Forcing him to drink it . . . it took a bit for the Goku’s eyes to bulge open, as if he had just drowned and came back to life. Panting heavily, Goku lay staring up at the sky, the dark night sky with its stars.
That transformation, what ever it was, was all that he had, and it drained him like a dead battery. Not even his soul appeared to be able to cope with it, but maybe one day . . .
“Okay . . . We’ll be off.” Whis stated, as Berus knees were starting to tremble as the shock of what they had just been through started to set in.
“Okay”. Bulma stated still looking at an exhausted Goku.
“Later guys”. Goku responded, and placed a hand in the air with the thumb extended, before leaning back as he felt his energy starting to return from somewhere far, far, down inside of him.
With that, Whis and Beerus disappeared into their travel tunnel.

Somewhere in the New World, on the Planet Kudos
Trunks, was flying as fast as he could in his normal form, and not having slept as good as he would have liked, he was trying to keep his SuperSaiyan transformations to a bear minimum.
Several clicks away from the next yellow dot, a strange being was watching his Dragon ball monitor as he zoomed through space towards the planet Kudos.
Trunks came down to land, where he believed. “Old man!” . . . . Looking around . . . there was no one to be seen. “Old man!!”
There was movement in the sky, as four other powerful Saiyans arrived. The four stood in the air together, not fighting, but ‘cooperating’ with each other.
Trunks didn’t understand.
“Where’s the old man!” One of the four shouted. Everyone looked around but no one saw where he was, nor could they feel his power level at all . . . “Looks like the old man done gone and ‘croaked’ on us.”
“Maybe something ate him for a snack.” Ha, ha, ha . . . The groups laughter was stopped, by some movement in the bushes. And out came the old Saiyan man, holding some fruits. Turning casually, as if he was at home gathering fruits from his garden, the old man seemed oblivious to the dangers that were around him . . . not to mention the other fighters.
Walking slowly over to a cut tree stump, the old man sat down, and taking out a little knife, started to cut and eat his fruits.
The four Saiyans in the sky, didn’t know if to attack him or if to laugh . . . it was all just so confusing.
“You do know we are still on the battle field?” little Trunks said walking calmly up to the old man, glad to see that he was still okay.
“So . . . why don’t you just call me ‘Alan’.”
“Wh-what . . .”
“You seem to be struggling with what to call me, young one . . . The name is ‘Alan’.
“Alan?” One of the other Saiyans asked looking at the others in the sky . . . “That is not what we know him as . . .”
“I wasn’t talking to you four . .” The old man declared solemnly. “I was talking to the young ‘prince’ here.”
“ . . Prince?” Another of the four Saiyans, questioned, the information, looking over to the weirdly dressed blue haired boy.
Fear started to creep into the hearts and minds of the four Saiyans . . . “C-could h-he be related to the Royal Saiyan Family?”
“It would appear so . . .” The old man answered, looking back down at the next piece of fruit he was about to eat.
The other Saiyans, including the two that came with Goku, looked the young boy over.
“. . But that’s, that’s impossible . . . He looks nothing like Tomato or the King.”
“Maybe . . he’s Delarose’s son?” Another of the four chipped in.
“Don’t be daft Ren. Delarose is a mere fifteen years old. Besides, she doesn’t even have blue hair . . . In fact . . I don’t think he’s related to any of them . . .”
“I get you Glee.” Some other Saiyan chipped in. “The house Royal has been here before for there coronations . . . and all of them passed with ‘flying colours’. But this runt of a boy looks like he’s tired after the first day.”
“What do you say, Ick. You want to ‘test your might’ against this one?”
Ick’s fear disappeared and was replaced with a happy resolve to fight, upon hearing the good news.
“What about the other two and the old man, and them two?” Ick asked, realising that one of the other three may attack him while he was beating up the kid.
Mila and Dallas got into fighting pose, and drifted together, awaiting a fight.
“How about another wager.” Old man Alan stated, still keeping his focus on his delicious food.
The four looked around at each other. You mean, like a wager, in this wager . . ? Ren spoke up trying to understand Alan.
“. . . Yes, exactly so . . . You four against the little one Trunks, and none of us will intervene.”
The four again looked at one another, as if in share disbelief, and then back at the old Saiyan. “Go on . .”
“However, once the kid is incapacitated and unable to fight, then you get to fight with Mila and Dallas over there, and I will not intervene. If you four some how defeat them . . . then it will be my turn to fight you.”
Again the four couldn’t believe their ears. Not only were they able to beat the four of them collectively, but now they get to gang up on them separately with no interference from the others.
“Let us consider this for a moment.” Ick stated, turning to the rest, as if the matter was a very hard one that needed group council.
“What say you Icor?” Icor, the tallest of the group, cracked his knuckles ready for a fight. “I think we oughta stop talking and hit something . . . or someone . .”
The group agreed, and grinned sinisterly as they turned back around. “And what is the wager?”
“I want you to hand over your Dragon ball.”
Immediately the four looked at each other, with the strange look of ‘How did he know’, written all over their expressions.
Ick straightened as if in charge. “Now its our turn. If we all beat you, you will allow us to collect the prize money as a group, and not be required to fight each other till the last man standing as originally agreed.”
This too was a tall order . . . for from the very origin of this tournament, the prize was always given to the last man standing . . . “Okay. You will be allowed to collect the prize as a singular group. However, for each one of you that is ‘incapacitated’ a quarter of the prize Ore will be reduced.”
The three looked at each other a little sullen. They had entered the competition in order to track the dragonball on this planet, and once gotten, they had planned an ‘early’ retreat . . . however, the Prize Ore could buy them eats until they sold the dragonball to the highest bidder. “Okay.” The four nodded, this should be easy pickings.
Young Trunks stared at the old man in shock. He had come here to save the old man if needs be . . . and the old man appeared to be trying to get him killed.
Mila and Dallas looked at each other, puzzled as well, but shrudded their shoulders, and proceeded to come down to the ground to watch the outcome.
Trunks was still tired from the short night’s sleep, drained from the fighting, and his power was slowly trickling away again . . . as if some force was draining his power.
How did the old man expect him to fight with four thugs when he could barely stand as it was.
Stopping to look up at the youngster, “You can forget who or what you think you are and fight for your right to live, or . . . you can just lay down and let them beat the daylights out of you for free . . . personally . . . I like to know that the other guy feels as crappy as I do when I am finished. Alan uttered . . “The choice is yours.”
Trunks looked around at the four Saiyans in the air ready to for a fight, “‘Sigh’ . . . It’s days like these, when I wish I was back home.”
Now much power in the ‘tank’, little trunks turned, and tried to fire up as much courage as he could . . . “I’m ready.”
The four powerful Saiyans flew in towards the boy at full speed.