Nine kilometers southwest of South City, on a bustling island.
Seagulls skimmed the ocean waves as salt spray glittered against coastal rocks. The urban streets below teemed with life—crowds flowing through intersections, vehicles weaving through layered highways.
High above, a lone figure hovered midair, scanning the city with intense focus.
Dressed in a youth-sized denim jacket (emblazoned with Capsule Corp's logo on the shoulder), his lavender hair fluttered in the wind.
'Too much…'
The sensory overload of skyscrapers, car exhaust, and thousands of human signatures made his head spin.
"Ugh…"
Son Gohan rubbed his temples and 'whooshed' down to street level, boots thudding against pavement.
"Where is that guy?" He planted fists on hips, exhaling sharply.
"Does he even realize how hard it is to track his energy?"
Ignoring startled pedestrians, Gohan trudged forward, guessing his partner's likely haunts.
"We're supposed to be a team! Yet he always sneaks off to slack!"
He combed through fast-food joints, cafés, even hotel restaurants—no trace.
"Unbelievable…"
A pebble met his frustrated kick.
Zing—
It rocketed like a bullet.
'Oh no'
The air shrieked as the projectile crunched into a streetlamp, bending the metal pole like taffy.
By the time bystanders turned, the lavender-haired boy had vanished.
High above, Gohan pocketed a Senzu Bean, watching the crowd disperse below.
"Could've been worse…" He wiped sweat. "One more incident and Mom will ban me from the tournament."
Another aerial sweep. Still nothing.
"First no sign of those 'suspicious people' Uncle Yamiru warned us about… Now he goes missing too?"
Gritting his teeth, Gohan ascended further. His fists clenched; his aura flared.
BOOM.
Golden fire erupted, hair spiking upward—emerald eyes now sharp with Super Saiyan intensity.
---
West City, Training Chamber
A pair of eyes flickered open, pupils flashing crimson-gold.
"Super Saiyan?" Yamiru murmured, glancing south. "Trouble?"
---
Back over the island, the golden-haired Gohan seethed.
"That lazy jerk did this on purpose!"
After minutes of fruitlessly flaring his energy (and punching the air in frustration), he powered down with a sigh. Lavender strands fell back into place.
'Fine. Manual search it is.'
Touchdown. Mission resumed.
According to Uncle Yamiru, their actual task was simple:
"Watch for suspiciously strong individuals—'androids'—on this island. Soon."
Yet here Gohan was, stuck playing hide-and-seek with his so-called partner instead…
"Those androids might be pure machines… or modified humans. Some can even absorb ki like Uncle Yamiru."
Gohan mused as he walked, fingers absently tracing his chin.
"And most likely, they won't have detectable energy signatures…"
A sudden, traitorous thought struck him:
"Wait. Does that mean Uncle Yamiru is an android too?"
It would explain why even Dad struggled against him. That level of strength was inhuman…
---
"Kid, you lost?"
Gohan blinked. He'd sensed the approaching presence but hadn't expected the question.
A police officer stood before him, patrol bike idling nearby.
"Nope!" Gohan grinned. "I'm hunting bad guys. Crime-fighting!"
The cop stared. 'This runt wants to pick fights with criminals?'
Gohan barreled on: "Also looking for a lazy idiot about my age—shorter, black hair, gold eyes, always half-asleep—" He gestured vaguely. "Seen him, officer?"
The cop jotted notes. "Name?"
"He's called De—"
SKREEE—
A hovercar blasted past, pursued by wailing sirens.
'TAT-TAT-TAT!'
Gunfire peppered the street, shell casings clattering like hail.
Gohan's lavender locks whipped back from the gust.
By the time the wind settled, the cop had ducked behind his bike, frantically waving Gohan over.
Ignoring him, Gohan whooshed skyward—leaving the officer gaping—and shot after the chaos.
---
Two blocks away, the cop car sat askew, lights flashing.
The fugitive's vehicle? Crushed inward like a soda can.
And beside it—
'Of course.'
Three thugs had a black-haired boy in a headlock, pistol jammed against his temple as they shouted at police.
The boy?
'Still eating cake.'
Gohan eyed the car's dented hood—clearly, his partner had been too lazy to dodge—and sighed.
Now, at gunpoint? Still prioritizing dessert.
"Hey."
The boy—Denim—glanced up mid-chew. Smiling drowsily, he offered his half-eaten strawberry shortcake.
"Seriously?! Who's the Saiyan here—you or me?!" Gohan yelled from above.
SLAP!
A thug knocked the cake to the pavement.
Denim' smile didn't falter… but his eyes darkened.