The laughter grew louder the longer Riku walked.
It echoed across the desert in bursts—carefree, reckless, followed by the unmistakable crash of stone breaking apart. Whoever it was, they weren't fighting for their life. They were having fun.
Riku slowed his pace.
That alone told him everything.
In his past life, explosions meant danger. Sirens. Panic. Here, it meant a boy barely older than a child was testing how hard he could punch a rock.
By the time the terrain shifted from sand to broken plateaus, sweat had already soaked through Riku's shirt. His breathing was steady, but his muscles burned in a way that felt… honest. Real. Like the world itself was pushing back against him.
Good.
He crested a rise and finally saw them.
A boy with wild black hair stood in the middle of a shattered stone pillar, grinning at his own handiwork. He couldn't have been more than twelve. Short. Barefoot. Tail swaying behind him like it belonged there.
Son Goku.
And beside him—
Riku stopped.
Blue hair caught the sunlight like it didn't belong in the desert. Goggles rested on her head, pushed up messily, and her clothes were already dust-stained despite how carefully they must have been chosen that morning. She stood with her hands on her hips, yelling at the boy with an expression that mixed irritation, awe, and something dangerously close to excitement.
Bulma Briefs.
Sixteen. Same as him.
Not a legend yet. Not hardened. Just brilliant, loud, and very much human.
"You're gonna blow us both up if you keep doing that!" Bulma shouted.
Goku laughed. "It's fine! The rock broke first!"
Riku watched quietly, heart thudding—not from fear, but from the sudden, undeniable truth settling into his bones.
This world was real.
And it did not care if you were ready.
A sharp crunch underfoot betrayed him.
Bulma's head snapped around instantly, eyes narrowing as she spotted him. Her hand moved toward her bag on instinct.
"Hey!" she called. "You there! Don't move!"
Goku turned, cheerful as ever. "Oh! Hi!"
Riku raised both hands slowly, palms open.
"Relax," he said. His voice came out steadier than he felt. "I'm not armed."
Bulma's gaze flicked over him—his clothes, his posture, the way he stood balanced despite the uneven ground.
"You're not from around here," she said flatly.
"No," Riku replied. "I got lost."
That wasn't a lie. Not really.
Goku tilted his head. "You smell kinda normal."
Bulma stared at him. "That is not helpful."
Riku almost smiled.
Up close, the difference between them was even clearer. Goku radiated raw power like it was breathing out of him. Not controlled. Not refined. Just… endless.
Riku felt small next to that.
But not helpless.
"How old are you?" Bulma asked suddenly.
"Sixteen," Riku answered.
Her eyebrows lifted a fraction. "Huh. Same as me."
Something shifted then—interest replacing suspicion. She straightened slightly, curiosity sparking behind her sharp eyes.
"What are you doing out here alone, sixteen-year-old?" she asked.
"Training," Riku said.
Goku perked up. "You train too?"
"Yes."
"How strong are you?"
Riku looked at the shattered pillar. At the pulverized stone. At the casual devastation.
"Not strong enough," he said honestly.
Goku grinned wider. "That's okay! You can get stronger!"
Bulma snorted. "He's not wrong, but that's not exactly comforting."
Riku felt it then—the pressure. Not killing intent. Not hostility. Just the weight of being in a world where strength was measured differently.
Where a normal human could die because he stood in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He bowed his head slightly. Not submissive. Respectful.
"My name's Riku," he said. "I won't be a problem."
Bulma studied him for another long second.
Then she sighed. "Great. Another weird martial artist. Fine. Just don't touch anything in my bag."
Goku beamed. "Cool! Wanna eat with us?"
Riku blinked.
Just like that.
He looked at the two of them—destiny wrapped in denim and optimism—and felt something dangerous settle into his chest.
Hope.
Not the foolish kind. The kind that came with bruises and broken bones and getting back up anyway.
"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."
As they started walking together, Riku stayed half a step behind—not out of fear, but awareness. He watched how Goku moved, how Bulma talked with her hands when she explained things, how the world seemed to bend slightly around them.
He didn't belong here.
Not yet.
But he would.
Because if this universe hit harder than his last—
He would learn to hit back.
END OF CHAPTER
Author's Comment:
Riku starts at sixteen, right alongside Bulma—no power gap, no pedestal. He's stepping into a world that doesn't care about humans, and his journey won't be easy or fast. Losses are coming, growth will hurt, and relationships will matter. Thanks for reading—next chapter, the grind begins 🐉🥊