Kakarot's Arc

Chapter 1 of 14

Kakarot came to the great arena of Planet Vegeta to fight for the warlord's throne. To claim it, he had to beat every rival champion in single combat. But before the first duel began, a tall warrior with a scarred jaw pointed at him and laughed. "This one wants the throne?" the warrior shouted. "He has no name worth fighting. Beat him, and you beat nobody." The crowd went quiet. Kakarot felt the eyes of the other champions on him. He knew what silence meant here. If he swallowed the insult, none of them would face him. Without duels, there was no throne. The scarred warrior had trapped him with words instead of fists. Kakarot did not answer. He turned toward the stone wall of the arena, where his old teacher sat in the shade. Master Roshi trained Kakarot from childhood in a fighting style he built with his own hands. The old man wore sunglasses and cheap sandals, and he looked half asleep. He had once been the greatest champion this planet ever crowned. Roshi stood. He walked to the center of the sand, slow and calm, and every fighter watched him. "I taught this boy," Roshi said. His voice carried without effort. "I have watched him bleed and stand again. Any man who calls him nothing calls me a liar." The scarred warrior stopped laughing. Roshi turned to Kakarot. "Answer him," the old man said. "But not with your mouth." Kakarot reached into his pack and pulled out the iron gauntlet. Its spikes caught the light. The core in its palm woke with a hiss, and blue and pink plasma crackled across the metal. He slid it onto his fist and clenched it once. The energy flashed and popped like lightning trapped in a jar. He walked to the scarred warrior and stopped an arm's length away. He raised the glowing fist between them. He said nothing. The threat was plain enough. The warrior's hand dropped to his own weapon. The crowd leaned in. For a long moment neither man moved. Then the scarred warrior spat in the sand. "Fine," he said. "First blood is mine." He drew his blade and stepped back to his mark. The insult was answered. The champions would fight him now. Roshi returned to the shade, but he did not smile. "You forced his hand," the old man said quietly. "So he chose the terms. He fights with steel. You have one glove and no shield." He nodded at the scarred warrior, who tested the edge of a long, curved sword. "He has killed challengers before the second round. Do not let him make you the next." Kakarot looked at his glowing fist, then at the drawn blade. He had won the right to fight. Now he had to survive the man who gave it to him.