Dragon Ball Human

Yamiru was truly shaken, and he was furious.

Though he couldn't outrun a bullet, he was far stronger than the one who had fired it.

On the cold, quiet night road, Yamiru suddenly lunged forward toward the two "elementary schoolers" standing before him. The four or five meters between them was nothing; with his pure explosive strength, he could easily leap the distance, especially fueled by rage. His legs, like tightly coiled springs, launched him forward in an instant, bringing him face-to-face with the short shooter.

Man arrived; fist followed.

Before the short man could even process what was happening, Yamiru's uppercut smashed into his gun-wielding wrist with full force.

The shooter felt a sharp numbness in his right hand. The gun flew out of his grasp, and he couldn't feel a thing. Yamiru's hand followed through, snatching the airborne pistol, while his elbow surged forward, ramming into the shooter's chest. The impact landed squarely on the DEVIL KIDS logo on the boy's shirt. Yamiru could hear the crack of bones breaking.

Unlike his earlier fight in South City against Blue, Yamiru had undergone several days of training under Jiora, the seasoned warrior. Jiora had taught him how to fight effectively—how to injure without killing, and how to strike to kill if needed.

Though Jiora's physical capabilities far surpassed those of ordinary humans, their anatomy was similar enough. From Jiora, Yamiru had gained a wealth of knowledge, even if only a crash course. But this quick training was exactly what he needed right now.

"Ahh!" The short shooter screamed and collapsed to the ground.

Yamiru stepped on his stomach, pressing down hard enough to make the boy's eyes bulge and nearly vomit. At the same time, Yamiru raised the pistol and aimed it at the burly eight-year-old, who looked ready to make a move.

"Don't move," Yamiru warned.

The burly boy, stunned beyond belief, froze. He couldn't comprehend how this guy had dodged a bullet or how the situation had flipped in the blink of an eye. His brother had lost his gun, was now pinned to the ground, and Yamiru was pointing it at him. He wanted to back away in fear but remembered Yamiru's warning and stayed rooted to the spot.

The short shooter beneath Yamiru coughed uncontrollably, but Yamiru had no sympathy for him. Someone who could pull a gun, fire it, and holster it again without hesitation—what kind of body count must he have? Yamiru pressed harder with his foot, making the boy retch bile. Still, Yamiru restrained himself, resisting the urge to stomp the life out of him.

"Why? I don't even know you, do I?" he asked coldly.

"What 'why'?" The man under his foot struggled to answer, his tone oddly defiant—or perhaps just rooted in arrogance and ignorance. "Do we, the Devil Duo, need a reason to do bad things?"

"Don't move!" Yamiru waved the gun toward the eight-year-old bruiser before looking down again at the man beneath his foot. "How many people have you killed?"

The man opened his mouth to reply, but Yamiru stomped harder, forcing the words back down. Shifting his gaze to the bruiser, he motioned with the gun. "You answer. How many?"

"One, two, three..." The eight-year-old quickly started counting on his fingers. By the time he reached twenty-nine, he fumbled and grew flustered, sweat pouring from his brow. Seeing Yamiru's face darken, he hastily waved his hands in apology. "Sorry! My math's terrible... Fine, I admit it! I'm actually ten years old—I got held back!"

"Ah!" Yamiru sighed deeply and lowered the gun.

The moment the ten-year-old bruiser felt relief, Yamiru moved like a shadow in the night, landing a solid punch to his gut. The burly boy, despite his size, clutched his stomach, his face turning pale as he drooled uncontrollably.

"People like you are just irritating."

Yamiru felt a particular kind of juvenile wickedness emanating from these two—a senseless, almost naive evil. Villains driven by mere curiosity were far more dangerous than heroes acting out of interest.

After thoroughly beating the pair, Yamiru stripped them naked.

"Big bro..." The ten-year-old whimpered, covering himself as he shivered under the streetlight, looking pitifully at Yamiru.

"Your big bro's right here," Yamiru replied, nodding toward the smaller man beside him, who was equally stripped. The skinny man, shivering and trying to appear smaller, forced a smile and stammered, "B-big bro..."

Ignoring them, Yamiru rummaged through their clothes, turning pockets inside out and confiscating every wallet and valuable item he found.

Back in South City, Yamiru had been dirt poor and had never been mugged—mostly because no one thought he was worth the effort. Even when petty thugs picked fights with him, Yamiru had never considered robbing them in retaliation. But now, he felt no obligation to go easy on these two remorseless serial killers.

"This is a one-time thing!" Yamiru warned himself. Then, as if reconsidering, he thought, "No, it's not about setting rules. As long as I have a clear conscience, it doesn't matter. Would taking from scum like this make me feel ashamed in front of Goku, Bulma, or anyone else?" He pondered for a moment. "Probably not. Goku's not exactly a saint himself—he eats talking animals without a second thought and has taken lives when necessary. Besides..."

Feeling the warmth in his eyes remain steady, Yamiru smirked. "Even my 'Self reflection' don't seem to object."

"Well, well, what a surprise!"

Yamiru chuckled as he pulled a white box from the small man's coat.

Opening it, he found several Hoi-Poi capsules neatly arranged inside.

With no rush, Yamiru kept the two trembling men under control while testing each capsule on the deserted street. To his astonishment, these "elementary schoolers" were absurdly wealthy. The six capsules contained: a modified car, a servant robot, a two-person submarine, a helicopter, a heavy briefcase, and a Gatling gun.

Damn, robbery really is a lucrative business!

Even with his newfound discipline, Yamiru had to suppress his greed, mentally reminding himself of his priorities. "Money was secondary—strength and martial skill were the true pursuits in this world! Don't get addicted, Yamiru. This kind of thing can't become a habit."

He pocketed the capsule containing the briefcase and peeked inside, finding it filled with neatly stacked bills.

"Alright, let's go," Yamiru said, wrapping up his haul. He returned the remaining capsules to their box, leaving the rest of the loot untouched.

"Go... go where, big bro?" The two naked men stammered in unison.

"Home," Yamiru replied with a grin.

The pair exchanged nervous glances and tentatively tried to retrieve their clothes, but Yamiru kicked them aside and barked, "Who said you could get dressed? Move it!"

The Devil Duo was on the verge of tears as they trudged ahead, each covering their privates. If they slowed down, Yamiru would unceremoniously kick their behinds. The bigger one fared better with his solid build, but the smaller guy, with his frail frame, seemed close to collapsing after a few kicks. Herding them like sheep, Yamiru drove them forward until he finally spoke: "We're here."

"This isn't home…" The ten-year-old bruiser looked up in confusion, only to freeze in horror—it was the police station.

"Ah!" The smaller man immediately realized the gravity of their situation. If they got caught, their crimes would earn them a sentence longer than three lifetimes. He tried to bolt, but Yamiru tripped him, sending him face-first into the ground, his mouth bloody. Picking him up like a ragdoll, Yamiru calmly whispered in his ear, "When you go in, look for a cop named Chapat and turn yourselves in. If I see you back out here anytime soon, I'll kill you myself. Not like I'll be around here much longer anyway."

Yamiru then threw both of them into the station, tossing in the box containing five capsules and the confiscated gun as well. Moments later, chaos erupted inside the station, with shouting and commotion breaking out—it seemed these two were notorious even among the police. Yamiru waited in the shadows outside for a while before quietly slipping away.

---

Not long after, Yamiru emerged from a Capsule Corp store in the city center.

"Thank you for shopping with us!" The cheerful clerk bowed deeply, sending him off with a bright smile.

Yamiru left without looking back.

He then visited a large supermarket, where he stocked up on supplies, storing everything in freshly purchased blank capsules.

Leaving the city center, he headed north. Yamiru was now well-equipped: a compass, maps, a knife, multi-purpose rope, one capsule filled with food and water, and another holding a box of cash. His preparation was meticulous.

As he walked past the spot where the Devil Duo had parked earlier, he noticed their modified car still in the middle of the road. With a swift kick, he sent the car skidding neatly to the roadside.

Adjusting his backpack, Yamiru continued northward.

By the time he reached the outskirts of the northern district, it was nearly midnight. Fatigue began to set in, and after some searching, he finally found an inn. Without counting, he tossed a few large bills to the receptionist, rented a room, and settled in for the night.

Taking the cash box from its capsule, Yamiru opened it and placed it on the coffee table. The neatly stacked bills filled the entire box, with only a few slots empty. The sight of so much money was almost dazzling.

"Strange. So much money, yet it doesn't feel like much of a big deal," he muttered to himself.

Yamiru glanced at his backpack and three utility pouches on the floor. Had he gone too far with all this preparation? Was it contrary to the essence of his training? Walking to the window, he gazed at the night sky, seeking answers from the moon. Unfortunately, clouds obscured it, leaving him without clarity.

"Forget it! The road ahead is long—I'll figure it out as I go." He closed his eyes and let out a silent sigh. Rubbing his eyes gently, he reflected on the past five months since he had arrived in the Dragon Ball world. To be standing here today was something the version of him from five months ago could never have imagined. A small smile crossed his lips.

Late into the night, strange sounds began to emanate from the room next door. Yamiru rolled his eyes, shut the cash box with a loud snap, and threw himself onto the bed. Within seconds, he had fallen into a deep sleep.