Exploring

The morning sun casts long shadows across West City as I stand atop Capsule Corporation's main dome, surveying the sprawling metropolis below.

Two weeks have passed since the gathering at the Son family home, and I've spent much of that time contemplating my next steps in this new existence.

"Planning your day?"

I turn to find Bulma emerging onto the rooftop terrace, coffee mug in hand. She's dressed in her lab coat, suggesting she's been working since before dawn - a habit she shares with her father.

"Something like that," I reply, accepting the second mug she offers. "I've been thinking about exploring more of this world before venturing beyond it."

Bulma nods, leaning against the railing beside me. "Not a bad idea. Despite all their travels, neither Goku nor Vegeta ever really took the time to know Earth beyond the battlefields and training grounds."

"Exactly," I agree. "I have their memories of places, but those are mostly limited to mountains, deserts, and islands where they could fight without restraint. There's much more to this planet."

"So where will you start?" she asks.

I consider the question, gazing out at the city spread before us. "Here, I think. West City itself. Despite Vegeta living here for years, he rarely ventured beyond Capsule Corp except for training."

Bulma laughs. "That's an understatement. Getting him to attend a company function was like pulling teeth." She sips her coffee thoughtfully.

"You know, if you're serious about exploring, I could help. Capsule Corp has offices and research facilities in most major cities. They could serve as convenient bases for your travels."

"I'd appreciate that," I acknowledge. "Though I'd prefer to avoid too much attention."

"Understandable," she says. "Being nearly nine feet tall with that distinctive hairstyle doesn't exactly help you blend in, does it?"

I smile wryly. "Not particularly, no."

After finishing our coffee, Bulma provides me with a global map marked with Capsule Corp locations and a specialized credit card linked to an account she's set up for me.

"Consider it research funding," she insists when I attempt to decline. "You're technically a scientific phenomenon, so studying the world is part of your development."

Her generosity is touching, though I suspect it's also her way of ensuring I have resources independent of either Goku or Vegeta - a recognition of my separate identity.

With the day still young, I decide to begin my exploration immediately. Rather than flying - which would attract attention - I opt to experience West City at street level.

Dressed in civilian clothes Bulma has provided (specially tailored to accommodate my height), I set out from Capsule Corporation on foot.

West City pulses with energy of a different kind than what I'm accustomed to sensing - not ki, but the collective vitality of millions of people going about their daily lives.

The architecture is an eclectic mix of ultra-modern skyscrapers and more traditional structures, reflecting the unique blend of advanced technology and cultural tradition that characterizes this world.

My first stop is a bustling marketplace near the city center. Vendors call out their wares - everything from fresh produce to capsule technology accessories.

The scents of street food mingle in the air, triggering memories from both Goku and Vegeta, though experienced from very different perspectives.

Goku's memories are filled with enthusiastic sampling of everything edible, while Vegeta's recall reluctant acknowledgment of certain Earth cuisines that met his royal standards.

I purchase a skewer of grilled meat from a vendor whose eyes widen slightly at my height. The flavors are familiar yet somehow new - experienced through my own senses rather than remembered through theirs.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" the vendor asks as he hands me a second skewer. "I never forget a customer, especially one who stands out like you."

"Just passing through," I reply with a polite nod. "Getting to know the city."

"Well, if you're exploring, you should check out Hercule Plaza," he suggests. "They just unveiled a new statue of the World Champion last week. Quite impressive, they say."

I thank him for the recommendation, inwardly amused at the thought of a monument to Mr. Satan.

The world at large has no memory of Majin Buu's rampage - our second wish to Shenron saw to that.

To the general public, Mr. Satan remains famous primarily as the World Martial Arts Champion and supposed defeater of Cell, though the Z Fighters know the truth of both matters.

Following the vendor's directions, I make my way to Hercule Plaza - a large open space dominated by an absurdly heroic bronze statue of Mr. Satan striking a victory pose.

Tourists gather around it, taking photos and mimicking the pose. A plaque declares him "Earth's Greatest Champion."

"Impressive, isn't it?" a voice beside me asks. I turn to find an elderly man smiling up at me. "The man's a true hero. They say he defeated that monster Cell when all those light-trick fighters failed."

"So I've heard," I respond diplomatically.

"I remember watching it on TV," the old man continues. "The camera cut out during the most important part, but they say his Satan Punch was so powerful it destroyed Cell completely. Amazing what humans can achieve with proper training."

I listen politely, fascinated by this civilian perspective on events I remember from two different viewpoints.

It's a reminder of how differently ordinary people perceive the world compared to those of us who understand ki and the true nature of the threats Earth has faced.

After leaving Hercule Plaza, I continue my exploration, eventually finding myself in a quieter part of the city - a district of small shops and cafes that seems less touched by the hyper-modernization evident elsewhere.

Here, a small bookstore catches my eye, its windows displaying an eclectic collection of volumes.

Inside, the shop is warm and inviting, shelves stretching from floor to ceiling packed with books on every conceivable subject.

The proprietor, an elderly woman with spectacles perched on her nose, glances up from her reading as I enter, having to duck slightly through the doorway.

"Welcome," she says, seemingly unfazed by my unusual appearance. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Just browsing," I reply. "Though I'm interested in Earth's history and cultures."

She smiles, setting aside her book. "A scholar, are you? We don't get many of your type in here - most young people prefer digital these days."

"I appreciate the tangible," I explain, running my fingers along the spines of nearby books. "Digital has its place, but there's something about holding knowledge in your hands."

"A philosopher too," she chuckles. "Well, our history section is in the back corner. Take your time."

I spend nearly two hours in the bookstore, eventually selecting several volumes on Earth's diverse cultures, scientific achievements, and philosophical traditions.

The proprietor seems pleased with my choices, engaging me in a thoughtful discussion about the merits of different historical perspectives as she wraps my purchases.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she asks as I prepare to leave.

"What gives me away?" I ask with a slight smile.

"Besides the obvious?" she gestures to my height and distinctive features. "There's something in your eyes - like you're seeing everything for the first time, even though you clearly have education. It's refreshing."

Her perception is remarkably accurate. In many ways, I am experiencing everything for the first time, despite having memories of this world through two different sets of eyes.

"I'm... relatively new to West City," I acknowledge. "Trying to get my bearings."

"Well, you've made an excellent start," she says, handing me my wrapped books. "Knowledge is the best foundation for understanding any new place."

As I exit the bookstore, the afternoon sun has begun its descent toward the horizon. Rather than returning to Capsule Corporation immediately, I find a small park and settle on a bench, opening one of my new books. Around me, city life continues -

children playing, couples walking hand in hand, elderly people feeding birds. It's a peaceful scene far removed from the high-stakes battles that dominate Goku's and Vegeta's memories.

My reading is interrupted by the sound of a ball bouncing near my feet. Looking up, I see a young boy, perhaps seven or eight years old, hesitating a few meters away.

"Sorry, mister," he says. "Could I have my ball back?"

I pick up the ball and hold it out to him. "Here you go."

Instead of taking it and running off as I expect, the boy studies me with unabashed curiosity. "Wow, you're really tall! Are you a fighter? You look like a fighter."

His directness reminds me of Goten and Trunks. "Something like that," I admit.

"Cool!" The boy's eyes widen. "Have you ever fought in the World Tournament? My dad and I watch it every year. I'm gonna enter when I'm older."

"I haven't competed," I tell him. "But I know some people who have."

"Really? Who?" he asks eagerly.

Before I can formulate a suitably vague response, a woman calls out. "Kito! Stop bothering that man and come finish your homework!"

"Coming, Mom!" the boy shouts back. He takes the ball from my hands with a grin. "Thanks, mister! Maybe I'll see you at the tournament someday!"

As he runs off, I'm struck by the normality of the interaction.

To this child - unlike the Z Fighters - I'm just an unusually tall stranger in the park, not a being of extraordinary power born from the fusion of two alien warriors.

There's something refreshing about such simplicity.

As evening approaches, I make my way back toward Capsule Corporation, taking a different route that leads me through the city's entertainment district.

Neon signs illuminate the streets, advertising everything from restaurants to movie theaters to more adult establishments that I pointedly ignore, having no interest in exploring that aspect of human culture.

A particular sign catches my attention - "The Golden Dragon Dojo: Learn Authentic Martial Arts from Master Kon, Quarter-Finalist in the 21st World Tournament."

Curious, I pause outside the large window, observing a class in session.

Inside, about twenty students - mostly teenagers, with a few adults mixed in - practice basic kata under the supervision of an elderly man who must be Master Kon.

His movements, while slowed by age, show evidence of proper training and technique.

By human standards, he's skilled - nowhere near the Z Fighters' level, of course, but respectable for someone without ki manipulation abilities.

The master notices me watching and, after instructing his students to continue their practice, makes his way to the door.

"Interested in joining?" he asks as he steps outside, looking up at me with an appraising eye.

"You certainly have the physique for martial arts, though we might need to special order a gi in your size."

"I was just observing," I explain. "Your technique is impressive."

He laughs, a warm, genuine sound. "Flattery will get you nowhere, young man. I can tell by the way you carry yourself that you've had training far beyond what I teach here."

His perception surprises me. "What makes you say that?"

"Fifty years in martial arts teaches you to read people," he says simply. "You move with perfect balance and economy of motion, even in casual stance.

Your eyes track everything with precise awareness. And you have calluses on your hands that only come from thousands of hours of training." He smiles. "Am I wrong?"

"No," I acknowledge. "You're quite observant."

"So, not interested in classes, then," he says with a knowing nod. "Perhaps a friendly spar instead?

It's been years since I've had the chance to test myself against someone of real skill. My students try, bless them, but they're still learning the basics."

The invitation is tempting, but I know it would be pointless - even holding back to an extreme degree, the power differential would be too great. "I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't be a suitable sparring partner."

He studies me for a moment, then nods. "I understand. Some warriors reach a level where conventional sparring no longer serves a purpose."

He reaches into his gi and pulls out a business card. "If you ever change your mind, or simply wish to discuss technique, my door is open. Sometimes even masters need to return to fundamentals."

I accept the card with a respectful bow. "Thank you, Master Kon."

As he returns to his students, I continue my journey back to Capsule Corporation, reflecting on the encounter. There's wisdom in his words about returning to fundamentals.

Despite my immense power, there's value in the discipline and philosophy that underlies martial arts - aspects that sometimes got lost in Goku's enthusiasm for battle or Vegeta's drive for superiority.

The sun has fully set by the time I reach Capsule Corporation, the compound's lights creating a beacon in the darkening city.

Bulma is waiting in the main living area, working on a tablet while surrounded by technical schematics.

"So, how was your first day as a tourist?" she asks, setting aside her work.

"Enlightening," I reply, placing my books on a nearby table. "I've seen parts of West City that neither Goku nor Vegeta ever bothered to explore."

"Find anything interesting?"

I recount my day - the marketplace, Hercule Plaza, the bookstore, the park, and finally the dojo.

Bulma listens with genuine interest, occasionally asking questions or offering additional context about places I visited.

"Sounds like you're starting to find your own perspective on things," she observes when I finish. "Not just seeing through their memories, but making your own."

"That's the goal," I acknowledge. "Though it's a strange process - having detailed memories of a world you're experiencing for the first time."

"I can't even imagine," she admits. "But for what it's worth, I think you're handling it remarkably well."

She gestures to a map spread out on a nearby table. "So, where to tomorrow? More of West City, or somewhere else entirely?"

I consider the question. "I think I'll visit Orange Star City next. It's close enough to reach without flying, and I'm curious to see how it compares to West City."

"Good choice," Bulma nods. "I can arrange for a driver if you'd prefer not to take public transportation."

"Actually, I think I'll try the train," I decide. "It seems like an experience worth having."

The next morning finds me at West City Station, navigating the crowded terminal with my considerable height making me stand out despite my attempts to blend in.

The bullet train to Orange Star City is a marvel of engineering - sleek, efficient, and capable of speeds that would have seemed impossible to humans just a few decades ago.

Finding a seat that accommodates my frame proves challenging, but eventually I settle near the back of a car, my knees still somewhat cramped against the seat in front of me.

An elderly woman across the aisle gives me a sympathetic smile.

"They really should make these seats for people of all sizes," she comments. "My grandson is tall like you - not quite as tall, mind you - and he always complains about the lack of legroom."

"It's a common oversight," I agree with a polite nod.

"Are you headed to Orange Star City for business or pleasure?" she asks, clearly in the mood for conversation.

"Just exploring," I explain. "I've never been there before."

"Oh, it's a lovely city! Not as big as West City, of course, but it has its charms. The university is particularly impressive - Orange Star University. My niece graduated from there last year."

The train journey passes pleasantly enough, with the woman - who introduces herself as Mrs. Nishi - chatting about her family and occasionally offering tidbits of information about Orange Star City.

I listen politely, finding her perspective on ordinary life refreshing.

As we approach Orange Star City, the landscape outside the window transitions from countryside to suburbs to urban density.

The city itself is smaller than West City but no less vibrant, with distinctive architecture and a more traditional feel to its downtown area.

The station is bustling with commuters and tourists, though less crowded than West City's terminal.

According to the station map, the university district lies to the east, while the commercial center is directly north.

Deciding to explore the university first, I make my way east from the station.

Orange Star City's streets are well-laid out, with abundant greenery and public art installations that give the city a cultured atmosphere.

Orange Star University's campus is impressive - a blend of traditional architecture and modern facilities spread across several city blocks.

The main quad is alive with activity as students move between classes, study in small groups on the grass, or simply enjoy the pleasant weather.

As I walk through the campus, I find myself in unfamiliar territory.

Unlike West City, which features prominently in Vegeta's memories, or Mount Paozu in Goku's, Orange Star University represents a gap in my inherited knowledge.

Goku died during the Cell Games and remained in the afterlife for seven years, missing Gohan's entire university experience.

Vegeta, meanwhile, had little interest in his rival's son's academic pursuits.

The science complex stands before me, a modern facility with laboratories visible through glass walls where students conduct experiments under the supervision of professors.

I observe with interest, appreciating this aspect of human achievement that neither of my component parts ever fully explored.

As I pass through the main hallway, a display case catches my attention - "Distinguished Alumni of the Physics Department."

Among the photographs and brief biographies, I spot a familiar face - Gohan, looking scholarly and professional, alongside a description of his work in theoretical physics.

It's strange seeing him in this context, so different from the fighter I know through Goku's and Vegeta's memories.

"Admiring our wall of fame?" a voice asks behind me. I turn to find an elderly professor with thick glasses studying me curiously. "That's Son Gohan - one of our most brilliant students

His work on energy conversion theories was revolutionary, though he was always very secretive about his research sources. Are you interested in physics?"

"Just exploring," I reply. "Though I do know Gohan... through family connections."

The professor's eyebrows rise. "Really? How interesting. I'm Professor Toma. I taught Quantum Mechanics during his time here." He extends a hand.

I shake it gently, careful not to exert too much pressure. "Vegito. A pleasure to meet you, Professor."

"Unusual name," he comments. "Foreign?"

"You could say that," I acknowledge with a slight smile.

"Well, if you know Gohan, you must tell him his professor says hello next time you see him.

And that we're still trying to replicate his energy conversion equations without success." He chuckles.

"The boy was brilliant but never fully explained his methodologies. Almost as if he had access to energy sources the rest of us could only theorize about."

If only he knew how accurate that assessment was. "I'll pass along the message," I promise.

"Are you a student of the sciences yourself?" Professor Toma asks, clearly hoping to continue the conversation.

"I'm more of a... practical applications person," I reply diplomatically. "Though I appreciate the theoretical foundations."

"Ah, an engineer at heart then," he nods sagely, though his assumption couldn't be further from the truth.

"Well, if you're interested in seeing our facilities, I'd be happy to show you around. The advanced research laboratory is particularly impressive."

The offer is tempting, if only to better understand this aspect of Gohan's life that exists outside my inherited memories, but I'm wary of drawing too much attention.

"Perhaps another time," I decline politely. "I wouldn't want to interrupt ongoing research."

Professor Toma seems disappointed but nods in understanding. "Of course. Well, the offer stands if you change your mind."

After bidding the professor farewell, I continue exploring the campus, eventually finding myself near the athletic facilities.

Here, the influence of martial arts is evident - Orange Star City has a strong tradition in fighting tournaments,

though not as pronounced as in places like Papaya Island, home of the World Martial Arts Tournament.

The main gymnasium features displays showcasing the university's martial arts teams, including photographs of past champions and trophies from various competitions.

I notice that several of the instructors pictured claim lineage from the Turtle School or Crane School -

diluted traditions that bear only passing resemblance to the true techniques Master Roshi or Tien Shinhan would recognize.

As midday approaches, I leave the campus and head toward the commercial district.

Orange Star City's downtown is vibrant and pedestrian-friendly, with wide boulevards lined with shops,

restaurants, and entertainment venues. Street performers entertain passersby, while outdoor cafes do brisk business under colorful umbrellas.

I find a restaurant and order a meal that would satisfy two normal humans but serves as a light lunch for my Saiyan-derived metabolism.

The flavors are excellent - Orange Star City apparently specializes in a fusion cuisine that blends traditional dishes with modern techniques.

As I eat, I observe the people around me - businesspeople on lunch breaks, families enjoying day trips, students from the university discussing projects or simply relaxing.

There's a rhythm to their interactions, a normalcy that feels simultaneously foreign and familiar.

These are the people Goku and Vegeta have fought to protect, yet they've rarely taken the time to simply exist among them.

After lunch, I continue my exploration of the city, eventually finding myself in a cultural district filled with museums, galleries, and performance spaces.

One building in particular catches my attention - the Orange Star Historical Society, which promises "A Complete History of Our Region."

Inside, exhibits trace the development of the area from ancient times through to the present day.

Most interesting is a section on "Unexplained Phenomena," which includes documented accounts of strange lights, unexplained explosions, and mysterious warriors throughout the region's history.

With my knowledge from Goku and Vegeta, I can recognize many of these as the aftermath of various battles or training sessions involving the Z Fighters or their enemies.

One photograph shows what appears to be Cell's arrival, though the caption merely describes it as "Unidentified crater appearing overnight near Gingertown, Age 767."

Another display features blurry images of what I recognize as the battle with Nappa and Vegeta, labeled "Unexplained explosions and property damage in East City outskirts, Age 762."

It's fascinating to see how ordinary humans have documented and attempted to explain events that were, in reality, battles for the fate of their planet.

Their theories range from natural phenomena to government experiments to alien visitations - this last one being ironically the truth in many cases.

As afternoon transitions to evening, I make my way to a hillside park that offers panoramic views of Orange Star City.

The setting sun casts a golden glow over the urban landscape, highlighting the city's blend of traditional architecture and modern development.

In the distance, mountains frame the scene - the same mountains where, according to Piccolo's accounts to Goku after his return from the afterlife, Gohan trained as a child.

Finding a bench, I sit and observe as the city lights begin to illuminate against the darkening sky.

Families pack up picnic supplies, couples find secluded spots to watch the sunset, and joggers complete their evening runs through the park paths.

This, I realize, is what I've been missing in my exploration of my new existence - the simple experience of being part of the world, not just its protector - as the memories have made me feel being.

Neither Goku nor Vegeta ever truly integrated into human society;

Goku remained essentially a wild child raised in isolation, while Vegeta maintained his identity as a prince of a dead race, separate from the Earthlings around him.

But I have the opportunity to be something different - to find a balance between my extraordinary power and a connection to the world I'll see as my new home.

Not just a warrior, but a being who understands what he's fighting for.

As night falls completely, I make my way back to the train station for the last express to West City.

The day has been illuminating - not just in experiencing Orange Star City, but in gaining perspective on how I might forge my own path forward.

The train is less crowded for the evening return journey, allowing me a seat with adequate legroom.

As the lights of Orange Star City recede behind us, I reflect on the day's experiences and the insights they've provided into this world I've sworn to protect.

Tomorrow, perhaps I'll visit another city - East City, or perhaps the more remote North City with its different climate and culture.

Each location offers new perspectives, new understandings of the diverse tapestry that makes up Earth's civilization.

For now, though, I'm content to watch the nighttime landscape pass by the window, a silent new guardian returning to his temporary home, gradually finding his place in a world that's simultaneously familiar and brand new.

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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked this chapter focused on Vegito exploring the earth some more. 

The world of Dragon Ball sometimes just feels too... distant, detached to me when watching the show, since it gets destroyed so many times.

The only times I truly felt some empathy with its residents was ironically when Cell drunk that city dry, since well, it felt more down to earth, than just the entire planet getting blown up or humanity gettinge exterminated by Buu.

So yeah, do tell me how you found it and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)