Marvel: The saiyan

The first thing he noticed was the warmth of the sun—more intense than he ever remembered. The gentle rustling of leaves whispered around him, mingling with the sharp scent of saltwater and the sweet aroma of fresh grass.

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the bright sky. He was sitting inside something—a pod? The walls were curved, metallic, and cracked in places, with faint scorch marks on the edges.

The young man frowned, his heart pounding as confusion bubbled up inside him. He reached out and pushed against what he assumed was the door. With a hiss, it opened fully, and he stepped out onto soft, damp ground.

"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice shaking as his gaze swept across the unfamiliar landscape. A vast ocean stretched out before him, its waves glinting under a sun far too bright. Behind him, a forest loomed, its canopy swaying gently in the wind. Everything looked... off. The colors were too vivid, the air too clean, the entire world too alive.

He looked back at the pod. Something about it tugged at his memory, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. It looked familiar—but why?

As he continued taking in his surroundings, he noticed his body felt... different. Lighter. Stronger. Every muscle in his body seemed alive, brimming with energy he'd never felt before. He clenched his fist experimentally, watching the tendons shift under his skin. Even his clothes were different—he was dressed in some kind of battle armor, sleek and snug, with strange symbols on the chestplate.

Then he felt it.

A swaying, twitching sensation behind him. Slowly, almost too afraid to confirm what he already suspected, he turned his head.

And there it was.

A tail.

Thick and covered in soft brown fur, it moved as naturally as if it had always been a part of him. His breath caught in his throat.

"This can't be real," he whispered, reaching back to touch it. The fur was warm and soft beneath his fingers, the sensation unmistakably real. He yanked his hand back as if it had burned him.

His heart raced as memories of his old life surged to the surface—flashes of his death, the cold emptiness that followed, and then... this.

"I thought I died... No, I did die. I'm sure of it," he said aloud, his voice shaking as he stared down at his hands, flexing them in disbelief. "But it seems... I was gifted a new life?"

He glanced back at the pod, its sleek, alien design gleaming in the sunlight. A chill ran down his spine. "But why... and how?"

For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the strange yet familiar landscape, his mind swirling with questions. Why was he here? How did this happen? And perhaps most importantly, where was "here"?

None of it made sense, and the harder he tried to piece it together, the more his head ached. Eventually, he let out a sigh, deciding that figuring out where he was should come first.

"This could be the Dragon Ball world… or maybe somewhere else entirely," he muttered under his breath, the uncertainty gnawing at him. His voice sounded strange to his own ears—deeper, sharper, as if it belonged to someone else entirely.

Turning back to the pod, he climbed inside, his eyes scanning the interior for anything useful. The sleek metal panels hummed faintly with residual energy, and the smell of scorched circuits lingered in the air. After a moment, his hand brushed against a small, rectangular device.

It was a remote.

Holding it up, he inspected the unfamiliar gadget, instinctively realizing it was the control system for the pod. A sense of relief washed over him—if he was going to leave this place, he couldn't risk someone else stumbling across the pod.

He placed the remote in a pouch on his waist and continued searching. His hand landed on something else—a scouter. The sight of it sent a flicker of recognition through his mind, though the memory refused to fully surface.

"This might help," he said to himself, lifting the device carefully.

Placing it over his left ear, he winced as the cold metal touched his skin. He pressed one of the buttons experimentally, hoping it would activate, but the scouter remained stubbornly silent. Another button. Nothing. He cycled through them all, growing more frustrated with each failed attempt.

"Come on, work, damn it!" he growled, jabbing the buttons harder, as though brute force would somehow solve the problem. When the scouter still refused to cooperate, he yanked it off and stared at it, his tail twitching behind him in agitation.

That's when it hit him—he had no idea how to use it.

Instinctively, he knew certain things about himself. He knew his name was Shallot. He knew his body felt different, stronger. But beyond that, his memories were a fragmented mess.

"If I can remember my name, why the hell can't I remember how to use a scouter?!" he snapped, his frustration boiling over. He clenched his fists, his muscles tensing as he struggled to calm down.

After a few deep breaths, he forced himself to relax. Losing his temper wouldn't help, and the last thing he needed was to break the one piece of tech he had. He slipped the scouter back on but left it inactive for now.

"All right," he muttered, stepping back out of the pod. "Let's take this one step at a time. First, figure out where I am. Then, figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do next."

He cast one last glance at the pod before turning his gaze to the horizon. The ocean glittered under the sun, the forest whispered in the breeze, and somewhere in the distance, a flock of birds took to the sky.

Wherever he was, it was beautiful. But something about the stillness of the air set him on edge. It was too quiet, too serene—like the calm before a storm.

Tightening the strap on the scouter, Shallot took a step forward, his tail swaying behind him. Whatever this place is, he thought, "I'll figure it out."

Shallot approached the edge of the ocean, the soft crunch of sand beneath his boots grounding him in the moment. The water stretched out endlessly before him, glittering like liquid glass under the midday sun. Kneeling down, he leaned closer to the surface, letting the gentle waves lap at his fingertips before stilling himself to study his reflection.

At first, he hesitated. Would he look... alien? Or worse, monstrous? But when his face came into view, his expression softened in surprise.

He looked normal. More normal than he had expected, at least to himself. His hair, wild, spiky mess, shifted slightly in the ocean breeze, the deep black strands as stubbornly unruly as ever. His gaze, sharp and intense when he frowned, softened as he allowed his face to relax. His body was muscular—chiselled, even—but smooth and unblemished, not a scar in sight.

To anyone else, he might even seem... handsome. But that was a thought Shallot dismissed almost immediately. His appearance wasn't what mattered right now. He had more pressing concerns, and "Shallot"—the name that felt so instinctively his—was the only part of himself he could be certain of.

"This is me now," he muttered under his breath, his voice steady. "Might as well make the most of it."

Rising to his feet, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the waves calm his mind. There was one thing he needed to figure out right away—his abilities. This body felt so different. Stronger. Lighter. But he had yet to test its limits.

Remembering Gohan who had lied to him when he was a child, now he could try.

Planting his feet firmly in the sand, Shallot focused inward, searching for that coiled energy he had felt earlier. It hummed beneath his skin like a restless current, begging to be unleashed. Slowly, he willed the energy outward, concentrating on a single, clear goal.

Lift.

At first, nothing happened. The wind teased his hair, the waves lapped at the shore, and the world seemed frustratingly still. But Shallot didn't stop. He focused harder, pushing deeper into himself, until a faint tingling sensation stirred in the pit of his stomach.

Then, slowly, he began to rise.

The sand fell away beneath his feet as he hovered shakily a few inches above the ground. The sensation was disorienting at first—his body swayed unsteadily, his balance thrown off by the lack of solid footing.

"Whoa!" he muttered, flailing briefly before forcing himself to concentrate.

But as the seconds ticked by, the wobbling stopped. The sensations of flight began to feel natural—familiar, even. It was as if his body was remembering something his mind had forgotten.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. "Okay. That's... not bad," Shallot said to himself, hovering higher now, the ocean breeze rushing past his face.

He floated there for several moments, letting the sensations settle into place. The freedom, the weightlessness—it was exhilarating.

But it was also a reminder.

This body wasn't normal. These powers weren't normal. And the fact that they came so easily to him meant only one thing: he was meant for something.

The thought sobered him. He landed gently back on the sand, his boots pressing into the ground once more.

"All right," Shallot said, dusting the sand from his hands. "Flying, check. Let's see what else this body can do."

After a few minutes of testing his abilities, Shallot had a better grasp of what this body could do. He could form basic ki attacks—small bursts of energy that crackled and shimmered in his hands like tiny stars. His aim wasn't perfect yet, and the strength of the blasts felt inconsistent, but the sheer power he wielded made him grin.

"This... this is insane," he muttered, staring at his glowing palm. The energy buzzed against his skin before fading away, leaving behind only a faint warmth.

Satisfied for now, Shallot turned his attention back to the pod. If he was going to explore this place, he couldn't leave it out in the open. Something about its sleek, alien design told him it would attract attention—attention he wasn't ready for yet.

Gripping the edges of the pod, Shallot crouched slightly, testing his strength. The metal groaned in protest, but it lifted off the ground with surprising ease.

"Whoa, okay. Definitely stronger than I used to be," he said with a smirk, hoisting the pod over his shoulder.

The forest loomed nearby, its thick canopy of trees offering a perfect hiding spot. With a few careful steps, Shallot carried the pod into the woods, his boots crunching against fallen leaves and twigs. Once he found a secluded clearing, he set the pod down and surveyed the area.

"Now to make this a little less... obvious," he muttered.

He raised a hand, focusing his energy into a small, controlled ki blast. A glowing orb formed at his palm, crackling with barely restrained power. He aimed it carefully at the ground in front of him and released it.

The blast hit the soil with a loud whoosh, scattering dirt and creating a shallow crater. Smoke and dust filled the air for a moment before clearing, revealing the exposed patch of earth.

Nodding to himself, Shallot pushed the pod into the crater, then began scooping up handfuls of dirt to cover it. The work was quick—his enhanced strength and speed made sure of that. Once the pod was concealed beneath a thick layer of mud and leaves, he stepped back to inspect his handiwork.

It wasn't perfect, but unless someone was actively searching for a buried spaceship in the middle of nowhere, it would do.

"I don't think anyone's going to find it out here," Shallot said, brushing the dirt off his hands. "And even if they do, I've still got the remote, so no big deal." He patted the device tucked securely into his armor.

With that taken care of, Shallot straightened up and looked out toward the horizon. Somewhere beyond these woods, there had to be people—a city, a town, something. He needed answers, and the only way to get them was to start moving.

"Now," he said, stretching his arms over his head, "let's see if there's a city around here. If there's one at all, that is."

With a final glance at the forest clearing, Shallot leapt into the air, his body moving effortlessly as he soared above the treetops. The wind whipped against his face, carrying with it the scent of earth and pine.

His eyes scanned the landscape below, searching for any signs of civilization. A road, a cluster of buildings—anything to give him a direction.

And somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, a small, unshakable thought lingered: Wherever this is, it's not home. But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Flying through the air, Shallot scanned the landscape below, his eyes darting from endless stretches of forest to patches of open fields. For a while, there was nothing—just an unbroken expanse of green and brown under a sky so clear it felt unnatural.

His excitement from earlier began to wane. Is this world just one big forest? he thought, frustration creeping in as the wind whipped against his face.

But then, just as doubt began to settle, he spotted it.

A thin strip of gray cut through the endless green—a road. Shallot grinned, angling his flight downward until his boots hit the pavement with a satisfying thud. The smooth asphalt stretched out in both directions, flanked by rows of trees that rustled softly in the breeze.

"Finally," he muttered, running a hand through his spiky hair. "Something man-made. This has to lead somewhere."

Shallot began walking along the road, his tail swaying lazily behind him as he took in his surroundings. Occasionally, he spotted signs posted along the roadside—simple arrows and mileage markers that were easy enough to understand, even in his disoriented state.

Then he saw it.

A large green sign loomed ahead, its white text bold and clear:

NEW YORK - 1000 KM

He froze for a moment, the words sinking in. Then, a wide grin spread across his face as a surge of relief and excitement coursed through him.

"Hell yeah!" Shallot shouted, pumping a fist into the air. "I'm on Earth! And it looks like I'm in America!"

His voice echoed briefly, the sound swallowed by the empty road. For a moment, he just stood there, letting the realization sink in.

This wasn't the Dragon Ball world. This wasn't some alien planet. It was Earth—or at least, a version of it. The knowledge filled him with a strange mix of emotions: relief, curiosity, and a faint undercurrent of unease.

"New York, huh?" Shallot muttered to himself, his excitement tempered by a flicker of doubt. If this is Earth, then it's not the one I knew... but it's close enough. I'll figure out what's going on once I get there.

Looking ahead, the road stretched endlessly toward the horizon. A thousand kilometers wasn't exactly a short distance, but with his newfound abilities, he wasn't worried.

Shallot crouched slightly, then leapt into the air, resuming his flight. The ground blurred beneath him as he soared along the path of the road, his destination clear.

"Time to see what this New York has to offer."

After what felt like five minutes of flight, the city finally came into view.

Skyscrapers loomed in the distance, their glass windows glinting under the sun like giant mirrors. The sheer size of the city made Shallot's heart race with excitement. This was New York—one of the most famous cities in the world. He'd never been here before, but it was impossible not to recognize it from all the images and stories.

Hovering just above the skyline, Shallot grinned. "So this is New York City," he muttered, his tail swaying lightly behind him.

But as much as he wanted to dive straight in, he knew better. Flying through a city full of people? That was a surefire way to attract unwanted attention, and he wasn't ready for that—not yet. He needed to blend in, at least for now.

Slowing his descent, Shallot landed in a quiet alleyway just outside the city center. The moment his boots touched the ground, he took a deep breath, his senses bombarded by the chaotic hum of city life.

The smell of street food and exhaust fumes mingled in the air, while the sounds of honking horns, distant sirens, and overlapping conversations echoed all around him. People bustled by in every direction, their hurried footsteps blending into a rhythmic cacophony.

"Okay," he muttered to himself, stepping out of the alley and into the crowded streets. "First things first: money and a place to stay."

The problem, of course, was obvious. He had no money, no papers, and no identity—not one that would work here, anyway. And this was America. Even with his powers, he doubted he'd be able to stroll into a bank or rent a hotel room without someone asking a million questions.

As he walked, hands shoved into the pockets of his armor (a gesture he realized made him stick out even more), Shallot's mind raced with ideas.

Could I take what I need? No... not unless I have to. He frowned, glancing at the people walking by. Most of them barely spared him a second glance, but a few stared, their eyes lingering just a little too long on his tail or his strange outfit.

He sighed. "Blending in is going to be harder than I thought."

But then, as the corner of his mouth tugged into a sly smile, a plan began to form.

Shallot chuckled quietly to himself, his steps quickening as he started roaming the streets with purpose. He wasn't sure how long it would take, but he knew exactly what he was looking for.

People continued to glance at him as he passed, some with curious expressions, others with raised eyebrows. A few even muttered under their breath, though Shallot couldn't quite make out what they were saying. Still, none of that mattered.

I'll figure it out, he thought, his grin widening. I've got everything I need to survive.

Walking the streets of New York, Shallot kept his eyes peeled. The city was loud and chaotic, a whirlwind of sounds, smells, and motion that made his senses buzz. Cars honked, people shouted into their phones, and vendors on street corners called out to passersby. For a moment, he simply soaked it all in.

But Shallot wasn't here to sightsee. He had a plan, and he knew exactly the kind of people he was looking for.

"Gotta be a gang around here somewhere," he muttered under his breath, his tail flicking behind him as he scanned the bustling streets. His sharp gaze picked out details most people wouldn't notice—shifty eyes, suspicious handoffs, lingering glances exchanged in darkened alleys.

It didn't take long for him to spot them.

Up ahead, in a narrow alleyway, a group of three men stood around a lone figure—a young man clutching a backpack to his chest. Shallot slowed his pace, his sharp hearing picking up bits of their conversation.

"Come on, kid. You don't need all that cash, do ya?" one of the men sneered, reaching for the backpack. "Be smart, and hand it over before things get ugly."

The kid backed up, his voice trembling. "P-please, I need this for my rent—"

"Did I ask?" the thug snapped, grabbing the backpack and yanking it away.

The other two men laughed, their jeers echoing off the alley walls.

Shallot grinned, rolling his shoulders. This was exactly the kind of situation he needed to start his plan.

"Hey!" Shallot called out, stepping into the alley. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made all three men turn their heads.

The lead thug raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into a smirk. "What's this? Another wannabe hero? Get lost, buddy. This ain't got nothin' to do with you."

Shallot tilted his head, his fierce gaze locking onto the man. "Yeah, see, that's where you're wrong. I've got a problem with people like you."

The thug scoffed, tossing the backpack to one of his buddies. "Oh, you've got a problem, huh? You don't look like much. What're you gonna do about it?"

Shallot grinned, his tail swishing behind him as he cracked his knuckles. "You don't want to find out. But hey, if you're curious, I'd be happy to show you."

The lead thug narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated by Shallot's calm confidence. "Teach this punk a lesson, boys."

The other two thugs charged forward, fists raised. Shallot didn't even flinch.

The first thug swung wildly, but Shallot sidestepped with ease, his movements impossibly fast. Before the man could react, Shallot planted a fist into his stomach. The thug's eyes bulged as he crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.

The second thug froze for a moment, clearly rethinking his decision, but Shallot didn't give him the chance to back out. In one fluid motion, Shallot grabbed him by the collar and tossed him effortlessly against the alley wall. The thug slid to the ground, unconscious.

The lead thug took a step back, his bravado cracking as he reached for a knife tucked into his belt. "You son of a—"

Before he could finish, Shallot was in front of him, his hand gripping the man's wrist like a vice. The thug yelped as the knife clattered to the ground.

"Wrong move," Shallot said, his voice low. He yanked the man forward and slammed him against the brick wall, pinning him in place with one hand.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," Shallot growled, his eyes narrowing. "Otherwise, I'd let you feel what it's like to fly—straight into the side of a building."

The thug's face paled, his legs shaking beneath him. "W-wait! I didn't mean nothin' by it! Just let me go, man!"

Shallot leaned in closer, his fierce gaze locking onto the man's terrified eyes. "Not yet. You're gonna help me with something first."

The thug nodded frantically, sweat dripping down his forehead. "A-anything, man! Just name it!"

"Good." Shallot released him, letting the man stumble to the ground. "Take me to your boss. I need money—and a fake ID. Something good. You're gonna make that happen."

The thug blinked, confused. "My... boss?"

"Yeah." Shallot crossed his arms, his tail flicking behind him. "I'm not stupid. Guys like you don't operate alone. You've got a bigger crew, right? Someone who runs the show. Take me to them."

The thug hesitated, glancing nervously at his unconscious companions. "Look, man, even if I wanted to—"

Shallot stepped forward, his sharp gaze freezing the thug in place. "Let me make something clear," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "You don't have a choice. Either you take me to your boss, or I come up with a new way to make you useful. Your call."

The thug gulped, nodding quickly. "O-okay, okay! I'll take you to him! Just... don't hurt me anymore!"

Shallot smirked, stepping back to let the man stand. "Smart choice. Let's get moving."

As the thug led the way out of the alley, Shallot glanced back at the young man clutching his backpack.

"Hey, kid," Shallot called out, his voice softer now. "You're good to go. Don't let punks like this push you around."

The kid nodded quickly, his wide eyes filled with gratitude. "T-thank you!"

Shallot turned back to the thug, his smirk returning. Now, he thought, let's see what your boss has to offer.

'oh, I forgot, I can hide my tail by making it like a belt.'

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Author's Note: So how was it ? Not gonna lie I got help from ai to smooth the sentences and correct spelling mistakes so i think the quality would be good. well what do you think, i will upload the chapter 2 as soon as possible.

Don't hesitate to leave comments !