The idea of this project is so ridiculous and difficult that I almost didn’t know where to begin. I mean, come on, who else do you know is silly enough to attempt a re-write of the ultimate shounen fighter, Dragon Ball Z, as a shoujo of all things. It’s pretty crazy, all right, but it sounded like so much fun to combine two things I enjoy in this tongue-in-cheek fashion! I just had to make the attempt!
One needs consider all stereotypes and subgenres when deciding which elements to incorporate and where: bishies, magical girls (or ore ;P), idol boys, and all the like all find their place in this strange hodgepodge which lends itself to some tropes over others.
One must also remember that it’s less about what actually happens and more about how the AUDIENCE perceives what happens. ;P
Some of my anime compatriots knew that this was in the works as a fun project, and now I’d like to share the first installment of what hopes to be many. Without further ado…
Chapter 1, “The New Threat!/For the Love of a Child” (PT 1)
The land is peaceful and serene; lofty cumulus clouds float languidly in the blue sky as, in a small farming town, children run and play without care or pause. Villagers go about their daily lives, smiling together and milling about from one chore to the next. They discuss the weather and their teenage children’s latest passion for that new magical idol band that everyone’s been talking about.
Just outside the village sits a small house on some equally small sum of property; the lodgings are quaint but homey, and from within a young mother is heard calling out to her son that dinner is ready. She is petite and lovely with an MC’s standard dark eyes and hair. Something about her smile is sure to be enchanting and captivate the heart of any hero we encounter…
Speaking of heroes, in the surrounding woods, a young man chops firewood. His lean but muscular body ripples as sweat glistens on his forehead. Dropping his ax, he runs a hand through his long, spiked hair and sighs, removing his orange athletic t-shirt and using it to wipe his brow before smiling up at the sky. “Well, that ‘aught to do it,” he says aloud. He loads up a nearby cart with the logs and pushes it, still shirtless and glistening, toward home.
The MC, his young wife, meets him at the property’s edge with a languid sigh. She blushes red, averting her gaze from his toned physique, before focusing on the loaded cart with a soft smile, “Goku… you think you’ve got enough firewood there?”
Goku’s eyes widen. He turns and begins to redress, blushing a bit at her attention in spite of himself. “Yeah,” he chuckles, pulling the shirt over his head, “this should last us a while, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” the woman agrees, now facing him again. Suddenly, she bites her lip. “You’re going to hurt yourself doing this manual labor one of these days. You push yourself too hard…” He faces her, and her eyes are downcast.
He raises a hand to her soft cheek and caresses her skin. “Look at me,” he commands, and she raises her head. “I’m fine,” he insists. “You worry too much.” His thumb strokes her sensitive skin, and she closes her eyes, leaning into his attention. Goku chuckles. “You sound just like a mother.” He pauses in his ministrations. “Speaking of, where’s Gohan?”
She blinks and steps back. Her brow furrows. “I don’t know,” she explains, and her eyes wander beyond him out into the forest. “But you two are due at Master Roshi’s place soon, aren’t you, to meet with your old school friends? I think you’d better go find him…”
Goku places a hand on her head and smooths her hair. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him.” They smile into each other’s eyes, and her heart races miles per minute. They stay that way for a long moment, basking in each other though neither would admit it. Then, Goku steps away. “I’ll pick him up, and we’ll head out. See you when we get home, Chichi.”
“You might want to take your motorbike,” Chichi says. Goku nods and walks toward the shed. “Be careful!” she calls after him. Goku chuckles good-naturedly, raising a hand without turning back, and continues.
Chichi sighs in a self-deprecating manner before turning and walking back toward the house. She shakes her head with a small shrug. “I’m going to worry myself to death.”
On a neighboring farm, a middle-aged farmer uses a pitchfork to collect hay. Chickens roam the land around him, gently commingling with a series of soft clucks and coos. He removes his hat, gazing up into the bright blue sky, and uses said headwear as a fan.
He sighs and speaks ruefully to himself over a small smile and cigarette, “This is a bigger job than I thought.” As he continues to look into the wild blue yonder, he notices a speck in the distance slowly growing larger as it seems on a collision course with earth! The cigarette falls from his lips onto the soil as he watches, open-mouthed, a bright asteroid strike the earth quite a reasonable distance from him. “My gosh… It hit!”
The subsequent aftershock sends both the man and his chickens into a panic but, when the dust settles, the nervous man knows what he must do in the interests of human curiosity and the well-being of his farm. He looks into the horizon of wafting smoke. “Well, I guess I better go… c-check it out…”
The truck ride to the impact site is poignant yet brief, each moment contributing to an inner dialogue between the man’s common sense and wondering spirit. When he arrives, he stops suddenly, takes a deep breath, and slowly grabs the shotgun from his passenger seat. Each move is methodical, intentional, and precise. More than likely it proves useless, but something about this situation is deeply unsettling. He breathes deeply as he moves toward the point of impact and looks within the crater.
What he finds is so unlike anything that he could have expected that it takes him a few moments to let the scene sink in. At the heart of the impact lies not a comet or asteroid, but rather… something round, metal, and fairly sinister for all its purple trappings.
It looks for all the world like a… ship.
When one of its metal plates falls open like a drawbridge and a gloved hand reaches out, the farmer instinctively knows that he’s in dire straights. Every nerve in his weather-beaten, work-worn body is alive with cold horror as a devilishly handsome man steps out of the single-occupant, back-lit pod and stands tall, languidly stretching out long limbs with a smirk highlighting his masculine features.
Long dark hair cascades down his back unchecked, creating a backdrop for his tight, revealing bodysuit with the shell-brown crystal at its center and incredibly muscled physique. A thin, black flap of material flutters from his waist and around his pert assets; yellow crystals dangle from his ears.
His aura is dangerous—controlled but inwardly feral—and eyes are dark plasma, fluid in their observation of his surroundings as he notices for the first time the farmer standing above him. His face sets in stone, amused.
He floats like a god into the air, rising out of the crater and above the farmer who shakes with terror—just who is this man?—before landing in front of him, eyebrow raised. “So,” he says to himself, “the creatures of this planet are still alive.” The farmer takes three steps back.
“Kakarott has failed us…” the unearthly being continues to mutter, angerly now, barely registering the farmer by this juncture. His hands clench into fists.
“Y-you’re…” the farmer begins, redrawing the strange man’s attention. The latter smirks.
“O-on my property…” the farmer continues. Panicked, he readies his rifle.
The other man flicks his left earring and a green holographic screen appears before a single eye, strange characters flickering across its translucent surface. “Is that so?” he asks, smirking again. He takes two steps forward as the farmer takes four steps back. “Your power level is puny.” The man’s eyes glisten with sadistic pleasure.
“S-stay back! I’ll use this thing!”
One step further sees the farmer fire on his otherworldly foe, eyes closing at the force of reverberated impact. When the farmer opens his eyes, however, he’s taken aback.
Unphased is this stranger. His hand fisted at eye level lowers slowly. Moving with great intention, he uncurls his fingers, palm facing the farmer; the bullet lies sedate in his hand.
The farmer is trembling now as the man raises the bullet toward his eyes, inspecting it at short length before flicking it a lightning speed toward the other. It shatters the gun in his hand, perhaps even shattering bone as the force blows him backward into the hood of his Chevy truck. The truck radiator emits an awesome squeal of steam. The farmer doesn’t move.
The stranger chuckles and casts his hologram-shielded gaze toward the horizon line, lingering for only a moment before floating slowly into the air again. He sneers. “Prepare yourself, Kakarott,” he says. Then, he takes off like a jet toward an undisclosed location.
Back in the quiet forest, a young boy toddles somewhat apprehensively through the underbrush. He rubs his large eyes with small, pudgy hands and mumbles plaintively, “I want my daddy. I wanna go home.” He sniffles.
He raises his head toward the canopy, and tears glisten in his eyes. “Daddy!” He shouts scrunching his small face. “Daddy!” When no response comes, the tears fall unbidden, and the sweet boy’s sobs echo through the forest as he takes off running with no destination in sight.
Eventually, the child slows, having exhausted himself, and stops to ascertain his surroundings. It’s shadowed, but he notices a shimmer in the air before him. It is a rare, magical patholos butterfly; sparkles flicker out of existence in its wake as it gently lands upon a fern. The boy approaches, rubbing his eyes again, only for the insect to take flight and swoop away.
“Wait, Mr. Butterfly!” the child cries, “I won’t hurt you; I just want to look!” With this, he follows briskly behind, nearly catching the shimmer several times only to have it fly from his fingers at every grasp. As he nears it for what seems the dozenth time, the butterfly bursts to produce several of its kind which immediately flutter away.
Staring in awe, the boy is taken aback by the sudden rustling of a bush at his flank. It startles him fiercely. “M-Mr. Butterfly?” the boy questions. Suddenly, a large, saber-toothed cat emerges stealthily from the underbrush,* sights fixated on he who has been deemed new prey.
The boy scampers backward, falling on his bottom with a muted thud as the big cat creeps closer and closer, salivating at the thought of a good meal. The child closes his eyes when the orange gem strung on a chain ’round his neck begins to glow…
The cat lets out an anguished howl, and the boy is knocked backward as it pounces. Miraculously, the pressure is suddenly gone, and when he opens his eyes, so is the terrifying cat!
The child gulps, shaking like a leaf on the wind, and he begins once more to cry. “D-Daddy!!” he bawls, rising from the ground unsteadily. Rubbing his eyes and with no regard for direction, he takes off at top speed, hoping only to reunite with his father and escape these blasted woods!
Self-blinded as he is, the child doesn’t notice the short drop before him until it’s too late. He feels his body falling forward for only one nausea-inducing second before he feels the warm grasp of strong arms around him, swinging him up and into a broad chest.
“Gohan!” the voice shouts, and the boy opens his eyes to see–
END OF PART EPISODE 1, PART 1.
If you liked that and want me to continue this ridiculous project, I’d appreciate you letting me know in the comment section. 😀 This passage took a long time, and for a long while I lacked motivation, but if you request it, I’ll finish episode one fully and we’ll go from there. 🙂 I feel like it started kind of slow, but it has potential. 🙂
Until next time,
P.S. I’m pretty sure PHiLM2 got their idea from this meme, lololol
*I totally can’t take credit from “stealthy from the underbrush” as it came from Cantor’s Shia LaBeouf musical.