Dragon Ball Human

That evening, Son Gohan returned, weary from his journey.

Yamiru didn't bother asking unnecessary questions, while Son Goku, utterly oblivious to such concerns, simply tugged at Yamiru's pant leg and stared eagerly at Son Gohan. His stomach growled, its internal clock perfectly tuned to mealtime.

That night, Yamiru and Son Goku went to sleep early.

However, in the quiet hours of the night, Son Gohan got up silently and began working on the pile of logs outside the cabin.

With his profound strength, the old master could split thick logs — ones Yamiru had spent countless kicks trying to break — with a single palm strike. Son Gohan worked diligently, using his foot to compact the foundation inch by inch and then planting each thick log firmly into the ground.

When Yamiru woke up naturally the next morning and stepped outside, he saw the skeletal frame of a much larger wooden cabin beside their current one.

It was dawn, and the soft glow of early morning light spilled over the mountain, illuminating the kind and slightly weary face of the white-bearded old man beside the half-built cabin.

Yamiru felt his nose tingle, a surge of emotion rising in his chest.

"Heh," Son Gohan said, purposefully avoiding waking Yamiru earlier. Seeing his disciple was naturally disciplined, he nodded in approval. "Not bad. Oh? What's the matter?" He noticed Yamiru's reddened eyes at the door and thought something might have gone wrong.

"It's nothing, Master. Just some dust in my eyes."

Yamiru rubbed his eyes, collecting himself. After a deep breath, he looked up with a smile. "Master, what's today's training?"

"Running."

Son Gohan chuckled and went back inside. He emerged with a woven basket, likely one used for gathering herbs and wild vegetables. To Yamiru's surprise, he placed the sleepy and yawning Son Goku into the basket. The boy hadn't yet fully adjusted to their routine, and since leaving him behind might result in losing him altogether, Son Gohan decided to carry him along wherever they went.

"Running, huh!" Yamiru grinned. "Master, I love running!"

Son Gohan smiled but didn't comment.

"Alright, follow me," Son Gohan said, adjusting the basket on his back. Before leaving, he added, "While running, keep an eye on Goku back there. Make sure he doesn't fall out."

"Got it, Master."

"Well then, let's go. The path is long."

Son Gohan started running, his steps light yet covering impressive distances with each stride. His pace wasn't slow by any means.

Yamiru wasn't worried. Running was his forte, after all.

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But after just ten kilometers, Yamiru found himself utterly exhausted.

Son Gohan's pace was bizarre!

Not only did he vary his speed unpredictably, but he also deliberately changed paths, choosing the most peculiar and challenging routes.

Yamiru now understood the scenes from the manga where Master Roshi had Goku and Krillin running through a forest, weaving back and forth between trees. It was utterly ridiculous! He felt miserable as he ran, thinking back to his usual long-distance runs, which followed straight paths with clear directions and steady rhythms. This kind of running seemed designed solely to wear him out.

Yamiru's stomach churned, his body growing increasingly uncomfortable.

He realized he had failed to adapt to this strange running rhythm, wasting a lot of energy in the process and throwing his body's functions into disarray.

His pace slowed.

"One-two, one-two, one-two…"

Son Gohan stopped ahead, jogging in place as he waited for Yamiru to catch up. In the basket, Son Goku clung to the rim, his big eyes blinking curiously at Yamiru lagging behind. Despite being jostled around in the basket for so long, the little Saiyan didn't seem the least bit dizzy. The Saiyan constitution was truly terrifying.

Yamiru gritted his teeth and pushed through the exhaustion, forcing himself to catch up.

"Don't stop," Son Gohan reminded him. "Shout the rhythm with me as you run."

Yamiru couldn't spare the breath to respond, so he simply nodded.

In the basket, Son Goku stuck out his tongue at him. Yamiru noticed that the boy seemed more energetic lately — likely because the lingering effects of his mild concussion were fading.

"One-two-one, one-two-one-two-one..."

"One-two-one, one-two-one-two-one..."

The master and his disciple chanted as they ran through the winding paths of Mount Paozu, zigzagging tirelessly. Yet, the overall direction was steadily leading them out of the mountains.

After more than an hour of relentless running, Yamiru followed his master to the edge of the mountain, arriving at the foot of a different slope than the one he had originally entered. Not far away lay a small town.

This must have been the town where Son Gohan occasionally came to purchase supplies, as the townsfolk clearly recognized him.

"Good morning, sir."

"Hello, Mr. Son Gohan!"

"Mr. Son, try some freshly steamed buns!"

Trailing behind, Yamiru couldn't help but feel unlucky. If he had passed through this town while looking for Mount Paozu, he might have found Son Gohan much sooner — at least with some clearer direction.

Son Gohan greeted the familiar faces with a warm smile. When someone asked about the child in his basket and the young man jogging behind him, he simply introduced them as his grandson and disciple.

Before long, master and disciple arrived at a courier station.

It seemed this station also handled milk deliveries. From a distance, Yamiru could see several crates of milk bottles stacked at the entrance, and a realization struck him: Son Gohan had brought him here to deliver milk!

Was it really this unoriginal? Yamiru couldn't help but grumble inwardly. It seemed his master had directly copied the training methods he himself had experienced under the Turtle School.

Son Gohan spoke with the station staff, who appeared to have been expecting him. Evidently, Son Gohan's two trips out yesterday were to arrange the milk deliveries. As for the running route through the mountains, he had likely scouted and planned it the day before.

"So, this is the disciple you've taken in?" The staff member handed Yamiru a crate of milk with a smile. "What a lucky kid!"

The crate weighed heavily in Yamiru's hands.

The aroma of fresh milk wafted up — it was still warm, covered with a cotton blanket for insulation.

His stomach growled loudly. Even he was hungry.

Son Gohan bought two cups of warm milk and inserted straws into them. He handed one cup to the basket behind him. Son Goku curiously touched the straw, sniffed the milk, and, finding the aroma enticing, grabbed the glass bottle. Skipping the straw entirely, he gulped it down directly.

"Heh..."

Not waiting for Goku to finish, Son Gohan took the delivery list from the station staff and motioned for Yamiru to follow him.

Great; no drinking until the deliveries were done.

Yamiru noticed the second bottle of milk in Son Gohan's hand, untouched as they ran. It was obvious this bottle was meant as a reward for him, but he would likely only get it after completing the day's training.

Still, he didn't mind this kind of reward.

A simple, warm gesture like this felt comforting. It had been a long time since Yamiru experienced such kindness. After all the hardships he had endured in this world, he had never complained to anyone. Whenever he felt he had done well, he would quietly tell himself, "You did okay, Yamiru. Keep going."

"Master, wait for me!"

Carrying the crate of warm milk, Yamiru suddenly felt reinvigorated. He enthusiastically followed after his master.

"One-two-one, one-two-one-two-one..."

"One-two-one, one-two-one-two-one..."

From the basket, Son Goku kept trying to climb out to grab the second bottle of milk in Son Gohan's hand.

But there was no way this little monkey could outsmart Son Gohan. The milk bottle moved like a slippery fish, always just out of reach. Goku climbed all over Son Gohan, trying to snatch the white bottle that was tantalizingly close yet unreachable. Fortunately, Son Gohan's skill and reflexes were unmatched. No matter how Goku scrambled, he always managed to catch him just in time, plucking the boy off his back and tossing him safely back into the basket.

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