The blizzard didn't bother Kaito anymore. At thirteen, his Saiyan physiology had adapted to the extreme cold of the Mantle mountain range. He'd been here for three weeks, training in the thin air and harsh conditions—perfect for building endurance.
Gravity here feels heavier, he thought, throwing another punch combo into the howling wind. Not like real gravity training, but it'll do.
He was practicing the Galick Gun motion—arms positioned just right, ki flowing through the proper channels—when he sensed them.
Energy signatures. Dozens of them. Moving through the mountain pass below with military precision.
Kaito's tail tightened around his waist beneath his cold-weather gi. He dropped into a crouch and extended his senses further. Not Grimm. People. Armed. And… something else. Something big.
He leaped down the mountainside in controlled bounds, each landing creating small craters in the snow. As he got closer, voices reached his ears.
"—confirm the Dust shipment is secured?"
"Affirmative. Schnee company will never see it coming."
White Fang. Kaito had heard about them in his travels—Faunus rights group turned militant. This region was Schnee territory; they must be raiding a Dust mine.
He landed on an outcropping above their convoy. Twenty White Fang soldiers, several cargo trucks loaded with Dust crates, and—
Kaito's eyes widened.
A Paladin. An Atlas military mech, repainted with White Fang symbols.
They're not just raiding. They're equipped for war.
The old Kaito—the one who channeled pure Vegeta—would've dropped in with overwhelming force, demolished the mech, and left them all unconscious in the snow while he took the Dust back.
But over the past months, traveling and helping people, something had shifted.
They're not evil. They're desperate. Faunus get treated like dirt, especially by the Schnee company.
He thought of the Faunus shop owner in Argus who'd given him food when he had no money. The rabbit Faunus girl in a village who'd thanked him for saving her brother from Grimm.
But stealing Dust? Using military weapons? That's going to get people killed.
Kaito made his decision.
He dropped into the center of their convoy.
The landing created an explosion of snow. White Fang soldiers immediately raised their weapons—guns, swords, all pointed at the teenage boy who'd appeared from nowhere.
"Who the hell—"
"Wait!" Kaito raised his hands, but kept his stance ready. "I don't want to fight you."
A lieutenant stepped forward, a wolf Faunus with a scarred face. "Then you picked a terrible place to go sightseeing, kid. Move along before—"
"I can't let you take that Dust."
The lieutenant's expression hardened. "White Fang, subdue the—"
"LISTEN TO ME!" Kaito's voice carried authority beyond his years—a combination of Vegeta's commanding presence and something gentler. "I know why you're doing this. I know the Schnee company exploits Faunus workers. I know you're fighting for equality."
That gave them pause.
"But this?" Kaito gestured at the Paladin, the stolen Dust. "This makes you terrorists. This makes humans fear you instead of hearing you. Is that what you want?"
"You don't understand—" a younger soldier started.
"I understand perfectly." Kaito's tail unwrapped slightly, swishing once before he caught himself and hid it again. "I understand fighting for what's right. But I also understand that power without wisdom just creates more suffering."
The lieutenant laughed bitterly. "Big words from a human child. You think speeches change anything? We've tried peaceful—"
"I'm not asking you to be peaceful. I'm asking you to be smart." Kaito's eyes locked with the lieutenant's. "Take the Dust if you must. But leave the Paladin. That's Atlas military tech—if you use it, you're giving them an excuse to crack down even harder on all Faunus."
Silence.
"And who are you to tell us what to do?" The lieutenant's hand moved to his weapon.
Kaito sighed. "I hoped we could talk this through."
He moved.
Not with killing intent—with precision. He disarmed the nearest soldier with a strike to the wrist, caught the falling rifle, and crushed it one-handed. Before anyone could react, he was in front of the Paladin.
"Big Bang Attack!"
The ki blast struck the mech's leg joint—not enough to destroy it, but enough to cripple its mobility. The Paladin collapsed to one knee, alarms blaring.
Kaito stood in front of it, energy crackling around his fists. "I can destroy this completely. Or you can leave it here and take just the Dust."
Twenty guns pointed at him.
"You might shoot me. You might even hurt me." Kaito's expression was serious but not hostile—that balance between Vegeta's pride and Goku's understanding. "But I'll take that Paladin down before I fall. And then Atlas will hunt you even harder. Is one mech worth it?"
The lieutenant stared at this strange boy who fought like a Huntsman but talked like a philosopher.
"…Stand down," he finally ordered.
The guns lowered.
"We'll leave the Paladin. But the Dust comes with us. People are starving in Faunus districts while Schnee hoards resources."
Kaito nodded slowly. "Then use it to help them. Not to hurt others. That's the difference between a freedom fighter and a terrorist."
As the White Fang convoy prepared to leave without their mech, the young wolf Faunus soldier approached Kaito hesitantly.
"Why help us? Even a little?"
Kaito smiled—and for once, it wasn't Vegeta's smirk. It was genuine, warm. "Because I'm trying to protect everyone. That includes you. Even when you make it difficult."
The soldier blinked. "You're weird, kid."
"Yeah. I get that a lot."
As they drove away, Kaito sent a small ki blast into the Paladin's core systems—frying them beyond repair. Atlas would find a broken mech and missing Dust, but no leads on where it went.
Not a perfect solution. But maybe… a better one.
Part 2: Mistral - The Tournament
Three Months Later
Kaito stood in the registration line for the Mistral Regional Combat Tournament, trying to look older than his thirteen years. The prize money was substantial—enough to fund several more months of travel and training.
Plus, he needed to test himself against skilled opponents.
"Name?" the registration clerk asked, barely looking up.
"Kaito."
"Full name?"
"Just Kaito." He'd learned not to draw attention to his lack of background.
"Age?"
"…Sixteen." A lie, but he was tall for thirteen.
"Weapon?"
"Hand-to-hand specialist."
NOW the clerk looked up. "You're entering a tournament full of Huntsmen-in-training with no weapon?"
Kaito's response was pure Vegeta confidence: "I don't need one."
But then he softened it with a Goku-like grin. "Besides, it'll make the fights more interesting for the crowd, right?"
The clerk stamped his registration. "Your funeral, kid. You're in Block C. First match is tomorrow."
Tournament Day 1
The Mistral arena was packed. Kaito stood in the preparation room, stretching and centering his ki. Around him, other competitors checked their weapons—swords, spears, guns, all transforming weapons of incredible craftsmanship.
He caught his reflection in a window. His gi was simple, his hands empty. His tail was carefully hidden.
Just another fight. Like the hundreds of Grimm battles. Stay focused.
"Competitors to the arena!"
Kaito walked into the roar of the crowd. His opponent was already there—a seventeen-year-old girl with twin daggers and confident smile.
"Seriously?" she called out. "No weapon?"
"Don't need one!" Kaito replied cheerfully. "But good luck! You'll need it!"
There it is. Vegeta's arrogance wrapped in Goku's friendly delivery. The balance feels… right.
The match started.
His opponent was fast—Mistralian combat school training evident in every movement. She came at him with a flurry of strikes, daggers flashing.
Kaito deflected each one with minimal movement—Vegeta's efficiency. His counter was a palm strike that sent her sliding back, but he'd pulled the power enough not to seriously hurt her.
"You're holding back," she realized.
"A little," Kaito admitted with that warm smile. "I'm still learning control. Don't want to accidentally—"
She charged again, angrier now.
This time Kaito didn't just defend. He flowed around her attacks like water, then struck with a quick combination—jab, elbow, sweep—that put her on the ground. He offered his hand to help her up.
"Good match! Your footwork is really impressive!"
She stared at his hand, then at the crowd cheering. Finally, she took it.
"You're insane," she muttered. "But… thanks."
Tournament Day 3 - Semifinals
Kaito had made it further than anyone expected. The "weaponless wonder" had become a crowd favorite—his fights were exhibitions of pure martial skill, each victory earned with respect for his opponents.
Now he faced his biggest challenge yet.
Pyrrha Nikos.
The invincible girl stood across from him, Miló and Akoúo̱ at the ready. Her red hair gleamed under the arena lights. She'd won three consecutive regional tournaments. She was destined for greatness.
And she looked at Kaito with genuine curiosity.
"I've been watching your matches," Pyrrha said as they took their positions. "Your style is… unique. I've never seen anything like it."
"Thanks!" Kaito's enthusiasm was real. "You're amazing too! That last match where you redirected all those projectiles? Incredible!"
She doesn't know I can sense her Semblance affecting metal. Polarity. That's going to be tricky.
"I look forward to a good match," Pyrrha said with a slight bow.
"Same here! Let's give them a show!"
The fight began.
Pyrrha was everything her reputation promised—skilled, tactical, powerful. Her spear work was flawless, her shield positioning perfect. And her Semblance let her subtly manipulate the fight's flow.
But Kaito had faced Grimm that could tear through steel. He'd trained in mountains where the air barely existed. And he had something she'd never encountered: ki.
He dodged her spear thrust, responded with a ki-enhanced punch that she barely blocked with her shield. The impact sent her sliding back.
"What—?" She'd never felt force like that from a bare-handed strike.
"Sorry! Should've warned you!" Kaito was apologetic but excited. "I'm a bit stronger than I look!"
They clashed again and again. Pyrrha adapted quickly—using her Semblance to throw environmental objects, creating distance, looking for openings. Kaito matched her with pure martial skill and carefully controlled ki bursts.
The crowd was going insane.
Finally, Kaito saw his opening. As Pyrrha committed to a spear thrust, he sidestepped, caught the shaft (ignoring her Semblance trying to pull it away), and gently—gently—tapped her shoulder with his free hand.
"Got you," he said with a smile.
In a real fight, that tap would've been a knockout blow. They both knew it.
Pyrrha stepped back, lowered her weapons, and bowed deeply. "I yield. That was… extraordinary."
The arena exploded with cheers.
Kaito returned the bow. "You're incredible. Seriously. That Semblance alone is amazing, but your skill? You're going to be a legendary Huntress."
Pyrrha smiled genuinely. "And you're going to be something beyond a Huntsman, I think. What's your name?"
"Kaito. Just Kaito."
"Well, 'Just Kaito,'" she extended her hand, "I hope we fight again someday. When you're not holding back quite so much."
He laughed and shook it. "Deal!"
That Evening - Prize Collection
Kaito won the tournament. The prize money was more Lien than he'd seen in his entire journey. But more valuable was what he'd learned.
He could balance it. Vegeta's pride and tactical brilliance with Goku's kindness and joy in fighting. He didn't have to be one or the other.
He could be himself.
As he left Mistral, heading toward his next destination, Kaito thought about his goals. Super Saiyan was still a year away—he'd promised himself that. But his foundation was getting stronger.
Technique. Control. Purpose.
And maybe… friendship along the way.
His tail swished contentedly as he walked into the sunset.