Dragonball Z Lives On:

The Mystic Saga





Dear Journal

Itís the middle of the night and once again I find myself unable to sleep. The thoughts in my head are going a mile a minute, turning over what has happened to me in the last couple of years, keeping me from achieving any kind of rest. As these thoughts and memories whirl around, I found that I want to write it all down, while itís fresh in my memory, before they begin to fade. It would make for a good story, actually. Not that any of my old friends would ever believe it was true. And to write a story, you have to go back to the beginning, from where it all started. Seems so long ago now.

It was a simple beginning really . . .



Such strange writings

That tell of things

Unknown to my world

Are they truth or are they lies?



"This proves that they existed! Why do you still refuse to believe?" The young blonde female scientist was enraged, as well as frustrated, with the Asian man who sat across from her.

The young man stared right back at her. "All I can see is that youíve succeeded in building an oversized tin can. You donít know if it works or if it even does what itís supposed to. As Iíve said before, Mr. Toriyama wants irrefutable evidence."

Nearby, leaning against the wall, a young African-American woman shook her head as she listened to her superiorsí conversation. She herself was skeptical as well but the machine theyíd built was a near convincer. Suddenly she heard something that made her question her hearing.



. . . It would make for a good story, actually. Not that any of my old friends would ever believe it was true. . .



"You want evidence? Fine. I ask permission to take the machine back and see for myself whether or not the diaries tell the truth. And I ask that you come along as well, so that not even you can deny the evidence when you see it yourself."

The blonde scientist remained utterly calm as the Asian and black American stared in utter shock at her. The Asian man lost his cool. "Are you insane? Have you even tested that thing?"

The blondeís eyes gleamed. "The only way to test it is to use it. What better way to test it then go back to then and there, hmmm? Come on. Arenít you the one who claimed it wonít do anything, that itís an Ďoversized tin caní?"

The Asian was starting to look red in the face. "Fine. If thatís what you wish. Iíll have to clear it with Mr. Toriyama first."

The blonde shrugged. "Go ahead. Iíll doubt heíll deny my request. He was the one who agreed to have it built in the first place."

"Yes well." The Asian cleared his throat and then packed up his papers in his briefcase and turned to leave.

"Oh and Mr. Yondeiru?"

"Yes?" He glanced back.

The blonde smiled sweetly. "I plan on leaving in a week, so be sure to have everything youíll be bringing ready to go. Pack light. I plan on bringing a lot scientific equipment for research and study. And I plan on using it. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Yondeiru grounded out. He hightailed out before she could say another word.

Meanwhile the young African-American woman had remained silent. The scientist turned to her. "Youíve been awful quiet. Whatís the matter? Excited?"

The young woman blinked. "Excited? What do you mean?"

The scientist gave her a look. "Why, youíre coming along of course."

The young woman gaped. "But Iím no scientist! Iím just working as your assistant to pay for my college tuition!"

"Nonsense. Youíll be a big help. I know youíre a big fan and you can help me sort things and keep track of everything."

"But you donít even know if this will work!"

"It will work." A grim look came upon the blonde scientistís face. "It has to."



. . . And to write a story, you have to go back to the beginning, from where it all started. Seems so long ago now. . .



A scientist looking to discover the unusual

A businessman looking to discover the reality

And a girl just wanting to discover herself

Where will their path lead them?



It was a simple beginning really . . .



As the scientist started up the machine, the young African-American woman took a long look out the window, a studying gaze of what she was leaving behind. Deep down, she had a feeling, cold one, that many things would happen, horrible things, before she would see this place again. If ever.

A few feet away sat the Asian businessman, clutching his seat in fear. The machine was taking off and all three passengers strapped nervously into their seats. It seems that the machine could work after all. But where it would take them, was still a big question. Would they reach their destination? Would they find what they were looking for? Or would it be something totally different?

The woman again looked out the window and watched in awe as the view outside began to change. All she wanted was to go to college and hopefully become a writer. By becoming the assistant to a scientist, she hoped to earn the money to make that happen. But now it appeared, that she got more than she bargained for. And was maybe now in over her head. Crossing her fingers, she made a wish, as the machine continued its journey, taking them along with it.


. . . Or maybe it wasnít so simple.



Our journey has begun

The destination is as yet unrevealed

A destiny awaits us

A destiny that will change all and nothing.

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