Soup

This page, Soup, is property of Brady Patrick.

Greetings, it is I, Brady Patrick! This next story is about how Master Roshi and Turtle met. I also include a pretty significant cameo by that random alligator from episode 3 of Dragon Ball, who was never seen again :(. I hope you like it!

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It’s a funny old life. There hadn’t been a war in a long time. There also hadn’t been anyone lining up to train in martial arts. Funny how those two went together so well. Roshi lay on a foldable chair in the sun, half-asleep. He dreamed of his master, Mutaito, and that demon king Piccolo. He had been strong back then. Not as strong as his master, but still pretty respectable. A terrible, hideous villain, the world under siege, and just a few warriors to defend it – it was like a storybook tale, but he hadn’t thought of it then as being a memorable time. No, he had feared for his life, the lives of his friends and fellow humans. He had fought to protect them, and lived in fear that his death would come at any moment. But thinking back on it now, he couldn’t help but lament. Those really had been the days…

He had his own island now, not that it mattered. Roshi had planned to set up a martial arts school to honor his old master. He had tried setting up fliers and advertisements, but so far no one had come out to Kame House to train. He had been working on a mascot for his school, but so far hadn’t come up with much. He’d used sand as his mascot on the pictures. Maybe that’s why no one had come. So he spent his days relaxing and reading magazines. This was the supposed good life, but for some reason, it made him feel empty; alone; unimportant. It was as if the good days were long behind him, and he knew in his heart that they would never be coming back.

Lost in his dozed thoughts, Roshi didn’t hear as the waves started to splash erratically. Nor did he notice when a soft, hoarse screaming arose – oft muffled, but occasionally uninterrupted – until a wall of sand landed upon his bare belly and beard. At once, Roshi arose, flinging away the magazine from his nose, and peering through his shiny sunglasses at what could be disturbing his most precious peace. In his fore-view, Roshi saw a green blur, moving rapidly around the beach. Blinking away the glare of the sun (with much help from his trusty sunglasses), Roshi saw it to be an alligator. In one hand, it held a large sea turtle, and with the other, it was attempting to grab its throat.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” Roshi shouted at the alligator, his anger clearly from being awoken.

“Huh? What d’you want? I’m minding my own business. I’m not bothering you!” the alligator retorted.

Roshi shook the sand out of his beard. “Clearly you don’t know what manners are. Do you know where you are, son?”

“Uh, no… I’m just on my way to go train with this old guy on his island. But I figured I should bring him something first. So I thought, uh, homemade turtle soup is pretty good!”

Damn straight. Roshi’s mouth started salivating just thinking about a nice cup of soup. But before he could think too much, he heard the helpless screams again; and this time, he knew where they were coming from.

“Please, sir! Don’t let him eat me!” the turtle yelled, waving its flippers wildly as the alligator swung him again. “Ahh! Please help! I don’t even taste good…”

Of course the poor alligator would bring him a talking turtle. What was he supposed to do? Eat it? That would be like eating a person. Roshi sighed, “Put him down, son.”

“Huh, what? I ain’t got to listen to you,” the crocodilian replied, raising its claw to the brown turtle’s throat. He wasn’t going to be convinced otherwise.

Roshi leapt forward with lightning fast speed. He did a roll, then shot into the air, and brought his outstretched foot down on the alligator’s yellow stomach. The creature howled in pain, and dropped the turtle into the sand. As Roshi landed to the ground, overtop the stunned reptile, the turtle rushed behind him for protection. The old man chuckled to himself:

“Heh heh, still got it, eh?”

The alligator, regaining his consciousness, sat up, angrily baring its teeth at Roshi. “Why did you do that?! That was my turtle! I was making him into soup!”

“You mentioned that before. But I’m not interested in your soup. Just let the poor creature go.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe I’ll just take it from you then!” the alligator sneered, standing up. It assumed a fighting stance.

“Where did you get your form from? The back of a phone book? Heh heh,” Roshi laughed to himself even as he assumed his own defensive form. He found it particularly funny that the alligator still didn’t know who he was.

The alligator lunged at him, punching wildly. Roshi blocked the attacks easily, then dodged out of the way to trip the alligator. As the creature fell again, he caught it by the tail and threw it into the air. Roshi then kicked off the earth and pursued it into the air. The creature flipped over, and attempted a block, but Roshi’s punch broke it, causing his opponent to howl out in pain. A moment later, the two landed – and only Roshi did so on his feet.

“I can do this all day, son,” Roshi said, stretching his neck. “But if you want to train under me, you’re going to have to become a lot stronger.”

“Huh, what? Y-you’re Master Roshi?!”

Roshi’s neck bristled. He’d never been called master before. He hadn’t even thought about it. But he guessed it was true. He had, after all, set up a martial arts school. He just needed a better mascot than sand.

“If you want to train under me, you’re going to have to work hard. The tests I set up for you aren’t going to be easy,” Roshi began, trying to remember the introduction speech he wrote weeks ago. “You are going to have to put all of your effort into this. No breaks or holidays. We are going to train every day. It will be very intense, and you will probably want to quit. But if you do, then you will never graduate from my school. Oh, and you want to train with me, you can’t eat anymore talking turtles. Do you understand?”

The alligator who, moments ago, was a ball of reckless hate, had now stood up in polite attention, and eagerly clung to Roshi’s every word, swearing to follow it all. But Roshi noticed the creature was still staring at the turtle behind him. Hunger was not in its eyes, which served a small amount of relief to the old hermit.

“And what about the turtle? What are you doing with it?”

“Nothing,” Roshi replied, simply. He turned around to face it. “You can go home now. Sorry to have troubled you.”

“But… I don’t have a home. The ocean’s a pretty dangerous place,” it said slowly.

Roshi shook his head, “And so is the land. There’s danger everywhere, especially if you don’t look for any.”

“Not here!” the turtle responded. “This island is pretty safe now that the monster won’t eat me. Can I stay, mister?”

Roshi mulled it over for a few seconds, then nodded. Turtles wouldn’t need much maintenance, and it would probably be good for him to have some company. The alligator didn’t seem to be that interesting. He probably wouldn’t last long, either. Roshi looked back behind him. The alligator was already doing vigorous pushups. He was committed for now. The old hermit wondered whether others would come, or if the alligator was just an exception – one who was excited by Roshi’s sand school. No, that wouldn’t do, Roshi thought. He couldn’t keep that name. Not if he was going to continue this. He would need a better symbol for his warriors. He turned back around, and saw the sea turtle slinking off to the shade under his palm tree. Roshi smiled beneath his sunglasses as realization hit him like a wildebeest in a gazebo.

Maybe he’d just found his school’s mascot. Maybe he’d just found the symbol people would remember him by. Maybe.

Awards

• 2014 Official Dragon Ball Fanon Wiki Awards - Best One-shots (nominee).