Dragon Ball Z: Paradise Found

Little League Chronicles

"Wow, Jeice, you're so big, strong, and cool!" a short, red-skinned boy with fluffy, white hair roleplayed with both hands full of figurines that surrounded that of a local baseball player. One that little Jeice loved to identify himself with. It wasn't because he liked baseball, though. It was just that it was the only figurine of somebody from his race that he had, and he had more similarities with a grown-up baseball star from Planet Brench than any of his other figurines.

It didn't matter that several of the toys from his box looked crustacean; it didn't matter that some of them were legitimate monsters that prevented their home planets from seeing a flourishing industry of space tourism. They all liked him, they all saw him, even when they were in a band of flashy weirdos that could have stood out in any crowd. Despite all of those easy to note and admire gimmicks, they noticed him–Jeice.

"Oh, you're here..." Jeice's mother opened the door, peeking inside. "Your friends came and asked if you're going to come outside to play."

"I'm not home!" Jeice shook both of his arms over his head, reacting angrily as he didn't enjoy being seen holding action figures and playing around with them, but it wasn't like he had much choice. After a sigh, the short, red-skinned woman went to the door and told the kids off, telling them her son wasn't feeling well.

A tall and broad-shouldered, red-skinned man with a bowl-cut of white hair sat down by Jeice's side. The boy didn't speak up while his father was in the room, but he continued playing. The man observed his son for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he could figure out his boy's quirk in a snap just by watching him do his thing, but he came to a different conclusion.

"Why didn't you go out to play? You know, nobody came up to my house and called me out to play. I had to find my own friends." Jeice's father asked.

"They're annoying. They'll call me up, but it's like I don't matter. It's not like they talk to me or listen to me. It's like I'm there just for the numbers, to fill a crowd or to make the teams even." Jeice dropped his action figures by his sides, yelling out in frustration. The tips of his father's lips tilted to the side a bit. This was it. He hit the nail on the head, though if he wanted to see his son happy identifying the problem wasn't enough–he had to correct it too.

"You know, I was a bit like you too as a kid. Nobody wanted to play or talk to me, but you know what I did?" Jeice's father ran his hand over his white hair, looking mighty proud of what he was about to say.

"What?" Jeice looked to his father with an open mouth.

"I made them notice. I worked out until I had a buff enough body for them to notice. It's impossible to not notice someone that's lifting you off the ground and holding you over their head." Jeice's father flexed his arm.

"Wow! I've got to do something like that too!" Jeice jumped off the bed, staring at his clenched fists. "But I don't think I'm good at anything..." the boy's lips quivered with despair.

"That's what being good is all about–you have to be terrible at it for a long time before you get good. I found out that it's really easy to mess up when nobody notices you there." Jeice's father laughed out, posing with his arms over his hips.

"I'm going to join a sports club and practice until everybody knows who I am. Until nobody can ignore me and I am the first person they notice in the group!" Jeice proclaimed to himself with eyes of burning resolution that etched his promise into his shaking fists.

"Don't let the fame get into your head, ace." Jeice's father laughed out and stroked his son's hair before leaving. "Notice us, little folks, too from time to time once you make it into the big leagues."

"Well, that's how you pitch a ball, alright..." a chubby old-timer of red skin and balding head of white hair and a mustache that hung over his upper lip like a stuck hairbrush fixed his baseball cap. He approached the perplexed boy in front of him and examined his pose. Jeice froze in place. He wasn't sure what the school coach was doing, but he seemed to prefer Jeice standing still and letting him scrutinize things.