Seven years.
That was how long it had been since I was born into this world.
Sometimes, when the nights were quiet and sleep refused to come, I still found myself counting them-not out of nostalgia, but to remind myself that this life was real. That it hadn't been a dream stitched together from fading memories and borrowed fantasies.
I had lived seven full years as Son Goten.
Seven years as a child.
And far longer than that as something else entirely.
My days were simple on the surface. I woke up early, helped around the house when Mother asked, studied diligently enough to keep her satisfied, and spent the rest of my time laughing with Trunks or humoring Gohan's gentle lectures about responsibility. To anyone watching, I was just another cheerful child growing up in an unusually strong family.
Peaceful.
Normal.
That was the role I played.
And I played it well.
The world itself was quiet. Too quiet. No planet-shaking battles. No sky-splitting auras. No looming sense of extinction hanging over the Earth. The kind of peace people prayed for-and the kind that made warriors slowly dull their blades.
I didn't.
I couldn't.
Because I remembered.
Not clearly. Not in sharp images or perfect sequences. My past life existed more like fragments-echoes of stories, flashes of scenes, emotions tied to names and worlds I no longer belonged to. Anime. Manga. Heroes and monsters. Gods pretending to be mortals.
Dragon Ball.
Even with incomplete memories, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Peace never lasted.
Not in this world.
That knowledge alone shaped everything I did.
I trained-not openly, not recklessly, but constantly. Every movement was measured. Every breath controlled. Every improvement recorded not in pride, but in discipline. Strength was not something to flaunt. It was a responsibility, and one I carried quietly.
The others couldn't sense it.
That was intentional.
Whatever aura surrounded me was muted, folded inward so completely that even the most sensitive fighters would feel nothing unusual. To them, I was talented. Promising, perhaps. But still a child who had yet to bloom.
That illusion was my shield.
Because the moment people started asking questions was the moment peace would fracture.
Gohan trained less these days.
I noticed it immediately.
He still exercised. Still practiced his forms. Still carried that innate gentleness that had always defined him. But the hunger was gone. The sharp edge that once pushed him beyond his limits had softened, dulled by years of calm and expectations that had nothing to do with battle.
School consumed him now. Books. Research. Dreams of a future where strength wasn't measured in power levels.
I envied him.
Not his potential.
His peace.
Mother treated me differently than she had treated Gohan.
I understood why.
She had already paid the price of ambition once. Had already lost a husband to a world that never stopped demanding more strength, more sacrifice. With me, she was careful. Protective, but not restrictive. Firm, but not suffocating.
As long as my grades stayed high-and they always did-she didn't question how I spent my time.
She didn't ask why I never seemed tired.
She didn't ask how I learned so quickly.
She didn't ask why I sometimes looked at the sky as if waiting for something.
In her own way, she trusted me.
That trust mattered more than power ever could.
Despite everything-despite what I was capable of-I cherished these moments. The noise of dinner preparations. The familiar rhythm of daily life. The arguments over money. The laughter that followed.
This was what I was protecting.
Not the Earth.
Not the timeline.
My family.
I knew my strength eclipsed everyone around me.
I knew that if I lost control, even for a second, the consequences would be irreversible.
So I chose restraint.
I chose patience.
I chose silence.
Because the world wasn't ready yet.
And neither was I.
Peace was a luxury I allowed myself only on the surface.
Beneath it, every second was spent sharpening something that could never be allowed to dull.
The moment the world around me slept-when Trunks snored without shame and Gohan buried himself under textbooks-I slipped away into a place that did not exist.
A space carved outside reality.
A dimension that answered only to me.
The Ultimate Hyperbolic Time Dimensional Space did not announce its arrival with light or sound. One moment I stood beneath the open sky of Earth, the next I was surrounded by endless white-no horizon, no ceiling, no ground beyond what my will defined.
Silence pressed in from every direction.
Not the comforting silence of peace, but the oppressive stillness of something vast and indifferent.
Time moved differently here.
One day outside.
Ten years inside.
That alone made it dangerous.
Time was not just distance-it was consequence. Every decision made here echoed outward, shaping a future no one else could see. I learned early on that this place was not a shortcut.
It was a crucible.
The gravity shifted the moment I stepped forward.
Ten times Earth's gravity pressed down on me, testing my posture, my breathing, my balance. My body adjusted instantly, muscles responding with practiced ease. Years ago, this pressure would have crushed me flat.
Now, it was only the beginning.
I raised my hand.
The space responded.
A presence formed in front of me, dense and unmistakable.
Broad shoulders. Sharp eyes. A scowl carved from pride and irritation.
Vegeta.
Or rather, a perfect clone of him-summoned from the moment I had first met him.
The system did not grant mercy.
This clone possessed triple the power Vegeta had at that time.
Triple his strength.
Triple his speed.
Triple his killing intent.
It did not speak.
It did not posture.
The instant it solidified, it attacked.
The world detonated.
I twisted sideways as a fist tore through the space where my head had been, shockwaves ripping outward and shattering the artificial ground beneath us. I slid back, feet carving trenches through nothingness, barely regaining balance before a knee slammed toward my ribs.
I blocked-barely.
The impact sent me flying.
I crashed, rolled, and pushed myself upright in one fluid motion just as a blast scorched past my shoulder, heat grazing skin but never lingering.
There was no room for hesitation here.
No time to think.
Only instinct.
Only execution.
Vegeta pressed forward relentlessly, every strike precise, every movement honed by decades of battle. He didn't waste energy. He didn't overextend. Every blow was meant to kill-or cripple.
This was why I chose him.
Goku was adaptable, creative, unpredictable.
But Vegeta?
Vegeta was discipline incarnate.
He punished mistakes.
And I made many.
I ducked under a kick and countered with a palm strike aimed at his sternum-not brute force, but technique. My body flowed into Renewal Taekwondo, redirecting his momentum rather than contesting it.
The difference was immediate.
Vegeta stumbled half a step.
His eyes narrowed.
The clone adapted.
He always did.
The next exchange was faster. Sharper. Deadlier.
We moved faster than sound, faster than thought, our impacts folding space inward. Every clash echoed like thunder, the air tearing itself apart to keep up with us.
I was strong.
But strength alone wasn't enough.
Gravity spiked.
Twenty times Earth's pull slammed down.
My muscles screamed-not from pain, but from strain. My movements slowed a fraction of a second.
That fraction was all Vegeta needed.
A knee drove into my gut.
Air exploded from my lungs.
I folded, and an elbow followed, crashing down on my spine and burying me into the ground hard enough to fracture the dimensional floor.
I lay there for a heartbeat.
Two.
Then I exhaled slowly.
Pain was information.
I absorbed it.
Analyzed it.
Corrected for it.
I pushed myself up, blood trickling from the corner of my mouth-not real blood, not lasting damage, but enough to remind me that this was not a game.
"Again," I murmured.
The clone didn't need permission.
We fought for years.
Literal years..
Time lost meaning inside the space. Days blurred into months. Months into decades. My body adapted faster than any normal being could, muscles refining themselves under constant pressure, mind sharpening with every failure.
I stopped relying on raw power.
I stopped meeting force with force.
Renewal Taekwondo reshaped how I moved. How I struck. How I defended.
Every blow became intentional.
Every step calculated.
Where Turtle Hermit Style emphasized explosive output and overwhelming momentum, Renewal Taekwondo focused on control-on turning an opponent's strength against them, on ending battles with minimal waste.
Vegeta noticed.
His clone adjusted.
He began mixing feints. Delayed strikes. Sudden shifts in rhythm designed to break flow.
I welcomed it.
This was growth.
The system responded quietly, without fanfare.
A translucent panel flickered at the edge of my vision mid-battle, gone almost as soon as it appeared.
-----
[Skill Update]
Renewal Taekwondo → Lv. +1
-----
I didn't slow down.
If anything, I pushed harder.
Gravity climbed.
Thirty times.
Fifty.
One hundred.
Each increase crushed lesser beings instantly. For me, it was resistance-something to overcome, something to master. My movements grew heavier, but more efficient. Wasted motion disappeared. Every breath was deliberate.
Energy control followed.
I stopped letting ki leak unconsciously. Every strand was pulled inward, compressed, refined. God Ki circulated in silence, dense and absolute, reinforcing muscle and bone without radiating presence.
Vegeta struck.
I didn't dodge.
I pivoted.
His fist passed inches from my face as I stepped inside his guard, palm driving upward-not to strike, but to unbalance. My foot swept, my elbow followed, and for the first time-
I sent him flying.
The clone recovered instantly, skidding back, eyes sharp with something close to approval.
I didn't smile.
Victory here meant nothing.
Only progress mattered.
Blasts came next.
Pure energy.
Kamehameha.
Galick Gun.
Final Flash.
I answered each with precision, not power. Redirecting beams. Splitting them. Cancelling their momentum without exploding them outward.
Another panel flickered.
-----
[Skill Update]
Kamehameha Wave → Lv. +1
-----
Blast skills never capped.
I felt it every time-an invisible ceiling that didn't exist, a horizon that kept moving farther away the closer I got. Mastery was not an endpoint. It was a direction.
Years passed.
I lost count after the first century.
The clone never tired.
Neither did I.
That was the true danger of this place.
Endless progress bred complacency if one wasn't careful.
So I changed conditions.
Gravity fluctuated randomly.
Terrain shifted mid-fight.
Space distorted, angles bending unpredictably.
I forced chaos into discipline.
And discipline into instinct.
Eventually, I stopped thinking during combat.
My body moved on its own.
When the clone attacked, my response was already complete.
When he adapted, I was ahead of him.
That was the moment I understood something important.
I wasn't just getting stronger.
I was becoming stable.
Power without stability shattered worlds.
Stability turned power into a foundation.
The clone fell for the first time after what felt like a millennium.
Not because I overwhelmed him.
But because I outpaced him.
I stood over him, breathing steady, posture relaxed.
The clone dissolved silently, the space returning to stillness.
I didn't feel triumph.
Only confirmation.
This place had done its job.
For now.
I looked out across the endless white and exhaled slowly.
The outside world hadn't changed.
Only a day had passed.
But I had lived lifetimes here.
And I wasn't finished yet.
Some power does not announce itself with explosions.
Some power waits.
It coils beneath the surface, patient and ancient, watching as lesser forces rise and fall. It does not rush. It does not beg to be used. It simply exists-certain that when the time comes, the world will bend around it.
The Dragon Dragon Fruit was that kind of power.
I had received it without ceremony. No warning. No buildup. One moment it existed as a concept inside my system interface, the next it rested in my hand-heavy, textured, alive with an authority that made my instincts scream.
I recognized Devil Fruits.
At least, I thought I did.
This one was different.
It didn't feel chaotic. Or cursed. Or unstable.
It felt... sovereign.
As if the power within it wasn't borrowed or stolen, but claimed by right.
I didn't eat it immediately.
That alone should have said something.
Any other version of me-any other Saiyan-would have devoured it without hesitation, chasing power for the sake of power. But I had lived long enough, across more than one life, to understand a simple truth.
Not all power was meant to be consumed impulsively.
Some demanded preparation.
I waited until I was inside the Ultimate Hyperbolic Time Dimensional Space.
No witnesses.
No consequences.
No risk to anyone but myself.
The fruit tasted nothing like I expected.
Not foul. Not bitter.
It tasted... ancient.
Like something preserved beyond time, its flavor layered with sensations I didn't have words for. Heat without fire. Weight without mass. Authority without sound.
The moment I swallowed, my vision shattered.
The world didn't explode outward.
It collapsed inward.
My heartbeat slowed.
Then stopped.
For a single, terrifying moment, there was nothing.
And then-
Something answered.
Not the system.
Not my ki.
Something far older.
It surged through my body like a tide, rewriting structure, reshaping flesh, engraving laws directly into my existence. Bones stretched. Muscles compressed and expanded simultaneously. My senses detonated outward, perceiving space in ways I had never experienced before.
I screamed.
Not from pain.
From scale.
My body could no longer contain what I was becoming.
I fell to my knees as my spine arched violently, skin tearing itself apart only to reform as something harder, denser, layered with iridescent scales that shimmered with every element imaginable. Heat radiated from my core, yet frost crystallized around my breath.
Wings burst from my back.
Not sprouting.
Unfolding.
Each one vast enough to blot out the artificial sky of the dimension, membranes laced with veins of glowing energy that pulsed in rhythm with my heart-when my heart finally remembered how to beat.
My limbs elongated, joints reconfiguring themselves with terrifying precision. My hands became claws capable of rending mountains. My neck stretched, vertebrae stacking endlessly as my perspective rose higher and higher.
When the transformation finished, I no longer fit within the space.
I defined it.
I didn't know how large Kaido truly was.
But I knew this-
If he stood beneath me, he would look small.
The weight of my presence alone distorted the dimensional field, pressure rolling outward like a physical force. Gravity bowed. Space warped. The endless white cracked beneath claws that could crush cities by accident.
I inhaled.
The air screamed as it was dragged into my lungs.
And when I exhaled-
Everything burned.
Fire, lightning, frost, wind, darkness, light-elements layered atop one another, a breath attack so dense it erased the concept of resistance. I cut it off instantly, forcing the energy back inward before it could destabilize the space entirely.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Absolute.
I looked down at myself-at the sheer absurdity of what I had become-and felt something unexpected.
Relief.
Control was still mine.
That mattered more than power.
I focused.
Slowly, carefully, I willed my body to change again.
The massive bulk receded, scales dissolving into skin, wings folding into nothingness. The transformation reversed not violently, but obediently, as if my form itself acknowledged my authority over it.
When I stood again on two feet, human once more, there were no horns.
No scales.
No lingering traces.
That alone separated me from Kaido.
And saved me from an impossible conversation with my mother.
I didn't rush to experiment further.
I sat down instead, cross-legged in the empty space, and listened.
Information flowed into me-not as text, not as a system prompt, but as understanding.
The Dragon Dragon Fruit did not simply grant transformation.
It granted dominion.
Elemental manipulation came instinctively. Fire answered like a loyal hound. Lightning coiled around my thoughts. Wind bent itself into pathways. Ice formed without draining heat. Even more abstract forces-shadow, light, pressure-reacted to my presence.
Mana flowed through me alongside ki.
Not replacing it.
Complementing it.
That was important.
Mana was structured differently. Where ki was life force and will, mana was formula and law. It responded to intent, yes-but also to rules.
Rules could be rewritten.
And then there was the army.
I felt them before I saw them.
A tug at my consciousness, distant but unmistakable.
With a thought, I opened a space that had not existed before.
The Dragon World.
It unfolded like a private universe, vast and layered, its sky painted in deep crimson and gold. Floating landmasses drifted in slow orbits, and at their center lay a colossal throne of obsidian and gold-not something I had created consciously, but something the fruit had deemed... appropriate.
Two presences waited there.
They bowed the moment they sensed me.
Dragons.
True dragons.
Each one enormous, though smaller than my full transformation. Their scales gleamed with different hues-one obsidian black, the other a deep sapphire blue. Their eyes burned with intelligence, not feral hunger.
More importantly-
They radiated absolute loyalty.
Not fear.
Not submission.
Recognition.
They didn't speak.
They didn't need to.
I understood them instinctively.
They would obey any command.
They would never betray me.
They would never question my authority.
As my skill governing them grew, more would join.
Not summoned randomly.
But drawn-by instinct, by destiny, by the gravitational pull of a monarch's existence.
Their numbers would scale with my mastery.
Already, I knew the count.
Two.
Only two.
But it wouldn't stay that way.
I dismissed the Dragon World with a thought, sealing it away without effort. The ability was already perfected when I received it. Infinite storage. No strain. No cost.
That was... unsettling.
Most power demanded something in return.
This didn't.
Haki came next.
I felt it settle into me like a familiar concept remembered after a long time.
Observation expanded my perception beyond sight, mapping intent and presence. Armament hardened my strikes without thought. Conqueror's... resonated.
Not violently.
Naturally.
Like something that had always been there, waiting for acknowledgment.
The fruit even assisted in training it, boosting efficiency-particularly for Conqueror's Haki. Not that I relied on it openly.
Power that bent wills was dangerous.
I practiced it alone.
Always alone.
Over time, I tested combinations.
Haki layered over ki.
Ki stabilized with mana.
God Ki compressed and refined.
Some combinations worked.
Others failed spectacularly.
Mixing God Ki and Magic proved... difficult.
They resisted each other, operating on incompatible principles. One was divine authority. The other was structured law.
Forcing them together felt like trying to merge water and fire without steam.
Progress was slow.
Frustrating.
But not impossible.
I learned patience again.
I also learned limits.
While I could use Haki freely in my Saiyan forms, integrating it seamlessly into my Dragon transformation required constant focus. The power was immense-but without refinement, it bordered on excess.
Excess destroyed worlds.
I refused to become that.
Years passed inside the dimension as I experimented.
Partial transformations became second nature-claws forming mid-strike, wings unfolding for instantaneous maneuvering, scales hardening skin at the moment of impact. The flexibility alone made my combat options absurd.
And still, I held back.
Because despite everything-
Despite the dragon.
Despite the army.
Despite the dominion-
This power was not meant to be revealed yet.
The world outside remained fragile.
Unready.
And I was still learning what it meant to be a king.
my rewards never came at once. Just like the others, they arrived one by one on my birthdays over the past seven years.
Some of them were so natural that I didn't even realize at first that they were skills.
The first among them was Observe.
This skill allowed me to see detailed information about any object or living being. At the beginning, it only showed basic data, but as I grew older, it evolved. Now it could even display power levels clearly. This was the main reason I knew that I had already surpassed every living being on Earth.
The next reward was Camouflage.
This skill allowed me to hide my true power completely. Others could only sense my strength if I allowed it. Even those who could sense divine ki wouldn't be able to notice mine. Over time, this skill reached its maximum level, and I kept it activated at all times. Because of this, no one ever questioned my strength.
Another reward I obtained was Dimension Jump.
This skill allowed me to move between dimensions. However, at its current level, the cooldown was extremely long-three months. That was the main reason I never used it. Disappearing for months would be impossible to explain to my mother.
The last reward I obtained during these seven years was Treasure of the King - Gate of Babylon.
This ability gave me access to a personal treasury that existed in a separate space. It contained weapons, artifacts, and unlimited wealth from any world. The stronger and richer I became, the more powerful this ability grew. This was one of the abilities I was most careful with. If my mother ever found out about this, she would probably faint on the spot.
All seven rewards were obtained naturally over seven years.
None of them arrived early.
None of them arrived late.
The System was precise.
I didn't rush things.
That was something I had learned very early in this life-power without understanding was useless, and power without perspective was dangerous. After seven years of steady growth, countless hours of training, and a System that never made mistakes, it was finally time to do something I had deliberately avoided.
A full evaluation.
Not for pride.
Not for comparison.
But to understand exactly where I stood in the universe.
I took a slow breath and let my mind settle.
Calm Mind activated automatically, smoothing my thoughts into a clear, orderly state. There was no excitement, no fear-only calculation.
"System," I thought quietly. "Display my current status."
-----
[System UI - Status Window]
Name: Son Goten
Age: 7 Years, 10 Months
Race: Saiyan
Bloodline: Ancient Super Saiyan God
Devil Fruit:
• Dragon Dragon Fruit - Dragon Monarch (Complete Version)
Base Power Level: 75,000,000,000 (75 Billion)
Skills:
• Calm Mind (Lv. MAX)
• Meditation (Lv. MAX)
• Observe (Lv. MAX)
• Camouflage (Lv. MAX)
• Renewal Taekwondo (Lv. 163)
• Dragon Breath (Lv. 146)
• Element Manipulation (Lv. 104)
• Dragon Army (Lv. 68)
• Dragon World (Lv. MAX)
• Dimension Jump (Lv. 1)
• Kamehameha Wave (Lv. 169)
• Final Flash (Lv. 151)
• Destructo Disk (Lv. 98)
• Galick Gun (Lv. 78)
• Flight (Lv. MAX)
• Gate of Babylon (Lv. 93)
Transformations:
• Ozaru God Transformation - ×200,000,000
• Super Saiyan Blue - ×400,000,000,000,000
• Half-Dragon Form - ×500,000,000,000
• Dragon Form - ×100,000,000,000,000
-----
The numbers were absurd.
Even after seeing them countless times, my mind still took a moment to fully process the scale. Seventy-five billion in base form alone was already beyond anything that should exist on Earth.
I didn't feel intoxicated by it.
If anything, it made me more cautious.
"Observe," I thought next. "Reference known combatants."
-----
[Observe - Comparative Analysis Initiated]
Target Group: Earth (Dragon Ball Z Era)
Son Goku (Last Known State):
Status: Deceased
Estimated Peak (Before Death): Below 1 Billion
Vegeta:
Estimated Current Power: Comparable to Goku (Below 1 Billion)
Son Gohan:
Current Power Level: ~2,000,000,000 (Super Saiyan)
Z Fighters (Combined Threat):
Negligible
-----
The conclusion was immediate and unavoidable.
Earth no longer mattered in terms of power scaling.
Even if all Z Fighters attacked me together, even if they coordinated perfectly, even if I restricted myself to base form and martial arts alone... the outcome wouldn't change.
They wouldn't even be able to hurt me.
That was why Camouflage was always active.
That was why I never trained openly.
A single mistake-one misjudged movement, one uncontrolled burst of ki-could erase someone I cared about.
I shifted my focus upward.
The real question had never been Earth.
It was the gods.
"Observe," I thought again, more carefully this time. "Target: Beerus, God of Destruction."
-----
[Observe - Error]
Target Data Incomplete
Reason: Insufficient Authority / Unknown Upper Limit
-----
I expected that.
Still, I analyzed it manually.
Beerus was the first true variable.
Based on what I knew-his casual dominance over Super Saiyan God Goku, his effortless suppression of universe-level threats-I could make an estimate.
If I used Super Saiyan Blue at full output...
I might be equal to him.
Or
I might already be stronger.
The problem was that Beerus never fought seriously. His power wasn't linear, and his true ceiling had never been shown. He was lazy, unpredictable, and restrained by his own boredom.
That uncertainty made him dangerous.
I could not afford to underestimate him.
I could not afford to overestimate myself.
"So," I concluded internally, "Beerus remains a question mark."
Then I moved on.
"Observe. Target: Whis."
-----
[Observe - Access Denied]
Reason: Angel-Class Entity
Power Quantification: Impossible
-----
That single line told me everything I needed to know.
Whis wasn't just stronger.
He existed on an entirely different layer.
No matter how much I multiplied my power, no matter how absurd my transformations became, Whis was untouchable with my current understanding. His strength wasn't something you surpassed through raw energy alone.
It was skill.
Control.
Conceptual authority.
Even my System acknowledged that.
I exhaled slowly.
"Grand Priest," I thought next.
-----
[Observe - Access Denied]
Reason: Supreme Angel Authority
Power Level: Not Applicable
-----
Not applicable.
That was... unsettling.
The System didn't even try to assign meaning to his existence. That meant the Grand Priest didn't just transcend power levels-he transcended the framework itself.
And then there was the final name.
The one I already knew the answer to.
"Observe. Target: Zeno."
-----
[Observe - Absolute Denial]
Reason: Omni-Existence Entity
Classification: Beyond Combat Logic
-----
I opened my eyes.
Zeno wasn't strong in the traditional sense.
He didn't need to be.
Strength implied effort.
Effort implied resistance.
Zeno erased universes the way someone erased chalk from a board.
No transformation, no technique, no fusion would ever bridge that gap-not through power alone.
For the first time since my reincarnation, I felt something close to humility.
Not fear.
Perspective.
I closed the System UI.
Right now, I was a god among mortals.
A possible rival to a God of Destruction.
But beyond that?
I was still climbing.
That was why my goals hadn't changed.
Super Saiyan God 4.
Ultra Instinct Sign.
Fusion of God Ki and Magic.
If I could combine those paths-Saiyan evolution, dragon authority, divine perception-then maybe, just maybe, I could step onto the same plane as angels one day.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
But eventually.
Until then, restraint was my greatest weapon.
And secrecy was my shield.
I was still grounded in my thoughts when it reached me.
"Goten!"
My mother's voice cut across the fields-sharp, familiar, and impossible to ignore.
"Dinner is ready! Come back before it gets cold!"
For a moment, I didn't answer.
I hovered there, suspended between earth and sky, watching the sun dip low as orange light spilled across the mountains. Somewhere far above, gods argued over universes. Somewhere even higher, beings erased realities without emotion.
And here... someone was worried about food getting cold.
I smiled, softer this time.
"Coming, Mom."
I flew home slowly. Not because I needed to-but because I wanted to. Every second I spent like this was borrowed time. Time I didn't want to rush past.
When I landed, the house was glowing warmly. Light leaked through the windows, and the smell of food wrapped around me like a memory I never wanted to lose.
Inside, Mom was setting the table.
She looked the same as always-and yet, not.
There were lines on her face now. Not deep, but noticeable. Lines that hadn't been there in the pictures from before Dad died. Lines earned through worry, through loneliness, through years of raising two sons without the man she loved.
"You're late," she said, but her voice wasn't sharp.
"Sorry," I replied. "Didn't notice the time."
She sighed. "You sound just like your father."
The words hit me harder than any punch.
I froze for half a second before forcing myself to move.
I washed my hands and sat down just as the door slid open.
"I'm home."
Gohan stepped inside.
He carried himself carefully now, like someone afraid of being a burden. His eyes were kind-but tired. I wondered how much of that tiredness came from carrying Dad's absence.
Mom looked at him and smiled, the same way she always did.
"Sit. Food's ready."
We ate together.
Quietly.
It was the kind of silence that wasn't empty-just full of things no one knew how to say.
Then Gohan spoke.
"Mom... Goten," he said. "I have some good news."
Mom straightened immediately. "Good news?"
He nodded. "Dad is coming back."
For a moment, she didn't breathe.
"...What?" she whispered.
"For one day," Gohan continued gently. "Baba agreed. He's coming back to participate in the World Martial Arts Tournament."
The chopsticks slipped from Mom's fingers and clattered onto the table.
"...Goku," she said softly.
Then-
"WHAT?!"
She stood up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor.
"YOU'RE SERIOUS?!" she shouted. "You're not joking, right?!"
"I'm serious," Gohan said, smiling.
Her hands flew to her mouth.
"...Seven years," she whispered. "Seven years..."
Her shoulders trembled.
Then she turned to me.
"Goten," she said, her voice breaking into a smile soaked in tears, "you'll finally meet your father."
I nodded.
"Yeah."
My chest felt tight.
In my previous life, Son Goku had been a hero on a screen.
In this one... he was a man whose absence left cracks in the people he loved.
Mom suddenly wiped her eyes and frowned.
"People don't age in the afterlife, right?" she asked anxiously. "Do you think he'll think I look old?"
"Mom..." Gohan said softly.
"I should've taken better care of my skin," she muttered. "Why didn't I think of this earlier?"
Despite myself, I smiled.
Then Gohan added, "There's something else."
Mom looked at him.
"The winner of the tournament gets ten million zeni."
She froze.
"...How much?"
"Ten million."
Her eyes widened.
"...TEN MILLION?!"
The mountain might've shaken.
"GOHAN! YOU HAVE TO WIN!" she yelled. "AND YOUR FATHER TOO!"
She started pacing immediately.
"That's fifteen million zeni! Fifteen! Do you know how long that would last us?!"
I bowed my head slightly.
Thank God I never told her about Gate of Babylon.
If she ever learned I had unlimited wealth-endless gold, treasures beyond worlds-she wouldn't panic.
She'd collapse.
"We might not win," Gohan said carefully.
"Nonsense!" she snapped. "You're strong! Both of you!"
"...I might need to stop school for a while to train."
She hesitated.
Then sighed.
"Well... school can wait."
After dinner, Mom leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"This must be a gift from heaven," she murmured. "The money Goku left us is almost gone..."
Gohan looked at me.
"Goten," he said. "Will you help me train?"
I smiled.
"Of course."
But inside, fear stirred.
If I slipped-even once-this warmth could shatter.
The next day, we stood in the open fields.
"I'll start," Gohan said.
Golden light exploded around him as he turned Super Saiyan.
I activated Observe.
-----
Name: Son Gohan
Power Level: 2,300,000,000
-----
My base form was seventy-five billion.
The difference wasn't just power.
It was danger.
One mistake.
One uncontrolled breath.
And this home... this table... this laughter...
Could disappear.
I can't afford to slip, I thought.
Not here.
Not with them.
Because no matter how strong I became-
This was the world I wanted to protect.