Like Broly, He Grew a Tail

Watching Broly eat with that focused, contented look, watching his clumsy figure toddle across the beach chasing the Sea Turtle, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing as he slept...

Master Roshi suddenly felt that this island had gained a vitality and warmth he'd never known before.

And so, the search for an adoptive family was indefinitely shelved under excuses like "Let's observe a bit longer" or "Let's see if there's a better family."

From then on, Broly, the legendary Super Saiyan, officially settled into the home of Earth's God of Martial Arts.

And so he stayed, as over a decade flowed by like water.

Age 749.

Warm sunlight spilled over the azure sea and white sandy beach, the sea breeze brushing gently, carrying a salty, fresh scent.

Inside Master Roshi's House.

Just as it had been for many years.

Master Roshi sat cross-legged in front of the TV, his ever-present oversized sunglasses perched on his nose, wearing a gaudy floral beach shirt, utterly absorbed in the aerobics program playing on the screen.

On the screen, young, pretty girls radiated energy.

And on Master Roshi's face hung that familiar, infatuated grin, drool faintly visible.

In stark contrast to this lecherous scene indoors was the sight on the beach outside.

Now seventeen years old, Broly had long shed his infant softness, growing into a tall, strapping youth with smooth, defined muscles and a handsome, striking face.

His thick black hair hung loose, carrying an untamed, wild charm.

At this moment, Broly was performing his most important daily activity with an almost ritualistic reverence.

Eating!

Broly knelt on a neatly spread blue picnic mat, his movements meticulous.

Before him, twenty-five clean, gleaming plates of various sizes were arranged in order.

Each plate held a different food—from perfectly roasted game meat and grilled fish to colorful vegetable and fruit salads, rice balls, and even a few small dishes that looked like dipping sauces.

Meat and vegetables balanced, colors coordinated, the placement and spacing seemingly calculated with precision.

Neat and orderly, a work of art.

Broly carefully inspected every plate, confirming no flaws, then rubbed his hands in satisfaction, picked up his utensils, and began to enjoy his feast—slow and deliberate, yet astonishingly fast.

Broly ate with intense focus, as if savoring the ultimate pleasure in life.

Every movement carried an elegance that belied his muscular frame.

As for this unwavering dining ritual Broly had maintained for years...

Master Roshi had long since moved from initial amazement and complaints, to numbness, and now to complete indifference.

An odd understanding had formed between them.

Master Roshi watched his pretty ladies.

Broly enjoyed his ritualistic feast.

Neither interfered; each had their own peace.

And so, this unique, harmonious daily scene defined Master Roshi's Island.

Still, one thing occasionally nagged at Master Roshi deep down...

Broly had grown into a strapping seventeen-year-old, and it seemed he'd never get to share that special baby food again.

[This book's Broly is from the Dragon Ball Super version, so he's the same age as Vegeta, a year older than Son Goku.]

Over the years, Master Roshi had naturally tried to steer Broly onto the path of martial arts.

More than once, he'd said in what he thought was a tempting tone, "Broly, look at your natural physique—how about learning some martial arts from me? Build strength, get really strong! Maybe one day you could become Earth's guardian!"

But every time, Broly shook his head without a second thought, his tone flat but firm: "No thanks. Not interested."

Broly's greatest, and seemingly only, interest was eating.

When full, he'd find a comfortable spot to sleep.

When awake, he'd start pondering what to eat next and how to make the next meal even more ritualistic.

Master Roshi often found this utterly exasperating, staring at Broly's increasingly robust back.

I've raised a pig with a weird obsessive-compulsive disorder!

But what Master Roshi didn't know was...

This foster son, who seemed to only eat, sleep, and never train, had already, through sheer natural growth day after day, quietly elevated his internal Battle Power to a terrifying height beyond Master Roshi's wildest imagination.

The legendary Super Saiyan's power growth simply couldn't be judged by common sense.

Not training was itself training.

Just as Broly was immersed in the pleasure of his eighteenth plate of food...

"Splash!"

A splash sounded from the distant sea, and then a familiar figure, trembling with overwhelming emotion, crawled out of the water onto the beach!

"Broly! Thank goodness! I've finally... finally made it back!"

The Sea Turtle, missing for over a year, now had tears streaming down his face and a choked voice, his shell even bearing the marks of hardship.

"Huh? Sea Turtle?" Broly looked up from his food, saw his long-lost old friend, and broke into a warm, innocent smile. He raised the half-eaten roasted beast leg in his hand and asked, "Eaten yet?"

"Not yet..." The Sea Turtle shook his head instinctively.

After all that travel, he was indeed starving.

"Oh." Broly nodded, then very naturally and decisively pulled the roasted leg back, shielding it in front of him, drawing a clear line. "These are all mine. You're not allowed to eat any."

Sea Turtle: "..."

The Sea Turtle's excitement was instantly replaced by speechless exasperation.

Then why did you ask if I'd eaten?!

Was that just empty politeness?!

The Sea Turtle decided not to bother with this glutton anymore and immediately paddled his limbs, scurrying into the house to find Master Roshi.

"Master Roshi! Turtle Hermit! I'm back!" the Sea Turtle called out excitedly.

But at that moment, Master Roshi was lost in the graceful dance moves of the young ladies on TV, his eyes glazed and drool pooling. He had no time for a returning old turtle.

Master Roshi waved his hand casually, like shooing a fly: "Mm-hmm... got it, got it... talk later..."

The Sea Turtle had no choice but to lie down to the side, patiently waiting.

Only when the TV show ended and the screen displayed "Thanks for Watching" did Master Roshi smack his lips with lingering satisfaction, take off his sunglasses, and act as if he'd just noticed the Sea Turtle.

"Huh? Sea Turtle? When did you get back? I thought some seafood restaurant had caught you and turned you into soup!" Master Roshi turned around, adjusted his glasses, and said in his usual tone.

"A kid saved me!" The Sea Turtle quickly crawled closer and began recounting his experiences over the past year, his voice full of gratitude. "That kid... come to think of it, he has a tail too, just like Broly!"

"A kid with a tail?" Master Roshi was slightly taken aback; that piqued his interest.