Kami, Tao Pai Pai

The air on the Lookout was thin, nearly frozen solid.

This was the apex of Earth, a Sanctuary only a chosen few could ever set foot upon.

Yet today, the atmosphere here carried a sour tang of parting... and a hint of absurdity.

Mr. Popo's usually impassive black face was now scrunched up, all his features twisted together.

He wrung his hands, his round body swaying nervously, like a child about to be shipped off to boarding school by his parents.

"Lord Kami... do you really have to go?"

Mr. Popo's voice was thick with tears.

"The Lower World is dangerous, and that Piccolo..."

Before him stood a middle-aged uncle who looked utterly ordinary.

A receding hairline, graying temples, and a pair of thick-rimmed glasses.

He wore a cheap gray suit, looking like the kind of office worker who'd fall asleep on the train from overtime, clutching a bag of discounted radishes.

This body belonged to "Mr. Shen," an Earthling so plain he couldn't be plainer.

And now, within him dwelled the god of Earth.

"I must go, Popo."

Kami spoke through Mr. Shen's vocal cords, his voice a bit rough, with an unfamiliar accent.

He raised a hand, trying to move this borrowed body.

Crack.

His lumbar spine let out a crisp pop.

"Ouch..."

Kami clutched his lower back, his face twisted in pain.

"This body... its constitution is really mediocre."

"A little movement and I'm aching all over. My eyesight's so bad it's ridiculous—without glasses, I might as well be blind."

He pushed up the glasses sliding down his nose and gave a wry smile.

King Piccolo's spawn was about to enter the Tournament.

As a god, he couldn't directly meddle in mortal affairs.

Nor could he kill Piccolo, his own "other half," or he'd vanish too.

The only way was to disguise himself like this, slip into the competition, and seize the chance to seal Piccolo with the Evil Containment Wave.

"But..."

Mr. Popo's eyes were already brimming with tears.

"What if Lord Kami gets hurt? Popo would be very sad."

Kami stepped forward and awkwardly patted Mr. Popo on the head.

That gesture came naturally to his original, aged form.

But with this middle-aged office worker's appearance, it looked ridiculous—like a salesman comforting a client.

"Thank you for your care all these centuries, Popo."

Kami's tone carried a hint of relief.

"Staying up here, watching the humans below live and die, I've grown a bit tired."

"This trip down is like taking a vacation for myself."

"I want to see with my own eyes how far that boy Goku has grown."

As he said this, Kami's gaze suddenly turned deep, staring toward a certain direction in the Lower World.

"And that little bald one called Krillin..."

"Krillin?"

Mr. Popo tilted his head.

"That clever little fellow?"

"Mm."

Kami nodded, his brow slightly furrowed.

"Lately, there's been a strange fluctuation in the Lower World."

"It's not evil, and I can't sense any ki intensity, but there's a... 'wrongness' to it."

"Right around Kame House."

"That feeling is like a tiny hole in the world's rules. I hope it's nothing bad."

With that, Kami straightened his tie, picked up a briefcase, and walked toward the edge of the Lookout.

The wind lifted the hem of his ill-fitting suit, revealing the red underwear beneath.

"I'm off."

Kami leaped.

"Ah! Lord Kami! That body doesn't know Bukujutsu!!"

Mr. Popo screamed in terror, tears bursting forth instantly.

"Damn—forgot!!"

Kami's panicked cry came from midair, followed by a flurry of frantic paddling sounds.

Finally, he barely managed to control his faint ki, wobbling crookedly as he plummeted toward the ground, his posture as awkward as a kite with a broken string.

Mr. Popo lay at the edge of the Lookout, watching the shrinking black dot, sniffing back his snot.

"Make sure you come back safe... remember to eat on time..."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the world.

In a dim underground tavern, the air reeked of cheap tobacco, mildew, and alcohol mixed into a foul stench.

"Boss, another vodka! Make it strong!"

A burly man with a scarred face slammed the table and roared.

The other patrons cowered in silence, because three unlucky souls already lay unconscious at the man's feet.

Just then, the tavern's wooden door swung open.

"Jingle."

The bell on the door chimed crisp and clear, but in this setting, it grated harshly.

The man who walked in wore a pink robe, with a large "kill" character printed on the chest.

He wore Sunglasses, and a long braid trailed behind his head.

What drew the most attention were his hands and half his face—cold metal.

Tao Pai Pai.

Once the world's number one assassin, now a half-cyborg.

The tavern fell silent instantly.

The scarred, burly man squinted. Liquid courage emboldened him as he staggered to his feet.

"Hey, you dressed like some sissy, what are you looking at? This place is mine tonight!"

Tao Pai Pai stopped, his mechanical eye glowing faintly red as it scanned the man before him.