Reincarnated as Son Goku

The Dragon Ball world, Mount Paozu, early morning.

"Mm..."

Sun Haoyu slowly opened his eyes. He shook his dizzy head, his lips dry.

"Water... water..."

He struggled to sit up and leaned over to reach for the cup beside him, but suddenly froze. These hands—fair, delicate, and tiny—were clearly a child's!

"W-what's going on?!"

His heart lurched. He sat up and looked himself over: a small body wearing a faded blue martial arts uniform, with a hemp rope tied around his waist. Strangest of all, he felt like there was... something extra behind him.

"A tail?!"

He reached back and touched something furry. The sensation was terrifyingly real. It even swished of its own accord.

Could I still be asleep? Is this a dream?

Smack! Smack!

Two sharp slaps echoed through the quiet wooden cabin. The burning pain in his cheeks was all too real. Sun Haoyu sucked in a breath, his heart pounding.

It wasn't a dream.

Just then, the old wooden door creaked open. A stooped old man with a long white beard walked in. When he saw Sun Haoyu sitting on the bed, his cloudy eyes lit up at once, and his beard trembled with excitement.

"Goku! You're finally awake!"

The old man rushed to the bed in a few quick strides and carefully cupped Sun Haoyu's face in his rough hands, looking him over from every angle. His eyes reddened. "Does your head still hurt? It's all Grandpa's fault. I should've kept a better eye on you and stopped you from falling off that cliff... Thank goodness you're all right. Thank goodness!"

Sun Haoyu froze.

Goku? Grandpa? A cliff?

The three words struck his mind like lightning. He stared at the old man before him—the white beard, the kind face, the still-sturdy frame despite his age, and that unmistakable plain martial arts uniform... He'd seen that face countless times in the anime!

Son Gohan! Master Roshi's prized student! The man who had adopted the Saiyan Kakarot and named him Son Goku!

"G-Grandpa..." Sun Haoyu swallowed the words "old man," his voice a little hoarse. "You called me... Goku?"

Son Gohan stopped moving. His smile slowly faded, replaced by deep concern. He waved two fingers quickly in front of Sun Haoyu's eyes. "Goku, how many is this?"

"Two...?" Sun Haoyu could barely make out the fingers through the blur. In his mind, a storm raged.

Did I really reincarnate? Into the world of Dragon Ball?

And I've become Son Goku—the Son Goku who'll go on to save Earth again and again, and even the entire universe?!

"Oh dear!" Son Gohan slapped his thigh, his white beard bristling with worry. "Looks like you really did hurt your head! You can't even count anymore? This is bad, this is bad. The poor boy was never very bright, and now..."

"Grandpa!"

Sun Haoyu suddenly spoke, his voice calmer than he'd expected.

"I'm all right," he said. "My head's just a little muddled."

Son Gohan stared at him, feeling that the Goku before him seemed a little different from before.

Those eyes, once innocent and guileless, with just a hint of wildness, now seemed like a deep pool—far too steady for a six-year-old.

"A-are you really all right?"

"I am." Sun Haoyu forced a smile. "Grandpa, I'll have some water and get some rest. I'll be fine!"

"Good, good!" Son Gohan nodded repeatedly and hurriedly brought him the cup from the table. He gently patted Sun Haoyu's shoulder with his rough hand. "You rest here. Grandpa's going to hunt something and make you a nice meal to help you recover!"

"Thanks, Grandpa."

Son Gohan smiled with relief and turned to leave. Just as the door was about to close, he poked his head back in and reminded him earnestly, "Don't go wandering off again! If you fall one more time, Grandpa's heart won't be able to take it!"

The wooden door closed softly.

His footsteps gradually faded away.

Sun Haoyu sat alone on the bed as sunlight streamed through the window lattice, scattering patches of light across the floor. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Memories of his previous life flashed through his mind like scenes from a film.

His name was Sun Haoyu. He'd been an ordinary office worker, and a longtime Dragon Ball fan.

From the World Martial Arts Tournament to the Tournament of Power, from Kid Goku to Super Saiyan Blue, and then from Super Saiyan Blue to Perfected Ultra Instinct—exactly twenty years of following the series.

Sun Haoyu had watched almost every Dragon Ball spin-off. The action-packed anime had kept him company through countless days and nights.

He remembered what had happened yesterday—

No, what had happened last night in his "previous life."

He'd been huddled in his cramped rented room, watching Super Dragon Ball Heroes on his screen.

The plot had been reaching its climax. Dark King Fu had appeared with his parents, facing an impressive lineup of two Vegitos and Demon God Demigra. Five apocalyptic auras collided and surged through the void of space. A battle that could rewrite history was about to begin.

His pupils had narrowed as he watched. He clenched his fists and leaned forward, accidentally knocking his elbow against the glass of water on the table.

The cup wobbled twice, then toppled, spilling all its water onto the power strip. Before he could reach out to catch it, wisps of smoke curled from the gaps in the strip, and the screen abruptly went black.

He reached instinctively to pull out the plug. The moment his fingertips touched it, his entire arm seized up in a violent spasm, as if an invisible giant hand had clamped around his heart.

With a hum, the world shattered into static before his eyes. His body went numb. In his final moments of consciousness, all he could see was Fu's eerie smile, frozen on the screen just before it went black.

Then darkness swallowed him completely.

He opened his eyes. A bronze mirror sat on the table, reflecting a young face—black, spiky hair, round black eyes, and a plump-cheeked little face.

This was Son Goku.

No, to be precise, this was the young Son Goku before he'd gone through those battles, before he'd met Bulma and Krillin, before he'd ever shouted, "Kamehameha!"

"The world of Dragon Ball..."

He murmured softly, a complex swirl of emotions rising within him: the bewilderment of being transported to another world, the excitement of arriving in the world of his dreams, and a heavy sense of responsibility.

Seven Dragon Balls that could grant any wish.

The World Martial Arts Tournament, an arena packed with experts.

King Piccolo, Raditz, Vegeta, Frieza, Cell, Majin Buu...

And—Super Saiyan!

At the thought, his heart began to pound uncontrollably, his blood seeming to catch fire.

Scenes he'd watched in his previous life flashed rapidly through his mind: Son Goku's anger and grief when he first transformed into a Super Saiyan; the resolve in his and Gohan's father-and-son Kamehameha against Cell; the Ultra Instinct that broke through every limit during the Tournament of Power, when Goku faced Jiren...

A world so thrilling it brought tears to your eyes!

"Wait, that's not right—"

He suddenly frowned and scratched his head. "In the original story, Goku hit his head when he was three, didn't he? And Grandpa Son Gohan... he was supposed to die not long after that, when Goku turned into a Great Ape..."

He looked down at his hands, clenching them and then letting them relax.

"I look at least five or six now. And Grandpa's still alive..."

Had the plot changed?

Or was this not the Dragon Ball world he knew?

"Goku? Goku!"

Son Gohan's voice from outside interrupted his thoughts. The old man came in carrying two plump mountain rabbits, his face beaming. "Look what Grandpa caught! I'll make you rabbit stew tonight. It'll help you get your strength back!"

Sun Haoyu looked at him—the old man who existed only in memories in the original story, with his aged yet kind face and the boundless love in his eyes.

No matter whether the plot had changed...

"Grandpa," he said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"Teach me how to train."

Son Gohan froze. The mountain rabbits nearly slipped from his hands. "T-train?"

"That's right." Sun Haoyu jumped off the bed and looked up at Son Gohan, his eyes shining. "I want to get stronger."

"Why all of a sudden..."

"I don't want to fall off a cliff again." Sun Haoyu's voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable seriousness to it. "If I'm strong enough, I won't get hurt. If I'm strong enough, I can protect the people I care about."

Son Gohan stared at the small figure before him.

This child... really was different from before.

The old Goku had been naturally strong, but he was an innocent, carefree little boy who only knew how to eat and play. But now... there was something in those eyes that Son Gohan couldn't quite put into words.

Determination.

Resolve.

A kind of light that seemed to come only after seeing so much.

"All right!"

Son Gohan suddenly burst into hearty laughter, his white beard bobbing with excitement. "That's my grandson! You want to train? No problem! Grandpa will teach you everything he knows!"

He set the rabbits on the table, rolled up his sleeves, and struck a pose. For that moment, his age seemed to fall away, replaced by the commanding presence of a martial artist tempered by the years.

"But first, you need to get your strength back! Training in the Turtle School isn't child's play!"

Sun Haoyu nodded, the corners of his mouth slowly turning up.

Since I'm here...

He walked to the window and looked out at the ranges of Mount Paozu. The morning mist had cleared, and golden sunlight spilled over the forest. The roar of beasts sounded in the distance, while a pterodactyl's shadow swept across the sky.

This was the world of Dragon Ball.

Dangerous and cruel, yet a paradise for every martial artist.

I won't let those tragedies happen again.

Krillin, Yamcha, Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu... and even Vegeta and Piccolo.

Even the enemies we once fought can become allies on the battlefield.

Frieza, Cell, Buu... I'll become stronger than all of you.

He clenched his small fists, feeling the dormant power inside him. It was the Saiyan bloodline, the instinct of the universe's mightiest warrior race. Though still faint, it was real—the hunger for battle, the drive to grow stronger.

"Starting tomorrow—"

"Starting today," he corrected himself, his eyes blazing with fighting spirit. "I'm going to train!"

"What did you say?" Son Gohan called from beside the stove.

"Nothing, Grandpa." Sun Haoyu—no, Son Goku—turned around with a bright smile. "I was just thinking I should have a few extra bowls of rabbit stew today."

"Hahaha! That's the spirit!" Son Gohan laughed, stroking his beard. "You need to eat your fill before you can train!"

The scent of stewing meat drifted out of the kitchen, mingling with the smoky smell of burning pine. The morning on Mount Paozu felt especially warm with the laughter of grandfather and grandson.

Son Goku sat on the threshold, his tail swishing gently behind him. He gazed up at the blue sky and white clouds, silently thinking:

Little Goku, let me carry on your wonderful life.

Starting right now—

I am Son Goku!

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he suddenly felt a warmth at the center of his brow, as if something deep within his soul had gently stirred. A warm, pure power welled up through his body and slowly merged with his consciousness. It was a fragment of the original Son Goku's lingering thoughts in this world—innocent and guileless, yet filled with the Saiyan instinct to fight.

Get stronger... get stronger...

A faint thought sounded in his heart, then faded away.

Son Goku slowly opened his eyes. His mind was clear, and the last trace of unfamiliarity with his body had vanished. All his senses seemed sharper than before. He could hear a squirrel cracking a pinecone fifty meters outside the window and smell every trace of the mountain in the air.

"So this is a Saiyan's body..."

He clenched his fist, the corners of his mouth rising involuntarily.

Amazing!!!