Daily Life

In his daily life, Son Gohan was so bored he decided to play the Great Saiyaman, leaving Son Goten speechless. Videl would surely think he was stealing her thunder, and despite that ridiculous costume, Son Gohan had already been found out by her.

"Teach me how to fly," Videl demanded on the school rooftop, her aura imposing as she ordered Son Gohan to instruct her. "Otherwise, I'll let everyone know the Great Saiyaman's true identity."

"I-I-I, I'll teach you, okay?" Son Gohan broke into a cold sweat. Damn it, what is this? I still have to study and train!

A triumphant smirk curled on Videl's lips. After all, flight was every human's dream, especially the ability to soar through the air without any external aid.

"It's a deal, then," Videl chuckled. "I'll come find you tomorrow."

Son Gohan wore a bitter expression. What a mess this was.

"Oh, right," Videl added, as if remembering something. "Gohan-kun, I hope you'll participate in the World Martial Arts Tournament a month from now."

"The World Martial Arts Tournament?" Son Gohan scratched his head in confusion. He had no memory of such a tournament; then again, it made sense. Ever since the battle between Son Goku and Piccolo had destroyed the venue, the organizers had been too terrified of a repeat incident to host it again. They must have finally stepped out of the shadows.

"I remember the first-place prize is ten million," Videl said, causing Son Gohan's eyebrows to twitch. His family had been running low on money for years; if he won, it might solve their immediate financial woes.

"Alright, I'm heading off then," Son Gohan said, donning his Great Saiyaman gear and hovering into the air to bid Videl farewell.

Son Gohan didn't head straight home, instead taking a detour to Capsule Corp.

"I see, the World Martial Arts Tournament, huh?" A flicker of nostalgia appeared in Bulma's beautiful eyes. She turned to Son Gohan and asked, "So, Gohan, you want to enter the tournament and need me to find a way to handle your identity?"

"Yes, Aunt Bulma," Son Gohan replied.

"No problem, I just need to modify the helmet a little," Bulma said with a light laugh. For a genius girl like her, this was nothing. As it happened, Trunks and Vegeta had just walked out of the training room.

"Yo, Trunks, Uncle Vegeta," Son Gohan greeted them with a smile.

"Big Brother Gohan, what brings you here?" Trunks asked, puzzled.

Son Gohan explained the situation. Vegeta just let out a cold snort and ignored him; in his eyes, the trash on Earth wasn't worth a single punch from him. He'd rather spend that time training. He could also tell that Son Gohan's strength was nowhere near what it had been seven years ago—the current Gohan would be absolutely crushed by his past self.

"The World Martial Arts Tournament? I think I'll join, too," a familiar voice suddenly echoed through the air.

"Goku."

"Dad."

"Kakarot."

Bulma, Son Gohan, and Vegeta recognized the owner of the voice. Bulma and Son Gohan were overjoyed, while Vegeta was stunned for a moment. "Kakarot, what is this? You're interested in that tournament?"

"Heh heh, yeah," Son Goku's voice came again, accompanied by a goofy laugh. "It's been a long time since I've seen everyone, and I've missed you all. Plus, I'm allowed to return to the mortal realm for one day, so it's the perfect chance to meet up."

"Dad, you can really come back?" Son Gohan asked, beaming.

"Of course."

"Hmph, fine. If you're entering that tournament, Kakarot, then I'll participate too," Vegeta said with an evil grin.

"Then it's settled, we'll meet on the day of the tournament!" Once the arrangement with Son Goku was made, he fell silent.

"I'm going to head back and tell Mom the news. See you all at the tournament," Son Gohan said, waving goodbye. A streak of orange-yellow Flying Nimbus descended from the sky, carrying Son Gohan off toward Paozu Mountain.

Only Trunks stood there, bewildered. Who was the owner of that voice just now? And why were his mom and dad acting like that?

That night, Paozu Mountain.

"WHAT?!" A roar like a lioness's cry erupted across the mountain, the deafening sound scattering the birds roosting nearby.

"Gohan, are you telling the truth? Is Goku really coming back?" Chi-Chi didn't care about the terrifying volume of her own voice, grabbing Gohan tightly in her excitement. Son Gohan nodded with an awkward smile.

Son Goku was coming back, and there were only a few days left. Son Goten silently finished the food on the table. The day Son Goku returned was the day Majin Buu would break his seal. And then there was Broly, wherever he was. Damn it, the anime didn't give much detail on Broly's location, or he could go kill the sleeping Broly right now.

As Son Goten thought this, he was suddenly scooped up by an excited Chi-Chi. "Come to think of it, Goten hasn't met his father yet. You must be looking forward to it!"

"?" Son Goten rolled his eyes. Please, as a transmigrator, how could I have never seen Son Goku? I know him better than you guys do, and even if I didn't, I could just look in the mirror.

Still, Son Goten was looking forward to meeting Son Goku—his father in this life. After all, seeing him through a screen in the anime was one thing, but meeting him face-to-face would be even better.

Ten thousand miles away, in a glacier, the frozen man muttered unconsciously, "Ka... ka... rot."

If Son Goten knew, he would definitely have retorted: Holy crap, you love my dad so much, and so deeply? Why don't you just go eat shit?