Dragon Ball Roshi

Hannah gazed at her daughter, who was peacefully sleeping in her crib, her chubby face soft and round. A wave of affection and tenderness surged within her heart. Just a moment ago—just a moment—she had almost lost this child forever. Every time she thought about the baby who had spent ten months in her womb and was so close to never seeing the world, Hannah couldn't help but feel a wave of dread.

Luckily, she was saved. Her child was saved.

As she gently caressed her daughter's delicate face, Hannah watched her peaceful sleeping expression... This child was so quiet, rarely crying. When tired, she would fall asleep on her own. When hungry, she would stare with her bright, large, black eyes, following every movement. When there was nothing to do, she wouldn't make a sound. Her clever eyes would dart around, and occasionally she would giggle softly. This child was truly a gift from heaven, and Hannah's eyes welled up with tears.

As Hannah thought about this, something came to her mind, and she stood up from the crib. This small one-bedroom apartment was cramped; right next to the crib was Hannah and her husband's bed. She rummaged through the nightstand for a moment before finally finding what she was looking for.

It was a rolled-up piece of white paper tied with a ribbon. Hannah stuffed the disorganized items in the drawer and closed it. She walked back to her daughter's crib, untied the ribbon, and unfurled the paper. It turned out to be a sketch.

The paper and the drawing's ink—Hannah couldn't tell what materials had been used. Despite the fact that twenty years had passed and she had never taken special care to preserve it, the paper showed no signs of decay. Even the lines of the drawing were as clear as the day it had been given to her by the wandering artist two decades ago.

Hannah gently rocked the crib with one hand while her gaze remained fixed on the drawing. In the picture, a lively little girl was holding an ice cream cone, hiding beside her parents, gazing up at Hannah, the artist.

Every time she looked at the drawing in the past, Hannah felt as though she had traveled back in time, returning to those earlier days.

But now, when she looked at the drawing again, it no longer felt like her; instead, she saw her daughter, Hathaway, in a few years. Would she walk with her hand in hand, walking down the street, spoiling her, scolding her, fulfilling her wishes, and protecting her? Of course, she would. She definitely would.

A soft smile curled on her lips.

"Giggle…" A silver bell-like laugh echoed in her ears. Hannah snapped out of her reverie and looked at her daughter in the crib. The little one had woken up at some point, grinning at her, her large, shiny eyes fixed on Hannah.

"Oh, Hathaway, my darling, you're awake," Hannah smiled, leaning down to kiss the little girl's cheek. She spoke softly, "Are you hungry?" Usually, when the little girl stared at her with wide eyes, it meant she was hungry.

Hannah closed the drawing in her hand and began to unbutton her shirt, about to lift her loose blouse when she suddenly noticed that the little girl's laughter had stopped. She began to make "yi ya yi ya" sounds and stretched out her chubby little hands toward her. It seemed like she was reaching for something.

"What do you want, sweetheart?" Hannah bent over in confusion as the little girl's hands patted her face, seemingly reaching for something beside her, but her arms were too short to reach it.

The little girl continued calling out, "yi ya yi ya," her hands patting Hannah's body, her eyes fixed on one of Hannah's hands. That's when Hannah understood what her daughter wanted. Surprised, she unfolded the drawing again and softly asked, "Oh, Hathaway, is this what you want?"

To her surprise, as soon as the drawing was unfolded, the little girl in the crib instantly stopped fussing. Her bright eyes remained fixed on the picture as if it were some fascinating toy. After a while, she would giggle, much to Hannah's amazement.

Later, Hannah framed the drawing and hung it on the wall facing the crib. Every day, when the little girl woke up and opened her eyes, she would see the picture on the wall. Sometimes, just the sight of the picture would keep her lying quietly in the crib for hours, much to the amazement of Hannah and her husband. They had heard that other people's children were difficult to care for, but their own child was so easily entertained...

---

Since that night, Taro felt like he had undergone some kind of transformation.

Specifically, he had transformed from a 'short-lived being' into a 'long-lived being'. He had fully embraced the identity of the immortal martial artist from his third life, no longer the ordinary person from his first life, nor the monster from his second life. Deep down, Taro did not believe that a person who had killed their closest friend (even if it had been at the hands of a plotting brother) could remain mentally unscathed.

After living for 115 years in the Dragon Ball world, Taro had finally let go of everything from his past, leaving only the purest part of himself. His life with his wife, Fanfan, and daughter, Yumeko, although filled with regrets and sadness, was a part of his long journey. And that long journey was just beginning.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Taro slowly opened his eyes.

Throughout the night, his consciousness had seemed to connect to another space. It was a white expanse, as though it transcended dimensions, the river of time, and the boundaries between reality and illusion. Within this ocean of thought, there were sacred-faced, kindly-spirited, majestic-mannered, and indistinct-featured mages floating, sitting, or walking. They uttered prophecies, speaking in incomprehensible tongues, intertwining their fingers to form strange hand gestures, and used their fingers as pens to sketch mysterious magic symbols in the void..

Taro's spiritual consciousness followed the path of these 'Dao'(Paths) as it moved, deep in meditation.

In the more than twenty years of wandering in the human world, his spiritual cultivation had been relentless. Now, compared to the person he was when he first arrived in the Dragon Ball world, the difference was as vast as that between a towering giant and a tiny ant crawling in the sand. Back then, he would suffer intense eye pain and bleeding after using the slightest bit of the Mangekyou Sharingan. Now, his spiritual power had grown immensely.

With the mental power that resembled an ocean, he could easily defeat the version of himself from back then.

After sitting still for a few breaths, Taro floated to the ground and walked out of the simple yet spacious bedroom. This private villa was purchased in the outskirts of West City with the royalties he earned over the years. Surrounded by wealthy individuals from various parts of West City, the area was always quiet, with no one to be seen.

Due to the influence of the Dragon Ball original story, Taro had a preference for West City among Earth's five major cities. That was why he had chosen to stay here.

As he exited the room, a giant red bird with an enormous wingspan swooped down and landed on the wide lawn in front of the villa. It was the Phoenix, which Taro had lifted the transformation spell from.

From a distance, Taro could already smell the alcohol on the bird, and he scolded, "You damn beast, where did you sneak off to for more booze?"

The Phoenix immediately froze, its head drooping in shame.

"Forget it... I'm going out today. You stay here and watch the house," Taro said, not wanting to argue with the bird. After all, it was he who had instilled the bird's love for alcohol.

After thinking for a moment, Taro reached into his pocket and took out an orange-yellow orb. It was the last white stone he had kept, the Dragon Ball that had regained its power after a year had passed.

Four red five-pointed stars floated at the center of the orb. It was the Four-Star Dragon Ball.

Perhaps it was fate, but the Dragon Ball that Taro had kept with him all this time turned out to be the very first Dragon Ball he had found in the hands of that monkey, the one he discovered in this world.

He threw the Dragon Ball towards the Phoenix, and with a spell, the ball flew over and was tied to a string, which hung around the bird's neck.

"Watch over this too. If you lose it, don't even think about drinking again."

With that, Taro soared into the air.

Today was the opening day of the Fourth Soul Art Exhibition. After being strongly invited by the short man, Taro finally agreed to attend. The man had helped greatly with the publication of The Uchiha's Sinner and other related matters. Taro thought about it—he had used various hypnotic and suggestion techniques on him, and in the end, he couldn't bring himself to refuse the invitation.

The Phoenix blinked its large eyes, watching Taro disappear into the distance, sensing some kind of wavelength emanating from the object around its neck. With its intelligence, the bird quickly recalled the events where Taro had gathered seven of these orbs.

---

Hannah was drawn to the overwhelming promotion for the Fifth Soul Art Exhibition. She loved music, which was why, despite her family's objections, she had married a poor man who could only play the piano and compose music.

What drove her to come was the promotional phrase for the exhibition:

[The true identity of the Soul Painter revealed for the first time! Mountains and rivers, heaven and earth—bring your soul and enter each world!...]

Looking at the promotional text and the picture of the painting on the poster, Hannah suddenly remembered a painting hanging on her own wall at home. So, she decided to come, bringing her daughter in her arms.

Her husband hadn't wanted to come, but since his wife insisted, he reluctantly followed.

In the large exhibition hall, amidst the crowd, Hannah carefully protected her daughter, who was sweetly sleeping in her arms. Not wanting to jostle for space or risk bumping into the child, Hannah had retreated to the back of the crowd with her husband, barely able to see the people on stage. The voice coming from the loudspeakers around them seemed to belong to a middle-aged man with a magnetic tone.

"It really is him..." Hannah, holding her daughter, walked toward a wall where a painting of a village in the rain was displayed. One hand held her daughter, while the other pressed against the glass covering the artwork, as if she were already immersed in the gentle rain and had arrived in a rural town.

"What?" Hannah's husband, wiping the sweat off his forehead, asked casually. He was looking at the surging crowd, puzzled. "It's just some painter, why all the fuss? He's not a superstar singer or anything."

"It's nothing." Hannah shook her head.

At that moment, she was certain that this so-called 'Soul Painter' must be the same middle-aged man who had given her a painting years ago.

At some point, little Hathaway had woken up and was now staring at the painting with her big eyes, giggling softly in her mother's arms.

"Did you recognize him too, Hathaway?" Hannah lowered her head to look at her beautiful little girl and couldn't help but kiss her, smiling softly. "What a smart little girl, my baby…"

After a while, it seemed the 'Soul Painter' had finished speaking, and the crowd began to disperse to view more paintings. Taro had said his goodbyes to the short man, who had expressed his gratitude repeatedly. Twenty years had passed, and the man had aged considerably.

---

Taro, now back to his usual appearance, wore casual clothes. Instead of leaving through the back passage, he took a few turns and returned to the exhibition hall, acting like an ordinary visitor as he casually toured the area before finally exiting.

At the exit, he encountered a family of three.

Taro recognized the woman, her husband, and the child she was holding—the baby must have been the one born at the time Taro had saved her a year ago. As he passed, Taro couldn't help but take a second glance at them.

Hannah, too, noticed this young man. For some reason, she felt there was something strange about him. Her husband, fanning himself with his hat in the heat, grumbled. The exhibition was crowded, and people were squeezing just to see a bunch of abstract paintings. He didn't understand the fascination.

"Haha!" Hathaway suddenly giggled in her mother's arms, reaching out with her tiny hands, smiling at Taro. Hannah initially thought her daughter was smiling at one of the paintings, as that was typically when Hathaway showed such a joyful expression.

Taro smiled faintly and walked over to the little girl, leaning in and softly asking, "What's the matter, little one?"

"Haha!" The delicate little girl grinned, her large eyes staring at Taro's face, waving her hands.

"It seems Hathaway really likes you," Hannah said sincerely. Although she didn't often see strangers, Hathaway was usually indifferent to them. She either ignored them or fell asleep on her own.

"Heh... maybe it's fate," Taro chuckled, his words carrying a hint of meaning. After all, it was he who had delivered this little girl, though the method had been a bit rough.

"Haha." Hannah's husband, not pleased, shot Taro a glare with a murderous intent in his eyes, forcing a smile as he muttered inwardly, "That little brat better keep his hands to himself!"

Before leaving, Taro gave the little girl a milk candy, which, in fact, was just powdered milk compressed into a candy form. He gently patted her soft, light purple, fur-like short hair, causing Hannah's husband to twitch his eyelids in irritation. Taro then said his goodbyes to the family. Once he blended into the flow of people on the street, he turned and vanished from sight.

Hannah lowered her gaze from the departing figure and looked down at her daughter, who had already fallen asleep. Even while sleeping, the little girl was smiling contentedly.

---

Later that night, on the outskirts of West City, a mansion suddenly rose from the ground and flew into the sky.

"Roar—"

The Phoenix, with the four-star Dragon Ball hanging around its neck, let out a cheer as it soared into the black sky.

There was no moon tonight, only thick clouds, and the starlight was dim.

A huge shadow flew alongside the Phoenix in the sky. The shape of the shadow matched the private mansion where Taro lived. Beside this flying mansion, a figure clad in flowing robes walked gracefully through the dark sky, as if walking on the moon, resembling an immortal riding the wind.

In the bustling West City, with its lively streets, the disheveled Tsuru had set up a stand, selling his calligraphy.

His handwriting was exquisite. The white paper was covered with wild, soaring black strokes. The characters were bold and dynamic, with each brushstroke sharp and powerful, as if they could almost leap off the paper. Some passersby admired the calligraphy and wanted to buy it, but Tsuru impatiently waved them away. He frowned at his work, clearly dissatisfied. A few others, noticing his shabby appearance, tried to give him money, but Tsuru angrily smashed a bench at them.

"Huh?"

Tsuru froze, his brush halting. Black ink dripped from the tip of the brush, spreading into a dark blot on the white paper. He raised his head sharply, squinting his eyes. In the dim starry sky, he vaguely saw a shadow streaking past. It was fleeting, like a wisp of light.

But that presence—he was certain he wouldn't mistake it. To his surprise, Taro, that old man, was here.

His expression shifted, and Tsuru snorted loudly. He lowered his head, furrowing his brows. In one swift motion, he tore the half-finished calligraphy to pieces. After exhaling deeply, he focused, grabbed a new sheet of paper, and with sharp focus, dipped his brush in ink. His strokes were filled with energy, writing two large characters:

[Crane Hermit]

The characters were ancient and forceful, like two ink-painted cranes dancing together, their necks entwined in a long, melodic song, soaring into the wind, almost as if they were about to fly off the page.

"Snap."

Tsuru tossed his brush aside, completely disregarding the strange stares from the surrounding people. He stood up and walked away, disappearing into the crowd in a matter of moments.

---

Taro used his telekinesis to lift the mansion, taking it along with the Phoenix, and flew rapidly through the dark sky. Soon, he had left the city behind, flying out over the vast ocean.

The cold wind howled in the high altitude.

In the distance, the outline of a deserted island began to take shape against the dark sea.

Taro smiled faintly. This island was where, over twenty years ago, he had thrown the spherical spacecraft and the egg containing Piccolo's second-generation offspring. Back then, he had planned to live here in seclusion. Now, after all these years, he had returned.

Under the dim starlight, the large bird spread its wings, flying alongside Taro, and together they slowly descended onto the island.

Many years later, this island would be known as the "Muten Island" by the people of Earth, a revered sanctuary for martial arts.