Dragon Ball Roshi

Eight years later, Year 617.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the bedroom, brushing the room with golden, fragmented light. The rays danced across Hathaway's long, delicate eyelashes, which quivered gently as she stirred awake. Lying on her side, Hathaway finally opened her eyes, their hazy glow reflecting her sleepy state.

Blinking twice, she glanced at the now-empty half of the bed beside her and let out a soft, resigned smile. "Honestly, up so early every day..." she muttered.

Yawning, Hathaway sat up, the thin, soft blanket slipping off her, revealing her bare, flawless figure. Her purple hair, lush and slightly tousled like seaweed, cascaded over her smooth, pale back and slender waist, teasingly hiding and revealing her supple form.

Stretching languidly, she threw the blanket aside and walked barefoot to the open floor-to-ceiling window. Her delicate feet touched the cool wooden floor as she stepped into the sunlight. The rays painted her skin, white as jade, as if she were a masterpiece sculpted by the world's greatest artist.

Outside, the weather was clear, blue skies adorned with white clouds.

Hathaway opened the window, letting a breeze sweep in and play with her soft purple locks. Her hair danced in the wind as she smiled softly. "What a beautiful day..."

Eight years had passed since their marriage, but time had only added maturity to her beauty, leaving no trace of age.

At twenty-nine, she was in her prime, radiant and captivating.

Outside the window, she spotted a flash of red streaking through the sky, soaring upward before swooping down again.

"Tam is playing with Cinder again?"

Shaking her head with an amused smile, Hathaway turned back and picked up the scattered undergarments on the floor. Thinking for a moment, she balled them up and tossed them into a nearby trash bin. Then, she went to the wardrobe, selected fresh ones, and changed into them. Choosing a pair of loose, comfortable clothes, she stepped into the ensuite bathroom to freshen up.

---

Not far from the solar system, a small asteroid floated silently in the black void of space.

The asteroid was predominantly grayish-brown, devoid of any atmosphere, liquid water, or vegetation. Desolation, coldness, and death defined its essence.

The asteroid's shape was also peculiar.

It wasn't a perfect sphere or ellipsoid; one of its halves appeared as if it had been 'sliced' cleanly off, leaving a stark, unnaturally smooth edge. On its surface, in addition to the usual impact craters left by meteors, there were enormous imprints of what appeared to be 'five-fingered palms', magnified countless times.

These craters were both incredibly deep and immense, yet strangely intact. Their edges were flawless, perfectly defined, as though the asteroid hadn't cracked or splintered under the tremendous force that must have created them.

It was as if a handprint had been pressed into wet cement before it dried or as though a master sculptor had carefully and meticulously carved the imprints into stone.

If these marks had been left by someone's palm strike, the precision and control over their power would have reached an almost incomprehensible, godlike level.

Floating silently in the outer space surrounding this desolate asteroid was Taro, gazing down at it.

The vacuum of space caused him no discomfort. His blood adapted instantly to the lack of air, while the semi-organic, semi-energy organ overlapping his lungs took over their function. This organ, fueled by trace amounts of his internal ki, nourished his body and maintained its circulation.

Even without intense exertion or energy use, an ordinary person with Taro's physiology could survive in space unscathed.

Taro stared at the asteroid, a section of which he had obliterated with a single strike, in silent contemplation.

After a long pause, he raised both palms, bringing their bases together. His lips moved soundlessly as his hands shifted to his side, gathering energy.

Ka

Me

Ha

Me

Ha!

In Taro's hands, a concentrated wave of ki radiated white with a faint blue hue. His gaze was calm as he thrust his arms downward.

Silently and effortlessly, a blazing ki wave as wide as a waist shot from the radiant sphere in his palms. In an instant, it struck the battered asteroid below.

The Kamehameha cut through the asteroid like an unstoppable needle, piercing deep into its core. A vast explosion rippled outward, engulfing the asteroid entirely. The detonation, majestic and merciless, resembled a silent film unfolding in the void, ending like a mere ripple in the vast ocean of stars.

Taro had already teleported far away. Floating in the emptiness of space, he glanced at his hands.

The Muken technique had progressed, reaching its current limit of fiftyfold amplification — an unsurpassed peak. Beyond this, like the eye techniques he had previously honed, there was a "threshold" he could not breach.

The ki wave he had unleashed just now had not used the Muken.

Originally, the "Kamehameha" he developed had simply been ki waves casually produced while practicing the principles of the Muken.

A ki wave released under the doubled power of the Muken would be twice as powerful as regular ki. Under triple power, the ki wave would have threefold strength, and so on.

Initially, Taro believed this progression could continue indefinitely.

But now, the Muken had stagnated.

Yet he could not allow himself to stagnate.

One hundred million... Though powerful, it was far from his current baseline strength, which he knew would grow. But Taro was not content to rest on this milestone.

Frieza was no longer a threat.

But there were still the androids, and Majin Buu.

Even though his interventions might prevent or delay their emergence, Taro was not like Goku or Vegeta, the battle-hungry Saiyans who would willingly face formidable foes despite the odds. If his strength proved inadequate, he would act preemptively to eliminate potential threats. However, such matters lay in the future, and no one could predict how powerful Taro would become by then.

Still...

Even if the androids and Majin Buu posed no concern, Taro couldn't ignore potential threats like the Shadow Dragons from derivative Dragon Ball works or creatures from the movies. If they appeared, a power level of one hundred million would be woefully insufficient.

Having fully immersed himself in the reality of the Dragon Ball universe, everything around him felt profoundly real. Taro could no longer view these events as mere "manga". He had to prepare for the worst.

The ki wave he had unleashed moments ago was a product of the martial principles passed down by Mutaito in his Bankoku-Bukkiru-Shou, combined with years of Taro's practice and contemplation.

As he had once theorized, the Muken represented "the Way"(Dao), while techniques like the Kamehameha were "Branches".

Now that the Way had reached its limit, he had no choice but to seek techniques.

If the Muken truly could not advance further, and if Taro could not break through this barrier, he would have to follow the path of other warriors, focusing on cultivating raw power and supplementing it with advanced techniques.

Even so, until his power neared one hundred million, he could not abandon the Muken. It still had its uses.

In the distance, the "fireworks" of the explosion had begun to fade in the black void of space. Taro withdrew his gaze, his figure vanishing into the cold, unfathomable depths of the universe.

---

In front of the island villa lay a garden.

A few years ago, at Hathaway's suggestion, a small clear pond had been built there, planted with lotuses and filled with dozens of small fish. The construction was simple — Taro had formed a large pit with a single palm strike, then used instant transmission to purchase enough water, fish, and plants from the city. As for Hathaway, her quick wit and efficient learning meant she mastered pond maintenance in just a few minutes.

In the pond, a young boy was hiding underwater.

The boy appeared to be around seven or eight years old, with short black hair, an adorable face, and a mischievous demeanor. He was lying still at the bottom of the pond in their garden, his large eyes wide open as he stared at the fiery red figure circling in the sky above.

Hehe... You can't find me now, can you? the boy thought smugly.

He didn't need to breathe while underwater. If he wanted, he could stay submerged for hours without surfacing. This wasn't a learned ability — it was something innate. Just like how others are born knowing how to breathe, this boy was born with the ability to survive underwater.

Or more precisely, to survive in an oxygen-deprived environment.

"Tam, Tam..."

A voice called from above the water.

"Ah—"

Tam, startled, instinctively tried to reply with, "Yes, Mom!" but as soon as he opened his mouth, water rushed in. Bubbles rose as he swallowed a large gulp of pond water. His eyes rolled slightly as he flailed his hands and feet, swimming upward toward the surface.

Splash!

Breaking through the water's surface, Mu Tam coughed a few times, clearly uncomfortable from the water he'd swallowed.

"Hiding at the bottom of the pond again, huh?" Hathaway crouched by the edge of the pond, reaching out her hands. "Come here, to Mom."

"Hehe." Tam wiped the water off his face, his eyes slightly red from keeping them open underwater for too long. He paddled to the edge of the pond and was scooped up into Hathaway's arms.

Nestled in his mother's embrace, Tam turned his head to scan the sky, searching for the phoenix.

Hathaway lifted the hem of her shirt to dry her son's wet face. With a soft sigh, she teased, "You spend all day playing. In a few days, I'll take you to West City and find a school for you. How does that sound?"

After drying his face, she dropped her now dampened shirt and lightly tapped Tam's wet little head with her slender white fingers.

"Are we going to Grandma and Grandpa's house? Yay, that's great!" Tam replied enthusiastically, completely ignoring the mention of school. The word "West City" immediately reminded him of his grandparents' house. While the island was fun, their place was even more exciting.

"Caw!"

The phoenix spotted them from above and swooped down.

"Cinder, you didn't catch me!" Tam leapt out of Hathaway's arms, proudly running toward the phoenix to show off.

The phoenix flapped its wings and drooped its head in defeat.

Now that the phoenix had both a mistress and a young master in the household, it finally had a name — several names, in fact.

Its formal name was Phoenix, which inspired nicknames like Ember and Little Ember, as Hathaway often called it. But young Tam preferred calling it Cinder.

As for Taro, the master of the household, he had grown accustomed to addressing it simply as bird.

After showing off to the phoenix for a while, Tam turned back to his mother. "Mom, where's Dad?"

---

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