Dragon Ball Human

What's it like to show off in front of someone who once showed off in front of you? 

Currently at Korin Tower, fresh from the Lookout—well, long story short… Yamiru could now personally confirm that there was no particular thrill in it. In truth, his actions weren't driven by a need to flaunt his superiority, but rather by a sense of amusement. 

It was a complicated feeling, like the turning of fate's wheel. 

And it solidified a thought that had been growing stronger in his mind—one that surfaced more frequently as a certain point in the future drew nearer. 

Go to South City. 

To South City, at the exact time he had originally "crossed over" into this world. 

To see what really happened back then… 

How did I even end up here in the first place? 

Once this thought took root, Yamiru found it impossible to suppress. 

And then there was that mysterious old man—the one who had set him on the path of cultivation and sent him to Mount Paozu. Who was he? 

Even the Dragon God couldn't discern that old man's origins. It was hard not to be curious. 

Yamiru realized he might have never truly forgotten these questions. Now that he'd dredged them up from the depths of his subconscious, he couldn't ignore them any longer. 

Why me? 

He knew full well that he'd been utterly ordinary at the start. So why had that old man chosen him? Had the old man known he was a transmigrator? Or—was his crossing over even connected to that mysterious figure? 

He didn't need an answer, but he wanted one. And so, he resolved to visit South City at that critical moment to find out. 

During a break in training, he turned to the white cat— 

"Little cat, how old are you?" 

Even though Yamiru had instinctively skimmed through the cat's memories when it first climbed Korin Tower, he still didn't know its exact age. 

Because— 

"I… don't really know," the cat admitted, rubbing its furry cheeks sheepishly. "I don't remember clearly, and I'm… not very good with numbers." 

"Not very good"? More like "completely clueless", Yamiru thought dryly. "Are you over a hundred?" 

The cat's memories were fragmented—likely because feline brains weren't the most advanced, retaining only fleeting impressions. Even Yamiru, as the God of Earth, couldn't pin down its exact age. 

"Huh? I've lived for a hundred years?" The cat startled. "I don't think it's been that long…" 

Yamiru, however, remembered that in the original timeline, Korin had told Goku it was over 800 years old.

After some back-and-forth, narrowing it down, Yamiru estimated that this white cat was likely under twenty. 

In other words… still very young. 

Which meant… 

"Eight hundred years left," The first Kami mused silently. Then, aloud: "Eight hundred years left…" 

"Left until what?" 

Inside the Lookout, higher up, Annin and Joey were in a specially crafted room. The question came from the ever-curious Joey, who had recently taken to shadowing Annin. 

With time on her hands, Annin had developed a habit of tinkering with new inventions—largely influenced by Yamiru's own experiments. 

After all, Yamiru had created the Flying Nimbus, Ultra Divine Water, and Senzu Beans. As a fellow deity, she couldn't afford to fall behind. 

For example, the Power Pole had originally been her playful creation, derived from the size-shifting magic she inherited from the Furnace of Eight Divisions. 

Her current project? A room within the lookout that manipulated space and time. 

There was no grand purpose behind it—she just figured that since the Furnace of Eight Divisions had spacetime-altering properties, it'd be a waste not to exploit that potential. 

Plus, having a "time-space room" in the Lookout sounded undeniably impressive. 

If I can pull this off, even that ridiculous Yamiru might have to admit I'm amazing. 

The thought alone was exhilarating.

Reality is often disappointing. 

Annin had been mulling over this space-time room for hundreds of years, yet she had made no real progress. 

Left with no choice, she turned to the miraculous Joey for help. 

From Yamiru's ambiguous attitude and her own observations, Annin had pieced together one thing: 

This tiny girl from the cosmos possessed abilities so boundless they could only be described as wish fulfillment. 

However, also based on Yamiru's demeanor, Annin sensed that exploiting Joey for selfish or utilitarian purposes was a no-go. 

If you approached her with ulterior motives, Joey's peculiar constitution would likely render her immune—she simply wouldn't play along. 

Like Arale. 

If scheming adults thought they could manipulate an innocent child, they'd only end up shooting themselves in the foot. 

That's how it seemed, anyway. 

Annin didn't know about Arale or the Dragon God, but after so many years together, she had more or less figured out the "proper way" to handle Joey. 

Which was… 

If you can't use her, then just make sure Joey gets interested on her own and volunteers to help. 

And that's exactly what Annin did. 

For years now, she had made a point of sticking close to Joey, often bringing her along to the "space-time room construction site" in the Lookout. There, she'd let Joey watch as she struggled helplessly with the project's many roadblocks. 

Of course, these "tactics" were still very much the games of a grown-up, so Annin wasn't entirely confident that sweet little Joey would actually take the bait. 

She hadn't even told Yamiru about this plan—it felt too embarrassing. 

But today, it seemed Joey had finally taken the hook. She was fascinated by Annin's vision of a room where one day outside equals a thousand years inside. 

"Imagine a training room like that," Annin mused dramatically. "That white cat could master martial arts in the blink of an eye! And Yamiru would finally have time to relax…" 

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Joey nod eagerly on her shoulder, chirping, "Yeah, yeah!" 

Feeling a twinge of guilt, Annin happily accepted Joey's assistance. But—like every adult who ever tried to outsmart a child in a fairy tale—Annin's scheme backfired spectacularly. 

The finished room was nothing like her original vision. 

Not only did the time ratio max out at "one day outside, one year inside" (far short of her grand "thousand years" dream), but it also came with a slew of major drawbacks: 

1. Lifetime Limit: A person could only spend a total of two years inside—equivalent to just two days in the real world. 

2. Harsh Environment: The room was vast, oppressively monotonous, and blindingly white. Just standing there for a while was enough to make anyone feel claustrophobic and irritable. 

3. Thin Air: Oxygen levels were pitifully low, and the temperature swings between day and night rivaled those of a desert. 

4. No Food Storage: Almost nothing edible could be preserved inside—only basic supplies like water and flour stood a chance. 

5. Fragile Space-Time Barrier: Annin strongly suspected that if someone like Yamiru went all-out inside, a single full-power strike might crack open a rift to the outside world. 

"This is what I get for trying to be clever," Annin groaned, massaging her temples. She couldn't wait to leave this nightmare room—every breath of its awful air was torture. 

"Wow, barely any time passed out here!" Joey marveled as soon as they stepped out, delighted by the time differential. 

--- 

Time flowed on. 

A year passed atop Korin Tower. 

In that time, the white cat made zero progress in its training. 

It hadn't so much as brushed the hem of the Kami's robe.