"What's that supposed to mean?" Tonpo stuck his pig-headed face out of the camper window, confused by Sato Yamiru's words.
Yamiru couldn't exactly say: "Watch out for your piglet kid stealing this and running away someday!" Cursing someone's future offspring for crimes they hadn't even committed yet felt… inappropriate.
"Forget it," Yamiru shook his head, took a deep breath, and started running at full speed.
Today, he wondered if he'd encounter that old man in the park again.
"I have to see this for myself!" Tonpo started the bus and followed behind him. "Let's see if he really runs all the way to Nandu."
Ten minutes later, Tonpo was dumbfounded. "What the hell? This guy's a freak! He's even faster than when he chased me, and he's been running this long without slowing down?"
Thirty minutes in, Tonpo began questioning reality.
Nearly an hour later, Tonpo drove the double-decker bus into Nandu. Up ahead, Yamiru's pace was as steady as ever.
"Could it actually be some kind of superpower?" Even Tonpo couldn't help but wonder.
Yamiru eventually ran straight into a park, so Tonpo parked the bus, retrieved it into its capsule, and followed after him.
Not even half a minute passed before Tonpo lost sight of Yamiru entirely.
"Running this fast... Is this guy secretly a werewolf?"
He slumped onto a bench by the path, exhausted just from watching.
But before he could catch his breath, a plainly dressed old man passed by on the path ahead. His movements seemed illusory—by the time Tonpo looked up, the man had already traveled dozens of meters.
"Is this real? Am I seeing things?"
Tonpo was stunned. Was there actually someone faster than that freak Yamiru? He rubbed his eyes, but the old man had already moved another several dozen meters away.
At that moment, Yamiru's voice came from a distance, growing closer: "Couldn't you at least try to block him for me?"
The first part of his sentence grew louder, while the second trailed off, as Yamiru blurred past Tonpo and sprinted toward the old man.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Tonpo's face was full of question marks.
Should've just taken the damn bus! Yamiru gritted his teeth, regretting his decision as he pushed his legs to their limit, chasing the old man's fading silhouette.
He understood deep down, though. Whether he was at 100% stamina or 10%, his maximum sprinting speed didn't differ much—the only difference was how long he could maintain it.
But based on past encounters, before his stamina ran out, the old man would already have widened the gap beyond what Yamiru could close.
As expected, the old man's figure began to fade into the distance.
"Huff... huff..."
Yamiru felt the futility of his efforts. Frustration welled up inside him, disrupting his breathing rhythm. His body, carried by its own momentum, toppled like before. He rolled several times and landed in the grass by the roadside.
"Is he testing me, or does he just not want to bother with me at all?"
Lying in the grass, Yamiru stared at the gray sky, his chest heaving violently.
It was easy to sit in a shabby little house, dreaming of greatness and mocking one's mediocrity. Proclaiming oneself as nothing but "fodder in battle" was even easier. But finding himself in a situation where he'd poured every ounce of effort into chasing a goal, only to fall short—it was something else entirely.
He'd always thought of himself as an average young man, someone who wasn't destined for greatness. He hadn't seen himself as the protagonist of a fanfiction-like story. So why, as an ordinary person, should it feel unnatural to lag behind a legendary martial arts master?
But why can't I let it go?
Even now, lying in the grass, his chest tight and his hand clutching a tuft of grass, he felt it. The dissatisfaction, the frustration.
There was this enigmatic old man on the roadside, practically a living, breathing treasure trove of mystery—and yet, he couldn't even get close.
He wanted, but could not obtain.
For someone who had chosen to remain passive since arriving in the Dragon Ball world, this unfamiliar wave of dissatisfaction blindsided him.
Perhaps... it was precisely the fear of this feeling, this biting frustration of unfulfilled desires, that had kept him from embarking on any journey.
Whether it was seeking out Master Roshi, stepping onto the martial arts path, or anything else—maybe he had resisted it all out of fear. Fear of failure. Fear of wasting his time, only to walk away empty-handed.
Sure, he could stumble across Kame House by sheer luck. But seriously, did he really believe Master Roshi was the kind of guy who could be won over with a couple of dirty magazines? Krillin must've had something extraordinary to become the student of the God of Martial Arts. A lecherous old hermit like Master Roshi didn't lack for raunchy books, did he? Yamiru wasn't about to delude himself into thinking he was more talented than Krillin, worthy of catching Roshi's eye.
And what if he made it to Kame House, only for Master Roshi to reject him outright? That would be devastating. His fragile ego couldn't handle it.
"Yamiru, you'd better think this through," he muttered to himself. "If you let this tiny bit of dissatisfaction push you down that path, what'll you do in the future when you're left staring up at Super Saiyans you can't even touch? When you don't even have the privilege of being pummeled into the ground by the big bosses? The frustration you'll feel then… it'll make today's little failure seem like nothing! If you can't deal with this, how the hell will you survive that?"
In that moment, Yamiru had no choice but to admit to himself just how absurdly conflicted he was.
For someone who constantly mocked himself as "fodder in battle," the truth was clear: his gaze had always been fixed on a target far beyond his reach—those at the level of Super Saiyans.
If he had set Yamcha, Tien, or Krillin as his goal, he would have already packed his bags and started wandering the world.
Arrogance defines him, yet so does his lack of confidence—a truly contradictory person.
\---
"Being this patient isn't like you," a woman said.
Outside the park, a young woman and an old man walked side by side, resembling a pair of grandparents and grandchild.
The old man didn't respond.
"I think he's pretty ordinary. Perhaps you made a mistake, Grandpa," the woman said with a chuckle. "You might just be wasting your effort."
"I may be old, but I'm not senile," the old man replied calmly. "Some people need a little push, or they'll spend their whole lives stuck in mediocrity. Besides, how do you know my actions today weren't part of your grandfather's plan?"
"Just teasing you! Look, his thoughts are already beginning to change," the woman said.
She pulled out a small, intricate mechanical device. A holographic projection emerged from it, showing Yamiru lying on the grass in the park, staring at the sky.
With a pinch of her fingers, she zoomed in on the projection, focusing on Yamiru's eyes, which faintly glimmered with a golden hue.
"With just one glance, Grandpa set the fate of 129,600 people into motion. Most of them find themselves thrown into chaotic situations, unable to control their paths. But he—he's trapped in comfort, living a predictable and uneventful life. Compared to those facing life-and-death crises, this kind of placid existence is the true danger."
"If left alone, he'd probably live his whole life like this." The old man looked at the hologram and said plainly, "He does have extraordinary potential. What he lacks now is just a single affirmation."
"But even you can't interfere too much," the woman reminded. "It has to be fair."
"I'll only give him one moment of enlightenment. After that, whether he lives or dies has nothing to do with me. But for now\... it's not yet time."
The old man raised his head, looking at the brightening sky. "The day isn't over yet," he murmured.
...
Later that day, after Yamiru spent the morning laboring, had lunch, collected his pay, and clocked out of work, Tonpo was already waiting for him.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" the pig-headed man asked casually from the bus door.
"My eyes?" Yamiru froze for a moment.