The salty breeze carried the faint scent of the ocean as Joker adjusted his energy signature. His aura, usually an overwhelming storm of darkness and power, now pulsed gently, masking his true strength. His form had been altered, thanks to his mastery of illusion magic and his newly learned bounded field techniques. His once towering, imposing frame was reduced to that of an unassuming martial artist. His hair, a muted brown, fell in messy waves, and his eyes, usually brimming with intimidating intensity, were now a calm, cerulean hue.
Standing before him on the island was none other than Master Roshi, the Turtle Hermit himself. Though the old man's demeanor was lighthearted, his presence radiated an undeniable air of wisdom and experience. Joker, bowing respectfully, introduced himself under the alias Kazuki and requested a sparring match.
Roshi studied him with an amused grin. "You're confident, I'll give you that. But don't think age has dulled my edge."
Joker smirked inwardly. That's what I'm counting on.
The spar began with a respectful bow, but it quickly escalated. Joker lunged first, testing Roshi's defenses with a flurry of strikes. Roshi deflected each one with the ease of a man who had seen every move a thousand times before. His counters were precise and devastating. A simple palm strike from Roshi sent Joker skidding across the sand.
"Not bad," Roshi said, his voice light but with a sharp edge. "But you're relying too much on your raw strength."
Joker clenched his fists, frustrated. He adjusted his tactics, trying feints, grapples, and even incorporating bursts of energy. Yet, Roshi remained untouchable, his movements a masterclass in economy and grace. It wasn't just his power—it was his decades of refined technique that outclassed Joker.
The fight lasted for hours, with Joker growing increasingly desperate. By the end, his body was bruised and battered, and he was forced to admit defeat. As he lay on the sand, gasping for air, Roshi walked over and offered him a hand.
"Don't take it too hard, kid," Roshi said. "You've got potential, but you lack discipline. Come back when you've got that fire honed into something real."
Joker took the old man's words to heart.
Humbled but not defeated, Joker returned to his underworld dealings. Through his network of informants, enforcers, and shady negotiators, he began acquiring martial arts knowledge from across the globe. Techniques from the Crane School, ancient scrolls hidden in forgotten temples, and even interstellar martial arts traded on the black market found their way into his hands. Every deal, every threat, every mission he took further cemented his reputation as a shadowy kingpin of the underworld.
Within months, he had amassed an unparalleled library of martial knowledge. He used the System to supplement his training, gaining scrolls and tutorials that helped him internalize even the most esoteric techniques. Yet, he wasn't content to merely know them—he sought to master them.
His Oozaru Form became his next challenge. Despite his raw power, he had struggled to control the berserk state. Now, he focused entirely on channeling its destructive potential. After weeks of grueling effort, he found a way to direct the Great Ape's power into focused attacks. While he still couldn't fully control the form, he could now wield it as a weapon rather than a liability. His tail, once a vulnerability, was now a weapon and symbol of pride, as he learned to incorporate it into his combat style.
With basic magecraft under his belt, Joker moved on to the advanced disciplines of illusions and curses. He experimented with creating intricate bounded fields that distorted reality, turning small spaces into labyrinthine death traps. His curses became a powerful tool for coercion and punishment, allowing him to mark his enemies with debilitating hexes.
Meanwhile, his partnership with Dr. Briefs bore fruit. Joker had subtly manipulated the brilliant scientist into developing enhancements for his body. Using a combination of Da Vinci's notes and Briefs' inventions, Joker augmented his physiology:
Regeneration: His cells now divided with unparalleled efficiency, granting him the ability to heal even from fatal wounds.Energy Efficiency: His body could now sustain itself with minimal energy, allowing him to function even when drained.Battlefield Adaptation: His body evolved dynamically during fights, giving him an edge in prolonged battles.
Each upgrade brought him closer to his vision of perfection.
With mere months remaining until the canonical Dragon Ball timeline began, Joker found himself at the precipice of mastery. He used this time to exploit the System's easier missions, earning valuable scrolls and resources to refine his skills. His martial arts proficiency, magecraft, and augmentations were nearing their peak.
Though he worked with the Briefs family, he avoided meeting Bulma, knowing her curiosity could jeopardize his carefully crafted persona. Instead, he focused on training, completing missions, and preparing for the chaos that would inevitably follow the arrival of the Dragon Balls into the world.
Standing atop a mountain overlooking his domain, Joker felt the winds shift. The horizon glowed with the promise of a new era. He had conquered the shadows, mastered the arts of war and magic, and built an empire. Now, as the pieces fell into place, he was ready to face the world—and to shape it in his image.
For the first time in his life, he smiled without bitterness. Let the games begin.
The sun hung low in the sky, casting an orange glow over the forest as Bulma stepped into the clearing. Her bike, packed with supplies, glinted in the light. She adjusted her hat and looked around, annoyed. "This is the middle of nowhere. Why am I even out here?"
Just as she muttered to herself, a figure dropped from a tree branch above, landing lightly before her. It was a child—a small boy with spiky black hair, bright eyes, and a monkey tail swishing behind him. Goku, as he now referred to himself, tilted his head curiously.
"Hi there! What're you doing here?" he asked, his voice filled with childlike curiosity, his tail curling around him.
Bulma jumped, startled, but quickly recovered. "I'm looking for the Dragon Balls. You wouldn't happen to know about them, would you?"
Goku's eyes sparkled as he smiled innocently. "Oh, you mean these?" He held up the Four-Star Ball that once belonged to his Grandpa Gohan. "It's my grandpa's treasure. But if you're looking for it, I could come with you!"
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Why would I bring a little kid with me? It's dangerous out there."
Goku puffed out his chest, his smile unwavering. "I'm strong! I can protect you. Besides, you're nice, and I like you." His tone was so genuine and earnest that Bulma couldn't help but soften.
"Well, I guess I could use some muscle... Okay, you're in. But don't get in my way, kid."
"Yay!" Goku cheered, skipping around her like an excited puppy. Inside, he smirked. Step one: complete.
As the days passed, Goku and Bulma traveled across the wilderness, encountering monsters, bandits, and more. Goku always stepped in to fight, his strength and agility far beyond what anyone would expect from a child. He dispatched their foes with ease, often turning the defeated creatures into meals over a roaring fire.
Bulma watched in awe as he devoured his food, marveling at his raw power and apparent innocence. "You're like a bottomless pit, kid."
Goku grinned, licking his fingers clean. "Food's the best! You should eat more, Bulma. You're already so pretty, but strong people need good food!"
Bulma blushed faintly at the compliment, brushing it off. "You're a weird kid, you know that?"
One night, after a particularly exhausting day, Bulma and Goku set up camp in a secluded clearing. As they sat by the fire, Bulma stretched, her eyes heavy with sleep. Goku, ever the charming actor, noticed her fatigue.
"You look tired," he said, his voice soft and innocent. "You can sleep closer to me if you want. I'll keep the scary stuff away."
Bulma laughed. "Thanks, but I'm not scared of the dark."
"But it's warm here!" Goku insisted, patting the space beside him. "And you always take care of me, so I'll take care of you now."
Bulma hesitated but eventually gave in, lying down beside him. "You're sweet, you know that?"
Goku grinned, his childlike charm masking the calculating mind behind his eyes. "You're nice to me too, Bulma. I think you're my favorite person."
Bulma smiled at his words, her cheeks tinged pink. "Goodnight, Goku."
"Goodnight!" he chirped back, inwardly congratulating himself on his progress. Step two: build trust and dependency.
As their journey continued, Goku subtly manipulated their interactions. He used his cooking to prepare meals laced with herbs that enhanced physical beauty and vitality, ingredients he procured from his System's missions. He showered Bulma with compliments, each one perfectly calibrated to make her feel valued and admired.
Despite his youthful appearance, Goku's experience as a manipulator and seducer shone through. His "innocent" remarks often bordered on flirtatious when taken out of context, leaving Bulma flustered but charmed. Over time, she began to look forward to their conversations, her attachment to him growing.
Goku knew the game well. He didn't rush or push too hard. Instead, he let the bond deepen naturally, weaving his web with patience and precision.
While Goku's outward demeanor remained cheerful and innocent, his darker side emerged in his private moments. Each encounter, every battle, and every conversation served his grand plan. He used the System's missions to grow stronger, mastering new techniques and refining his skills. He analyzed Bulma's behavior, noting her strengths and vulnerabilities, and adjusted his strategy accordingly.
At night, as Bulma slept peacefully beside him, Goku stared into the flames of their campfire, his eyes gleaming with quiet determination. The world is a game, and I'll be the one holding all the pieces.