At Korin Tower, Whitley was in a good mood, weighing the small cloth bag in his hand.
The bag wasn't large, but it was filled with three or four hundred round Senzu Beans. The soft, rustling sound of the beans bumping against each other was incredibly reassuring.
This was life-saving stuff, after all.
It's just that Korin's expression had been a bit comical.
When he extended his furry white cat paw, reluctantly handing over the small bag of beans while taking the two Dyno-Capsules of sea fish, his fat cat face was written with pure heartache. His whiskers trembled, as if he wasn't handing over beans, but having a large chunk of his own flesh cut off.
"Whitley,"
Korin tucked the capsules away, his tone a mix of complaint and resignation. He pointed his fleshy paw up toward The Lookout, shrouded in mist.
"If you can, could you... bring some food up to those two?"
He sighed, his round cat face full of worry:
"You have no idea. My Senzu Bean yield is already limited, and it took me forever to save up this much. If Broly and his old man keep eating them as a staple food like they were before... I can't guarantee I'll have this many to trade the next time you come."
Whitley looked at the cat-sage's "even the landlord has no grain" pitiful appearance and nodded in understanding. He agreed readily:
"No problem, that's a small thing!"
He immediately pulled out his communicator and made a call directly to the company under his name, Prince Logistics Company.
At this time, 18, who usually handled his affairs, was definitely still at the Briefs' estate, so he simply called 17, who had already been promoted to company director.
"OK, no problem."
17 was highly efficient. "I'll contact the purchasing department and have Raditz deliver it to the place you mentioned. Anything else?"
"That's it. Thanks for your hard work."
Click. The call ended.
The whole process was crisp and clean, not even taking a full minute.
Korin, standing by, seemed a bit stunned. He hadn't expected Whitley to solve the problem so quickly.
He stroked his furry chin and nodded his cat head in satisfaction:
"Hmm... That's more like it."
He turned and slowly padded toward the lower-level platform where he stored his various treasures. Halfway there, he turned back to add:
"Remember! Don't just bring sea fish next time! Change it up! Shrimp, crab, or dried meat are all fine. I want a change of pace, too!"
"Got it, I'll bring you the good stuff next time!"
Whitley agreed with a smile.
After bidding farewell to the seemingly simple but actually shrewd fat cat, his aura flared, and his figure whooshed, disappearing and reappearing on the solid floor of The Lookout.
The moment Whitley's feet touched The Lookout, he immediately sensed that the atmosphere was wrong.
He looked up and saw Broly's massive form sitting on the open ground at the edge of The Lookout. He was hugging his knees, his head down, like a big, wronged child.
And his father, Paragus, who had a head full of bumps and was covered in new bruises, was buzzing around him like an annoying fly, chattering non-stop, his spit nearly spraying Broly's face.
Whitley silently moved a few steps closer and could finally hear the father-son "conversation."
"Broly! My good son!"
Paragus's voice was a theatrical wail. He pointed at the injuries on his face.
"Look! Look what that damned Namekian did to your father! Are you just going to swallow this insult?! He may have fused with that useless old Kami, but he's not Kami anymore! You are the Legendary Super Saiyan! The strongest warrior in the universe! Go teach him a lesson for your father! Just one! You don't have to take his head, just break a few of his bones!"
Whitley was exasperated. This Paragus really was incorrigible, trying to incite his son again.
He pouted, but seeing Broly's furrowed brow—clearly annoyed but forcing himself not to explode—Whitley felt a bit gratified.
It seemed the kid really had matured. He was no longer the hothead who could be easily manipulated by his father and sent into a rage at the slightest provocation.
'Broly's grown up, huh,' Whitley mused. "Broly."
Hearing Whitley's voice, Broly looked up as if he'd found his savior.
A flash of relief crossed his eyes. He quickly got up and strode over to Whitley's side, temporarily escaping his father's incessant droning.
"Whitley-san,"
Broly's voice held a note of relief. "Is there something you need me to do?"
His eyes even held a hint of expectation, as if he were desperate for any excuse to leave.
Seeing Broly's "please take me with you" expression, Whitley found it amusing.
He clapped Broly's solid arm.
"No, relax. I just came up to see what happened at The Lookout. I overheard you and your father... it sounds like... Kami and Piccolo fused?"
At the mention of this, Broly's expression instantly fell, and his wild eyes showed a rare trace of sadness.
He nodded, his voice muffled.
"Yes, Whitley-san. Kami-sama... fused with that Namekian named Piccolo. And... Mr. Popo said he's not Kami anymore."
His voice was clearly sad.
After all, when he first came to Earth, during that period of confusion and inner turmoil, it was the old Kami who had patiently guided him, teaching him how to cultivate his mind.
In his heart, he had long since come to respect the peaceful old man as his teacher.
Seeing his sad face, Whitley didn't press further. He just squeezed Broly's broad shoulder in silent comfort.
He then walked straight into The Lookout, intending to find Mr. Popo and get the full story.
Logically, Earth was at peace. The Android crisis was long over, and Cell and Buu were no threat. Why would Kami suddenly decide to fuse with Piccolo?
Whitley found Mr. Popo in a simple, almost unadorned room.
The shadow-like attendant was standing stiffly in the doorway, staring into the room. His dark face was blank, but the aura of grief around him was palpable.
"Mr. Popo,"
Whitley spoke softly, breaking the silence.
"Is... this the room where Kami used to live?"
Mr. Popo slowly turned his head, his dull eyes looking at Whitley. He nodded silently.
His voice was tinged with a deep, drained sadness:
"Yes. This... was Kami-sama's room."
He paused, as if reminiscing, his voice growing quieter.
"Just a few days ago, Popo would help Kami-sama tidy the room every day, sweep away the dust... But now, Popo is no longer needed here."
Whitley looked at the spotless room, a little sad himself.
He was silent for a moment before asking his question:
"Mr. Popo, Kami... why did he suddenly choose to fuse with Piccolo? Earth is at peace, there's no existential crisis. And with me, Goku, and Vegeta around, why..."
Mr. Popo stood frozen for a long time, as if gathering his thoughts, or perhaps his emotions.
After a while, he finally spoke, but his answer was not what Whitley expected:
"It is because... before you all appeared, Kami-sama was the one protecting Earth."
"Huh?"
Whitley was stunned. What kind of answer was that?
Mr. Popo seemed lost in memory, continuing in a flat tone:
"A long, long time ago, Kami-sama worked very hard for Earth's safety. He established Korin Tower and selected Earth's most promising martial artists. He taught them true martial arts and the spirit of a warrior. He developed the Ultra Divine Water to draw out potential and help fight powerful enemies. Even the Senzu Beans that Korin cultivates... they were only successfully grown with Kami-sama's help..."
From Mr. Popo's flat but deeply emotional words, Whitley could almost see the Namekian from a thousand years ago, pouring his heart and soul into silently protecting this blue planet, building its fragile defenses from nothing.
"All of this, Kami-sama did to better protect the Earth."
Mr. Popo's voice held a trace of pride, but it quickly faded.
"But, after you, Son Goku, and Vegeta appeared, and showed greater and greater power... Kami-sama felt that all his years of effort and planning... in the face of truly powerful enemies, aside from the Senzu Beans, everything else... seemed insignificant."
Hearing this, Whitley began to understand.
"And so, Kami-sama finally made this decision."
Mr. Popo looked at Whitley, a flicker of emotion in his wooden eyes.
"Kami-sama felt that Earth needed a stronger presence to protect it. But unfortunately, after splitting his evil side from himself, his power never recovered, and it couldn't compare to yours. He felt... he was too weak."
Whitley finally understood.
So, Kami hadn't fused because of some imminent crisis, but from... a guardian's sense of powerlessness and responsibility?
He felt his own strength was obsolete, that he could no longer fulfill his duties as Kami, so he chose this method to strengthen Earth's protective power?
"So he... fused with Piccolo?"
Whitley confirmed softly.
Mr. Popo nodded slowly. His gaze went past Whitley to the empty bed in the room, his voice full of longing and resignation.
"Yes. Kami-sama had been... quite down in recent years. Although he never told Popo, Popo could feel it. He watched you all, watched the potential enemies of Earth grow more terrifying, and he was anxious... and... he blamed himself. Fusing was his decision. Popo is just his attendant. Popo cannot, and will not, interfere with Kami-sama's decisions."
After saying this, Mr. Popo led Whitley out of the room of memories.
He gently closed the door and, taking an old-fashioned bronze key from his pocket, "clicked" it locked.
As he completed the action, it felt as if an entire era had finally come to an end.
As they were about to part, Mr. Popo seemed to remember something else.
He stopped and said to Whitley:
"Before he fused, Kami-sama left one last wish. He hoped... Broly would succeed him in his post."
"Huh? Make Broly the Kami of Earth?"
Now Whitley was truly shocked. He had never considered that!
Mr. Popo nodded firmly.
"Kami-sama said Broly is a good child with a kind and pure heart. His bloodline is just... special, and he needs someone to guide him patiently. He hoped Popo would take his place, guiding Broly to inner peace, so he can truly possess a calm and strong heart, and take on the responsibility of protecting Earth. Popo... will honor Kami-sama's last wish and do his best."
With that, Mr. Popo gave one last, complex look at the locked door, then turned and walked away, his steps silent.
Whitley stood there, processing this stunning news.
Make the Legendary Super Saiyan, the guy who could destroy the planet in a rage... the Kami of Earth?
Old Kami... that's a bold idea...
But thinking about it, it... wasn't entirely impossible.
Broly's power was unquestionable. He was more than qualified to be Earth's guardian.
The key was whether he could truly master the berserk power in his blood and transform it into a will to protect.
If Mr. Popo could really guide him to that point, it might be a great thing for Earth.
With these thoughts, Whitley found Piccolo on a quiet terrace.
Piccolo was still in his iconic white cape and training gi, but his aura had a subtle change.
Compared to the sharp-edged warrior from the Tournament of Power, he now seemed less sharp, more mature and settled... and he carried a sense of age, as if he had lived for eons.
He was standing silently, his green form gazing at the sea of clouds, dyed orange by the setting sun.
Whitley didn't disturb him, just walked up and stood beside him, mimicking his posture.
The two stood in silence, the only sound the wind whistling over the high lookout.
After a long time, Piccolo spoke first.
His voice was calm, betraying no emotion.
"Actually, I never wanted to fuse with Kami."
Whitley glanced at his green profile.
Piccolo continued, as if stating a fact about himself that was also somehow distant:
"Even after I learned I was just the evil half of Kami, that I wasn't complete, I never had any intention of re-fusing. I wanted... to train on my own. To get stronger, step by step, to chase after Goku, and finally... find a chance to beat him, fair and square."
He paused, shaking his head in a self-deprecating way.
He turned to Whitley. "Does that... sound naive?"
Whitley met his gaze and shook his head, very seriously.
"No. I completely understand."
Whitley's voice was calm, but firm.
"Because when I first started on this path of 'getting stronger,' I thought the exact same way. And I did it, too."
He was talking about when he had just crossed over into the Dragon Ball world, discovering he was one of Vegeta's low-level guards, knowing his future was bleak.
Back then, his power level was pathetically low, maybe 400 or 500? He couldn't even remember.
He just remembered that from that moment on, he seized every chance he could to train like his life depended on it!
No gravity room? I'll build one! No training method? I'll figure it out!
It was all to escape that damned "cannon fodder" fate. He wanted to use his own two hands to carve out a place for himself!
He understood Piccolo precisely because his own power had been earned through his own fists, feet, blood, and sweat. He had almost never used any external shortcuts!
He had walked the hardest, most solid path: his own strength.
(A system would have been nice, though, Whitley thought. But... hehe.)
Whitley gave a self-deprecating smile.
Piccolo seemed surprised that Whitley would say such a thing. He gave him a deep look, as if seeing him for the first time.
Then, his tightly pressed lips relaxed into a rare, almost imperceptible smile.
It was... a smile of release, and of mutual understanding.
"I'm leaving."
Piccolo turned back to the horizon.
"Say goodbye to Broly for me. I hear from Popo... he's supposed to be the next Kami."
At this, Piccolo's expression became complicated, a hint of melancholy.
But he said no more. His body erupted in a white aura and, with a BOOM, he shot off like an arrow, disappearing into the sea of clouds.
Whitley watched him go, guessing he was probably going to find Goku.
On this Earth, the only person he could call a friend was probably the simple-minded Goku, and maybe Gohan, who would always look at him curiously and call him "Uncle Piccolo."
"Huuu..."
Whitley let out a soft breath.
With Piccolo gone, he turned and went to find Broly and Mr. Popo, said a simple goodbye.
He was a little sad he hadn't seen Kami one last time, but Whitley knew the old Namekian wasn't truly gone.
He was just continuing on in a new way, as a part of Piccolo, protecting the planet he loved so much.
When Whitley left The Lookout and returned to the Briefs' estate at dusk, the house was brightly lit, and the aroma of food filled his nose.
He walked straight into the dining room and, under Bulma's teasing gaze and 18's resentful one, he ate like a man starved.
With a full stomach, the heavy, low mood from The Lookout finally eased.
After the meal, Whitley rubbed his stomach, satisfied, and decided to take a hot bath to relax.
However, he had just left the dining room and hadn't even turned the corner to the bathroom, when a figure, trailing a sweet scent, dashed out from a nearby hallway!
"Master Whitley! You're back!"
It was 21!
Her little face was flushed with an irrepressible excitement. Her big eyes sparkled. Before Whitley could even react, she launched herself directly into his arms.
21's arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and she buried her face in his solid chest, rubbing against him like a spoiled kitten.
"Master Whitley! Master Whitley! Master Whitley!"
She repeated his name over and over in a low voice, full of joy and affection, as if pouring out all the longing she had felt.
This interruption instantly scattered all of Whitley's jumbled thoughts about The Lookout and Kami.
He looked down at the fuzzy, flaxen-colored head in his arms, a smile touching his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, his voice full of amusement:
"Didn't we agree you'd wait in your room for me? What, you just couldn't wait and had to come ambush me?"
"Mhm!"
21 showed none of a maiden's coyness. She nodded firmly, almost righteously.
She looked up, her eyes hazy and bold.
"21 missed Master Whitley! So, so much!"
Whitley was stunned by her direct and passionate response, and then he burst out laughing.
His mood instantly became incredibly bright. With a surge of strength, he lifted 21's light body and tossed her over his broad shoulder.
"Haha, let's go! I was just heading for a bath. Since you missed me that much, then... you can come 'serve' me!"
21 let out a small squeak, but showed no resistance, only a sweeter, more expectant smile.
She lay obediently over his shoulder, letting him carry her as he stroD E toward the bathroom.
...
A few minutes later, Bulma happened to be walking past the bathroom door.
The unusual sounds of splashing and... other... laughter... made her stop.
She listened for a few seconds and immediately understood what was happening inside.
Bulma's cheeks flushed. She couldn't help but "Pah!" in the direction of the door, hissing in a low voice, half-angry, half-amused:
"Those two... in the bathroom... Hmph! ... And I even turned the lights off!"
...
Meanwhile, in the distant Universe 10.
Kusu was holding her staff with an expectant look.
The orb at the top was glowing, connected in a video call to her father, the Grand Priest, at Lord Zeno's Palace.
"Father! Look! Lord Toppo is training so hard!"
Kusu reported excitedly, her soft voice full of anticipation.
"His progress is a little slow, but he's really working so hard!"
To make her report more visual, Kusu even angled her staff to give the Grand Priest a live feed of Toppo "training" in the dimension, sweating and roaring.
In the image, Toppo's expression was serious, his shouts thunderous... but the Grand Priest could see with one glance that it was all useless, purely manual labor.
It had nothing to do with mastering god ki.
The Grand Priest, who was usually unflappable, watched Toppo's "efforts"—which were completely in the wrong direction—and his brow furrowed.
He watched in silence for a long time, seeing Toppo exhaust himself like a bull. His eyes revealed... a mix of helplessness and speechlessness.
Finally, after Toppo finished another all-out blast and paused, panting, the Grand Priest spoke.
And he said something that nearly brought tears to Toppo's eyes:
"Kusu..."
The Grand Priest's voice was gentle, but the implication made Kusu's heart stop.
"It seems... you are not yet ready... to be a proper Angel."
The smile on Kusu's face froze, her little mouth falling open.
The Grand Priest continued, his tone leaving no room for argument:
"I will arrange for another Angel to temporarily take your post in Universe 10. You... are to return to the Zeno Palace."
If Kusu hadn't suddenly been inspired to report her "progress" today, the Grand Priest would never have known that his simple-hearted eldest daughter was so... immature... when it came to training a God of Destruction candidate.
She was completely clueless.
She was ruining Toppo's future!
Kusu's little face instantly fell. Tears welled up in her big eyes, and her voice trembled with disbelief:
"Eh?! F-Father! Wh-Why? D-Did I do something wrong? Kusu was trying her best to guide Lord Toppo..."
The Grand Priest looked at his daughter's hurt, confused face and sighed internally. He didn't answer her question.
His gaze went past the crying Kusu in the staff's image, and fell on Toppo, who was trembling with excitement at the edge of the screen, having heard he was getting a new teacher.
The Grand Priest's tone softened, with an imperceptible hint of sympathy:
"Toppo... this past... 'time'... you have suffered."
On the other end of the call, the mountain of a man, hearing these words from heaven, finally felt tears well up in his stoic eyes.
Finally... Finally, I'm free!