Jacob, at 19 years old, was an ordinary otaku. His life revolved around light novels and anime, with One Piece and Naruto being his current obsessions. Right now, he was glued to the latest Naruto episode. Ten minutes later, the credits rolled.
With a sigh, he began browsing for something else to watch. His cursor hovered over an icon—Dragon Ball Z.
A true classic. He'd binged the entire series years ago. A wave of nostalgia hit him, and he clicked play, ready to relive the glory days.
He navigated to the legendary episode—the one where Goku first transforms into a Super Saiyan. Episode 95. He leaned forward, the old excitement bubbling up even now.
Outside, the sky darkened without warning. A deep rumble shook the windowpanes, followed by a flash that split the gloom. Torrential rain slammed down onto the streets below.
The sudden deluge caught the city off guard. Pedestrians scrambled for cover, their shouts swallowed by the downpour.
"Are you kidding me? Where did this come from?"
"Hell of a time for a storm!"
"The forecast said 'clear skies'! Useless!"
Rylan stood up, irritation furrowing his brow. "Since when does it just thunder and pour like this? That's not right."
CRACK!
A searing bolt of lightning struck a power line outside. The current surged, multiplied a hundredfold, racing along the cables with vengeful energy.
Sparks erupted. Insulation melted and flamed.
Inside, Rylan's finger had just pressed the power button on his PC. A jolt, violent and total, locked every muscle. His vision whited out. Thought ceased.
The computer monitor sparked, emitting a wisp of smoke. Yet, the scene of Goku's transformation didn't flicker. Instead, a pinprick of absolute darkness formed at the center of the screen. It pulsed, then yawned open into a swirling vortex nearly two feet wide. An irresistible force grabbed Rylan, yanking him from his world into the void. The vortex vanished. The monitor exploded.
---
Consciousness returned slowly. Rylan found himself lying on a cold, polished floor in a vast, silent hall. Confusion clouded his mind. Where…? The lightning…
He pushed himself up, and a deeper disorientation set in. His hands… they were smaller. His frame felt… compact. He pinched his thigh—hard.
"Agh! Damn, that hurts!" he hissed. "This isn't a dream. Did I… actually cross over?" A more urgent check followed. A wave of relief washed over him. "Still there. And… huh. An upgrade." A faint, mischievous grin touched his lips.
The grin vanished as a sledgehammer of agony slammed into his skull. He crumpled, clutching his head as a torrent of foreign memories—scenes, faces, sensations—flooded his consciousness. It was a chaotic, painful download that lasted an eternity. Seven, eight minutes passed before the pressure subsided, leaving him panting on the floor.
He slowly processed the information. The name surfaced first. Then the context.
"…Son Goku…"
His eyes snapped open. A wild, disbelieving thrill shot through him. No way. I'm in the world of Dragon Ball? And I'm Goku?! The potential was staggering—Saiyan biology, insane growth, unbelievable power. A flicker of fear followed—the memory of universe-ending threats. But it was quickly drowned by visions of golden hair, of lightning crackling around a Super Saiyan's form.
If I'm going to survive here, I need to get strong. Fast.
Sifting through the merged memories, he understood. He was at the Lookout, having trained under Kami for nearly two years. The 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament was about a year away. One year. That's enough time.
Following instinct, he explored the Lookout until he found it: a peculiar, ornate door. The Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Just as he reached for the handle, a voice stopped him.
"Goku. That area is restricted."
Mr. Popo materialized behind him, his expression unreadable.
Goku—Rylan in Goku's body—scratched his head, adopting an innocent look. "I was just looking! What's so special about this door, anyway?" As he spoke, he feigned a stumble, shoving the door open with his shoulder.
The vista beyond was a shock: an endless, sterile white expanse.
"Whoa! This place is huge! You've been hiding a training ground like this while I've been stuck in that tiny yard? That's just mean!" He made to step inside.
"Wait! You cannot enter recklessly!" Popo moved to block him.
At that moment, Kami descended. "This is the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. The flow of time within is distorted: one day here equals one year inside. Furthermore, the environment is exceedingly harsh…"
"One day equals a year?!" Goku's false surprise turned genuine. This was the key. "Why didn't you tell me about this sooner? Popo, please, prepare as much food and water as you can! And Senzu Beans from Korin-sama. I need to train in there!"
"Train?" Kami shook his head gently. "Enduring a single year inside is a monumental feat."
Goku waved a hand, a new determination hardening his features. "A year is nothing." An otaku's endurance is peerless, he thought. Over their two years together, a genuine rapport had formed between Kami and the pure-hearted Saiyan. Seeing the resolve in Goku's eyes, Kami finally nodded.
Thus, laden with supplies and a pouch of Senzu Beans, a heart thrumming with anticipation, Son Goku stepped into the boundless white.
---
Three days later, the door opened.
The figure that emerged was transformed. He stood taller, around 178 cm, his frame lean and powerfully built without being bulky. His signature hair was wild, but the face beneath had shed its boyish roundness, now defined by sharp angles and a quiet intensity. The simple innocence in his eyes was tempered by a flicker of shrewdness and will.
In truth, he hadn't spent three full days inside consecutively. The oppressive solitude of the chamber was mentally grueling. He'd exited a few times to break the monotony. His total time inside amounted to just over two years.
Even with my mental fortitude, that was… a lot, he mused, stretching. Time for a change of scenery. First stop: find Bulma. And those Dragon Balls…
After bidding farewell to Kami and Popo, he leapt from the Lookout's edge, the wind whipping past as he rocketed toward the world below. His power level now easily eclipsed that of his mentor.
Touching down in a sprawling metropolis, he indulged first: new, comfortable clothes, a steaming bath, and a meal fit for a king. Refreshed, he focused his senses, locking onto a familiar, vibrant energy signature. He took to the skies again.
The destination was a mansion of staggering opulence. Bulma's place… figures. Grinning, he descended silently, following her ki straight to the balcony of a lavish bedroom suite.
He was admiring the room when the bathroom door clicked open.
Steam billowed out, followed by a young woman wrapped in a towel, vigorously drying her blue hair. She froze, her eyes widening as they landed on him.
"Y-you! Who are you? How did you get in here?!" She stumbled back, clutching her towel.
Goku's gaze was appreciative. So this is Bulma. The anime didn't do her justice. A possessive thought crystallized. Sorry, Yamcha. This timeline's different.
He pointed a thumb casually at the balcony. "Flew in."
"Flew?" Her suspicion was palpable, warring with her alarm.
He let his eyes travel, a playful smile forming. "Bulma. You've grown even more beautiful in a few years."
"Huh? You know me?" She stared, her gaze sweeping over his taller, more defined form. A dawning realization sparked in her eyes. "Wait… you can't be… Goku?"
"You recognized me? I thought I'd changed too much." He chuckled, the sound warmer than the original Goku's might have been.
She circled him, disbelief etched on her face. "It is you! How did you get so tall in just over two years? Weren't you training with Kami-sama? What are you doing here?"
"Training's done for now," he said, stepping closer. He tilted his head, injecting a note of artificial curiosity into his voice. "Hey, Bulma… your 'chest muscles' have gotten really big. I heard a girl's are softer to touch. Can I try?"
A brilliant blush exploded across her cheeks. "BAKA! A girl's chest isn't 'muscles,' and it's not for just anyone to touch!" she shrieked, mortified.
Goku blinked, feigning confusion. "But I've seen boys touch them before."
"Th-that's… that's only if they're really close! Like… like boyfriend and girlfriend!" she stammered, flustered.
He nodded slowly, as if a great mystery had been solved. "I see. So, boyfriend and girlfriend… I'm a boy, you're a girl, and we're friends. That means we're 'boyfriend and girlfriend,' right?" A mischievous glint lit his eyes as he reached out. "Let's test it."
"GYAAAH! STOP IT, YOU IDIOT!"
The chase was on.
---
(End of Chapter)