The briny sting of sea air slammed into me as Chichi and I dropped toward Guixian Island, a tiny splash of green and pink lost in the vast blue. I gave myself a quick nod, a jolt of excitement flickering in my chest. "Perfect place to try this thing out," I muttered, the God Level Attribute System buzzing in my head like a live current.
I wasn't banking on Master Roshi molding me into some overnight powerhouse; his prime was a distant memory. My real plan was sharper, quieter: trade blows with him and Krillin, see if I could swipe something sweet like the Kamehameha or that wicked Qi Yuan Slash. Picturing myself carving through enemies with Krillin's move sent a thrill racing through me—it was too good to pass up.
Breakfast at Baozi Mountain still sat warm in my stomach, Chichi's cooking a fading echo as we'd taken to the sky. The trip dragged over ten minutes, my speed throttled back to match hers, the wind howling past in a relentless blast. I stole a glance at her, her face etched with resolve, and a wave of gratitude hit me—she was all-in on me, just like I was on this power.
Guixian Island grew sharper, its little shack squatting on the sand like a defiant leftover. We landed, sand crunching soft under my feet, a far cry from Baozi's jagged rock. I stood tall, flicking dust off my gi, braced for whatever was coming.
"Chichi? That… him?" Master Roshi's voice sliced the stillness, his sunglasses sliding as he gawked at me. Krillin flanked him, scalp shining under the sun, his jaw unhinged in perfect time with the old man's. They stared, eyes bugging out, like I'd stepped out of a dream—or a nightmare.
Couldn't fault them; I was Goku's double, a dead ringer for the scrappy kid who'd rolled up here way back when. Chichi moved up, her voice sharp against their stunned silence. "You got it. This is Goten, Goku's boy."
"No way," Krillin whispered, blinking like I might dissolve. "He's Goku reborn, cut from the same cloth." Roshi's beard quivered as he nodded, still chewing on the sight of me.
Guess DNA doesn't mess around—Gohan had a touch of Chichi's gentle edge, but me? I was Goku through and through, wild spikes and hard-set jaw. Their eyes pinned me, and I shifted, feeling the unearned heft of a legend I hadn't built. "Yup, that's me," I said, keeping it casual despite the knot tightening inside.
Chichi folded her arms, her face hardening. "Goten's got more skill than you'd guess. I hauled him here for you to train; Cell could pop up anytime, and he's our best bet."
The mood thickened, their shock twisting into something weightier. Roshi's glasses flashed as he cocked his head, and Krillin's forehead creased. "Hold up, what?" Krillin blurted, voice pitching high with confusion.
"You hated training, Chichi," he pushed, rubbing his head. "I can still see you whacking Goku for dragging Gohan into danger!" His bewilderment hung thick, old memories crashing against the woman standing there.
Her stare didn't waver, solid as iron. "If Goku were alive, I'd lock Goten away from you clowns. But he's gone, Cell's lurking, and I'm out of options." Her words cut deep, a mother's fear hammered into resolve.
Roshi hacked a cough, cheeks pink as he tugged his hat. Krillin flicked his eyes between us, gears turning. They got it—the desperate hope riding on me, a seven-year-old kid lugging a planet's worth of stakes.
I stood firm, their gazes crashing over me, Goku's shadow stretching longer. "She's not wrong," I said, stepping up. "I'm here to bulk up, no matter what." My tone held, burying the nerves churning below.
Krillin's look softened, a spark of recognition in his eyes. "Alright, Goten, show us what you've got. Gohan was a beast at your age—how about you?" Curiosity laced his voice, maybe a shred of hope.
I nearly chuckled—Gohan's road was forged in Piccolo's grinder and Namek's hell. Me? No masters, no wars, just Chichi's steel and my own bullheaded drive. Still, Super Saiyan at four? That'd shake them.
"Don't sleep on him," Chichi snapped, pride swelling her voice. "He's seven now, but at four, he hit Super Saiyan—youngest ever." She straightened, her belief in me a wall against their skepticism.
Roshi's jaw hit the sand again, cane trembling. "Super Saiyan? Four?" His voice broke, awe tangling with doubt as he leaned in. Krillin locked up, eyes popping, like I'd just flipped his world.
"Goku was twenty-five for that," Krillin mumbled, half to himself. "Vegeta, past thirty; Gohan, ten. You—four?" He shook his head, grappling with the math.
I shrugged, a smirk tugging my mouth. "What can I say? I pick up fast." Inside, I wondered too—Goku's full-time Super Saiyan stint pre-Cell must've bled into me, a fuse lit early.
"No guide, no scraps, just him," Chichi threw in, daring them to argue. "Broke through solo—that's my kid." Her pride burned hot, lifting me up while stacking the pressure higher.
Roshi scratched his chin, eyeing me like a riddle. "That's nuts, kid. No Goku, no Piccolo, and you still nailed it?" Respect clashed with suspicion in his tone.
Krillin edged closer, shock fading to grit. "Goten, let's see it. I've been grinding eight years—show me that Super Saiyan." His eyes lit up, ready to weigh me against Cell's shadow.
"Works for me," I said, giving a crisp nod. This was it—a shot to flex the system, maybe nab that Qi Yuan Slash I'd been craving. I cracked my knuckles, excitement crackling like sparks.
The beach sprawled wide, waves kissing the shore, sun torching the sky. Chichi stepped off, giving me room, her quiet faith a steady anchor. Roshi and Krillin braced themselves, keyed up, oblivious to the storm I was about to drop.
I sucked in a breath, grounding myself, that old Saiyan buzz waking in my gut. "Let's do this," I muttered, letting the ember flare, ready to prove what four years old could unleash.
***
For every 10 Power stones = 1 extra chapter. Support me on Patreon to read 50+ advanced chapters: patreon.com/Oskin