The Lookout
Mr. Popo's method would sound like pure madness to ordinary people. Basically, a death wish. But in the Dragon Ball world, it was surprisingly simple.
Piccolo personally went down to fetch a clay jar full of Senzu Beans.
"You sure about this, Piccolo?" Gohan asked one last time.
"Cut the chatter. I'd rather die than live in Son Goku's shadow! Let's do it!"
Piccolo shut his eyes, dropped all defenses, and popped a Senzu Bean into his mouth, ready to bite down.
Gohan raised his palm and brought it down. Crack!
"Son of a.... that hurts like hell!" Piccolo's face twisted in pain, his whole body collapsing to the ground. Every bone shattered, jagged splinters tearing through flesh and skin, protruding visibly.
And yet, his life force remained stubbornly strong. Not quite on the brink of death.
As soon as he bit down on the Senzu Bean, a warm current swept through him, his bones knitting back together at a speed visible to the naked eye, as if time itself was reversing.
"Gohan… what the hell was that supposed to be?"
Though fully healed, sweat still streamed down his face from the sheer agony.
"Ahem… I didn't expect Namekian vitality to be that insane," Gohan admitted. "If you're not at death's door, there's nothing I can do. Any stronger and you'd die, any weaker and your bones wouldn't all shatter."
Mr. Popo calmly interjected, "I said you needed to be near death. I never said anything about shattering every bone in his body."
"You heard that, Gohan…" Piccolo's eyes were like knives. If looks could kill, Gohan would have died ten thousand times over.
"Alright, alright… round two. Get ready!"
This time, a concentrated energy beam shot from Gohan's fingertip-thin as a pinky, but packed with lethal force. It pierced straight through Piccolo's heart.
His pupils dilated instantly, and a wave of weakness consumed him.
"Piccolo! Swallow the bean!"
Even Kami staggered, his form flickering like he might vanish entirely.
Mr. Popo urged Piccolo to hurry.
With his heart destroyed, it was like a car's engine being totaled. But Piccolo's iron will forced him to chew and swallow the Senzu Bean. The wound sealed instantly, and Kami's form stabilized.
"Mr. Popo, a few more rounds of that and I'll be dead for good," Kami said with genuine fear.
Popo frowned slightly at that.
When Piccolo's body healed, his mind returned from its brush with death. In that brief moment between worlds, he had felt his body automatically defend itself. Cells multiplied at incredible speed, and deep within them, a faint spark of Zarama's ancestral power stirred…
It faded quickly, but left noticeable changes. His body felt more flexible, and his regeneration was stronger than before.
In the past, regrowing a severed arm required him to channel his ki at full force, leaving him weakened afterwards. Now, it took only half the effort, with far less energy drain.
Piccolo explained the changes aloud, and Mr. Popo nodded quietly.
"You've finally unlocked your racial advantage," Gohan said. "Regeneration is your edge. If you push it to the extreme, you might reach the point of regenerating from a single drop of blood, or even from a lone surviving cell. Right, Mr. Popo?"
"The Dragon God Zarama's greatest power is wish miracles made real. Miracles bring hope; wishes give people something to strive for. From what I see, Namekians inherited a fragment of that wish power. This is why you focus on mental and spiritual strength your body follows your mind. That near-death state, with one foot in the afterlife and one in the living world, strengthened your consciousness. Your so-called 'automatic defense' was simply your subconscious will manifesting physically," Popo explained, every word clear and precise.
He added, "But this method isn't sustainable. True fear of death and respect for life are what make it work. The moment you know you'll survive, it loses its effect. And one more time like that, and Kami won't survive either. We stop here."
"Then why can Saiyans do it?" Gohan asked.
"For Saiyans, near-death boosts are purely physical. Their battle power comes from the latent potential in their tails. It has nothing to do with mental fortitude. Battle spirit is a form of willpower, but it's their natural advantage. For Namekians, the process is completely different," Popo explained.
"Looks like you'll need another way to grow stronger, Piccolo," Gohan mused.
"No need. I already have one." Piccolo's eyes gleamed.
"Oh?" Gohan tilted his head.
"Mr. Popo just pointed out my strengths and weaknesses. I've been chasing raw physical power and neglecting my mind. If I train my consciousness my spiritual power my body will naturally evolve, unlocking more of Zarama's legacy within my genes," Piccolo said with the sharp wit of the strategist he was in Dragon Ball Z.
"That's brilliant! Why didn't I think of that?" Gohan clapped his hands in agreement.
"I'm not about to be outdone by a three-year-old," Piccolo said with a smirk.
"Heh… if I'm not mistaken, you're only about seven years old yourself. Just not sure why you look like an old man," Gohan countered without missing a beat.
"Shut it, Gohan! Whoever told you that, I'll tear their mouth off!" Piccolo roared.
It was the year Age 753 when Piccolo hatched. In 756, Goku defeated him at the World Martial Arts Tournament. Now it was Age 760 making him exactly seven years old.
"Pfft....A seven-year-old old man… that's hilarious," Gohan said, unfazed by Piccolo's fury.
What could Piccolo do? He couldn't beat Gohan in a fight, and he couldn't win an argument either.
"Just you wait, Gohan!" Piccolo growled before storming off.
"Hmph. The word 'uncle'? I'll never say it," Gohan thought.
Even in his past life watching Dragon Ball, he had been annoyed at how Gohan called someone only four years older "Uncle Piccolo." If there were blood ties, fine but they were completely unrelated, not even the same species. One was a mammal, the other an egg-laying alien.
Now that he was here in person, he swore he'd never call Piccolo "uncle" as long as he lived.
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