Beerus's Planet
"Mm… Whis, I can't see his future at all."
The Oracle Fish, a fellow foodie by osmosis, puffed on the steam of a cup noodle, made its pronouncement, then slurped away.
Silky. Springy.
"Delightful. Too good," it sighed in bliss.
Slurp.
"Isn't it?" Whis agreed, equally pleased.
"He's got a filament of rule power inside him," Whis went on, unruffled. "He can't wield it at will and the concentration is low, but it's still a law on a dimension deeper than Destruction. Not being able to prophesy him is normal."
"You're not worried he'll cause trouble?" asked the Oracle Fish.
"Worried? Not even a little," Whis said, dropping his usual elegance for something startlingly candid. "Surpassing a God of Destruction in the short term? Hard. And if the sky falls, taller folks will hold it up. Under the… wonderfully slothful leadership of Lord Beerus, Universe 7 is already second from the bottom. For all we know, once Gohan grows up, he might bump our ranking. Ever since he appeared, Earth keeps spawning more experts. And the Three-Eyed Tribe yes, they're remnants from Universe 13, but they've lived here long enough to count as Universe 7. Honestly, I'm hoping the kid stirs the pot. We're already near last place. How much worse can it get? If he stirs well, our score might rise."
Universe 7's gods outclassed many universes on paper. But Beerus's legendary naps left too many warped civilizations un-smited, and the audit score sank. Whis saw it, fretted over it, and could do nothing. Angels were bound by law; they guided, they did not steer.
Besides, Beerus had his reasons for sleeping. Whis couldn't just force him.
Other universes' Destroyers cultivated prodigies, even heirs. Beerus alone had never taken a disciple, never groomed any powerhouse. He'd finally shown interest in taking Gohan and got turned down.
At least Gohan promised to introduce a suitable candidate for Destroyer someday. Universe 7's top end was too thin. Strong ones tended to be either jailed by the Galactic Patrol or sealed as villains. Training those was a fine way to get yourself stabbed in the back. With the ambitious types, you didn't raise the rankings you were lucky not to tank the universe.
Look at Majin Buu, mindless ruin incarnate. Moro, who ate planets. The Frieza Clan. Tools at best. Raise them and you raise your own funeral.
Whis almost never complained. Today, he did.
"I've heard some universes already have fighters on par with, even beyond, Destroyers?" the Oracle Fish prodded.
"At most they've reached Great God Realm, early stage. Below the Fifth Heaven, 'beyond a Destroyer' is marketing fluff," Whis sniffed.
"And taking Gohan as a pupil won't get you in trouble? Angels are neutral. No meddling."
"Heh. My duties are to serve and supervise the Destroyer and to seek successors. Is Gohan unsuitable? He's very suitable. Whether he accepts a Destroyer Candidate role is up to him. What did I do wrong?" Whis's disdain was palpable.
Angels had found loopholes before. Why shouldn't he?
"Whis, you seem… out of character."
"Do I?"
"You do. Very much."
"Doesn't matter. Who says I can't be out of character?" Whis said breezily.
…
One month later Earth, Videl's home
Because of Gohan, the Cell incident never became public lore. Mr. Satan never rode that wave. Even so, with the Z-Fighters lying low, Satan was still Earth's most visible champion and made a fortune through endless matches. Videl's life got ever more comfortable.
Right now she was in the villa's dojo, hammering a sandbag ten layers of cowhide wrapped around iron grit until it bucked wildly.
"Gohan, you jerk! Disappearing again jerk, jerk!"
She punched and cursed in tandem, as if the sandbag were Gohan's face. Predictably, he had missed the first day of school again.
Videl had flown to Mount Paozu ten times and never found him. Her temper built to a boil; the dojo became her pressure valve.
"Son Gohan! Haa!"
A full-power straight shattered the bag. Iron grit hissed onto the floor.
"Yikes. Little junior is getting scary. I think she's stronger than Master Satan," someone whispered.
"You're not wrong. That was a ten-layer iron-sand bag."
"Terrifying. Scatter! She's looking for a new target."
A cluster of grown men scrambled out of Videl's gaze as her eyes darted, hunting.
"Hmph. Gohan, just you wait." With everyone gone, she could only stomp off to shower.
…
Capsule Corporation
"What? Are you kidding me turn you into an android?" Bulma was stunned.
The man standing before her, jaw set, was Krillin.
"That's right. Seventeen and Eighteen have come to you, right? Knowing you, you kept the data," Krillin said.
"Krillin, why? Being human isn't good enough?" Bulma could not wrap her head around it.
"Bulma, in just a few years the gap between me and Goku's crowd has become a chasm. They're aliens with ridiculous ceilings. I'm not reconciled to this. I can't be. Dying and coming back, I felt it even more I was dragging everyone down. I'm not reconciled, not reconciled," Krillin said, tears of frustration spilling over.
"Krillin…" Bulma's eyes softened as memories flooded back.
"Please help me. From what I learned, Android 17 and 18 were Earthlings. If they can be that strong, I can be stronger. Before the ops, they were ordinary people too," he pressed.
He hadn't been idle. He'd gone to Kami's Lookout, found the siblings, and asked everything. Because Gohan had spared them, Seventeen and Eighteen didn't hold back; they told Krillin their history to repay that mercy. He also learned they'd come to Bulma to have their bombs removed.
Krillin figured the ever-shrewd Bulma would never waste such an opportunity. Of course she kept the data.
"…All right, Krillin. I'll help you," Bulma said at last.
His whole body trembled with pent-up relief. To be fair, the choice wasn't out of nowhere. In the original course of events, everyone's growth was gradual. Here, it was explosive. The whiplash alone could break a man. Krillin had talked with Master Roshi for a long time.
Roshi had given his blessing. "Krillin, you and Goku are both my disciples. No matter how you grow stronger, don't lose your first heart as a martial artist. Your teacher is old. Power isn't good or evil; the hand that wields it decides. So what if you're an android? If you're still Krillin in there, you're still my student. Go. Chase your dream."
Those words were a wind at his back. Krillin's resolve hardened.
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