Dragon Ball Roshi

Fourteen years later, in the year 587.

Western capital.

Today marked the book signing event for the bestselling book The Uchiha's Sinners by author Kishimoto Yoshihiro. Many fans of the series gathered at the bookstore for the event, lining up in an enormous queue that stretched from the signing table on the third floor all the way down to the revolving door of the lobby on the first floor.

"Wow! Uncle Kishimoto is so handsome!"

"Yeah, I always thought that the author of such a book must be a sophisticated, handsome man with a sense of life's trials!"

"Ah, I can't stand it, I feel like I might just jump up and kiss him!!"

"You're crazy, calm down..."

Many female fans, eager to meet the author, held their copies of the latest installment in the series, The Uchiha's Sinners 7, with flushed faces, excitedly craning their necks to see. As they neared the signing table, they could faintly make out a composed middle-aged man sitting behind a stack of books, signing autographs with a gentle smile. The moment they saw him, the crowd erupted in cheers.

The man signing autographs was, of course, Taro. At this moment, he seemed no longer like the super martial artist who had faced the emperor of the universe, Freeza, head-on, nor a mysterious magician. Instead, he appeared as an ordinary man of Earth. He was dressed casually in a t-shirt and long pants, wearing a baseball cap, his long hair now streaked with white at the back, and his neatly groomed beard—half black, half white—added to his distinguished look. He sat calmly behind a long table filled with copies of his new book, signing each one with graceful, flowing characters.

Every time he handed a signed copy to a reader, he would offer a slight smile, exuding a scholarly air that made the female fans blush and scream.

Statistics showed that after the signing event, sixteen female fans fainted from excitement and were rushed to the nearest hospital on stretchers. Many journalists present reported on the incident...

It wasn't until the evening that Taro finally finished signing all the books. He pressed his fingers to his brow, letting out a long breath. Although he had spent the whole day signing, his wrist didn't feel tired at all—this amount of strain was nothing to him. What exhausted him was the mental fatigue; dealing with these ordinary fans was somehow more tiring than meditating for ten days and nights in his consciousness.

Stepping out onto the street, the night-time city resembled a brightly lit metropolis, never sleeping.

Taro strolled down the streets, a dark red blur approaching him in the night sky, landing on his shoulder. It was the immortal bird that had been let out earlier in the day. Realizing that Taro was no longer surrounded by so many people, the bird quickly returned to its master's side.

"Had enough fun?" Taro chuckled, casually removing the baseball cap from his head. His face subtly adjusted under the effects of a transformation spell.

Over the years, he had gained a certain level of "exposure" among modern Earthlings. If someone paid close attention, they might still recognize his familiar middle-aged appearance.

Walking casually through the streets of West City, Taro carried a jug of wine, drinking from it as he appreciated the night scenery. He felt no weariness and had no intention of resting, walking aimlessly. Faces passed him by, and he calmly brushed past them.

The events of his first and second lives, all the experiences, flowed out of him like those paintings and written words. Taro felt much lighter. He continued walking, observing the world around him. On the streets, he saw many different groups of people—fathers and sons, couples, siblings, elderly couples walking hand in hand, and even two men kissing...

Shaking his head with a soft laugh, Taro kept walking. The rain had gradually stopped, and the wine in his hand had been finished.

Soon, he found himself on a deserted street. The dim streetlights cast long shadows on the pavement, stretching toward the end of the road, where a woman's painful cry echoed.

His heart stirred, and Taro quickly moved toward the source of the sound. In an instant, he arrived at the scene and found a pregnant woman lying on the ground beside a bench.

"Ah… ah..." The woman was covered in sweat, her disheveled hair clinging to her face. She was pale and appeared extremely weak. Beneath her, there was a pool of fresh blood mixed with transparent fluid.

Her breath was faint, and she cried out in pain. Behind her, on the grass, lay a man with a guitar strapped to his back. The night did nothing to block Taro's sharp eyes; with just a glance, he noticed the bruises on both the man and woman. The man, dressed plainly, was unconscious on the grass, his guitar somewhat worn, seeming like a poor young man.

The woman's breath was weak. Taro quickly deduced the sequence of events: the woman had followed the poor musician who was passionate about music, they shared a small apartment, she got pregnant, the man caused trouble, they were attacked tonight, the woman was bleeding heavily, and she was experiencing a premature and difficult labor.

Sighing, Taro crouched down.

His shadow blocked the woman's line of sight. She, whose consciousness was already fading, noticed someone approaching. She trembled, weakly calling out, "Save my... my baby... save..." She tried to raise her arm to reach for the person in front of her, but it dropped weakly.

Blood was spreading beneath her.

There was no time. Immediate action was required.

However... Taro felt a headache. Despite his unmatched abilities, he had no experience delivering babies! When Fanfan had given birth, she had gone to find a midwife in the village long before. He certainly wasn't prepared for this kind of work.

It was tricky.

Transporting the woman to the nearest hospital with teleportation would still take some time, and her body would have to be moved… She was already so weak, close to death. Immediate action was the only solution.

At this moment, the bird nervously flew off Taro's shoulder and landed on the woman's. It extended its tiny wings and gently caressed her pale face, its eyes shimmering with tears. The bird was full of spirit, and even it seemed to feel sorrow, letting out a low, mournful cry.

Taro, being strong-willed, was only troubled for a moment. Once his decision was made, he looked at the woman's dazed eyes and softly said, "Sorry."

With that, a wave of spiritual power poured from his mind, enveloping the woman's lower body in an instant...

The next moment, the sounds of tearing flesh, blood pouring out, the woman's pained screams, and... the baby's loud, clear cries filled the air!

The baby's cries finally stirred the man on the grass behind. Groggily, he rubbed his head and stood up, startled. He looked toward the woman lying beside the bench under the streetlight and the man squatting next to her. His eyes reddened as he shouted, "Damn it! Don't touch Hannah!!!"

But an invisible force held him in place, binding him where he stood, unable to move.

Taro ignored him. With a flick of his fingers, he pulled out a magic bean and flicked it into the woman's mouth, using enough force to crush it into powder.

The woman, waking from her nightmare, regained color in her face. Her wounds and exhaustion healed, and she looked around in confusion at Taro, who was squatting next to her. "Did you save me...?" she murmured. Somehow, she felt that the middle-aged man in front of her, under the dim light, seemed vaguely familiar.

Before she could blink to clear her vision, the man was already gone, leaving her wondering if it was just a trick of her mind.

A heavy weight landed on the woman—Hannah—and she embraced her child, tears streaming down her face. The baby was still crying, the umbilical cord properly tied, though covered in blood.

Hannah's lips trembled with joy and relief, crying, "Thank goodness, Hathaway, you're okay… my baby..." She gently kissed her daughter's tender face.

At that moment, the man with the guitar, his bonds lifted, fell forward from the force of his own struggles. He quickly scrambled to his feet and looked around, holding his guitar, his face fierce. But when he saw the empty street, he grew confused.

Finally, he looked down at his wife and daughter. His lips trembled, filled with guilt, self-blame, and joy.

Under the streetlight, the man tossed his guitar aside and collapsed to his knees, his figure merging with the woman and child in a tender embrace...

---

In the wilderness, far from the bustling city.

Taro stood with his eyes closed on a tree branch.

A breeze blew through the forest, the sound of the trees swaying in the wind echoed around him. It was soft and deep, like the sound of waves crashing, as if they were waves from over a hundred years ago.

"Daddy, do I look good with this flower?"

Yumeko's playful face appeared in his mind.

"You always just know how to fight! Just like your father!"

Wife Fanfan would nag about family matters, but in the end, she would always lean into him, quietly supporting him.

"Taro... you should go, leave me... I..."

Fanfan, now elderly, had been in tears every day. She finally spoke those words, and the depth of love and pain in her eyes was something Taro would never forget.

"Father… take care."

After burying his old wife and before leaving for distant lands, his daughter, Yumeko, bid him farewell along with her husband, Aragon. She forced a smile and spoke her final words.

"I understand, father didn't want this either. Immortality, perhaps, is not as joyful as one might think… sending the old away with the young, how could that bring happiness... Father, we're leaving, and you'll be alone in this world. Will you feel lonely?"

His daughter's farewell letter.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and Taro gazed at the thick night sky above, like a pool of ink that would not dissolve. Without realizing it, two lines of hot tears slipped down his face. The sounds of the forest waves seemed to stir time itself, and memories came rushing in, unstoppable.

Taro floated down and, as his feet touched the ground, he staggered forward.

It was as if someone had reached out and pushed him from behind.

Two hands.

No, three hands.

Confused, Taro turned around, his eyes red from crying. For that brief moment, he felt as if Fanfan, Yumeko, and Aragon had pushed him gently from behind, whispering in his ear, "Go ahead, start your new life."

After a long silence, Taro reached up to wipe his tears, muttering to himself, "This is a sign of mental breakdown…" He sniffed, letting out a long, heavy breath.

He didn't know why such intense emotions had suddenly surged within him. Was it… just because he had witnessed the birth of that newborn?

Was it? Or was it not?

Taro didn't know.

But he felt... as if a complex, long-suppressed emotion, something he had not even noticed within himself, had dissolved with that cry.

Through the trees, the mist parted, revealing the bright moonlight.

Like clouds and fog, like a dream or an illusion.

The moonlight fell, and one foot stepped onto the frosty ground. Taro took a step forward, and at the same time, his once gray hair shortened and turned black, the wrinkles on his face swiftly disappearing. He returned to the true appearance of someone around twenty years old.

A shadow, with wings fluttering under the moonlight, followed the figure walking through the forest...

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