Zamasu's sudden appearance left Son Goku — dressed in his Turtle School gi, cracking his knuckles and raring to settle things with Vegeta once and for all — genuinely puzzled. Who on earth was this guy standing in front of him?
"Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"I heard tales of you from the Grand Kai," Zamasu replied, his expression as stiff and humorless as ever. He stood with both hands clasped behind his back, feet hovering just above the ground — and even when extending an invitation, he somehow managed to look as though he were the one who was owed a debt. "The Grand Kai speaks highly of you. Are you interested in fighting me?"
Son Goku lit up at the mere mention of a fight and agreed without a second thought. "Sure, let's go."
He dropped his center of gravity and settled into a defensive stance, waiting for his opponent to make the first move.
Zamasu gave a slight shake of his head. "The way you are now, you won't be able to beat me. Transform. Let me see what level your Super Saiyan form can reach."
After nearly seven or eight years of bloody, grinding warfare, Zamasu had already earned himself the title of "Strongest Supreme Kai" within the small circle of the divine. Sure, some of that reputation came from the flattery of the Second, Fourth, Sixth, and Seventh Universes — but it had to be said, the man had a genuine gift for battle. Couple that with an iron will and a ruthlessly merciless streak, and his battle power had been climbing at a ferocious pace. Son Goku's base-state battle power, in Zamasu's eyes, was barely worth acknowledging.
"Transform?" Son Goku hesitated. He and Vegeta had agreed to fight using their base-state battle power — going Super Saiyan would cause catastrophic collateral damage to the surrounding area, which was never part of the original plan. But he could feel the sheer pressure radiating off his opponent, and he had to admit: without transforming, he'd probably lose.
How in the world did someone this powerful end up on Earth?
Over in the spectator stands, Master Roshi, Oolong, Puar, and the rest of the friends-and-family section were all murmuring amongst themselves.
Krillin, having failed to win No. 18's heart, had thrown himself into his studies with the kind of desperate, obsessive dedication that involved hanging upside-down by his heels and stabbing himself with awls just to stay awake — and had finally, against all odds, passed the police exam and officially joined the force.
He wanted a normal life. He didn't want his colleagues watching livestream footage of him in a brawl. So this time around, he'd skipped the World Martial Arts Tournament entirely.
He could see the hesitation on Son Goku's face and the relentless pressure Zamasu was applying.
Oolong jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow, gesturing toward the right. Krillin looked over — it was Piccolo, waving at him.
Piccolo was an official tournament competitor. Krillin was just a face in the crowd.
The two of them were a fair distance apart. Piccolo went through an elaborate series of gestures. Krillin focused, squinting at his lip movements, and parsed out one piece of information: Supreme Kai? The person currently fighting Son Goku was a Supreme Kai?
Piccolo then mouthed at him to contact Ino.
Tien Shinhan was too serious. Yamcha was practically already out the door. As the de facto representative of the Earthlings, Krillin had always maintained decent relationships with all factions — and on top of that, he still carried a small torch for No. 18. Which meant he did have a line to Ino's side.
He flashed Piccolo an "okay" gesture to signal he understood, then pulled out a phone with a design vaguely reminiscent of an old-school brick handset. This was a product of the Yamanaka Chamber of Commerce — not a conventional signal-based system, but a dedicated direct line.
"Hello, hello — this is Earth, calling West Kai's Planet, calling West Kai's Planet!" He dialed through and stated his destination clearly. A moment later, the other end picked up with an automated voice.
"Thank you for calling West Kai's Planet. In response to the Supreme Kai and Apprentice Supreme Kai's call to action, we are pleased to offer you our new intelligent voice service — anticipating your needs, addressing your concerns with urgency..."
The opening spiel ran for a solid minute and change. This wasn't Krillin's first time calling; he had experience. He kept his patience and listened through it all. Sure enough, the automated voice continued: "To study the spirit of the Supreme Kai and the Apprentice Supreme Kai, press 1. For lost or damaged credentials, press 2. For civilizational suggestions, press 3. To report uncivilized behavior, press 4. To register for the Grand Kai's racing tournament, press 5. To book tickets for the South Kai's concert, press 6. For planetary attack emergencies, press 7..."
Krillin studied Zamasu carefully — the man was radiating killing intent, and the metallic scent of blood was thick enough to catch from a distance. Piccolo was clearly alarmed. This guy was almost certainly not a friendly. Krillin hurriedly pressed 7.
The automated voice resumed: "If you have already achieved victory, press 1. If you require reinforcements, press 2. If you require full planetary evacuation, press 3. If you require..."
Krillin frantically pressed 2.
After another few seconds, the voice returned: "For food support, press 1. For weapons support, press 2. For Strike Team One support, press 3. For Strike Team Two support, press 4. For moral support, press 5. To file a complaint, press 6. For a human operator, press 7."
He pressed 7 again.
"Transferring you to a human operator. Please hold."
A gentle piece of music began playing. Krillin glanced over at the arena — and his eyes went blank. Son Goku had already transformed into Super Saiyan 2 and was going at it with Zamasu full throttle.
A woman's voice came through from the other end: "Ahem — hello there, employee number... hmm, 7259, at your service."
Krillin slid his gaze back toward the arena just in time to see Son Goku unleash the Kamehameha Wave. Every word he had been about to say evaporated instantly. The expression on his face shifted into full-on lovesick-puppy mode.
"No. 18, how about I take you to see a movie this weekend?"
Piccolo, who had been standing rigid with attention the entire time, straining his ears to follow every word of that phone call, nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.
Fine. FINE. If Goku's own friends aren't worried, what the hell am I — the Great Demon King — worrying about? Son Goku? Never heard of him. Don't know the guy.
Even as they traded blows, Zamasu was laying out his grand ambitions to Son Goku — his vision of purging the Demon Realm and wiping out the Demon Clan entirely. "I've reviewed your records. When you were young, you crossed paths with the Demon Clan yourself — I'm not wrong, am I? You know better than most the scale of destruction those creatures inflict on intelligent life. A great cause like this needs your strength."
Son Goku faltered slightly. He had never been a hero in the traditional sense, not from the very beginning. When the Demon Clan killed Krillin, he became the Demon Clan's mortal enemy. When Frieza killed Krillin, he swore to destroy Frieza. Beyond that? There was no "beyond that."
His moral compass was simple and thoroughly ordinary: if someone comes at me, I fight back. If no one bothers me, if no crime is being committed right in front of my eyes — it's not my problem.
Zamasu and Super Saiyan 2 Son Goku met each other with a single punch. The resulting shockwave detonated like a thunderclap between them. Both fighters flew apart, resetting the distance.
The Apprentice Supreme Kai of the Tenth Universe spoke with genuine sincerity. "So — will you accept my invitation? There are many people, many intelligent races who need your power. Son Goku, please don't waste your gifts on something as pointless as delivering packages for a living. In my eyes, that is nothing short of a horrifying crime."
The World Martial Arts Tournament referee seemed on the verge of intervening. Zamasu released a fraction of his aura — enough to knock the ordinary man unconscious without effort.
Son Goku, who rarely had strong opinions about much of anything, faced Zamasu's invitation and took a full ten-plus seconds to think it over. Then he shook his head, his expression as plain and unambiguous as his answer.
"Sorry. I still don't really know who you are, and I don't fully understand what you're talking about. But there's one thing I do know — I'm not leaving Earth. I'm Son Goku, an Earth warrior. Protecting this land and protecting my family — that is my duty."
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