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"What a beautiful planet."
Broly gazed at the blue world beneath him. It wasn't the Earth from his previous life, but looking at it still filled him with a strange, homesick warmth.
As his ship slipped through the atmosphere, the endless ocean stretched out below. Clouds drifted lazily across the sky, seagulls called, and now and then the wind carried the roar of distant waves up to him.
"This really is refreshing… Coming to Earth was definitely the right choice."
Then he noticed a tiny island tucked away in the middle of the sea, nothing remarkable at first glance. What was remarkable, though, was the little house sitting on it — complete with a weather vane slowly turning on the roof.
"No way… seriously?" Broly blinked. Wasn't that Master Roshi's place?
After thinking for a moment, he decided to land. He wanted to meet the legendary founder of the Turtle School, the martial arts master who'd started Goku on his path.
Master Roshi — also known as the "God of Martial Arts," or by his real name, Master Mutaito — had created his own fighting style, the Turtle School. On Earth, he was still among the strongest. On the surface he looked like nothing more than a pervy old man, always peeping, flirting, and acting like a shameless geezer… but at heart, he was a righteous man who stood up to evil without hesitation.
In the early days of Dragon Ball, he was revered as a martial arts god. Even though Goku, Krillin, Tien, and the others eventually far surpassed him in raw power, their respect for him never faded. Broly admired him for that.
He waved his hand and with a boom, his spaceship shrank into a capsule — one he'd exchanged points for.
Then he looked down at the white-bearded old man lounging on a beach chair, black sunglasses on his face, a giant turtle shell strapped to his back, reading a magazine full of beautiful women with the focus of a dedicated scholar.
Broly smiled at the sight of this familiar yet foreign planet. "I came, I saw, I conqu—"
"Host, that act gets an 82 out of 100," his system chimed in. "The last 18 points, I'll award in the form of a 666."
"I—"
Before Broly could finish, something felt off. He glanced down…
Oh hell. He was falling.
He frantically tried to use the Sky Dance Technique to stabilize himself, but for some reason his body wasn't coordinating with the technique at all.
And so, he performed a perfect real-life demonstration of high-altitude free-fall.
"Hey! Old man down there, move! Move! I'm gonna crash into you! Go left! LEFT!"
Master Roshi was happily studying the curvy model on the magazine cover when the scream blasted his eardrums. He jumped three feet into the air. The turtle beside him — who'd been lazily sunbathing with droopy eyelids — squeaked and shot straight into the sea.
Roshi instinctively darted left.
Two loud thuds followed.
He only had time to let out a tragic "No—!" before the impact slammed him into the sand, leaving a Roshi-shaped crater behind.
The turtle, who had narrowly escaped the shockwave, poked its head out of the water and slowly crawled forward. Just as it got close, two small hands reached up from the pit. A boy, maybe seven or eight, hauled himself out, wobbling on shaky elbows.
"Ugh… my head is spinning." Broly groaned. "Good thing that pervy old man was there to cushion the fall. Otherwise my face would've been ruined."
He stood up and flipped the middle finger at the sky. "You damn system! Were you trying to kill me? Why did the Sky Dance Technique glitch?! You better have a good explanation!"
A dying groan sounded behind him. "Ohhh… my poor old bones… Who the heck drops out of the sky like that? Nearly scared me to death…"
"Uh… old man — no, sir — hello. My name's Broly. My ship had a little accident and… well… I fell."
Broly scratched his head sheepishly. It was his fault the old man got used as a landing cushion. But he wasn't about to reveal his identity and cause trouble.
Roshi waved a hand. "Forget it, forget it. I'm still alive, so no harm done. But kid, next time you're piloting something, try not to fall out of the sky. Not everyone's as forgiving as me. If you'd hit someone else, they'd probably be lying on the ground moaning, refusing to get up until they extorted your entire life savings."
He rubbed his lower back, rotated his shoulders, and muttered, "Seriously… whose kid goes wandering around alone at this age?"
Broly thought, This really is Master Roshi — way easier to talk to than the legends made him sound.
"It's good you're alright. And yes, you really are the legendary Master Roshi, right? Founder of the Turtle School, the 'God of Martial Arts'? I actually came here to find you… though I didn't expect us to meet like this."
"Oh? You knew I lived here? And what exactly did you come looking for?" Roshi's eyes flashed.
"I know I'm young, but I'm a martial artist too. I heard you lived here, so I came hoping to learn from you."
"Hmm… but I'm not taking disciples anymore. Not unless… you can bring me something satisfactory."
The truth was, Roshi had sensed Broly's potential the moment he saw him. The kid's ki was pure and astonishingly strong.
If he hadn't sensed that, he might not have been so nice when Broly fell on him.
This was just instinct, but when Broly said he wanted to learn, Roshi had already made up his mind. Of course, he couldn't just accept a disciple the moment the kid asked — he had to keep his dignity — so he tossed out a requirement to give himself a graceful excuse.
Heh, I'm a genius, Roshi thought. No matter what the kid brings, I'll act satisfied and accept him right away.
While Roshi was busy plotting in his head, Broly blinked innocently.
"Uh… I never said I wanted to become your disciple."
Broly snickered internally. I knew you'd try this. But nope, old man. I'm not playing the disciple game. If I can spar with you, I can learn every technique you use just by watching. Easy win.
"Huh? Kid, did you hit your head that hard when you fell?" Roshi leaned forward as if to inspect him.
What kind of idiot wanted to learn martial arts without becoming a disciple? Did he think the Turtle School was a charity?
"Your head's the one that's broken," Broly snapped, dodging Roshi's hand. "Look, how about this — I don't need you to teach me training methods or Turtle School techniques. Just spar with me a few times. That's all."
He tossed something onto the ground. "These can be your… compensation."
Broly pulled out a capsule, pretended the items inside came from it, and revealed an entire stack of glossy photo magazines and some very questionable DVDs — which he'd exchanged points for just to lure Roshi in.
"Compared to magazines, I figure you'd enjoy video more…" Broly thought wickedly.
Training under Roshi wasn't shameful. In fact, Broly respected what the old man had taught Goku — how Goku took inspiration from his teachings to push himself constantly against nature, harsh conditions, and strong foes.
Goku's most iconic techniques — the Kamehameha, Instant Transmission, Kaio-Ken, the Spirit Bomb — all came later, but he still used the Kamehameha all the way to the end. Maybe he stuck with it because he loved it, maybe because he found endless potential in it.
Broly didn't need all those techniques. The only things he wanted were mastery over ki and insight into how to refine it. Earth might be a low-class planet to Saiyans, but humans here had developed unique ways to utilize ki.
For Broly, learning Roshi's approach to ki was the real treasure.
Roshi, as one of Earth's strongest in the early days, definitely had something valuable to offer.
The rest? Not important.
Bottom line — getting every good thing Roshi had was definitely worth the trouble.
If Roshi insisted on him becoming a disciple, then Broly could just spar with him every day. After a fight or two, he could figure out what he needed anyway.
Self-study wasn't as fast as learning directly, but he'd manage.
Roshi picked up the DVDs and magazines, and his eyes immediately sparkled. His fingers moved with the speed of a man who'd been single for 300 years, flipping through everything at lightning speed. In the next instant, he vanished into the house clutching them to his chest.
Two seconds later he shot back out like a blur, moving with agility completely unfit for someone his age.
He cleared his throat. "Ahem. Kid, your… offering is very satisfactory. From today onward, you are officially a disciple of the Turtle School."
"What? Hey, old man, I never—"
"Ahem! Since you already agreed, it's decided!"
"....."