At the dining table in Kame House, Krillin stared at his arm.
The Muscle Control (Elementary) skill he'd devoured from Master Roshi was far more precise than he'd expected.
It wasn't some bodybuilder trick. It was microscopic regulation—adjusting density itself.
He focused.
His biceps, which had been bulging like stone, slowly contracted under his skin like flowing water. Visually, his arm narrowed by a full size.
The shape shifted from exaggerated to streamlined—less intimidating, but several times harder inside.
"Compress," Krillin muttered to himself.
Like winding a spring to its limit.
In this state, his durability and instant burst speed would jump sharply.
Bulma chewed tuna and spoke with her mouth half full. "What are you doing? Your arm keeps getting bigger and smaller. It's kind of gross to watch."
"Just adjusting my condition," Krillin said casually, then reached for the fish with his chopsticks.
Crack.
The hardwood chopsticks snapped in half the moment they touched the meat, exploding into splinters.
Silence.
Master Roshi's hand froze in midair, and his eyes widened behind his sunglasses.
"Krillin, you…"
Krillin stared at the broken wood and grimaced.
His strength was overflowing.
The Saitama template fusion was still deepening, and now Muscle Control had turned his body into a packed barrel of gunpowder.
Even tiny movements could set off an accident.
He'd barely squeezed.
"That's already the third pair," Bulma said, rolling her eyes. She tossed him a fork. "Use this iron one. If you crush that too, I'll slice you up for research."
Krillin took the fork.
This time he held his breath and treated it like fragile porcelain, carefully controlling every muscle fiber in his fingers.
[Muscle Control proficiency +1]
Krillin's eyes sharpened.
So it wasn't only combat. Daily life counted too. Every motion was training.
To master this unreasonable bald power, he'd have to carve control into his bones.
After dinner, night fell. Waves washed over the sand.
Krillin didn't sleep. He stood outside Kame House, and the system panel displayed a countdown.
[Persist in the Saitama Training Method for 7 Days: Day 1]
[Push-ups 10/100 (Completed)]
[Sit-ups 10/100 (Completed)]
[Squats 10/100 (Completed)]
[1 km Long Distance Run (Completed)]
Seems easy?
No. The real torture was about to begin.
The system's voice was cold.
[Detected Host has completed Day 1. Deep template fusion initiated. Cellular restructuring will occur during sleep. Pain suppression: None.]
Pain suppression… none?
Krillin barely had time to process that before agony detonated inside his bones.
"Ugh."
He dropped to his knees on the beach, fingers clawing into the sand.
This wasn't injury pain.
This was growth.
It felt like countless tiny hammers were smashing his bones apart and reforging them denser. Every muscle fiber tore, stretched, then healed by force.
His body temperature skyrocketed—hot enough to boil an egg.
Sea wind blew over him and white steam rose from his skin.
"Is this… the price of breaking the limiter?"
Krillin clenched his teeth. Veins bulged on his forehead. Sweat evaporated the moment it formed.
In the original story, Saitama endured this kind of inhuman suffering before going bald.
Now Krillin was bald already, and still getting none of the mercy.
He stayed curled in the sand all night.
Morning came.
The first sunlight hit the pink walls of Kame House, and Krillin climbed out of the pit he'd unknowingly dug into the beach.
He cracked his neck. Crack.
No fatigue. Just terrifying energy.
He looked down. The skin on his arms looked even finer, but when he pressed a finger into it, it felt like high-density rubber—absurdly tough.
He walked to the door and greeted them like nothing happened.
"Morning, everyone."
He reached for the doorknob and gave it a casual twist.
Crunch.
The brass knob deformed like clay, then tore out along with the lock cylinder.
Krillin stared at the mangled lump of metal, then at the hole in the door, suddenly speechless.
Inside, Bulma—yawning in her pajamas—and Master Roshi—who was clearly hiding something under the sofa—both turned their heads in unison.
Krillin lifted the doorknob and smiled awkwardly, trying to sound polite. "This lock's quality doesn't seem very good."
For the next three days, Kame House had a strange atmosphere.
Master Roshi genuinely thought his disciple had gone insane.
Before, Krillin trained hard because he wanted to show off and pick up girls.
Whenever he had free time, he'd lean in with a lecherous grin and ask, "Master Roshi, can I borrow that collector's edition of Bunny Girl Weekly?"
Or he'd be drooling into binoculars at the ocean.
But now?
Master Roshi sat on a lounge chair with a new photo book and couldn't even focus on it. His gaze kept drifting outside.
Krillin was doing push-ups. That was normal.
But he was doing them on two fingers while a giant rock—at least five tons—pressed down on his back. The thing looked like it came straight from the seabed.
Sweat poured off him, soaking the sand beneath him.
His eyes were terrifyingly focused, and he counted quietly through clenched teeth.
That hunger for power was so intense it gave even Master Roshi chills.
Last night, Master Roshi tried to tempt him with an out-of-print swimsuit special.
Krillin glanced at the cover once, then went right back to squats.
Master Roshi had dropped the book in shock.
Was this still that lecherous little baldy?
Had some martial arts god possessed him?
"Is this kid really going to transcend human limits?" Master Roshi murmured, stroking his beard.
He could feel it. Krillin's Qi was expanding at an unreasonable speed each day.
Bulma's attitude was changing too.
Her aircraft had "broken down," and she'd been staying at Kame House for three days. At least, that's what she told herself.
Right now she sat on a folding chair with iced juice, claiming she was supervising. Her eyes, however, never left Krillin.
Krillin was shirtless under the sun.
Thanks to Muscle Control refinement, his body no longer bulged randomly like on the first day.
His muscles formed symmetrical, lean lines. When his back tightened, it looked like a fully drawn bow—pure explosive power.
Bulma sipped her juice, dazed.
She liked good-looking guys. She liked strong guys even more.
Krillin had no nose and no flowing hair, but the raw masculine tension in his body was… irritatingly pleasing.
"Is this really Krillin?" she muttered.
Then she thought about Yamcha.
That flirt. If there wasn't a tournament, he barely trained. He spent his days playing baseball for cheers or fooling around with girls.
Krillin finished a set of squats and casually tossed the massive rock aside.
The ground shook.
He wiped sweat from his scalp and looked at Bulma. The sunlight behind him outlined his body in gold.
"Water," he said, his voice raspy.
Bulma handed him the towel and bottle without thinking.
Krillin drank. The movement of his Adam's apple was sharp and clear. A few drops slid down his chin, crossed his chest, and disappeared into his waistband.
Bulma's face turned red. She snapped her head away and raised her voice to hide it.
"Hey! How much longer are you going to train? You've eaten all the food in the house! That was supposed to last a week!"
"Sorry," Krillin said simply. He didn't force a smile—he just looked at her naturally.
"My strength is growing too fast, so my consumption is high. Since there's no more food… I'll go hunting."
He glanced toward the distant forest. "It'll be a good chance to test my fists."
"I'm coming too!" Bulma jumped up immediately.
"It's boring here, and that smelly old man only reads porn magazines. I need rare ores for my experiments!"
"No, it's too dangerous," Krillin said instinctively. There were prehistoric creatures out there.
"I have capsule weapons, and…" Bulma leaned in close, her big blue eyes playful. "Haven't you become stronger? Can't you even protect me?"
[Detected Host is facing a choice.]
[Option A: Refuse Bulma and go hunting alone. (Reward: Straight Man Attribute +1)]
[Option B: Take Bulma along and show off your Boyfriend Power. (Reward: Favorability increase opportunity, random equipment drop)]
Krillin's mouth curled slightly. Bald or not, his grin carried a strange confidence.
"Fine. Stay close to me, and don't wander off."
Bulma blinked.
For a split second, she felt something she'd never associated with Krillin before.
Security.
As if even if the sky fell, this baldy would hold it up.
"Hmph. Who needs your protection?" Bulma snorted, but she hurried to grab her capsule box anyway. A smile tugged at her lips, one she didn't notice.
Compared to Yamcha constantly saying, "Bulma, stop messing around," Krillin suddenly felt… more like a man.
The primeval forest was hot and humid.
Giant ferns blocked the sun. The air stank of rotting leaves and animal droppings.
Bulma drove the off-road vehicle while Krillin sat cross-legged on the roof. He didn't dare sit inside—he was afraid he'd rip off another handle or crush the seat.
Since destroying the doorknob, he'd become much more careful.
"Hey, Krillin! Look!" Bulma braked and pointed at a cliff. "Is that the purple gold ore I'm looking for?"
"Watch out," Krillin said from above, calm and flat.
The earth trembled.
Bushes exploded.
A Tyrannosaurus rex, over ten meters tall, burst out. Gray-brown hide. Drooling jaws full of fangs.
Lunch had arrived.
"Aaah! A dinosaur!" Bulma screamed.
She reached for the capsule gun at her waist, but the vehicle shook violently under the roar, and her hand trembled too much to steady it.
The dinosaur lunged, maw opening wide to crush the vehicle.
Shadow swallowed Bulma. She squeezed her eyes shut.
"So noisy," Krillin said.
No Kamehameha. No flashy technique.
Just a dull physical impact.
Smack.
Like swatting a mosquito.
Bulma opened her eyes trembling.
Krillin stood on the hood, arm extended in a casual punching posture.
The Tyrannosaurus rex was still mid-charge, but its head was gone.
Everything above the neck had been turned into a mist of blood and minced meat, sprayed across the trees behind.
The massive headless body wobbled twice, then collapsed with a heavy crash.
Bulma's jaw dropped.
One punch?
That hide could deflect bullets.
Krillin stared at his fist and frowned.
"I still didn't control it well. I meant to knock it out, but I used too much force. The head can't be eaten now."
[Ding! Killed an ancient Tyrannosaurus rex.]
[Devour activated…]
[Obtained passive skill fragment: Beast Intuition (1/3).]
[Skill Description: Enhances danger perception, enabling instant reactions even during sleep.]
Krillin shook the blood off his hand and jumped down. He grabbed the dinosaur's massive tail with one hand and dragged it like a rag doll.
"Bulma, dinner is sorted. How about roasted dinosaur meat?"
Bulma nodded blankly.
Her heart thumped twice as she watched his back.
This guy… is terrifyingly strong.
Back at Kame House, the dinosaur became barbecue.
Bonfire crackled. Meat aroma filled the air.
Krillin ate heavily. He needed the energy.
Then Bulma's communicator rang.
She glanced at the screen and her expression changed.
Yamcha.
After hesitating, she answered.
"Hello, Yamcha?"
"Bulma? Where are you? No one picked up at your place," Yamcha said. His tone sounded indifferent. "Let's cancel tonight. Puar is sick, I have to take care of him."
Bulma's eyes went cold.
Puar was sick?
With Puar's physique, he wouldn't even sneeze once a year.
In the background, she heard faint giggling from girls and the crack of a baseball being hit.
"Are you at the baseball field?" Bulma's voice trembled.
"Huh? No… I'm at home. Whatever, I'm busy. Bye."
Beep.
The call ended.
Bulma's knuckles whitened around the communicator. Her eyes reddened instantly.
Before, she would've made a scene or hidden to cry.
Now she looked up and saw Krillin.
Krillin held a skewer of meat and watched her quietly.
The firelight reflected on his bald head and in his steady eyes.
He'd clearly heard everything. He didn't ask questions.
No cheap comfort. No kicking her while she was down.
He simply smiled lightly and handed her the best piece of meat, roasted tender.
"Eat," Krillin said softly. "Only when you're full will you have the strength to throw out the trash."
Bulma froze.
Throw out the… trash?
Her tears stopped.
She took the steaming meat and bit down hard.
[Ding! Bulma's favorability increased.]
[Current Favorability: Ambiguous (75/10).]
[Progress has advanced significantly.]
Krillin didn't look at the system panel. He looked up at the starry sky.
The seven-day training was almost over.
The Saitama template fusion inside him was approaching its first critical point.