"..."
Is that the smile of a god? No—more like a demon, Bulma complained inwardly.
But…
A girl bold enough to run around collecting Dragon Balls with teenage Son Goku at her age was, by nature, someone who adapted quickly to the bizarre.
"Since you're the so-called Candidate God of Destruction… then… what about those two?"
Still hugging little Goku, Bulma stood up and carefully pointed at Beerus and Whis.
"Them?"
Gran gracefully popped another takoyaki into his mouth and smiled.
"The skinny one is my boss—the real God of Destruction of this universe."
As long as the word "candidate" remained in his title, Beerus was his direct superior. Calling him boss was perfectly reasonable.
"As for the refined gentleman with the staff—that's our teacher. He's the Angel of this universe."
A real God of Destruction… an Angel?!
Bulma swallowed nervously. Just hearing the titles told her how overwhelmingly powerful they must be.
Then she remembered that childhood scene—Gran squatting like a little beggar, Beerus pointing a glowing purple finger at her…
Gran later told her she nearly died that day—and that the pocket money she "donated" counted as payment for saving her life.
"Hiss!"
Bulma sucked in a sharp breath.
So back then… she'd really been facing a group of gods
And she'd really almost died!
"All right, help me pay for this one too."
Gran moved on to the next stall.
"Yes!"
Bulma hurried after him, heart full of relief. She understood now—this Candidate God of Destruction meant her no harm at all.
"Bulma, you've been collecting Dragon Balls with Kakarot recently. What wish were you planning to make?"
"Kakarot? Who's that?"
She paid the vendor and caught up again.
She didn't bother wondering how he knew her name—
They were gods. Knowing her identity made perfect sense.
"That little fellow in your arms. He's the same race as me."
"Ah? So that's why Goku suddenly turned into a giant ape… he's not actually from Earth!"
Bulma looked at the peacefully sleeping child in her arms and finally understood.
"Um…"
Suddenly, Bulma began fidgeting, her fair cheeks turning rosy.
"What is it?" Gran asked, pretending not to know.
"I originally wanted to wish for a prince on a white horse… but I didn't even get to make the wish…" Bulma muttered, pouting.
As she spoke, she snuck a glance at Gran's profile
sharp features, bright and handsome, practically glowing.
"Pfft!"
Gran couldn't hold it anymore and burst out laughing.
Bulma really had intended to wish for her white-horse prince.
"H-hey! What are you laughing at?!" Bulma snapped, cheeks red.
"Nothing. I just remembered something funny."
Gran stopped walking and looked back at her with a grin.
"Sometimes the man riding the white horse isn't a prince… he might be a monk fetching scriptures. So, Miss Bulma—maybe you shouldn't cling too hard to the 'white-horse prince' dream."
Bulma: "..."
Then Gran glanced at the child in her arms.
"Wake him up. He's probably starving."
"Ah?"
Bulma blinked, then quickly understood.
Back in Pilaf's castle, Goku had kept whining about being hungry—he couldn't break the prison cell because he was too weak.
She hurried to wake him.
Wearing Oolong's tiny overalls, little Goku sat up, saw all the food stalls, and instantly lit up with excitement.
With Bulma's permission, he tore off toward the stalls like a tiny engine.
Though still adjusting to life without a tail, it only took a moment before his legs were moving like little turbines.
Gran was no better—eight years of training had left him starving too.
And so
A God of Destruction, an Angel, and two Saiyans… began a full-scale sweep of the entire food street.
Wherever they passed, dishes piled up three meters high.
Three hours later, Beerus and Whis were full.
Gran and Goku, however, continued.
Three more hours passed before the two Saiyans were finally satisfied.
When they turned back
the chefs of the entire food street were collapsed in exhaustion, twitching on the ground.
Some were even foaming at the mouth.
"..."
Bulma's pretty face darkened.
Where did your divine dignity go?! This is way too outrageous!
Also
the Candidate God of Destruction had not lied.
Goku clearly shared his species…
One only needed to look at their appetites.
Night fell. Gran and the others stood at the end of the food street.
Bulma paid all the vendors
and even tipped them generously—before catching up.
But as she approached, she sensed the atmosphere had become strangely quiet.
"How is he?" Gran asked.
Beerus looked at little Goku.
It was obvious—Gran had come here specifically to see this child of his own race.
Food aside, there was something curious about him.
"Some martial foundation, but his power is very weak…"
Whis glanced subtly at Gran, trying to read his intentions.
Gran noticed the stare but said nothing, eyes darting innocently as he whistled.
Beerus & Whis: "..."
Bulma covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
This Candidate God of Destruction was… surprisingly entertaining.
Then
"Why're you all looking at me~?"
Little Goku finally spoke, voice pure and innocent.
"Other than being carefree, I don't see anything special…"
Beerus stroked his chin.
But he didn't finish.
A thought struck him
and his expression hardened.
"Lord Beerus, isn't being carefree a good trait?" Whis said lightly, staff in hand.
"Back then, Gran was just as silly."
"You know—traditional Saiyans are all violent and savage. After Gran, this is the second Saiyan who's nothing like the traditional kind."
You're the silly one, Gran shot Whis a glare.
But Whis's comment had pierced something deep.
Beerus's whole body trembled.
END OF CHAPTER
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