"Come on, Krillin! Knock him flat!"
"Goku! Don't lose to him! I'll treat you to a feast for fifty tonight!"
In the second-floor stands, Bulma cupped her hands around her mouth and shamelessly cheered for both sides.
One moment she was blowing Krillin kisses; the next, she was tempting Goku with food.
Oolong, standing beside her, rolled his eyes. "Bulma, who are you even rooting for?"
"Idiot! Obviously, the handsome one!"
Bulma declared with righteous confidence.
"Krillin may be bald now, but that intimidating aura of his is just too cool!"
"But Goku's been like a little brother to me since he was a kid..."
"Ugh, I can't decide!"
Master Roshi wore his sunglasses and leaned on his cane, his beard trembling as he laughed.
"That's the way! Watching my two students fight on the grandest stage of all—I could meet King Yemma right now and die a happy old man."
On the arena, the two figures collided again.
This time, they weren't testing each other.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
A string of white shock rings burst through the air.
The two were moving faster than sound. Ordinary spectators couldn't make out their movements; all they could hear was a dense barrage of impacts, like hundreds of giant drums being beaten at once.
As Krillin blocked Goku's relentless storm of attacks, a tremendous wave of nostalgia surged through him.
Before he crossed over, he'd been a nine-to-five office drone.
The walls of his rented apartment had been covered in Dragon Ball posters, and his bookshelf had held the complete manga collection.
He'd watched the little boy with a tail push rocks around Mount Paozu, watched him transform into a Great Ape for the first time,
watched him charge the Red Ribbon Army's base to save his friends, watched him turn into a golden legend on Namek in a fit of rage.
Son Goku. That name stood for more than just an anime character—it meant countless nights of excitement and emotion.
And now, that legend stood right before him.
That fist, carrying real warmth and pain, slammed into his arm.
"This feeling..."
Krillin knocked aside Goku's knee strike, then countered with a punch to Goku's stomach.
"Feels incredible!"
Goku reacted in a flash, crossing his arms in front of himself.
Boom!
The tremendous force sent Goku flying dozens of meters. His feet carved two deep furrows into the arena as he skidded all the way to the edge, where he barely managed to stop.
"That packs a punch!"
Goku shook out his arms, baring his teeth in pain.
"Krillin, why are your fists like Iron Body?"
"Because I went bald and got stronger."
Krillin didn't pursue him. He simply stood where he was, watching Goku.
In this world, he was Krillin.
The one who was always at Goku's heels, tasked with explaining things, acting surprised, and getting sacrificed for dramatic effect.
But deep in his soul, he was the "reader" who had watched Goku grow up.
"Goku."
Krillin suddenly spoke. His voice held less teasing and more complicated emotion.
"Do you remember when we first met?"
Goku paused, then scratched his head.
"Yeah, at Kame House. You rowed over in a boat and brought a bunch of... heh-heh, those magazines."
"Yeah."
Krillin smiled.
The original Krillin really had been a crafty little monk.
"Back then, I wondered why that kid with the tail was stronger than me."
Krillin clenched his fist, feeling the power surging through him.
"I was always chasing after you, watching you get farther and farther ahead."
"Tien Shinhan, Piccolo... Your opponents kept getting stronger, while I could only stand off to the side and shout, 'Goku's amazing!'"
Krillin took a deep breath, his gaze becoming utterly clear.
"I just wanted to say that this time, I don't want to keep looking at your back."
"I want to stand in front of you and let you see mine."
"I don't really understand what you're saying..."
Goku's expression grew serious, focused like a beast facing a worthy opponent.
"But I can tell you're serious, Krillin. If that's the case..."
Goku suddenly crouched, bracing both hands against the ground. His whole body was like a bow drawn to its limit.
"I'll show you what I've accomplished through three years of training, too!"
Whoosh!
Goku vanished.
It wasn't just pure speed. He'd used a burst of ki to move instantly.
Krillin's pupils shrank.
In the vision granted by his [Genius Intellect], Goku's figure split into eight.
"Afterimage Fist? No, it's Multi-Afterimage Fist!"
Eight Gokus attacked from all directions at once. Each looked solid, each carried a fierce gust of wind.
"Won't work!"
Krillin stood still and threw eight punches in an instant.
They were ordinary punches, without names or special effects—just speed and power pushed to the limit.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Seven afterimages vanished instantly.
But the eighth Goku—the real one—somehow folded himself in midair in a way that defied the laws of physics, just as Krillin's punch was about to land.
"What?"
Krillin was taken aback.
Using the airflow from that split second, Goku forced himself onto a new trajectory. Like an eel, he slipped into Krillin's blind spot—directly above him.
"Heh-heh! Got you!"
Goku flipped upside down in midair and braced his hands against Krillin's bald head. He pushed off, flipped around, brought his feet together, and kicked hard at Krillin's back.
It was an incredibly tricky move, improvised on the spot.
The old Krillin would've been kicked flat on his face by that.
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