Mr. Popo raised his hand, his black palm aimed at Son Goku.
In that instant, Son Goku felt an invisible pressure descend from above, as if the entire Heavenly Realm were pressing down on his shoulders!
"What is this...?" He gritted his teeth, his legs bending slightly.
"An aura," Mr. Popo said in his usual flat voice. "Not a Ki Blast, not a ki wave, just... an aura. Use your heart to feel it, overcome it, or..."
"Be crushed by it."
Son Goku roared, and white flames of ki surged around him. Under the fifteenfold gravity, his bones crackled, and his muscle fibers contracted wildly under the immense pressure.
He took a step forward.
The ground cracked.
Another step.
The stone slabs shattered.
Mr. Popo's aura was like an invisible wall. Every step required several times the effort. Fine beads of sweat appeared on Son Goku's forehead. His teeth ground together, but his eyes... grew brighter and brighter.
"So this is... Mr. Popo's strength?"
"Just his aura... and it feels like I'm fighting the whole world?"
"Not enough," Mr. Popo's voice came from every direction. "Your heart is still restless."
Son Goku froze.
He looked down at his hands. White flames of ki roiled around him, violent and scorching, like a trapped beast struggling in a cage.
"Restless..."
He remembered the first phrase Mr. Popo had taught him: "a heart as calm as still water."
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
"Calm..."
"Like flowing water..."
The white flames gradually subsided, becoming a faint white glow that covered his body. He stepped forward again. This time, his steps were lighter and steadier, as if he were walking on cotton—or on the earth itself.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
He reached Mr. Popo and looked up, his dark eyes as calm as still water.
"Mr. Popo, I did it."
Mr. Popo looked down at him. For the first time, clear emotion flickered in his white eyes.
Was that... surprise?
"You," he said slowly, "were faster than I expected."
He withdrew his aura and turned to leave.
"Tomorrow, sixteen times gravity."
Son Goku froze for a moment, then smiled.
"Sixteen times..."
"Bring it on!"
A year and a half later.
The Heavenly Realm, Temple Plaza.
Dawn had just broken. Golden sunlight spilled over the white jade, refracting into a dreamlike glow.
A figure was practicing a set of punches on the plaza.
His movements were unhurried. Every punch and kick seemed to play out in slow motion, yet they carried an indescribable rhythm. His ki flowed with his movements like a white ribbon, winding and circling around him before finally returning to his lower abdomen.
"Whew..."
He lowered his fists and stood straight, exhaling a breath of stale air. The breath gathered without dispersing, taking the shape of a white dragon that circled three times before gradually fading away.
Son Goku.
Fifteen years old.
He was a head taller than he'd been two years ago, with broader shoulders and more defined muscles, yet his face still held that familiar youthful innocence. His tail swayed gently in the morning light, its brown fur gleaming with health.
He looked down at his hands, feeling the surging yet gentle power within him.
"I've completely adapted to twenty-five times gravity."
"My battle power... is probably over ten thousand? It's gone up almost tenfold!"
He estimated based on the figures in the original story: after adapting to a hundred times gravity aboard the spaceship on his way to Namek, Goku's battle power had reached ninety thousand. By that ratio, adapting to twenty-five times gravity should put his battle power somewhere between fifteen and twenty thousand.
But that was just an estimate. Without a battle power scouter, Son Goku had no way of knowing the exact figure.
Still, battle power was just a number. True strength had to be tested in actual combat.
Son Goku had never expected his battle power to soar so dramatically under Mr. Popo's guidance. And it wasn't just his battle power that had improved—his combat experience had also become exceptionally rich.
"With Saiyan physical abilities, I can take on an enemy with a battle power of twenty thousand, can't I?"
Son Goku thought happily. The last two years had brought the greatest increase in his battle power so far. He had already decided that every Dragon Ball Z fighter would have to train at the Lookout in the future. It would be crucial to their growth.
"Goku."
Mr. Popo's voice came from behind him. Two years had passed, but his voice was still as flat as ever. Son Goku could now pick out the subtle changes in his tone.
Like now: was there a hint of... satisfaction?
Son Goku always finished Mr. Popo's training assignments ahead of time and quietly trained extra on his own. His relentless work ethic had even left Mr. Popo somewhat shaken.
"Kami wants to see you."
Son Goku nodded, straightened his martial arts uniform, and headed for the main hall of the Lookout.
Inside the main hall, Kami stood by the window with his back to the door. His white robes glimmered softly in the morning light.
"Goku," he said without turning around, "your training ends here."
Son Goku froze. "Kami?"
"Mr. Popo told me," Kami said, slowly turning around, his gaze profound. "You've mastered everything he can teach you at your current level: a heart as calm as still water, precise ki control, pushing your body to its limits... You've done very well. You've even exceeded both his expectations and mine."
He paused, a faint smile appearing on his lips.
"The twenty-second World Martial Arts Tournament begins in a month. Go compete."
Son Goku's eyes lit up.
"The twenty-second World Martial Arts Tournament..."
"In the original story, Goku lost to Tien Shinhan at this tournament. But this time..."
He clenched his fist. White flames of ki rose faintly around him, then instantly drew back, becoming a faint glow.
"Yes, Kami!"
He bowed deeply, turned, and walked out of the hall.
Then he sprang into the air, his figure streaking across the sky like a meteor as he flew down to the lower world.
Behind him, Mr. Popo stood at the doorway, his white eyes watching the figure disappear into the distance. His bells jingled softly in the wind.
"He," Mr. Popo said, unusually giving more than a few words, "will grow even stronger."
Kami smiled. "Yes! That boy's going to be something special!"
Mount Paozu.
The familiar wooden house, the familiar smoke rising from the chimney, and the familiar... smell.
"Grandpa! I'm home!"
Son Goku pushed open the door. Son Gohan was seated at the table, his white beard trembling as he held a steaming bowl of noodles.
"Goku!" Son Gohan sprang to his feet in delight, his cloudy eyes lighting up. "You've been gone nearly three years, you little rascal. Grandpa missed you so much!"
Son Goku rushed over and wrapped his arms around his grandfather. Son Gohan's back was more stooped than before, and his white beard had grown longer, but that warm feeling... hadn't changed at all.
"Grandpa, I've gotten stronger!" He let go and spoke excitedly. "I can adapt to twenty-five times gravity now! Kami and Mr. Popo said I can enter the tournament!"
"Twenty-five times?!" Son Gohan's eyes widened. Then he burst into laughter, his white beard sticking up. "Good! Good! My grandson is amazing!"
He led Goku to a seat and ladled out another bowl of noodles. "Here, eat up! You've been training all these years. You must not have been eating well!"
Son Goku looked at the table piled high with steaming noodles, his eyes growing slightly hot.
"There's no place like home..."
He dug in, telling his grandfather about his training over the past two years as he ate. Son Gohan listened with great interest, gasping in amazement from time to time.
"Was Mr. Popo really that strict?"
"Uh-huh! Even stricter than Grandpa Master Roshi!"
"How well can you control your ki now?"
"Like this!"
Son Goku raised a finger and gave a light tap. A beam of white ki shot from his fingertip, passed precisely through a tiny hole in the window paper, and carved a perfect character for "martial" into the tree trunk outside without disturbing a single leaf.
Son Gohan froze.
He looked at the pinhole and the elegant character on the tree outside. After a long moment, he murmured:
"...Monster."
Son Goku scratched his head and chuckled. "You think so too, Grandpa?"
Son Gohan came back to himself and burst into laughter, his white beard trembling. "Good! Good! My grandson will definitely win the championship this time!"
"Yeah!" Son Goku clenched his fist, full of confidence. "I'm going to win!"
Outside the window, the sun set, stretching the shadows of grandfather and grandson long across the ground.
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