Z Fighter's Training

Heavenly Realm, Temple Plaza.

"Bang!"

Krillin was knocked over by an invisible aura, rolling three times across the ground before coming to a stop. He lay prone, gasping for air, his bald head gleaming under the sunlight.

"Your ki is chaotic again," Mr. Popo stood to the side, his white eyes calm and rippleless. "Again."

"Yes..." Krillin gritted his teeth, climbed to his feet, and assumed a fighting stance.

He had been at the temple for some time now. Every morning at four, he would wake up to move giant boulders, carve characters into stone pillars, and chase the Divine Eagle... it was identical to the training Son Goku had undergone years ago, yet Mr. Popo's demands of him were even more rigorous.

"Your ki is weaker than Son Goku's," Mr. Popo had once remarked, "but it is also 'purer.' It lacks the ferocity of a Saiyan, possessing only the tenacity of an Earthling. This is your advantage."

Krillin had taken those words to heart.

He closed his eyes, sensing the ki within him. It was a warm, steady glow—not as scorching or violent as Son Goku's, but more enduring and long-lasting.

Mind like still water...

He recited internally, and his ki gradually calmed, manifesting as a faint golden halo.

"Again!"

He lunged toward Mr. Popo, his fists whistling through the air. Mr. Popo dodged to the side, his pitch-black fingertip tapping lightly—

"Bang."

Krillin's fist was deflected, but he used the momentum to spin and launch a sweep at Mr. Popo's base.

Mr. Popo raised an eyebrow slightly and leaped into the air.

Now!

A flash of brilliance ignited in Krillin's eyes. The ki he had been gathering surged from his palms—

"Kamehameha!"

The blue energy blast tore through the air, hurtling straight toward Mr. Popo in mid-air!

Mr. Popo remained expressionless, slicing the air with one hand—

"Swish."

The Kamehameha was cleaved down the middle, splitting into two beams that streaked past his sides and vanished into the distance.

"Not bad," Mr. Popo said as he landed, nodding with rare approval. "You've learned to utilize the terrain and timing. But..."

He suddenly appeared before Krillin, his pitch-black palm aimed at Krillin's chest.

"The power of your energy blast is still insufficient."

"Bang—"

Krillin was sent flying backward again, but this time, he adjusted his posture in mid-air and landed steadily.

"I... I will keep working hard!" He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, a bright smile on his face.

Mr. Popo watched him, a flicker of something appearing in his white eyes... satisfaction?

"Another decent lad!"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!"

On the beach behind Kame House, Yamcha was practicing his strikes. His movements were no longer the flashy, exaggerated motions of the Wolf Fang Fist; they were simple, direct, and effective.

"Stop!"

Master Roshi's voice came from behind. Yamcha pulled back his fists and turned around.

Master Roshi sat in a beach chair, holding a glass of fruit juice, his white beard fluttering in the sea breeze. "Your strikes are still too impatient."

"Too impatient?" Yamcha frowned.

"Martial arts is not a race," Master Roshi stood up, leaning on his cane as he walked over. "For every strike, you must understand why you are throwing it, where you are aiming, and what you will do after it lands. Your current strikes are merely 'flailing,' not 'fighting'."

Yamcha fell silent.

He recalled that effortless punch Son Goku had thrown at the tournament. No flashy techniques, no astonishing aura—just a simple strike that contained an irresistible power.

"Master Mutten..." He lowered his head. "What should I do?"

Master Roshi chuckled, his white beard trembling. "Starting tomorrow, you'll come with me to deliver milk."

"...Huh?"

"And plow the fields, move bricks, repair the house," Master Roshi patted his shoulder. "The training of the Turtle School has never been about the ring. Exercise well, study well, play well, eat well, and sleep well—that is the true essence of the Turtle School!"

Yamcha was stunned.

He looked at the lecherous old man before him and suddenly understood something.

"...Yes! Master Mutten!"

"Oh, right," Master Roshi turned toward the house. "While you're at it, help me buy some newly published magazines. The kind with pretty ladies on the cover."

Yamcha: "..."

The summit of Korin Tower was wreathed in swirling clouds.

"This is... the Super Holy Water?"

Tien Shinhan stared at the clear liquid in his hand, his three eyes filled with skepticism.

Master Korin—the cat hermit—lay beneath a tree, his tail swaying lazily. "Drink it. It can awaken your potential. But remember, true power does not lie within the water, but within your heart."

Tien Shinhan tilted his head back and drank it down.

At first, nothing happened. But a moment later, a surge of warm energy rose from his abdomen, flowing into his limbs and bones. His third eye suddenly grew hot, and his vision became incredibly sharp—

He could "see"!

The dust floating in the air, the feathers of birds in the distance, the trajectory of lightning within the clouds... he could even see the flow of his own ki, like golden streams coursing through his body!

[The Super Holy Water is just ordinary water; it shouldn't be helping him at all. What on earth did this kid realize on his own?]

"This is..." Master Korin sat up in surprise. "What have you realized?"

Tien Shinhan covered his third eye, feeling that brand-new power. His ki was growing rapidly, and his perception was expanding wildly.

"I... I can see the trajectories of ki now..."

"Good!" Master Korin laughed heartily, his bell jingling. "Starting tomorrow, you won't need your eyes to fight me!"

"No eyes?"

"That's right! Use your third eye to 'see,' and use your heart to 'feel'!" Master Korin raised his staff. "Let me see just how much potential the descendant of the Three-Eyed Alien truly has!"

Tien Shinhan took a deep breath and removed the headband from his forehead, revealing the shimmering, golden third eye.

"Come on!"

Deep within the Lookout, in a quiet chamber.

Chiaotzu sat cross-legged on a cushion, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat. A cup of water sat before him, its surface trembling slightly.

"Focus your spirit," Mr. Popo's voice drifted from the darkness. "Do not 'control' the water; you must 'become' the water."

Chiaotzu gritted his teeth, unleashing his psychic powers to their limit. The cup of water slowly rose, rotating and deforming in the air until it finally took the shape of a bird with outstretched wings.

But the next second—

"Splat."

The water bird collapsed, drenching him.

"I failed again..." Chiaotzu lowered his head, his eyes filled with frustration.

Mr. Popo stepped out from the shadows, his white eyes fixed on him. "Do you know why you failed?"

"Because... my psychic powers aren't strong enough?"

"No," Mr. Popo shook his head. "It is because you are 'afraid'."

"Afraid?"

"You fear the backlash of your powers, you fear hurting others, and you fear... yourself." Mr. Popo crouched down to look him in the eye. "Psychic power is an extension of the heart. Your heart is trembling, so your power trembles as well."

Chiaotzu was stunned.

He remembered himself many years ago, under the Crane School, being taught that "only the strong survive." He remembered the enemies he had frozen with his powers, the terror in their eyes... and the splitting headache he suffered after using his abilities.

"I..."

"Close your eyes," Mr. Popo said. "Feel your heart. Find the root of that trembling, and then... accept it."

Chiaotzu closed his eyes as instructed.

In the darkness, he saw a small, thin figure huddled in a corner, shivering.

That was... himself as a child.

"So... I have been afraid all this time..."

Tears slid from the corners of his eyes, but the corners of Chiaotzu's mouth curled into a smile.

He opened his eyes again and looked at the cup of water. This time, he didn't use his psychic powers; he simply watched it quietly.

The water moved.

It wasn't controlled by an external force; it rose slowly as if it had gained a life of its own, transforming in the air into a blooming flower—crystal clear and breathtakingly beautiful.

Mr. Popo watched this scene, a flicker of surprise passing through his white eyes.

"You... are faster than I imagined."