Krillin VS Son Goku

The first match of the semifinals.

On the ring, Krillin and Son Goku stood ten meters apart.

Krillin took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He remembered that afternoon eight months ago when he first met Son Goku.

Back then, he had thought a silly kid from the mountains had arrived, someone who didn't know anything. As it turned out, during their first sparring session, this "silly kid from the mountains" had sent him flying ten meters away with a single punch.

From that day on, he knew this guy was different from him.

But he felt no jealousy. Because he discovered that every day he spent training with this guy, he was growing stronger at an unprecedented speed.

Back at Orin Temple, he had thought he was working hard enough. But after meeting Son Goku, he realized that hadn't amounted to anything at all.

True effort meant pushing yourself to the edge of your limits every day, then pushing those limits another centimeter further the next. He knew Son Goku was exactly like that.

But this time, he didn't want to lose.

"Son Goku."

"Yeah?"

"Do you know why I've been waking up ten minutes earlier than you every day for the past eight months?" Krillin looked up, his gaze calm.

"Why?"

"Because that's the only way I feel like I'm managing to catch up to you." Krillin gave a bitter smile. "You're a monster. I've always known that. But even if you're a monster, I still want to touch you with my own hands."

He assumed a fighting stance, arms positioned one in front of the other, his center of gravity lowered. "So—come on! Let me see your full power! Don't hold back, not even a single drop!"

Son Goku looked at the bald youth before him, feeling quite a bit of admiration in his heart.

[Krillin, you have no idea—in the future of the original story, you will become the strongest human on Earth. No Saiyan bloodline, no divine aura, no miraculous encounters, no innate talent. Relying solely on pure, day-after-day effort, you will stand at the pinnacle of Earth's humanity.]

But he couldn't say those words out loud.

He could only assume the same fighting stance, his lips curling into his most brilliant smile:

"I think you're the most terrifying guy of all. Your talent isn't for fighting—it's for never giving up. Then come on! Let me see just how far you've come in these eight months!"

Both of them moved at the same time.

Under the intense, competitive training of the past eight months, Krillin's speed was significantly faster than it had been at the same point in the original story.

Over these eight months, he and Son Goku had chased and challenged each other, their training volume constantly hitting new ceilings as they vied for superiority.

Now, in his bout with Son Goku, his strikes were tricky and his footwork agile. The "short-stature style" that his seniors at Orin Temple had once mocked was now being utilized to its fullest potential. Low sweeps, mid-section thrusts, and high-level feints—switching between these three heights kept his opponent guessing where the next strike would come from.

But Son Goku was stronger.

Under ten times gravity, every one of his movements was as heavy as a mountain, yet as fast as lightning.

This contradictory combination would cause any opponent to feel a sense of intense discomfort; even though his movements looked large, his fist would be at their face the very next second.

Krillin's fist grazed his collar, taking away only a scrap of fabric torn by the wind of the punch; meanwhile, Son Goku's counterattack was already closing in on Krillin's temple. Before the fist even arrived, the pressure of the strike had already left a pale mark on his bald head.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Fists and feet collided, and shockwaves surged. The bluestone slabs of the ring groaned under their feet, and fine cracks spread outward from where they landed.

The more they fought, the more alarmed Krillin became. He felt as if he were battling a mountain; every collision left his arms numb.

And Son Goku... that guy was actually still smiling! It was a smile of pure enjoyment of the battle!

This guy... he's different from me. He's truly enjoying this.

"Son Goku! You guy... just how strong are you?!"

"To be honest—I'm not entirely sure myself!" Son Goku replied truthfully, forcing Krillin back two steps with a sweep kick. "Taste this move of mine!!!"

He took a deep breath, and the aura around his body began to rise!

Krillin's pupils contracted: "This, what is this—"

"Ka--me--ha--me--HA!!!"

"Wait—when did you learn that!!"

Son Goku didn't answer. Because he knew Krillin didn't need an answer; he was certain this guy would block it.

Eight months of daily sparring, daily brawling, eating together, sleeping together, and getting hit on the head by Master Roshi's cane—he was likely more familiar with Krillin's personality than Krillin was himself.

"Hah—!!!"

The air was compressed into a visible shockwave, like an invisible net cast toward Krillin. The flags at the edge of the ring were blown nearly horizontal by the airflow, and the hair of the audience in the front row all drifted backward in unison.

Krillin's arms were already braced in front of him, muscles taut, prepared to take the hit head-on. But he knew he couldn't block the power of this strike.

[I can't block it! But—at least I have to touch you!]

He didn't retreat. His legs were nailed firmly to the stone slabs as he braced for the impact.

"Boom—!!!"

A muffled explosion erupted.

Krillin was sent flying backward like a kite with a broken string, his feet lifted clean off the ground by the impact. His body traced an arc through the air, soaring past the white boundary line of the ring and over the rows of wide-eyed spectators, before slamming securely into the cushioned padding prepared outside the arena, leaving a perfect human-shaped crater in the mat.

Son Goku retracted his fist and looked down at it. The web of his hand felt slightly numb.

Krillin! You've grown stronger. Not just stronger than others, but stronger than your former self. That is the true essence of martial arts.

"Contestant Krillin is out of bounds! Contestant Son Goku is the winner!"

The referee's whistle echoed throughout the arena, immediately followed by an eruption of cheers and applause from the stands.

Thousands of eyes were fixed on the spiky-haired boy on the stage whose chest rose and fell rhythmically, with murmurs rising one after another: "That kid looks like he's only in his teens?" "What was that white light just now?" "Did you see that clearly? How did he throw that punch?"

Krillin lay on the padding, gazing up at the azure sky of Papaya Island.

He didn't close his eyes, nor did he sigh.

He smiled.

I took that guy's punch head-on. Even if I did fly pretty far.

A hand reached into his field of vision. He grabbed it, pulled himself up, and brushed the bits of padding off his martial arts uniform: "You really are a monster, you know that?"

"I'm serious," Son Goku said, looking him in the eyes. "Krillin, you've gotten stronger again. That energy wave from before! If you hadn't pushed me, I might not have been able to pull it off."

Krillin paused for a moment, then rubbed the back of his smooth, bald head and chuckled: "As long as it helped you! I'm going to keep getting stronger, so don't let me catch up to you!"

"Heh! I'll definitely work even harder!" Son Goku replied earnestly.

"Then let's both work hard!" Krillin replied.

Afterward, Krillin suddenly lowered his voice, leaned his upper body in closer, and said to Son Goku with concern: "The next match is against Jackie Chun. I have a feeling that old man is suspicious—there's definitely something wrong with him."

Son Goku glanced toward the contestant tunnel on the other side of the ring, where a corner of a bright orange suit was vaguely visible.

"I know! Of course I know!"