Son Gohan

Two days later, a letter from the betting arena arrived. This time, the messenger left no note, only an old copper coin on the steps before Kame House. Its surface had been rubbed bright, and its edges were worn down until its original pattern could no longer be seen, as if it had been carried for a very long time. Lin Chen picked up the coin and turned it over. There was nothing on the back.

Krillin came out of the house and glanced at the coin in his hand. "The people on her side leave something different every time. Last time it was a note. This time it's a copper coin."

Lin Chen slipped the coin into his pocket. "Then let's make a trip."

That afternoon, the two of them once again followed the coastline toward the betting arena. The wind over the sea was weaker than it had been two days ago, and the roadside bushes were much quieter. Their leaves drooped slightly in the still air, with a few around the edges beginning to yellow. In the inner hall, Fortuneteller Baba sat in her usual place, holding a long, thin wooden stick as she adjusted the wick of an oil lamp before her. The flame jumped twice at her touch, then steadied again. She looked up at them. "Number Five is here today. He'd been busy these past few days and only just finished."

Someone stepped out from the shadows at the back of the hall.

He was a tall old man, bald, dressed in a dark martial arts uniform. The hem and cuffs had faded from so many washings, making it clear that he had worn it for years. His back was ramrod straight. His gaze swept over Lin Chen, then shifted to Krillin, before finally stopping at the doorway—where Goku was standing.

Goku had not set out with Lin Chen and the others. He had run over by himself later, still panting when he reached the door, with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The moment he saw the old man, he froze.

"...Grandpa?"

The old man stopped as well. He looked at Goku, his gaze changing from unfamiliarity to recognition. After several seconds of silence, he crouched down and pressed a palm against Goku's head. "You've grown taller."

Goku stood there without speaking. He usually had plenty to say, but now he could not force out a single word. He simply stood with one hand resting on the back of his head, as though he did not know whether to step forward or remain still. After a while, the old man withdrew his hand, rose to his feet, and turned toward Lin Chen and Krillin.

"Baba told me about you." His voice was deeper than expected, as though it came from the depths of his chest. "You've passed the first four matches. I'm the fifth."

Lin Chen walked to the center of the open space and stopped. He rolled his wrist, adjusted his stance, and planted his feet shoulder-width apart. The old man also walked to the opposite side. Once he stopped, his hands hung naturally at his sides, without assuming any stance.

"Don't hold back," the old man said. "Use what you know."

Lin Chen stepped forward. His right fist shot out from his waist, not slowly, but not with his full strength either. The old man raised his left arm, placing his palm across the path of the punch. Just before contact, the back of his hand tilted slightly to the side, guiding Lin Chen's fist away. Lin Chen felt a gentle force extending along the direction of his punch, as if it were guiding his center of gravity aside rather than blocking him directly.

He drew back his fist, shifted his balance, and punched again. This time, the angle was lower and more abrupt. As his fist neared the old man's chest, a palm pressed against his knuckles and smoothly pulled to one side. Lin Chen felt his center of gravity shift in the direction of the force the other man had applied.

"Your timing is right, but after you release your force, you leave too much momentum unchecked." The old man lowered his hand. "Without room to retract your move, the power of your next punch will be cut in half. I watched some of the recordings from your earlier matches. You can find your opponents' force habits no matter who they are. That is your strength. But your strength depends on observation. If your opponent gives you no time to observe from the start, you'll be put on the defensive."

He stepped forward half a pace. He was not fast, but his footing was steady. As the old man approached, Lin Chen felt a distinct sense of pressure—not violent, but like a constant weight steadily building. He adjusted his stance, shifted his center of gravity onto his rear foot, and slightly turned aside the instant the old man raised his right hand, letting the edge of his palm brush past the outside of his shoulder. It left no mark, but Lin Chen felt a push at the point of contact, like a gust of wind shoving him from the side.

He steadied himself again. The old man stopped as well. "You're adapting. And you adapt quickly."

Goku spoke from the doorway. "Grandpa's moves are very steady. There aren't any obvious tells when he punches. When I first learned from him, it took me a whole week before I could predict the direction in advance."

Lin Chen glanced at the old man, then down at his own hand. The lingering aftershock of that push from their earlier contact had already dissipated, and the temperature of his palm was normal.

Fortuneteller Baba's voice carried over from her chair. "Number Five is done. That's enough for today." She set down the wooden stick in her hand. "We'll talk about the reward next time."

The old man turned and walked back toward the shadows at the rear of the hall. After taking a few steps, he stopped and turned his head slightly. "If you have time in the future, you can come sit at the temple." His voice was quiet, his tone ordinary. After saying that, he continued on, and his figure vanished into the shadows at the corridor's corner.

Goku stood at the doorway for a long while, as if he were still looking in that direction. After a while, he turned and followed them. "Grandpa's going back."

On the way back to Kame House, Goku walked in front, his steps half a beat slower than usual. Halfway there, he stopped beside a short tree and bent down to tie a loose shoelace. Then he remained crouched for a while, as though he had suddenly remembered something, or perhaps simply wanted to walk more slowly. The wind blew in from the sea, stirring the back hem of his gi. Lin Chen walked behind him, still feeling the lingering sensation of that push on his right shoulder as it slowly faded.

The evening sun slanted across the road, stretching the shadows of the three of them into parallel strips that swayed slightly with the gentle rise and fall of the slope ahead. Far out at sea, a ship moved slowly, its hull rendered a dark silhouette by the light, its outline appearing and disappearing amid the glittering waves. The roof of Kame House was already visible. In the dusk, it looked lower than it did in daylight. A thin wisp of white smoke drifted from the chimney toward the sea.