Master of Freebies

The rest area fell quiet for a while. The matches on the main stage were still going on, but the noise from the stands had diminished somewhat, as if the tournament had entered an interval. Lin Chen sat in a chair farther inside, with a green-painted brick wall behind him. Several water stains from rain seepage marked the wall, stretching from the corner up to waist height, their color already faded gray.

Two more balls of light drifted over from the direction of the main stage. This time, they were pale green, one large and one small, like two fireflies. They floated diagonally into the rest area with the current of the air and sank into his body just before touching his shoulder.

[ Ding! Picked up Afterimage Fist basic memory fragment ×1 (progress 1/12). Current Afterimage Fist comprehension: 3%. ]

For an instant, he felt warmth on the outer side of his left calf, like the warmth of sunlight on skin, before it vanished. He looked down at his calf. There was nothing beneath his trouser leg.

Footsteps came from outside the door. Someone walked in over the concrete floor, their steps light and steady, making almost no sound when they landed. Lin Chen looked up and saw the young man in an orange gi walking toward the rest area, holding a half-finished cup of water beaded with condensation. His bald companion had not come in and was still outside talking to someone else.

When the young man reached the middle of the rest area, he spotted Lin Chen. He paused, then took a few steps closer.

"You were the one from Ring Three earlier, right?" His tone was casual. "I saw your match. Your defense was really solid. That big guy hit you so many times, but you never went down."

Lin Chen lowered the hand that had been resting on his knee. "He was strong, but his rhythm was predictable."

"Mm." The young man nodded, seeming to agree with that assessment. "So you waited until he'd exhausted his moves before counterattacking? That was how I saw it. You were watching his attack habits throughout the first few rounds."

Without waiting for Lin Chen to answer, he smiled. "My name's Son Goku. I'm here to compete today. What about you?"

"Lin Chen."

Goku nodded at him, then took another sip of water. "Did you advance? Who are you fighting in the next round?"

"I won't know until the bracket comes out."

"Oh." Goku set down his cup and took two steps toward the door, then looked back at him. "You fight very steadily. If we meet later, let's have a good match."

He pushed open the door and left. When it shut behind him, it stirred up a gust of wind that scattered a clump of dust at the base of the wall for an instant before it settled back onto the floor.

Lin Chen leaned back against his chair again. He sensed another ball of light slip in through the gap beneath the door, floating slowly toward him from where Goku had just been standing. This one was darker than the pale green ones from before, leaning toward gray-blue, like the color of the sky seen through a thin veil. The warmth it conveyed upon touching him lingered longer than before, like the heat of dying embers, taking several seconds to gradually fade.

[ Ding! Picked up weak Saiyan bloodline fragment ×1. Current Saiyan bloodline fusion rate: 0.5%. ]

The instant the words "Saiyan" appeared in his mind, his movements paused for an extremely brief moment—so brief that he nearly failed to notice it himself. The hand holding his water cup stopped in midair for half a second before he set it back on his knee and straightened up again.

In the distance, a referee's whistle sounded from the main stage, followed by a burst of applause. Someone was shouting, "Contestant Son Goku advances!" The voice came through the walls, slightly muffled.

Lin Chen stood and walked to the window in the rest area. Looking outside through the half-open window, he saw a tournament notice board beside the main stage. Two staff members were posting new match sheets onto it. One stood on a ladder with thumbtacks in hand, pressing the four corners of the paper into the corkboard one by one. Several people had already gathered nearby to look.

He waited until they dispersed before walking over. The newly posted sheet listed the afternoon's match schedule, and his opponent's name had already been filled in: "Joey Salam."

There was no style listed, no additional information—only a name.

He stood before the notice board for a while, reading the sheet from beginning to end, then turned and headed back to the rest area. At the corner of the corridor, he ran into the young man in the orange gi—Goku—who was leaning against the wall and talking to a bald old man. The old man wore round sunglasses, carried a cane, and had on a floral shirt with the collar open. He was tapping the floor with his cane as he spoke.

They were not speaking loudly. The old man sounded as if he were discussing something quite ordinary. "If you really want to see what he's capable of, watch closely this afternoon. The fact that he could take so many punches from Iwata wasn't just because he's tough."

Goku nodded. "Got it. I'll watch."

He looked up and saw Lin Chen approaching from the other end of the corridor. He smiled at him, then continued speaking with the old man. The old man did not turn to look at Lin Chen. He merely tapped his cane twice on the floor, as if reminding Goku to pay attention.

Lin Chen did not slow down as he walked past them. Only after he had gone several steps did the old man's voice sound again, casual as ever. "Let's go. You still have a match this afternoon."

Lin Chen pushed open the door to the rest area and walked outside. The afternoon sun shone on his face, making his skin feel faintly hot. He lowered his head and looked at the back of his right hand. There was nothing there—no ball of light, no mark—only a freshly healed scrape, leaving a faint white line beneath the sunlight.

Several more balls of light drifted over from the main stage, passing through the wall and sinking into his back. He felt that faint warmth. He did not turn around, continuing onward as his footsteps cast an ever-shortening shadow in the sunlight, as though time itself were shrinking back to where it had begun.