Master and Disciple

The semifinal draw results were announced that evening.

Talos versus Tien Shinhan, Goku versus Chiaotzu, Krillin versus Pamput. All three Turtle Hermit School fighters had made it into the semifinals, but Talos and Tien Shinhan had been placed in the first match—the winner would most likely face the winner of the other bracket in the finals.

By the time they returned to the inn, the setting sun had dyed the sea around Papaya Island gold and crimson. Krillin sat on the tatami, flipping through his palm-sized notebook. Goku lay sprawled on the windowsill, staring blankly at the distant martial arts arena, his tail hanging motionless below the ledge.

"Talos, what do you think Tien Shinhan will use tomorrow?" Krillin asked without looking up.

"Solar Flare, Multi-Form Technique, Volleyball Fist, Third Eye Beam, and a Tri-Beam he modified himself." Talos leaned against the window, listing them as calmly as if reciting a menu. "He doesn't have many techniques, but he's honed every one of them to the limit. He won't test the waters tomorrow—he'll open with Solar Flare."

"The principle behind Solar Flare is blinding through intense light. If you can cover the surface of your eyes with a layer of ki, then in theory, it can filter out most of the glare. But the layer has to be incredibly precise—too thick, and it affects your vision; too thin, and it can't block the light." Krillin looked up. "Want me to help you test it?"

"I've already practiced it." Talos held out his right hand, gathering a tiny sphere of light in his palm. The sphere suddenly burst, and blinding white light filled the room. Goku let out a scream and fell off the windowsill. "My eyes! My eyes!" Krillin's eyes streamed with tears as well, but he did not close them—because he noticed a layer of ki, so faint it was nearly invisible, floating over Talos's pupils. After the white light faded, Talos's eyes remained open, and the layer of ki over his pupils slowly dispersed.

"When did you practice that?!" Krillin rubbed his eyes.

"Every morning before dawn, while you were still asleep."

"...That explains why your bed is always cold when I wake up." Krillin gave a bitter smile and reopened his notebook. "What about the Multi-Form Technique? Tien Shinhan used it to defeat four opponents at once last year. You couldn't tell the clones from the original at all."

"The Multi-Form Technique divides his power evenly. The original is the weakest. The way to break it isn't to distinguish the real body from the fakes, but to sense which direction the ki supporting those clones comes from the instant they attack."

"Use ki sensing to lock onto the original—sounds simple enough."

"The principle is simple. Executing it requires precision."

The next morning, the martial arts arena was packed to the brim.

Spectators held up handmade cheering signs, and Tien Shinhan's supporters occupied nearly half the stands. His performance in the previous tournament had been too stunning—he had claimed victory by defeating every opponent with one hand. This year, his popularity had only grown. The Turtle Hermit School's supporters were no less enthusiastic, and a banner reading "All Three Turtle Hermit School Fighters Advance to the Semifinals" stood out prominently in the crowd.

The announcer leaped onto the ring. "Ladies and gentlemen! The first match of the semifinals of the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament—Talos versus Tien Shinhan! And now—please welcome the contestants!"

Tien Shinhan emerged from the left tunnel. Unlike usual, he did not stand with his arms crossed over his chest. His hands hung at his sides, and his steps were slower and heavier than usual. Chiaotzu sat on a bench in the contestants' section, his little round hat pulled low as he tightly clutched Tien Shinhan's jacket in both hands.

Talos came out from the right tunnel. His orange gi fluttered lightly in the sea breeze, and half of his brown tail showed beneath its hem. His steps were steady and unhurried.

The two stopped face-to-face. The referee raised his arm. "Begin!"

Tien Shinhan did not test the waters. The third eye on his forehead flew wide open, and blinding white light exploded across the ring, turning the entire arena into daylight in an instant. At the same time, his Multi-Form Technique split him into four bodies, attacking simultaneously from four different directions—his strongest tactical combination: Solar Flare to rob his opponent of sight, and the Multi-Form Technique to create chaos.

But Talos's eyes remained open throughout.

The instant the fists of the four clones were about to strike him, he twisted sharply to the side, sending three Afterimages toward three of the clones while his real body appeared directly before Tien Shinhan's original body. One palm strike. A basic Turtle Hermit School palm technique—Tiger Subduing Palm. The force of the blow passed through Tien Shinhan's crossed arms and struck his chest. Tien Shinhan was sent flying, twisting in midair to bleed off the force. When he landed, his feet carved two deep furrows across the ring.

Tien Shinhan's fans fell silent in an instant. The Turtle Hermit School supporters erupted into deafening cheers.

Tien Shinhan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and resumed his stance. "You broke Solar Flare and the Multi-Form Technique. But what about this?"

The third eye on his forehead snapped open, firing a faint golden beam nearly invisible to the naked eye—Third Eye Beam, a mental attack. Before the beam arrived, ki had already gathered between Talos's brows, precisely locking onto its energy core. He extended one finger and tapped the empty air.

His fingertip struck the beam's energy core with perfect accuracy. The two forces collided soundlessly in midair and annihilated each other. There was no sound, no shockwave. It was like one drop of water catching another with perfect precision.

Tien Shinhan's third eye slowly closed. There was no longer any testing or appraisal in his gaze, but something deeper, almost yearning—the look of a martial artist who had finally found an opponent worthy of his full strength.

"I have one strongest move left. It isn't an orthodox Crane School technique. I improved it myself. I concentrate all the ki in my body into a single point and release it in a spiral. Its piercing power is three times that of an ordinary Tri-Beam. I haven't thought of a name for it yet." He took a deep breath, spread his legs, and lowered his center of gravity. A faint golden sphere began to form between his palms. It was not large, only the size of a fist, but the air around it warped, and the temperature on the ring abruptly rose. "This technique is dangerous. Even I can't control it properly. If you surrender now, I won't think any less of you."

Talos did not answer. He lowered his hands to his sides and dropped his stance.

The entire arena fell silent for a moment. Someone in the stands rose to their feet, and gasps rang out one after another. Dropping one's stance meant abandoning all defense entirely—something that had never happened in the tournament before. Even Tien Shinhan's pupils contracted sharply. Not because he felt slighted, but because he saw something in Talos's eyes that made his heart pound wildly—not arrogance, but trust. Talos trusted him to unleash his strongest attack, and he trusted himself to withstand it.

Tien Shinhan closed all three eyes and focused every ounce of his attention between his palms. The sphere spun faster and faster, its core growing hotter and hotter, until the air above the ring began to emit a piercing hum.

"Then take this—!"

The beam burst from his palms, trailing a pale blue plasma tail as it blasted toward Talos like a bolt of real lightning.

Talos did not dodge.

Kaioken. One times.

Red ki flared up in the final instant before the beam struck. He crossed his arms before his chest as his ki barrier operated at full force, a pale golden shield forming before his forearms. The golden and red energies collided atop the ring, and the shockwave tore up the stone tiles at its edge one by one. The smoke and dust slowly cleared.

Talos stood where he was. His arms remained crossed in a blocking stance, his sleeves reduced to scraps. The skin on his arms was faintly red, and his feet had shifted back half a step—only half a step. Tien Shinhan stood on the other side of the ring with his hands hanging at his sides, his fingertips still trembling slightly.

He looked at Talos, and the corners of his mouth slowly rose. "You blocked it."

Then he turned around and walked off the ring. The referee froze for several seconds before finally blowing the final whistle. "The winner—Talos!!!"

The entire arena erupted. The announcer jumped onto the ring, his voice cracking with excitement. "Th-this is simply one of the most spectacular battles in tournament history!"

Goku sprang up from the contestants' area, his tail spinning like a propeller with excitement. Krillin did not cheer. He lowered his head and quickly wiped at the corner of his eye with one finger.

Talos lowered his arms, and the red aura slowly receded. He walked to the edge of the ring and called out to Tien Shinhan's retreating back. "What's that move called?"

Tien Shinhan stopped walking without turning around. "Haven't decided."

"Then call it Tri-Beam."

Tien Shinhan fell silent for a second, then gave a slight nod. He continued toward the contestants' tunnel, with Chiaotzu running after him and draping his jacket over his shoulders.

That evening, Talos found Tien Shinhan in the coconut grove behind the martial arts arena. The three-eyed warrior leaned against a coconut tree while Chiaotzu stood on tiptoe, wiping away his sweat. When he saw Talos, Tien Shinhan straightened up.

Talos took out Mutaito's Notes, which Master Roshi had entrusted him to deliver, flipped to the page with the note tucked inside, and handed it to Tien Shinhan. On that page was a drawing of a crane and a turtle—the crane soaring through the clouds, the turtle diving through the sea. Beneath the image was only one line: "The crane and the turtle share the same origin."

Tien Shinhan was silent for a long time.

"The Crane Hermit told me that the Turtle Hermit School was a traitor to the Crane School. He said Master Mutaito gave his true teachings to Master Roshi and left the Crane Hermit with only scraps. So ever since I began training, I had only one goal—to defeat the Turtle Hermit School's disciples in the tournament and prove that the Crane School was Mutaito's true lineage." He looked at the notes in his hand. "He told me that for so many years. It was all a lie."

"Master Mutaito asked me to pass along a message. He said you aren't bad by nature—you were just led astray by the Crane Hermit. He also said that if one day you want to leave the Crane School—"

"Would the Turtle Hermit School take me in?" Tien Shinhan raised his head.

"Not take you in." Talos looked at him. "We've been waiting for you. The Turtle Hermit School doesn't lack geniuses, but it lacks a master who can protect them. Master Roshi is that master—if you're willing to come, then he'll be your master."

Tien Shinhan lowered his head, and Chiaotzu gently tugged at the corner of his clothes. After a long silence, he spoke again. "I heard about King Piccolo. Three hundred years ago, Master Mutaito used the Evil Containment Wave to seal him away. Now the seal is weakening, and he could revive at any time."

"He has already revived. Master Roshi and I both sensed his ki. He's in the northwest, roughly five hundred kilometers from Papaya Island. His power is still recovering, but it won't be long before he returns to his peak."

"I'll go." Tien Shinhan cut him off. "Not to atone for the Crane School's sins. I owe Master Mutaito. His seal was broken, and the Crane School has a duty to restore it."

Talos looked at Tien Shinhan's third eye. The cold arrogance in those eyes was gone, replaced by an openness that had only just broken free from its shackles. He nodded.

That night, when Talos returned to the inn, Master Roshi was already waiting in the lobby. A rough cloth bundle rested at the old man's feet, and he carried no other luggage. He wore a plain white training uniform, with his turtle shell on his back and his graying hair combed neatly.

"Master Roshi, you're—"

"I'm making a trip to the Dark Forest." Master Roshi's tone was calm. "King Piccolo has already revived. While his strength hasn't fully recovered yet, there's still time to seal him. If we wait until he returns to his peak, no martial artist on Earth will be his match."

"So you're going to use the Evil Containment Wave."

Master Roshi did not deny it.

"The price of the Evil Containment Wave is life force. Master Mutaito died on the spot after using it. Your life force is weaker than Master Mutaito's was three hundred years ago—you'll certainly die if you use it." Talos's voice remained steady.

"I know." Master Roshi adjusted his sunglasses. "But if the head of the Turtle Hermit School doesn't go, then who will? You're only twelve. Goku and Krillin are only twelve too. You haven't eaten the best ramen yet, haven't reached the top of Korin Tower, haven't seen the real Shenron. This old man has eaten for three hundred years and looked at picture books for three hundred years. It's enough."

"Not enough." Talos interrupted him. "You said you still haven't taught me the third multiplier of the Kaioken. You also haven't demonstrated the final three forms of the Turtle Hermit School palm techniques. You owe me."

Master Roshi fell silent for a long time. Then he reached out and placed a hand on Talos's head. "You're better with words than your master. But there's no room for discussion in this matter."

He picked up the bundle and headed for the door.

Talos watched his retreating back without stopping him, only saying one thing. "Goku will definitely chase after you when he finds out. So will Krillin, Tien Shinhan, and Chiaotzu. You can't stop everyone."

Master Roshi's steps paused for an instant. Then he continued out the door, his voice drifting back from beyond it. "Then let them chase. Whether they can catch up depends on their own abilities."

That night, Master Roshi left Papaya Island alone in a small boat. The sea wind blew his graying beard into a tangled mess, but he never looked back. He held Mutaito's Notes in his hand. The handwriting on its title page had faded, yet that line remained clear: "Martial arts are the way of protection." Three hundred years ago, Master Mutaito had sailed out alone to seal King Piccolo. Three hundred years later, Master Roshi was doing the same.

But this time was different. Behind him, three orange glows rose on Papaya Island. Talos, Goku, and Krillin stood shoulder to shoulder at the end of the pier, their three orange battle robes forming a line beneath the moonlight. Four more figures followed close behind—Tien Shinhan, Chiaotzu, Pamput, who had just finished the semifinals, and a pair of fellow disciples from another local school. It wasn't just the three from the Turtle Hermit School. All the young martial artists had stepped forward.

Talos spoke. "Chase him."

Several figures shot into the night sky at once. Orange, cyan, and white ki flares intertwined beneath the moonlight into a flowing ribbon of light as they sped toward the northwest.

Out at sea, Master Roshi sensed those familiar kis behind him. He took off his sunglasses. His eyes reddened slightly, but a smile rested on his lips.

"What a bunch of disobedient brats."

He did not stop the boat. Because he knew that this time, he was not alone. His disciples—no, the next generation of martial artists—were on their way. And all he had to do was hold on until they arrived. At least until that Saiyan boy in orange stood before him and said: Master, we're here.

Behind them, one of King Piccolo's scouts fled in panic toward the northwest. It was going to report everything it had just seen to the Demon King—the Turtle Hermit School was not limited to those three boys; all the young martial artists were on their way. What it did not know was that Talos had let it go not out of mercy, but so King Piccolo could witness it with his own eyes—the Turtle Hermit School was coming.

Three hundred years ago, Master Mutaito had sailed out alone. Three hundred years later, all the young martial artists flew side by side toward the same destination. This time, the ending would be different.