Dragon Ball Roshi

"What a pity for Piccolo. In any other year's tournament, with that level of strength, he could've easily won the championship!" someone sighed as they exited the arena.

But not everyone agreed. One scoffed, "Pity? What pity? Didn't you see? Even though both Piccolo and Goku fought like madmen, Goku never fought to kill! But that Piccolo? Every move was deadly, no mercy at all! If he hadn't fought like that, he would've lost a long time ago! No way the fight would've lasted this long!"

"Well, you can't say that for sure," another argued, shaking his head thoughtfully. "Maybe that's just his fighting style? In a match, you use what you're best at. And from another perspective, Goku's approach might just be... overly soft!"

"Tsk tsk…" The man gave him a pitying look.

"What?" The other man was confused—until someone smacked him on the back of the head. "Hey! Who did that?!"

He turned around angrily, only to see a group of furious women. His face immediately fell. He'd forgotten—Goku had an insanely large female fanbase.

"So what if he's soft? Got a problem with that? That's what makes our little Goku compassionate! A true martial artist must hold awe and mercy in their heart. That's the mark of a great warrior! Haven't you ever heard that? And here you are, coming to the Tenkaichi Budokai and embarrassing yourself! Bunch of thuggish men!" one of the women snapped sharply, showing no mercy.

The men didn't dare talk back. In public, facing the power of feminism, men were not only unable to argue—they were often in a seriously disadvantaged position.

"That said, it's true that Goku came out on top. In a fight like that, he still had the strength to stand and receive the final ruling while the whole crowd cheered… and Piccolo? He passed out cold on the spot…"

"Uhh… I wonder if Piccolo's going to be okay…"

"You forget? He regenerated his arm during the fight! He's a special kind of being. Even if half his body's gone, he should… probably be fine."

As the crowd discussed, this once-in-five-years grand event finally came to a close.

The thirteen-year-old martial artist, Son Goku, had become the champion of the Tenkaichi Budokai!

…

"Congratulations, Goku!"

As the audience dispersed and Goku quietly snuck back from the arena, Bulma was the first to approach with a beaming smile.

"Awesome!" Krillin gave his best friend a big thumbs-up.

"Heh heh…" Goku grinned broadly. His clothes were torn to shreds, but he looked full of spirit. Judging by the rice grains and meat sauce at the corner of his mouth, it was clear he'd already had a hearty meal backstage and recovered a fair bit of strength. The little monkey scratched his head shyly, clearly both bashful and proud, before turning to look at his grandpa, master, and mistress.

"Well done," Son Gohan chuckled.

Taro nodded, and Hathaway, standing beside him, gave Goku a thumbs-up too. Goku's face instantly lit up with a pure and genuine smile.

On the other side, Tien had just heard from his master that he and Chiaotzu wouldn't be following him anymore.

"Master… then where should we go?" Tien asked. Despite everything, he still felt deeply attached to Tsuru. Although Tsuru had a temper, unlike his counterpart from the original story, this Tsuru had sincerely trained them—and never involved someone like Tao Pai Pai to lead them astray.

Hearing that their master no longer wanted them, Tien immediately felt a bit sad.

Tsuru looked at Chiaotzu, then at Tien—now far taller than him—and sighed softly. "In the blink of an eye, you two have grown so much…" His voice dropped low. "Especially you, Tien… you're an exceptional talent, your potential no less than Goku's. But there's nothing more I can teach you…"

"Master! Everything I've learned came from your tireless guidance…" Tien's eyes grew misty. This iron-willed man couldn't help but tear up.

"Enough! Don't say another word. What's decided is decided." Tsuru cut him off impatiently. He didn't like sentimental scenes and spoke bluntly, "I've already spoken to my senior brother—your martial uncle—Taro, Goku's master. From now on… you two will follow him."

Chiaotzu clung tightly to Tien's pant leg, head bowed, too used to keeping his gaze lowered in front of Tsuru to even look up.

"Master… If we go with Master Taro, what about you…?" Tien's voice cracked, his knees hit the ground, and his broad shoulders trembled. "Who will serve your tea… hand you your towel…?"

Chiaotzu quickly knelt beside Tien as well.

"I'm just a wandering crane by nature. Without you two holding me back, I'll be even more carefree!" Tien pressed his forehead to the ground, but in his master's voice, he clearly heard a subtle tremor. The three-eyed youth felt a sharp pang in his chest. Then Tsuru continued, "Don't act like some weeping woman. No matter how far apart we are, master and disciples will meet again someday! That's enough. I'm off!"

The pair of feet before him lifted into the air and vanished. Tien bowed his head to the ground, eyes shut tight, tears silently flowing.

Chiaotzu's expression was as blank as ever, his eyes dull. He gently patted Tien's trembling shoulder and said with concern, "Tien…"

Tien slowly stood, his third eye bloodshot. He let out a long, deep breath and looked toward the evening glow. "Master… five years from now, at the next World Martial Arts Tournament… we'll meet again."

"Tien, are you okay?" Chiaotzu looked up at him.

"I'm fine," Tien said firmly, turning to track the ki of the Muten master. "Come on, Chiaotzu!"

The group was flying back to West City.

"Hehehe…" Bulma giggled strangely while piloting the aircraft with one hand, the other scrolling on her phone, reading the trending buzz about Goku's tournament victory.

"Hey, hey! I'm telling you… can you please fly this thing properly?" Krillin was sweating bullets. Bulma was just too unreliable!

"Mind your own business!" she snapped, rolling her eyes. "You little bald monk wouldn't understand!"

"…"

Seated in the back, Hathaway gave a small laugh and leaned back, her seat reclining as she closed her eyes for a nap. The Phoenix shrank quietly beside her, wings folded, dozing off.

Outside, Taro and Gohan flew side by side, while Goku rode on his Nimbus.

"Master, Grandpa—what exactly is the Muken?" Goku called back excitedly, clenching his fists. "Krillin said it's an amazing secret technique! Can I learn it? Piccolo's definitely going to get stronger next time! I've gotta train harder too!"

Flying alongside his own master, Gohan smiled and asked, "You really want to learn it?"

"Is it strong?" Goku asked, this time showing a bit of caution.

"Strong? It's one of the strongest in the world!" Gohan said without hesitation, shamelessly buttering up his master.

"Then of course I want to learn it!" Goku declared firmly.

Gohan and Taro exchanged a glance. Neither of them told Goku the truth: if Goku began training in the Muken, he'd likely surpass the fifth stage in no time. And since he had just won the championship, tradition held that he could no longer participate in future tournaments—otherwise, it would just be shamelessly stealing the spotlight from the younger generation.

"Well, if you want to learn it… Alright then. I'll have Hathaway make you a necklace later," Taro said thoughtfully. "You know Krillin's necklace, right? That's what lets him practice the Muken. Just in time for your next round of training…"

Sensing the approaching ki of Tien and Chiaotzu behind them, Taro changed his wording: "The four of you will train just like Yamcha did… I'm giving you three years. During that time, you'll walk around the entire Earth on foot. At the end, return to Muten Island together. You are not allowed to use any vehicles—especially your Nimbus, Goku! Even the oceans—you'll have to find a way to swim across them!"