Chapter 10: The Path Beyond the Ring
The ring was still cracked beneath my feet.
The cheers were fading now, not because the crowd had lost interest, but because they had spent everything they had during the match. Applause had turned to murmurs, then silence. A reverence lingered in the air like incense after a ceremony.
The final match was over.
But none of us were walking away the same.
I stood near the edge of the arena, watching the last rays of sunlight stretch across the crumbling tiles. Goku was beside me, arms crossed behind his head, his hair still tousled from the fight.
"That was the best," he said.
I nodded. "You grew."
"I felt it," he replied. "Like… the world got bigger during the fight. Like I could see more of it."
"That's because you let go of needing to win."
He looked at me curiously. "So… I did win?"
I chuckled softly. "Yes."
He grinned.
Krillin arrived first, bounding up the steps two at a time, sweat still dotting his brow despite the day's end.
"Dude! That was insane. I mean—Chappa, you stopped his Kamehameha with your palms! Who does that?!"
I offered a faint smile. "Someone who doesn't want to burn a student."
Krillin blinked. "Wait… you were teaching him the whole time, weren't you?"
I didn't answer directly. He laughed, slapping my shoulder.
"You're nuts," he said. "But good nuts."
Yamcha and Tien joined us next, walking in step. Yamcha whistled low. "Man, I've seen a lot of fights. Watched Roshi, seen Goku train with him, fought in the desert for years… and that was still the best match I've ever witnessed."
"You both fought with intention," Tien added. "I'm… envious."
I studied him for a moment. "Don't be."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Grow," I said. "Then come find me again."
Tien's mouth twitched—just a little—but he bowed, deep and respectful. "I will."
Even Chiaotzu floated in, arms folded and cheeks puffed. "You're not scary anymore. Just complicated."
"Thank you," I replied sincerely.
Then the moment passed, and with it, the tension in the air. The tournament was over.
---
Later, after the crowd had cleared and the arena fell quiet, we returned to the clearing where our makeshift camp had lived these past days. The tents were still standing. The firepit had cooled. The breeze rustled gently through the trees, warm and restful.
Pitou was waiting there.
She sat on a stone, one leg dangling, arms draped around her knees. Her tail curled lazily across her lap like a silken ribbon.
When she saw me, she smiled.
"You didn't break him," she said. "That's… rare for you."
I sat beside her, letting the quiet speak for a while.
"I didn't need to," I said at last. "He was already beginning to open."
"You like him."
"I respect him."
She tilted her head. "He's still a cub."
"He won't be for long."
She shifted slightly, brushing her shoulder against mine. "So what now, teacher? The tournament's over. You've made your little mark. Will you wait here for the next challenge to find you?"
I turned my gaze to the horizon.
"No," I said.
Her ears perked.
"There's a place I've heard about," I continued. "A tower that pierces the clouds. A master at the top. He offers something only to those who climb the full height without shortcuts."
Pitou's eyes gleamed. "A test?"
"A proving ground."
She stretched like a cat awakening from a dream. "Then you're leaving."
"Yes."
She considered it a moment. "I'm coming."
I glanced at her, amused. "That wasn't a question."
"I know."
The others didn't protest. Goku had already promised to keep training. Krillin talked about visiting Master Roshi again. Yamcha said he had some debts to settle with a few old friends. Tien simply nodded—he understood more than the others.
We left at first light.
No fanfare. No ceremony.
Just two figures on the road—one calm, one curious—heading west, toward the base of a legend.
---
The journey was long.
Days passed slowly beneath our feet, each step part of a rhythm I welcomed. We moved through forests rich with birdsong and winding streams. Pitou chased butterflies between stops, her tail flicking lazily, occasionally pouncing on small animals she had no intention of eating.
We slept beneath stars, and I cooked each night—simple meals that warmed the bones: rice and dried cod, mushroom broth with bamboo shoots, grilled vegetables rubbed in sea salt and miso.
We spoke little. Pitou didn't need to ask why I was going.
She understood what hunger for growth looked like.
One evening, while watching the embers of our fire smolder into ash, she turned to me.
"You weren't fighting Goku just for him," she said.
"No."
"You were fighting for something beyond even you."
I looked at her, eyes reflecting firelight.
"I need to remember who I was before I became what I am."
"And this… Korin?" she asked. "He'll help?"
"Maybe. Or maybe just the climb will."
She nodded. "Then I'll climb it too."
"You don't have to."
She tilted her head. "I'm not human. But you make me want to understand humans. I'll climb for that."
I smiled.
The stars wheeled overhead in quiet witness.
We walked again the next morning. And the next.
Until one day, the trees fell away—and there it was.
Korin's Tower.
A pale, impossibly tall column of stone that reached up past the clouds and beyond. It shimmered faintly in the morning sun, like something out of myth. At its base was nothing but hard-packed earth, a few scattered rocks, and an old wooden sign carved in weathered brush strokes:
"Climb, and be changed."
Pitou stepped beside me, tail twitching.
"That's tall."
"Yes."
"Will we die?"
"Probably not."
She cracked her knuckles. "Fun."
I dropped my bag, removed my shoes, and laid a hand against the stone. It was cool. Alive in a way few things in the world are.
My fingers curled.
Then I began to climb.
To be continued…