"Master, what brings you here?"
Yamiru was quite surprised and quickly welcomed Old Gohan inside.
Although he had seen his master over the years, their meetings were mostly through the Spiritual Realm—it was simply too convenient. They had never really gathered in the real world.
Yet today, Son Gohan had come looking for him.
"Ah, Grandpa Gohan is here?"
Dressed in professional attire, Tights signaled her assistant to prepare some tea before sitting down beside Yamiru and Son Gohan.
Son Gohan chuckled and waved his hand. "I was just out for a stroll, getting some fresh air. I happened to see Yamiru's match on television, so I thought I'd drop by."
"You mean last night's championship match?" Tights asked. "They've been broadcasting and rebroadcasting it lately."
Son Gohan nodded and began recounting what had happened earlier that day.
---
Last night—Fighting League Playoff Finals.
Masked Man vs. Gaw.
The former had appeared out of nowhere three years ago, registering as a professional fighter and rapidly rising through the ranks. He fought his way into that year's playoffs and reached the finals, only to be defeated by the reigning champion and martial arts superstar, Gaw.
Some said the Masked Man was a fool—he wasn't blind or deaf, yet he deliberately covered his eyes and blocked his ears.
The championship should have been his!
Mark thought so too.
Near the ring, his manager Tights casually flipped through a book, seemingly unconcerned about her fighter—who was also her boyfriend—competing in the ring. In the audience, Zanpa, who had ditched his own unlucky fighter to watch the match, sat with Mark, who had skipped training to be there. Neither of them could understand Yamiru's choice.
He could win—so why handicap himself?
If he didn't want to win, why compete at all?
It had been two years now. Every time Yamiru reached the finals, he faced the invincible champion, Gaw. And both times, he lost.
Gaw was massive—Yamiru had a decent build, but next to him, he looked like an ordinary, slender young man.
And this time, the young man had not only masked his face and blocked his ears but covered his entire body.
How was he supposed to fight like that?
If he didn't want to win, why even step into the ring?
Many fight fans were frustrated with the Masked Man. No one wanted to see their favorite fighter lose in such an unsatisfying way—especially when victory had been within reach. Twice now!
But in the ring, Gaw saw things differently.
He had once witnessed this man's true martial arts skills on Spiritual Realm Earth Island.
The art of combat-Martial Arts.
And the incredible power of Ki.
For two years in a row, he had met "Masked Man" Yamiru in the finals. Each time, Yamiru had seemed like an entirely different fighter.
In their first final, Yamiru had covered his eyes with a thick cloth.
He stood there, motionless, believing there was no need for unnecessary actions. Years of martial arts training had ingrained a deep instinct in him—if he could see his opponent, his mind would automatically read their movements, predict their trajectory, and anticipate their next attack.
But those were unnecessary actions.
His accumulated years of experience, embedded in his subconscious, had instead become a burden.
That year, Gaw won—but just barely.
Yet, he felt no joy. If anything, he felt a sense of loss… or perhaps frustration.
Everyone was right—Yamiru had never intended to win.
The only reason he had kept winning up to that point was to ensure he got to fight as many matches as possible.
But once he reached the final, winning no longer mattered.
Even while blindfolded, Yamiru had managed to keep up with Gaw, who was fighting at full power.
"Is he using these fights to train himself—to master the ability to fight without sight?"
Gaw realized that Yamiru, even blindfolded, could have easily ended the match the moment they made physical contact. He could have unleashed his full power and knocked Gaw out instantly.
But he never did.
"He wants to prolong the fight… He doesn't care about winning or losing. What he seeks is growth through the battle itself!"
The second year, Yamiru blocked his ears as well.
No vision.
No sound.
Only the faint sound of his own breathing echoing in his skull…
Yet when Gaw threw a punch, Yamiru reacted, as if sensing it coming.
Gaw was astonished.
Was this what Wushu was?
Fighting without sight or hearing?
No unnecessary actions.
The blindfolded, ear-blocked Yamiru repeated the thought in his mind.
When the senses perceive an incoming attack, the body instinctively prepares to react based on years of accumulated experience.
But that was an unnecessary action.
Even the mindset of being in battle—the emotions tied to combat—was an unnecessary and excess action.
Excess actions interfered with judgment.
Excess actions exposed one's presence.
No unnecessary actions. No excess movements… He didn't even need external senses.
"Airflow! Vibrations!"
During the fight, Gaw realized that his attacks caused shifts in the air and tremors in the ring.
"Is that how he senses and reacts?"
As Gaw came to this realization, the masked, deafened Yamiru furrowed his brows slightly.
So frustrating!
Gaw claimed his second championship victory against Yamiru.
But as he lay on the ring floor, exhausted, he felt only powerlessness.
The opponent had had hundreds of chances to defeat him, yet he had never cared to take them.
And this time...
It was the third time.
Gaw stood up in one corner of the ring, his entire body brimming with anticipation, as he looked at the "Masked Man" standing up on the opposite side.
This year, Yamiru had simply changed into a fully enclosed special suit that covered his entire body, including his head and skin, severing his hearing, smell, sight, and touch—almost completely cutting off any perception of the outside world.
Perhaps because the suit had been tested and confirmed to have no defensive or impact-mitigating properties, the tournament organizers had actually allowed it.
However, what Gaw cared about wasn't how Yamiru had further restricted himself this year.
It was that, as the match was about to begin and Gaw stood up, Yamiru stood up at the same time.
At this moment, he should be unable to see anything.
He should be unable to hear anything.
Even the movement of air should feel nonexistent due to the suit's insulation.
His special shoes continuously trembled slightly, blurring his ability to sense the ring's vibrations.
In other words, Yamiru should currently be in a state of absolute sensory deprivation, as if his brain had been removed and placed in a nutrient tank to keep it alive, with nothing left but self-awareness.
Yet this person stood up at the same time as Gaw when the match was about to begin.
Others might not have noticed this detail. Perhaps they assumed that the "Masked Man" wasn't as blindfolded as he seemed, that he was just playing it cool for attention, that he could still see and hear.
But Gaw knew that was impossible—Yamiru had no reason to go to such lengths unless it was absolute.
Because of this, when he saw Yamiru rise at the same time, Gaw suddenly felt a shiver run through him.
Over the past three years, he had become more and more different each time...
Gaw thought to himself.
---
At the edge of the ring, Tights had unknowingly set down her book, resting her chin in her hand as she watched the fighters with a faint smile.
---
That afternoon, outside the window of a store in Haier City, an elderly man with a long white beard stood silently, watching the television screen inside.
On the screen, the "Masked Man," completely wrapped up from head to toe, took a slow, ready stance as the referee announced the start of the match.
A flash of white light reflected off the old man's sunglasses as he chuckled.
"This kid has improved a lot..."
"Master Roshi, what are you doing here?"
A familiar voice sounded from behind him.
The old man turned around and was surprised.
"Ah, if it isn't Son Gohan!"
Son Gohan greeted him respectfully before speaking in a gentle tone.
"I feel like my time is running out. There are some things I can't let go of, so I came to take a look."
"Heh... You can't let go of Yamiru, can you?" Master Roshi said. "But you might not need to worry."
He pointed at the TV screen inside the store.
On the replay of the finals, the Masked Man, wrapped tightly in his suit, was exchanging blows with the undefeated champion, Gaw, on equal footing.
"Not taking advantage of any opportunity for a decisive strike, but instead prolonging the duel as much as possible to fully experience it..." Master Roshi shook his head.
"When I first heard that this kid had become a martial artist, I thought he must have been strapped for cash. But now... Gohan, your student actually has a vision!"
Son Gohan watched the match replay with a kind smile.
"Yamiru truly is a special child."
Master Roshi nodded.
"Even though he still can't sense ki, in terms of martial arts insight, he has already surpassed those who can..."
"He has surpassed me," Son Gohan said slowly.
"I can sense ki, yet I still pale in comparison. He has long surpassed me..."
Master Roshi laughed.
"A disciple surpassing his master should be a joyful thing. Look at me—I happily sent Goku away without a second thought! Hahaha!"
Son Gohan asked, "Where is Goku training now?"
Master Roshi shook his head.
"Who knows? Somewhere on Earth, I suppose. That kid is a mystery... Oh, right. How are his parents and brother?"
"Gine is still in Mount Paozu, but I haven't heard from Bardock or Raditz in a while," Son Gohan said. "Maybe they're off training somewhere."
"Saiyans, huh..." Master Roshi sighed softly and fell silent.
Son Gohan changed the subject.
"Master Roshi, why did you leave home?"
Master Roshi said, "The old Turtle wandered off, so I've been looking for him. But it looks like I won't find him... If you run into Goku, ask him to keep an eye out. If he finds Old Turtle, have him send him back to Kame House right away. Sigh! The Phoenix died from food poisoning a while ago—why is everyone around me so unreliable?"
Gohan: "…"
At that moment, in the replay of the finals, the Masked Man pulled off a stunning reversal, defeating the invincible champion, Gaw.
"It seems like your disciple's days as a martial arts competitor are coming to an end," Master Roshi said with a chuckle, glancing at the TV screen inside the shop.
Gohan smiled and nodded in agreement. "I thought I might need to give him a push, but it looks like that won't be necessary."
"Alright! You two catch up. I'm heading off." Master Roshi, wearing his usual floral shirt and baggy shorts, sauntered away in his flip-flops. His laughter, mixed with lecherous chuckles as he ogled scantily clad women along the way, faded into the distance.
Gohan smiled slightly and went off to inquire about the address of the newly crowned champion, the Masked Man.
As Gohan neared Yamiru's residence, inside a training room filled with unpredictably swinging sandbags, Yamiru, clad in his specialized sensory-blocking suit, suddenly stopped moving.
"This feeling…?"
The moment he paused, a sandbag struck the back of his head.
But he remained perfectly still, lifting his hand slightly to stop a few more sandbags coming from other directions.
Shedding his training suit, Yamiru swiftly changed into his casual clothes.
As his eyes readjusted to daylight, he took a moment to acclimate. The small noises around him—the rustling of leaves outside the window, the wind shifting debris on the ground—suddenly felt loud.
"Almost four years already."
He sighed softly. "One more year, and it'll be another World Martial Arts Tournament. I wonder where Goku is now and what kind of training he's undergoing."
Having changed, Yamiru made his way to the front door, surprised to find someone waiting for him.
As expected… it had been a long time since he last saw his master, Son Gohan.
---
The master and disciple sat together, sipping tea and catching up, with Tights accompanying them, adding to the lively conversation.
"Oh my, you two still aren't married?" Gohan took a bite of a soft, glutinous pastry, looking genuinely surprised. "I thought you were already husband and wife!"
Yamiru and Tights exchanged glances.
"Never really thought about it," they both said at the same time.
Gohan shook his head. "In that sense, you two are kind of like Saiyans…"
Yamiru took Tights' hand. "Come to think of it, we've been together for nine—no, ten years now. Time really flies."
Tights rested her chin on her hand and smiled. "It's been over thirteen years since we first met. Time really does pass quickly."
Thirteen years… Yamiru couldn't help but reflect. He hadn't paid much attention, but he had already spent nearly fourteen or fifteen years in the Dragon Ball world. From a troubled, weakling fighter in his early days, he had walked this path step by step to where he was now. He had a purpose worth pursuing, a will that had been forged through countless transformations, and a girlfriend who shared his passions and feelings. He had close friends like brothers, respected mentors, and decisions he never regretted. Even now, he was grateful for reviving Goku's parents back then. If he had hesitated and missed that chance, even if Goku himself might not have cared, Yamiru knew he would have carried the guilt forever.
Lost in thought, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He turned to Tights and asked, "What do you think? Should we get married?"
Tights gave him a look, as if to say, What's with the sudden formality? But she still smiled, squeezed his hand in return, and said, "Sure."
Gohan watched them with a warm smile.
But in the end, he still said, "Sorry, Tights… The truth is, I came here today because there's a place I'd like Yamiru to take me to."