Chapter 2: The Hand That Shaped Wind
Stone tiles cracked beneath my heel as I exited the ring, sweat drying in the sunlight. My heartbeat slowed, but the rhythm of combat lingered like an echo in my bones. Goku bounded beside me, chattering about our fight as if we'd just sparred instead of nearly obliterating each other.
I nodded along, half-listening, my attention turned inward.
Nen System: Initial stirrings detected.
Suggestion: Deep Meditation + Aura Focus to trigger Manual Awakening
The announcer's voice boomed across the stadium, calling the next match. I felt the shift in the crowd, their focus drifting. The moment was over. For them, it was just a great fight. For me? It was revelation.
I had faced the protagonist of this world toe-to-toe—and lived.
I found a quiet grove beyond the main hall, shaded by swaying bamboo and the scent of crushed grass. Sitting cross-legged, I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing until the world dulled to a hum.
"Ren. Zetsu. Ten. Hatsu."
The syllables weren't of this world, but they carried weight all the same. I visualized my aura—not as Ki, but as Nen. My Nen. The stream was thin, but present. I coaxed it inward, condensing it, armoring myself in invisible energy. The process was sluggish, but real.
Nen Awakening: Achieved
Nen Category: Enhancement (95%), Conjuration (5%)
Ability Development Potential: Palm-based Amplification Arts
I opened my eyes. The world felt sharper, richer. I had crossed a threshold.
Over the next day, I kept to myself between matches. But isolation wasn't sustainable. The Z Fighters—though still young—were too intriguing to ignore.
Krillin found me first. "Hey! You really gave Goku a run. What style do you use?"
I offered him a respectful nod. "It's… hard to name. Old. Built on principles, not forms."
He blinked, then grinned. "Sounds like Roshi would love it. Want to spar sometime?"
We did. Beneath a secluded tree line, with leaves crunching underfoot, Krillin launched his fast, efficient strikes. He wasn't Goku, but he was smart. I matched his pace and offered gentle counters, guiding rather than overpowering. He learned quickly.
Later, Yamcha joined us, along with a curious Tien and the ever-watchful Chiaotzu. I kept my true strength veiled, but I made impressions. Tien, especially, stared at me with calculation in his third eye.
"You don't fight like anyone I've seen," he said.
"Because I'm not from here," I almost replied. Instead, I said, "I study. Relentlessly."
His smirk was brief, but respectful.
By the time I reached the finals against Jackie Chun—Master Roshi—I had refined my Hundred Flow Palm to something fluid and terrifying. Roshi was wily, wise, and unpredictable. His experience weighed against me like a tide. We clashed beneath the moon, each technique a dance of generations.
He used drunken misdirection, sudden power spikes, and feints within feints. But I felt his Ki. His control. His fatigue.
When our final moves collided—his Max Power Kamehameha against my amplified Hundred Flow—it was a detonation of raw will.
The dust cleared. We stood, breathing heavily. Then, slowly, both lowered our hands.
"A tie," Roshi said with a grin. "Been a while since I had to pull that out."
Two days later, she arrived.
Pitou.
She didn't crash or blast in—she appeared, walking from behind a veil of unseen reality, as if this world had simply accepted her. Her feline eyes scanned the horizon before locking onto me.
"Chappa~" she purred, darting forward and wrapping herself around me like a whip.
Her aura was immense. Controlled. Dangerous.
Companion Sync: 12%
Abilities Shared: Nen Recovery Boost, Advanced Perception
Despite her origins, Pitou was inquisitive, playful, and oddly innocent. But her instincts were deadly. She watched the Z Fighters from afar, occasionally whispering to me about their strengths and weaknesses with startling accuracy.
"They're fun," she said once, crouched in a tree. "Not killers. But they could be."
I didn't correct her.
We retreated into the wilderness. Mountains. Waterfalls. Deep forests. There, I trained relentlessly. Nen was now second nature. I began integrating it with Ki—bridging two philosophies into a hybrid form. Pitou was both sparring partner and analyst. Her precision made her the perfect gauge.
We developed techniques—"Palm Echo," "Pulse Step," and the beginnings of an aura-based shockwave counter. Each move tested the limits of what this world accepted.
Occasionally, we returned to visit the others. I sparred Yamcha under starlight. Helped Krillin refine a new guard technique. Tien and I even exchanged silent training sessions—pushups without Ki, breathing drills, vision exercises.
I wasn't just growing.
I was seeding bonds.
The 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai was months away. But I felt it—momentum. My presence was no longer a footnote. Chappa, once a forgotten warrior, now drew attention.
When I closed my eyes at night, I didn't see the void I came from.
I saw my path forward.
And I smiled.
Because I wasn't done.
Not even close.