"Your grandfather?"
"Your master?"
"Do I... know him?"
The tall middle-aged man was momentarily stunned. A suspicion had already formed in his heart, but he simply couldn't believe it... Yet the name of the little opponent before him kept echoing in his mind: Son Goku! Son Goku! Son Goku!
"He... he's actually Master Son Gohan's grandson? His disciple?!"
"No way, a descendant of Master Son Gohan?!"
The martial artists below the ring erupted in shock. This identity was truly extraordinary! And not only that—those who were sharper suddenly felt a chill run down their spines. They swiftly turned to look at the old man who had been speaking with Son Goku earlier. Could it be?!!!
More and more people began to realize it too, including the referee and Goku's opponent. All of them turned their stunned gazes toward the place where Son Gohan was seated. But the elderly man they saw there clearly didn't match Master Son Gohan's known appearance!
At that moment, Taro frowned slightly beside Son Gohan, his expression showing faint displeasure.
"Let the match begin already."
His cool voice rang out across Arena A5, reaching the ears of everyone present. It was only then that people finally noticed the man sitting beside Son Gohan. Who was he?! Why hadn't they paid him any attention until now?!
They all took a closer look. The man appeared young, but his gray-white mid-length hair flowed loosely down his back. Not only that, he had a matching gray-white beard on his chin.
"Great-Grandpa!" Goku called out from the stage, tilting his head in confusion, clearly not understanding the strange tension in the air.
Taro nodded. Of course he wouldn't blame the innocent Son Goku.
Among the crowd, a reporter carrying a video camera suddenly recalled Son Gohan's identity, then looked again at Taro. Though the man's appearance had changed—he looked far younger than the historical photos—his hairstyle hadn't changed! His aura hadn't changed! And standing next to him was a man who seemed to be Son Gohan in disguise! The boy on stage, who looked like he could be Son Gohan's grandson, had just called him Great-Grandpa!
The man's identity was practically screaming to be revealed!!
"Mu—" Someone nearly cried out the legendary name, almost like a whispered prayer. Everyone felt like children on a pilgrimage—some filled with doubt, others confused, and many half-believing—but none of them could hide their excitement. If it really was him, if it really was that great man—
Taro narrowed his eyes. His voice echoed directly in everyone's minds. Like a gentle spring breeze on the soul, it calmed their restless emotions. Silently, he said, "I told you... let the match begin."
The turbulent ocean of emotions threatening to crash in everyone's hearts was suddenly soothed.
"Ah, r-right! The second preliminary match of the arena now begins!" The referee jolted as if waking from a dream, snapping back to reality and shouting into his headset.
Goku took his fighting stance... And only now did everyone truly realize: they had assumed this boy was just imitating the Muten Style. But in hindsight—he was Son Gohan's actual grandson, his direct disciple! The Muten School's grand-disciple! If he wasn't using the Muten School's opening stance, whose would he use?
"Then..." The tall middle-aged opponent no longer dared to be careless. He focused fully, bowed respectfully to Goku, and said in a deep voice, "Please take it easy on me."
"Heh!" Goku's eyes sparkled with excitement. He was so happy—he got to spar with so many strong opponents today!
Everyone held their breath, watching the moment of combat about to explode on the stage. Now that they looked again, they suddenly realized—this match wasn't ordinary at all... One of the fighters was the grandson of Master Son Gohan, a ten-time World Martial Arts Tournament champion! The disciple of the one deemed the strongest under the heavens after the Muten Roshi himself!
No wonder!
No wonder!
No wonder he was so strong at such a young age!
No wonder no one could figure out who could've trained a disciple like that!
Who could compare to the great Master Son Gohan?
Who could compare to the Muten School's grand-disciple?
"Heh, guess you've been recognized," Hathaway whispered playfully in Taro's ear, though her glasses remained fixed on the stage, where Goku was keeping up effortlessly with the tall man in rapid exchanges.
Taro merely gave her soft hand a gentle squeeze and shook his head without a word.
×××××
In a rural town on the outskirts of West City, inside a shabby little inn, a trio of master and disciples had stopped to rest after a long journey.
A pale-faced, red-cheeked little bald boy entered the room and saw his twelve-year-old senior brother staring intently at the television with his three eyes. He walked over and asked, "Tien, what are you watching?"
Tien, with a blank expression, kept his eyes fixed on the snowy, static-filled TV screen. It showed a tailed young boy on the tournament prelims stage going toe-to-toe with a burly giant of a man. This boy was even younger than Tien—probably just around seven or eight years old—but he was holding his own against the muscular opponent without falling behind in the slightest.
Tien had been watching for quite some time now. This little boy with the tail hadn't left the stage once! It was like he didn't know the meaning of exhaustion—after defeating one opponent, he'd immediately bounce back, energized and eager to face the next.
His fearless and relentless fighting spirit—growing stronger with each battle—made Tien's heart pound wildly.
At the same time, he couldn't help but feel a burning desire rise within him. All three of his eyes shimmered with an odd gleam... He really wanted to fight this guy himself.
"Tien, I still think you're the stronger one," Chiaotzu said after watching for a while.
Tien shook his head without replying. Truth be told, he thought the same. As a naturally gifted martial artist, confidence was a necessity. He was eager to face the boy on the screen, more because of the boy's fierce martial drive than anything else, but he didn't believe himself inferior.
Blinking slowly, Tien calmed the surge of emotions in his chest and turned off the TV, which didn't even have a good signal.
"Where's Master?" he asked Chiaotzu.
"In his room, I think... sounds like he's soaking his feet," Chiaotzu replied.
Tien nodded, threw on a white sleeveless shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and stepped out the door. Left behind, Chiaotzu wondered what Tien wanted from their master. He glanced at the now-black screen, his wide, eerie eyes staring like a little zombie.
Knock knock knock.
"It's Tien, isn't it? Come in," came the aged voice of Tsuru from within.
Tien silently turned the knob—the door wasn't locked. Upon entering, he saw his master drying his feet after soaking them. Tien quickly stepped forward and squatted down. Tsuru casually tossed him the towel, and Tien respectfully began drying his master's feet.