Three months of Roshi's brutal training had carved the group into something sharper. The morning they set out for Karin Tower, the air carried a quiet determination.
Before leaving, Haruko made one last stop—walking to the shoreline, kneeling by the tide, and pulling in nets heavy with fish. Tuna, snapper, and a few deep-sea eels, all twisted and fighting until he hauled them onto the sand. He stowed them away in his Doraemon space pocket, buried under folded cloth — backup for the days ahead.
"Food insurance?" Yamcha asked when he saw.
"Exactly," Haruko replied. "Climbing's going to take a while."
From the base, Karin Tower's height was impossible to judge; it seemed endless, cutting into the clouds. When they set their hands on the cool, pale surface and began the climb, the first hours felt almost easy.
Then the wind started.
Halfway up, black clouds stacked above them in layers. The rain came all at once, sharp and cold, soaking their clothes until they clung heavy to every movement. Thunder rolled against the tower, lightning snapping across the sky, bright enough to leave afterimages behind their eyes.
Krillin was breathing hard, Yamcha's hands slipping once before catching a hold. Goku's face was set with a child's stubbornness. Haruko climbed just ahead of him, each pull a steady rhythm.
"Don't stop," Haruko called over the wind. "The top's the only shelter."
It took hours to push through that storm. Hours that stretched into a day, into a night sleeping in harnesses, back against the tower's side.
On the second day, the clouds thinned, revealing a thin golden line above. They were close.
When they pulled themselves over the edge, the sight almost threw them — a small platform, an open space, and sitting in the center was… a cat. White fur, calm eyes, staff in hand.
Korin looked up from tasting his cup of tea. "Welcome to my home."
"You're the immortal cat?" Yamcha asked, panting.
"That's me," Korin said. "If you want to train here, you know the challenge — take the water jug from me."
For the first hours, Krillin and Yamcha managed to tag him once or twice, not by speed but by cornering him against the platform's rail. It was something.
Goku sprinted after Korin until his legs shook, but the cat never even looked winded. Haruko tracked every feint, every bounce — yet each time he lunged, it was like Korin disappeared into another angle he didn't see coming.
Days passed. The heated sunlight in the day, chilled mists at night… and still they chased. Goku learned to read the twitch of Korin's ears; Haruko found ways to anticipate his rebounds from the pole corners.
Finally, at the end of the first week, Goku's palm closed around the jug's handle at the same moment Haruko's hand landed on Korin's shoulder.
The cat chuckled, letting them take it. "Good. That's enough training at this level."
Before they left, Haruko stepped closer. "The beans. You keep a jar, right?"
Korin tilted his head. "Senzu? Those aren't treats, boy."
"I know," Haruko said. "But they're worth more than gold where I'm from. If you can spare them, I'll store them safely."
Korin considered, then stepped inside. He returned with a burlap sack, the soft rattle of beans inside. "Don't waste them."
"I won't," Haruko said, tucking the sack deep into his space pocket, wrapped in cloth away from the food stores.
When they sat down to rest, something unusual happened. Korin brought out a wide ceramic bowl and placed it between Haruko and Goku.
"Touch it," he said.
The surface rippled under their fingertips. Haruko blinked — the image shifted between shadow and light. Suddenly, his vision went white for a moment… then nothing. A blank.
Next to him, Goku inhaled sharply. His eyes widened at what he was seeing — himself, older, standing against a tall figure with golden eyes. A fight that shook the ground, ending with the other man — Beerus — on the ground, spared.
Only Goku and Haruko saw it. They didn't speak of it.
Back in the present, their bodies reminded them they hadn't eaten in hours. Haruko opened the space pocket, pulled out a huge bundle of fish, and began arranging them by size.
"Fire pit," he said, handing Yamcha the flint.
Ocean air mixed with the smell of crisping skin before long. The fat hissed in the flames, and the night took on a calmer rhythm.
Korin wandered over, sniffed. "Smells good." He took a spot nearby without hesitation.
By the time the fish were ready, Krillin and Yamcha were half-asleep from exhaustion, only sitting up when the aroma cut through their haze. Goku was already eating before his portion cooled.
Oolong grunted. "Leave some for the rest of us."
The soft crunching of sand announced new arrivals. Master Roshi's small boat had beached below, and he climbed the last steps with two figures behind him — a tall man in tribal dress and a boy at his side.
"This is Bora, and his son, Upa," Roshi introduced. "Good friends of Karin's."
Soon the firelight circle grew bigger. Conversation rose — Bora speaking quietly of the land around the tower, Upa listening wide-eyed to Goku's and Yamcha's climbing stories. Roshi sampled a strip of grilled eel from Haruko's stack and closed his eyes like he was back in his youth.
It was one of those rare moments — strength earned, hunger met, and strangers turning into companions under an open sky.
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