"What's this?" Akira Toriyama asked curiously.
Luke opened the wooden box, revealing a finely crafted longsword.
"This is a famous sword—the Longquan Sword. I had it custom-made by a master craftsman back home."
The sword was about 1.2 meters long. Its pale blue blade gleamed like a sharp emerald dragon, radiating a sense of life and grace.
The hilt was intricately carved, wrapped in gold and silver threads, with a red agate bead embedded at the center.
The scabbard, inlaid with gems, glowed in a deep reddish-gold hue that perfectly matched the beauty of the sword itself.
Honestly, what man could resist something like this?
After all, most men—if they see a straight stick on the ground—can't help but pick it up and swing it around a few times. So imagine holding a legendary masterpiece like this one.
Toriyama lifted the Longquan Sword, his eyes gleaming. "As expected of a masterpiece—it's a work of art!"
"This sword is called Longquan. Legend says that during the Spring and Autumn period, the master craftsman Ou Yezi forged the world's first iron sword, which he named Longyuan. Later, to avoid using the name of Emperor Gaozu of Tang, Li Yuan, the sword's name was changed to Longquan," Luke explained.
"The world's first iron sword, huh?"
"Before Longquan, Master Ou Yezi forged many other famous blades. But the Longquan Sword represented his relentless pursuit of perfection and his greatest breakthrough—a new peak of craftsmanship."
Relentless perfection, breakthrough, a new peak…
Toriyama suddenly realized what Luke was implying. This wasn't just a gift—it had meaning.
"There's also a manual inside the box," Luke added. "I designed it specifically for you and had a professional illustrator draw it."
"For me?"
Toriyama was surprised. So it wasn't just the sword—there was a custom manual too?
He opened the silk-edged booklet tucked inside the case and began to flip through it.
It was a sword manual, beautifully illustrated, detailing an entire set of sword techniques.
Luke hadn't just given him a sword—he was encouraging him to use it.
That was actually a nice touch. Toriyama appreciated that the sword wasn't meant to just sit on display. But he sensed there was something deeper behind it.
As an artist, especially one known for visual storytelling, Toriyama was very sensitive to images.
To his amazement, every sword movement in the manual was drawn with three different angles, allowing him to see each technique clearly from all sides.
Even more surprising—the moves were elegant, not too difficult, and completely within his ability to learn with some practice, even at his age.
The transitions between movements were also clearly depicted through still images that somehow conveyed vivid motion—almost like animation.
And that meant one thing:
Luke had serious choreography and motion design skills.
He clearly understood how to design dynamic visual sequences—exactly the kind of thing that took Toriyama endless time and mental energy when he was drawing Dragon Ball's battle scenes.
People always said that Dragon Ball's fight scenes had amazing pacing—how a few still panels could create such a seamless sense of motion.
Every punch, every kick, was clearly communicated and visually striking.
But behind those panels, Toriyama had burned through countless brain cells. It was one of the main reasons he'd hesitated to ever start another long, combat-heavy series.
Now it was obvious what Luke was saying.
The Longquan Sword symbolized innovation and the pursuit of a new creative peak.
And the sword manual showed that Luke could help with the fight choreography and visual direction—his strongest area.
With Luke's help… could he actually surpass Dragon Ball?
It didn't sound impossible. Luke's deep knowledge of martial arts would bring authenticity and brilliance to the battle scenes—something few artists could ever dream of having.
A martial arts consultant of that caliber was beyond what most manga creators could even imagine.
Toriyama felt a spark of excitement. But after years of taking it easy, the thought of jumping back into the grind still made him hesitate instinctively.
"This is a project proposal," Luke said, noticing that spark in his eyes and deciding to strike while the iron was hot.
It was their first time meeting in real life. In his previous life, this manga legend had passed away on March 1, 2024, from acute subdural hematoma, at the age of sixty-eight.
Luke had regretted never getting the chance to meet him.
But he also felt another kind of regret—after Dragon Ball, Toriyama had basically "retired" for two or three decades, never again creating anything as iconic.
He wanted to change that—to inspire Toriyama to create more timeless classics.
"A proposal?" Toriyama took the document and began reading carefully.
In short, it was a plan for Luke and Toriyama to collaborate on a new manga.
Toriyama would handle the worldbuilding, story, and character designs, while Luke would take charge of the combat choreography and dynamic scenes.
The key detail: the main character would be based on Luke himself.
That was his true goal—to build his image across film, animation, and manga, making his name and persona known around the world.
A battle manga featuring himself as the model hero was the perfect starting point—and who better to make it happen than Akira Toriyama?
As for money, Luke was thinking beyond personal gain.
Neither of them really needed more wealth. Creating just for profit wasn't their goal.
So Luke proposed something bold: all copyrights and profits from the manga would go into a newly established foundation.
The foundation's mission? To support new manga artists and aspiring action performers.
They weren't billionaires, but they had more than enough. Chasing more money would only lead to hollow luxury and potential trouble.
If you don't control the means of production, massive personal wealth is just a target on your back.
So why not use it to make the world better—and leave behind a legacy that matters?
This foundation could help countless young artists and performers chase their dreams. It was a noble cause.
Luke was confident Toriyama would be intrigued.
Sure enough, as Toriyama flipped through the proposal, a smile slowly spread across his face.
Luke saw it—the fire in his eyes reigniting.
The spark that had been buried for decades was finally alive again.
"Wanna give it a try?" Luke asked, though he already knew the answer.
Toriyama chuckled. "If I hadn't read this plan, I could've kept lying around in peace. But after reading it, I can't just sit still anymore.
Because if I really end up lying in bed for good one day, unable to move, I'd die with deep regret for never giving this a shot."
Hearing that, Luke screamed in his heart—
Akira Toriyama, get da☆ze!