Korin didn't smile.
He stepped closer, quiet as ever, and stopped beside her.
With the tip of his staff, he lightly tapped the frozen patch on her stomach.
"A mission, huh? So the sword finally decided to speak."
His gaze lingered on the frost clinging to her wound.
"That's not healing, she froze it to keep you together."
"It's temporary." She said.
"And you're paying for it." Korin replied.
"That ice is draining you. You're using your own energy just to stay sealed."
He studied her for a long moment.
"You didn't climb all the way back up here for conversation."
Chi-Chi met his eyes.
"I came to the only one who can fix this."
Korin chuckled, a dry, rasping sound.
"Those beans aren't cheap to make, you know..."
He walked over to the jar, reached in, and pulled out a single, dried green bean.
He tossed it through the air.
"Catch."
Chi-Chi caught the Senzu Bean without hesitation.
She tossed it into her mouth and bit down.
The change hit her all at once.
Energy rushed through her body so fast it almost hurt.
The exhaustion that had been weighing her down vanished. Her breathing steadied.
Her vision cleared.
Her Ki surged back, strong and steady, filling the empty spaces inside her like water rushing into dry ground.
Then—
A thin cracking sound cut through the room.
The ice over her stomach began to split.
Chi-Chi looked down as the thin layer of blue frost across her stomach began to crack.
The ice broke apart and fell away in small pieces.
Underneath, her skin pulled itself back together. Muscle, flesh—everything closing up in seconds, like the injury had never happened. When it was done, there wasn't even a mark left behind.
With nothing left to hold in place, the last of the frost dissolved into a faint mist and disappeared.
She drew in a slow breath.
No pain.
She flexed her hands. The weakness was gone. Strength sat solid in her limbs again, steady and familiar.
"Now…" Korin said, resting both paws on the top of his staff.
"I doubt Kumokiri sent you back just to patch yourself up and run toward your own funeral. You've felt it, haven't you? As you are now… you can't beat Piccolo."
He paused.
"Truth is, no one can."
"I know, that's why I'm here. I want you to teach me how to use her. The Kumokiri."
Korin studied her for a long moment. His face gave nothing away.
"Teach you? There's a reason I never did."
He glanced at the blade resting at her hip. There was respect in his eyes—but also something else.
"It wasn't because I was holding back. And it wasn't because you weren't ready."
He let out a slow breath.
"It's because I don't know how."
Chi-Chi blinked.
"What?"
"I'm a martial arts master, I can teach you how to fight. But that sword…"
He pointed at it with one claw.
"That's a blade with its own will. Older than any school I've ever known."
He looked back at her.
"No one alive can teach you how to use it. Not properly."
Korin turned away from her and looked out over the sea of clouds below the tower. His tail flicked once, slow and thoughtful.
"I can't teach you the sword, I can only point you in the right direction. You're the one who has to walk it."
He glanced back at her, eyes sharper now.
"Do you remember the day I gave it to you? When you were training here for the second time, before the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai?"
The memory came back easily.
Korin Tower.
She lunged at him—fast, focused.
A kick aimed cleanly at his side.
Before her foot could connect, he was gone.
He reappeared a few feet away, already seated on the railing, staff resting across his lap like he'd been there the whole time.
"You've stopped wasting movement." Chi-Chi landed lightly, wiping sweat from her forehead.
She was breathing hard, but her eyes were bright.
"So, I'm ready? For the tournament?"
"You are strong enough, yes." Korin said, hopping down from the railing.
"You are dominating these exercises, Chi-Chi. And that is exactly the problem."
Chi-Chi blinked, straightening up.
"Problem? I thought the point was to get better."
"The point is to grow, a martial artist only truly grows when they are uncomfortable. When they are pushed against a wall they cannot climb. Right now? You are comfortable."
Korin headed toward the small shelter at the center of the tower.
He passed the familiar jars lined against the wall and stopped in front of a heavy chest pushed into the corner.
"Do you know why Son Goku is so dangerous?" He asked, not turning around.
Chi-Chi folded her arms.
"Because he's stubborn? And weirdly strong?"
Korin gave a soft huff.
"Because he's already complete, most people overlook this detail about him, but he carries the Power Pole. Yes, it's a legendary weapon, but that's not the point. In his hands, it isn't merely a tool, it responds to him. It extends when he wills it, shortens when he doesn't. It fits him."
He opened the chest.
"A real master doesn't just pick up a weapon, they grow into it. Or it grows into them."
He reached inside and carefully lifted out something long, wrapped in dark blue silk.
"And you… you'll have this."
He turned and held it out to her.
Chi-Chi reached forward.
The moment her fingers touched the silk, a chill traveled up her arm. Not just cold—something deeper. A low hum, like standing too close to something powerful.
She slowly unwrapped it.
The scabbard was black, flecked with faint gold patterns that shifted in the light. The hilt was wrapped in white.
"A sword? Master… I fight with my hands."
Korin met her eyes.
"This isn't just a sword, this is Kumokiri."
He let the name settle.
"It's carried the spirit of wind and storm for longer than you've been alive. Show a little respect. I don't hand something like this to just anyone."
Korin leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"Your next lesson is simple, get used to it. You fight with your hands? Fine. Then adapt. I don't want to hear that you're not a sword user. Learn what the blade wants."
"Wants?" Chi-Chi frowned.
"The Power Pole works for Goku because he doesn't try to change it, he lets it be what it is. Kumokiri isn't like that. It has a will. If you try to force it, it'll resist. If you listen… it might meet you halfway."
Chi-Chi looked down at the sword in her hands, tightening her grip on the scabbard.
"I don't really understand, talking about what a sword wants sounds insane."
She glanced back up at him, stubborn as ever.
"But if it makes me stronger, I'll figure it out."
A small smile tugged at Korin's whiskers.
"Good."
—
Present day.
Korin leaned back against the railing, the wind tugging lightly at his fur.
"The fact that she showed herself to you, that you actually spoke with her…"
He looked at Chi-Chi carefully.
"That means she chose you."
Chi-Chi raised an eyebrow and glanced down at the quiet scabbard at her side.
"For a spirit as old and proud as a Tsukumogami, that's basically a confession."
He folded his paws behind his back.
"If she didn't care, she would've let you die in the mud. The fact that she talked to you at all? That means she sees something."
He paced slowly around her, eyeing her posture.
"But don't confuse that with kindness. Kumokiri isn't generous. She wants proof. Effort."
He paused, scratching behind his ear casually.
"Which is ironic, because if she felt like it, she could sync with you instantly. Share everything she knows. Centuries of technique, just like that."
He snapped his fingers.
"You'd handle her like a master overnight."
Chi-Chi stared at him.
"...What?"
She looked at the sword. Then back at him.
"Wait. You're saying she could just give me that? Right now? Without all this nearly-dying nonsense?"
"Yep."
"Then why doesn't she?!" Chi-Chi threw a hand toward the blade.
"The world is falling apart!"
Korin shrugged, eyes narrowing into calm slits.
"Because, she doesn't want to."
Chi-Chi opened her mouth to fire back.
Then she stopped.
She stared straight ahead for a long, quiet moment while the wind moved around them.
"…Ah, right."
"Besides, you've never liked being handed anything. You work for your strength. If she just poured it into you, you'd hate that."
"There are bigger things than my pride right now!" Chi-Chi shot back.
Her frustration rose fast.
"That is out there wiping out cities. He's hunting everyone we know."
Her hand tightened around the sword's hilt.
"I don't care about earning it. I care about stopping him. If there's a faster way to save the world, I'll take it."
"That's what you think matters." Korin cut in, his tone sharpening enough to stop her mid-breath.
"Running back out there as fast as you can."
He hopped onto the railing and looked down at her, eyes steady.
"What good is that? What good is a savior who charges into the fire just to burn with it?"
He pointed a claw at her chest.
"Even if Kumokiri gave you everything right now—even if you could use her perfectly—you'd still lose."
Chi-Chi's jaw tightened.
"Why?"
"Because you're empty."
"Empty? I let go of the rage. I'm thinking clearly."
"No, you're not clear. You're numb. That's not the same thing."
He stopped in front of her and tapped her chest lightly with his staff.
"You threw out the anger. Good. It was eating you alive. But you didn't put anything in its place. You're standing there hollow and calling it balance."
She pushed the staff aside, irritation flaring.
"I don't need riddles. I need to know why I can't win."
Korin didn't soften.
"You can't win because you don't know who you are right now."
...
Who i am?
"You're not fighting for your life. You're not even really fighting for the world. You're fighting because you don't know what else to do with the hurt."
He stepped closer, his gaze steady and unblinking.
"You've turned yourself into a reaction. 'The one who stops Piccolo.' That's it. If that's all you are, he'll crush you. He knows exactly what he is. He's whole in it."
Korin's voice dropped.
"And you're still trying to figure out who you are without the people you lost."
Chi-Chi opened her mouth to argue.
Nothing came out.
Her hand drifted to the Kumokiri at her side.
"I…" She swallowed.
"I don't know what else I'm supposed to be. My father's gone. Everyone is gone. If I'm not the one who avenges them… then what am I?"
"That's exactly why you're lost."
He turned toward the edge of the tower, eyes on the dark sky.
"Kumokiri is a spirit of the wind. Wind can be soft or violent, but it always moves somewhere. It has direction. Right now, you don't."
He glanced back at her.
"If you want to truly wield that blade, you need a reason to fight that isn't tied to dying. Until you find that… you're just a girl holding steel."
Chi-Chi stared at her hands. They were shaking—not from fear, but from frustration. From being told she was wrong when everything in her felt certain.
"So what do I do?" Her voice cracked despite herself.
She stepped forward, boot scraping against stone.
"You say I'm lost. You say I'll lose. Fine. Maybe you're right."
Her eyes lifted, burning now.
"But I'm not going back down that tower to hide. If I'm empty, then help me fix that. If I'm weak, then push me until I'm not. Just tell me what to do."
Korin studied her quietly. The desperation was there—but so was something steadier underneath it.
"I can't give you a reason to live, no one can do that for you."
He turned away, tail swaying lightly.
"But I can show you where to start looking."
He began to walk toward the stairs that led to the lower level of the sanctuary, into the dark interior of the temple.
"Follow me."