Kakarot's Arc

Chapter 5 of 14

Hindurock still lay against the wall when the next challenger walked onto the sand. He wore light armor and steel gauntlets. His head was bald, his beard trimmed, small glasses over sharp eyes. He moved loose and easy, like a man who had never once hurried. Roshi stiffened at the arena's edge. Kakarot saw the old man's jaw tighten. That told him enough. "You're Sir Papa," Roshi said quietly. "My first student." The paladin smiled at his old master, then turned to Kakarot. "So this is who he trains now. A boy who leans on borrowed anger." He circled slowly. "Roshi taught me before he softened. Before he started handing his tricks to angry children. He was better then. You are proof of how far he has fallen." Heat rose in Kakarot's chest. He had learned to hold the fire. He held it now on purpose. His hair lifted gold. His eyes flashed green. But this time he chose it, calm and ready, before a single blow landed. "Good," Sir Papa said. "Now I don't have to wait." Kakarot lunged. He punched fast, faster than he had ever thrown. Sir Papa was already gone. A gauntlet snapped into Kakarot's ribs. The blow felt like a wall. Kakarot staggered, shocked. Even golden, even ready, he had not seen it coming. He threw a hook. Sir Papa slipped it and drove his knuckles up under Kakarot's chin. Kakarot's head snapped back. He swung wild now, and each miss cost him. The paladin was twice as fast. Every counter landed clean. Kakarot's power meant nothing against a man who read each punch before it opened. "You feel it?" Sir Papa said, not even breathing hard. "Strength with no craft. Roshi's newest failure." Kakarot dropped to one knee, spitting blood. Across the sand, Raddits gripped the rail, jaw clenched, ready to leap. But he did not. He met Kakarot's eyes instead. "Stop swinging!" Raddits shouted. "You're chasing him. Make him come to you. Watch his feet, not his fists." Kakarot stilled. He breathed slow, the way Roshi had drilled him. He stopped attacking. He watched Sir Papa's boots, the small shift before each strike. The paladin stepped in. This time Kakarot did not chase the fist. He read the foot, turned inside the blow, and drove one clean punch into the man's jaw. Sir Papa dropped. He blinked up from the sand, surprised for the first time. Kakarot stood over him, gold fading, chest heaving. "You're right," he said. "I had no craft. Now I'm learning." He walked to Roshi. The old man did not smile. "He beat you in one moment," Roshi said. "The next one won't give you that moment. Raw power is spent. From now you drill. Every day. Or the last fight ends you." Kakarot nodded. The throne was closer. So was the rival who would not miss.