Dragon Ball Roshi

"Why do you want to learn martial arts from me?"

 "Because you're amazing!"

 "Why do you want to learn martial arts?"

 "I... I don't want to be a farmer for the rest of my life!"

 "Being a martial artist isn't a profession. It's just someone who knows a bit of martial arts. If you learn it, how will you make a living? Will you rob people, become a thief or a bandit?"

 "I... I don't know. But when I think about spending my whole life bent over the fields, facing dirt every day, and when I imagine myself turning into someone like my father, I just... I can't stand it!"

 "Let me ask you this: do you realize that once we leave this time, we may never come back? You still have family at home. What about them? Can you bear to leave them behind?"

 "My family would probably be happier without me—one less mouth to feed!"

 At this point in the conversation, Taro stopped speaking and carefully examined Aragon, who was still kneeling before him. Then, he suddenly asked:

 "You've been planning to become my apprentice for a while, haven't you? Is that why, when you were working at home, you were deliberately slacking off? Otherwise, with the stamina you've built up over the past half-year training on the mountain, you'd have been more than capable of doing farmwork. So, how did your father come to let you go over just one meal's worth of food?"

 Taro's tone was calm and measured, but his questions came one after another, making Aragon break out in a cold sweat.

 Aragon's body trembled slightly. His small scheme had been completely exposed. Stammering, he couldn't form a response. Bowing low to the ground, he didn't dare meet Taro's gaze.

 Yumeko sat frozen on Kinto'un. It was the first time she had seen her father so stern. She felt a little scared and couldn't help but pity Aragon. Didn't his knees hurt from kneeling like that?

 Fanfan glanced at her husband but said nothing.

 After a moment of silence, Aragon finally heard Taro speak again:

"One last question. Can you endure hardship—the kind of suffering that makes you wish you were dead?"

 "I can! As long as enduring it means I'll become someone different, I'll take any hardship!"

 "Good. Go home, take care of whatever needs handling, and meet us on the western road within half an hour. If you're late... then go back to farming."

 Aragon lifted his head sharply, only to see Taro already walking away with his wife and daughter. Watching their retreating figures, Aragon felt his eyes burn with emotion. Clenching his jaw, a determined look came over him as he stood up and ran home without a backward glance.

---

 "Where the hell have you been now?! Eh—?"

 Aragon returned home, pushing open the courtyard gate, only to be met with his father's scolding. He smirked slightly but walked inside without hesitation. His father, wearing a thin jacket, emerged from the house. As always, he was dressed in a pair of coarse cloth trousers—long enough that only the tips of his shoes were visible.

 This was one of the many things Aragon often criticized about his father in his mind. Dressed like this all year round, it was obvious he never intended to do any farmwork. Lucky for him, he had two hardworking sons, enabling him to laze around like a carefree loafer.

 His father looked up as he stepped out of the house, launching into his usual tirade. But then he paused, glancing at the sky and then at Aragon's face. Confused, he asked:

 "Why're you back earlier than usual today?"

 "I'm leaving! - Aragon announced from the courtyard gate, standing stiffly with his head held high."

 "Leaving? And where the hell do you think you're going? You little brat, stop wasting time and eat a flatbread before getting back to work!" His father snapped, raising his hand to hit him.

 But this time, Aragon didn't flinch. He stood firm and declared:

 "I'm going to follow the master from the mountain and learn martial arts." He hesitated, then added resolutely: "I won't be coming back!"

 His father frowned, lowering his hand.

 "Is that so?" He asked, scrutinizing Aragon from head to toe.

 "Of course it is! There's nothing for me to pack, and the master only gave me half an hour. If I miss him, it'll be too late!" Aragon shot back.

 "Half an hour? Then what the hell are you still standing here for? Get the hell out of here! You're not getting another meal from me anyway!" His father bellowed, his expression twisting as he swung a hand at Aragon.

 Aragon took the slap head-on, his cheek turning bright red from the impact.

 His father froze for a moment, clearly shocked that Aragon hadn't dodged. Aragon turned to leave but hesitated, turning back to bow deeply to his father. Then, without another word, he stepped out of the courtyard gate and walked away with determined strides.

 His father opened his mouth as if to say something, then, as Aragon passed out of sight, he rushed to the gate and shouted after him:

 "Don't you dare eat just meat all the time! Make sure you eat some damn bread and cabbage, too! Remember that, you little brat!"

 With a loud "bang," the courtyard door slammed shut.

 Not far away, Aragon heard his father's voice and came to an abrupt stop.

 "How does he know I eat meat every day?" He wondered, surprised.

 Images began to flash through his mind—those moments at dawn, climbing the mountain, when he felt someone following him; the times he roasted venison, tiger meat, or bear paws in the forest near the mountain base, only to catch a fleeting shadow nearby...

 And then, every day after coming down from the mountain, his father would yell:

 "No food for you! Get out to the fields and work!"

 Aragon's legs wobbled. He couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They streamed down his face, warm and unrelenting. Turning back, he knelt before the family gate, bowing three times in reverence, each motion firm and deliberate.

 After a long moment, he stood, wiped his tears with determination, and sprinted away as fast as his legs could carry him.

 Inside the courtyard, Aragon's father crouched by the door. He pulled up the leg of his trousers, revealing a prosthetic leg made of steel. He murmured quietly:

 "My boy, you've got luck on your side... don't waste it... That person on the mountain... a disciple of Mutaito, the old immortal himself! That's no ordinary person... absolutely extraordinary!"

 Unable to hold back his emotions, tears began streaming down his face as well.

---

 When Aragon arrived at the meeting spot, exactly half an hour had passed.

 "You're so slow!" Complained Yumeko, the first to speak. Sitting atop the Flying Nimbus, she had already rolled around countless times out of boredom. Lying on the cloud, she stared at Aragon, who seemed unusually quiet.

 "Hey, why are your eyes red? your dad won't let you come with us?"

 "No, my dad let me come." Aragon said softly, rubbing his face vigorously to erase the traces of tears before looking at Taro. - Can I call you Master now?

Taro didn't answer directly:

 "Let's go."

 Fanfan, standing nearby, smiled kindly at Aragon. Taking his hand, she said gently:

 "Don't be sad. From now on, if you miss home, think of me as your mother.:

 "Thank you, Mistress. But I'm fine. I want to learn from Master and won't miss home." Aragon replied, his gaze firm. He quickly stepped forward to take the small bundle from Fanfan's hands.

 "No need. Put it up there." She said, placing the bundle on the Flying Nimbus where Yumeko was sitting. However, Yumeko protested:

 "It's so cramped now! Mom, I can't even roll around anymore!"

 Taro, already ahead, turned back and said:

 "Let him carry it. If he can't keep up, he can go back to the fields." Then, looking at Fanfan, he added: "You sit on the Nimbus. We need to pick up the pace."

 She hesitated, glancing at Aragon, who seemed skinny and still just a child. But she eventually nodded, handing the bundle to Aragon before climbing onto the Nimbus.

 "Ugh, Mom, now it's even more cramped!" Yumeko whined as Fanfan pulled her into her lap.

 "Keep up!" Taro shouted as he suddenly sped ahead.

 Vrooom! The Flying Nimbus, which had been floating lazily beside Aragon, instantly accelerated to follow Taro's pace. Yumeko burst into laughter, finding some strange joy in the sudden speed—perhaps the wind rushing against her face was amusing.

 Aragon took a deep breath, adjusted the bundle on his back, and began running after them. It felt like the countless times he had chased Taro up the mountain, but this time was different.

 "This time, Master won't leave me behind."

 With that thought, and the memory of Taro's incredible skills flashing through his mind, Aragon felt a surge of energy in his legs. Without hesitation, he pushed himself to run faster, his pace quicker than ever before.