Dragon Ball Roshi

As the saying goes, "The world changes like white clouds that dissipate," and it is also said, "Time passes quickly, like a horse crossing a crack."

 In the blink of an eye, since Mu Taro returned to Mount Mutaito and withdrew with Fanfan to live in a cabin atop the mountain, ten years had passed without them even realizing how quickly time had flown by.

 The years had flown by, but nothing seemed to have changed on the imposing, impassable Mount Mutaito; even the farmers at the base of the mountain were no different. They still rose at dawn and retired at dusk, living their simple lives as always, as if time had no effect on them.

 The rumors about the Great Demon from ten years ago had also slowly disappeared.

 Aragon tightened the rope around his waist, trying to alleviate the feeling of hunger. He looked at the distant fields at the base of the mountain and then focused his eyes on the road ahead, a peculiar gleam in his gaze.

 "I wonder if Uncle will prepare something to eat today?" He thought to himself silently.

 The boy was small, probably about 9 or 10 years old. Though the day had not yet fully dawned, he was already climbing the steep mountain road. The path ahead was dark, but he seemed to see a light in the distance, as if he knew exactly where he was going.

 Aragon didn't want to waste any time. Taking advantage of the fact that his father and two brothers hadn't woken up yet to start their work in the fields, he wanted to reach the top of the mountain as quickly as possible. His steps were quick and light, climbing the winding and rugged trail with ease. At first glance, his small frame would make anyone doubt his ability to climb so effortlessly.

 In the beginning, he had indeed struggled, but after an unexpected event over six months ago, Aragon had started climbing the mountain every day. Over time, he had grown accustomed to it. Now, those few meters of road were no longer a challenge for him.

 He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when the light of day began to brighten, Aragon finally reached the top of the mountain.

 "Huf... huf..." He panted, although he was now used to the path, he still hadn't had proper nourishment, and his body wasn't as strong as it should have been.

 "Uncle!"

 Aragon's eyes lit up when he saw the man in the distance, standing at the edge of the cliff. He walked carefully in his direction, taking care not to interrupt the training—though, for Aragon, what the man was doing no longer seemed like ordinary training.

 What kind of martial art could create flames in the palms of its hands?

 What kind of martial art could shoot bolts of electricity with the touch of a finger?

 And what kind of martial art could make the air move as if it were part of a motion, as if the uncle's hands turned into incandescent irons, so hot that wherever they touched, the air around them would begin to boil?

 Aragon watched with wide eyes as his uncle, standing at the edge of the cliff, performed one movement after another of his impressive martial art. The uncle's mystical style fascinated him deeply, making him admire the master even more... He had seen him fly before! That was no different from a god.

 The uncle's feet were firmly planted on the ground, as if he had roots, immune to any movement of his body. No matter what he did with his torso, his feet remained still. With a movement of one hand, an invisible wave seemed to project into the sky.

Aragon, with his sharp eyesight, noticed that, more than ten meters away, a black bird suddenly fell from the sky.

 "At this distance, he hit the bird?" Aragon thought, surprised. However, upon closer inspection, he realized that, with this uncle, that wasn't so unexpected.

 Then, the uncle spun his right hand, and a dense, almost tangible flame began to burn at the tips of his fingers. The fire drew an orange trail in the air. Next, electric rays, purple and white, leaped between his fingers.

 Finally, the fire concentrated on the middle finger, and the electricity concentrated on the index finger. All the colors converged to these two points, until only two intense spots of purple and red light remained at the tips of his fingers.

 Aragon, hidden in the shadow behind a rock, watched with his heart racing. Although he didn't understand this as an advanced Ki technique, he knew that what he was witnessing was extraordinary.

 The uncle then pointed his purple and red fingers to the sky—

 Boom!

 A visible, intense, and bright light, combining the lightning and the flames, tore through the sky, creating an explosion that seemed to cut through the very atmosphere...

 "The clouds... the clouds are gone..." Aragon murmured, wide-eyed.

 Suddenly, a voice appeared beside Aragon, startling him.

 "Hey, why are you spying on my dad?"

 He quickly turned around and saw a girl with short black hair, staring at him with large, curious eyes.

 "I... I... I..." Aragon stammered, not knowing what to say, but thinking to himself. "This girl is so beautiful, could she be this uncle's daughter?"

 Suddenly, his eyes widened. He realized the girl wasn't standing, but sitting on a yellow cloud?! He stared at the cloud beneath her, shocked by what he was seeing.

 "This is a birthday gift from my dad. Cool, right?" The girl, clearly pleased with the attention she had received, smiled proudly before asking him again. "But you still haven't told me, why are you here, hiding, spying on my dad?"

 Seeing that the girl was staring at him intently, Aragon, trying to control his surprise and with his heart pounding, quickly responded:

 "I was just passing by, really."

 "You're lying! Who would pass by such a high place like this?" The girl, who seemed to be the same age, was very perceptive and quickly realized that he was making up an excuse.

 "Yumeko, why are you already awake so early?" A familiar voice sounded, and Aragon, for the first time in months, heard his uncle speak.

 The little girl, Mu Yumeko, 8 years old, daughter of Mu Taro and Mu Fanfan, heard her father's call and immediately ignored the strange boy beside her. She tapped on the yellow cloud beneath her and, with a high-pitched voice, exclaimed:

 "Flying Nimbus!"

 The cloud, as if understanding the command, immediately carried her to Taro. Yumeko looked at her father and said:

 "Mom asked you to come have breakfast!"

 "You just wanted to go play on the Magic Cloud, didn't you?" Taro gave his daughter a light tap on the forehead and picked her up, lifting her off the cloud.

 "i want to, I want to!" Yumeko squirmed in Taro's arms, but he ignored her resistance and, with a simple wave of his hand, made the Flying Nimbus take off. In an instant, the cloud shot off into the distance, disappearing into the sky.

 Without even looking at Aragon, who was still standing, Taro headed toward the house with his daughter in his arms.

 "Hey, Uncle!" Aragon shouted, starting to run after them.

 But, of course, Taro's speed was unreachable for a small boy like Aragon. The boy ran with all his might but could only see Taro's figure from a distance. He then remembered the lessons from the past few months, and with that, he began to control his pace, focusing on not losing sight of his uncle.

 Curiously, despite Taro's impressive speed, Aragon was still able to follow his trail, though with great effort.

 Taro alternated between fast and slow speeds, making the winding mountain trails even more challenging for the boy. However, Aragon didn't give up; his determined spirit kept him going, believing his uncle was testing him. More importantly, he knew his uncle was interested in his progress — he was running faster than ever, and this was clear proof of his development.

 After a while, Aragon was exhausted, his body ached, his throat was dry, and the heat began to weigh him down. He looked ahead and suddenly realized that Taro's figure had disappeared. He stopped, confused, and looked around. Soon, his eyes locked on a peculiar sight: lying at the edge of the trail on a slope was a dead deer.

 "Are we having deer meat today?" Aragon murmured, with a tired sigh.

 He knew that, once again, he had failed to catch up with Taro. With his shoulders slumped, he grabbed one of the deer's legs and, head down, began descending the mountain.

---

Arriving at the cabin at the top of the mountain, Taro was coming out of the forest with Yumeko in his arms. He saw his wife, Fanfan, serving porridge outside the house.

 "Father, why did you take such a long way?" Yumeko asked, looking at her father in confusion.

 Taro smiled and replied:

 "Running more helps strengthen the body."

 "Ah, I understand." Yumeko seemed to have a partial understanding, but soon the smell of breakfast made her forget the question. She squirmed in Taro's arms and, once she was set down, ran to the table. With a smile in her eyes, she grabbed a warm bread roll and took a bite.

 "You did a good job." Taro sat at the table, grabbed a bowl of porridge, and began eating quickly.

 Fanfan smiled and asked:

 "Are you thinking of taking that boy as a disciple?" Taro had talked about Aragon with his wife, though he didn't know his name. He had simply noticed his talent and determination, which sparked some interest.

"We'll see later. It's not time to open the martial arts school yet." Taro finished drinking the porridge and grabbed a fried bread, biting into it quickly.

 After breakfast, he got up and went to a corner, with his hands behind his back, staring intently at the sky.

 "Father, why aren't you happy?" Yumeko appeared beside him, looking at him curiously.