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You maintain your position, perking up only when you see Kakarot flash towards you. You know that you must use all of your skill here, Kakarot’s outburst will only last so long, but as long as it lasts, it can hurt you, bad.
And so you focus like you never had before. This whole year of training and powering up, defeat after defeat, in a way, it all led up to this moment. The moment when you fought an opponent that was just as powerful and equally as skilled, if not more, than you. Perhaps once you would’ve scoffed at the idea that this weakling could be stronger or more skilled, but no longer.
As Kakarot attacks, you take deft steps back, put your weight in one foot or another to better block blows, you swirl your upper body to dodge, deflect blows, throw a few small hit in. Kakarot is fast and strong, but you learned that speed and strength can be countered with discipline and a still mind. You remember the first days of Olond’s teaching. You wanted to fire gusts of wind with your hands from day one, and you could, but they were brute-forced, lacking in finesse. Olond taught you the poses and the patience. Each blow had to be meticulously calculated to further enhance the wind’s strength and yours.
You shut your eyes, feeling Kakarot’s outbursts of ki with each and every blow he throws at you. You know where it goes, what it aims. You remember your times with the Namekian. He taught you how to sit still and meditate for hours on end. A boring training method, but one that stills the mind, that makes you think of what you never think of. And then you see Rasha, how he dashed at his extreme speed towards Bulma’s plane, how you had to use all of your energy to ensure she did not crash and burn in front of your eyes, and how he destroyed you with his technique.
And at once, you see it. You open your good eye, sharp as a hawk, and see a weak point in Kakarot’s flowing energy. Your fist flies forward to meet his chest, right below his throat. It hits, and you feel Kakarot’s own fist slam into the side of your head. You’re both thrown off and tear through the rocky ground for a few dozen meters.
You get up and approach Kakarot. He’s on the ground, breathing a rough breath, his transformation is gone and his energy signature is low.
This is your victory.
You turn around to walk away, you see your companions, amazed at your display but you do notice that Calava is surprised when she sees your face. Because you’re surprised. You’d never done something like this, so… precise. So focused. Nothing else mattered but the battle. There was no joy, no anger, no jealousy or pride. Only pure and cold discipline. That is how Olond and the Namekian do it, you realize. That is their strength.
You see the Namekian come down with the rest of the fighters to pick up Kakarot. He stands between you and your fallen foe.
“I see you learned a thing or two.” The Namekian says.
