"Y-you! W-what do you want?! My meat isn't any good, I swear!" Korin yelped, every hair on his body standing straight up as he clutched his staff like a lifeline, trembling from whiskers to tail-tip.
A bit too effective, Rhode thought, clearing his throat and dropping the menacing act. "Ahem. My apologies, Korin. I'm here to make an exchange. I'd like to trade for some Senzu Beans."
"Senzu Beans?!" The relief was instantaneous. Korin's fur smoothed down as he waved his staff with a flourish. Several large, dusty jars materialized before Rhode, filled to the brim with the green beans. "Take them! Take as many as you want!"
As many as he wanted? Rhode's eyes widened. A quick mental calculation was staggering—each jar held thousands. This wasn't just a stash; it was a stockpile of ten thousand second chances. "Thank you, Korin," he said, his voice laced with genuine gratitude. Without further ceremony, he began carefully storing the jars into his Hoi-Poi Capsules. Better they serve a purposeful warrior than be treated as mere snacks by a future glutton.
Watching his entire multi-year harvest vanish, Korin's jaw went slack.
But Rhode was no thief. "An exchange requires fair trade," he stated, producing another capsule. Bang! A sleek, solar-powered refrigerator appeared on the ancient tower. "This preserves food, keeping it fresh indefinitely." He quickly set up the accompanying solar panel, securing it in a sunny spot.
Bang! Another capsule burst open. This time, a large, crystal-clear aquarium appeared, alive with plump, silvery fish gliding through the water.
Korin's eyes bulged. He scurried over, pressing his nose against the glass, all previous terror forgotten. "Oooh!"
"There is one issue, Korin," Rhode interjected gently. "The air here is thin. Ordinary fish may not survive at this altitude."
"Pah! A trivial matter!" Korin declared, puffing out his chest, his gaze never leaving the swimming delicacies. "Leave it to me!"
"Then it's settled." Rhode nodded. If the ancient hermit said he could manage it, he undoubtedly could.
"Hmph! You're not so bad after all!" Korin declared, now thoroughly won over. To him, trading a pile of useless beans for a fridge and an endless seafood buffet was the deal of a lifetime.
"Korin," Rhode pressed, getting to the heart of the matter, "what's the annual yield for Senzu Beans?"
Korin shrugged, still mesmerized by the fish. "Not high. A handful each year. Those jars were my life's savings."
"Can the cultivation be improved? The yield must be increased."
"Difficult! Very difficult!" Korin shook his head, finally tearing his eyes away to look at Rhode with genuine confusion. "They're just bland beans that fill your stomach. Why the great interest in so many?"
Not very useful?
The Korin's dismissive assessment of the miracle beans almost made Rhode's eye twitch. To a reclusive hermit detached from conflict, perhaps they were just bland sustenance. But to a warrior, they were a lifeline—the difference between victory and oblivion.
This train of thought led Rhode to a sudden realization. The Korin possessed the power to easily fetch his own fish, yet he remained sequestered on his tower, yearning for them only when they were presented. It was a paradox of desire and inaction that Rhode, a being of direct action, found perplexing. Perhaps this is the true mindset of a hermit—a detachment mortals can't grasp.
"Senzu Beans will be of great importance in the future," Rhode insisted, his tone earnest. "If you can find a way to increase the yield, please do." Seeing the Korin's continued nonchalance, he switched tactics. "How about this: for every effort you make toward increasing production, I will provide you with this many fish each month." He held up a single finger.
The Korin's eyes narrowed. He shook his head vigorously. "One? Too few! I want ten!" he declared, as if driving a hard bargain.
Ten? Rhode stared at his own finger, then at the cat who looked ready to barter his very soul for a monthly ten fish. His original plan to offer a hundred died on his lips. The economics of the divine were truly inscrutable.
"Very well. Ten it is," Rhode agreed, a wry smile touching his lips. At least this might prevent a future where Senzu Beans were casually cracked open like snacks.
With the bean supply chain secured, Rhode spent time discussing martial philosophy with the ancient cat. With over eight centuries of life, Korin's insights, while not focused on raw power, offered a profound depth that complemented Roshi's teachings. Rhode found the exchange valuable.
As for the hermit's other famed assets—the Nimbus Cloud was too slow, and the lethally toxic Ultra Divine Water offered too little potential boost for its risk. They held no appeal for him.
After bidding farewell to the satisfied cat, Rhode returned briefly to the Lookout. Aira was still deeply engrossed—and frustrated—under Popo's meticulous guidance, a sight that reassured him. Leaving her to her grueling lessons, he departed again, seeking a barren wilderness far from any life.
Here, his training took a drastic turn. He placed a single Senzu Bean between his teeth, its familiar, grassy taste a promise of renewal. Then, he raised a hand, ki crackling to life in his palm.
The next moment, he steeled his will, aimed the energy blast squarely at his own chest, and released it—with zero defensive ki to cushion the blow.
**BOOM!**
The explosion rocked the ground. Rhode staggered back, pain flaring across his torso—superficial burns, cracked ribs. He had held back, just enough for a first test.
But the hesitation was gone now. His eyes hardened with a Saiyan's brutal pragmatism.
**BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!**
Blast after self-inflicted blast tore into him. The air filled with the smell of scorched earth and ozone. Flesh seared, bones fractured. In a matter of moments, the powerful young Saiyan was a broken figure collapsed in a crater, his breath a wet, ragged gasp. Agony was a white-hot fire in every nerve. Moving even a finger was an impossible struggle.
Just about... there.
Through the haze of pain, his survival instinct screamed that one more blow would be fatal. It was the precise edge he sought.
**Crunch.**
He bit down. The Senzu Bean dissolved into a wave of cooling, numbing essence. It was a tsunami of healing that crashed through his system. Shattered bones knitted with audible clicks, burns vanished leaving unblemished skin, and depleted energy resurged in a torrent. In an instant, he was whole again, rising from the dust not just healed, but feeling stronger, the limits of his body subtly pushed further.
A grim, satisfied smile finally broke through. The path was extreme, but it was his path. The cycle of destruction and perfect restoration had begun.
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