📖 CHAPTER 16 – The Turtle Hermit
The island was smaller than expected.
A single pink house stood near the center, its paint slightly faded by years of salt wind and sun. One tall palm tree leaned lazily beside it. A stretch of clean white sand wrapped around the shoreline, the ocean glittering endlessly in every direction.
It felt… peaceful.
Too peaceful.
The boat scraped gently against the shore as Bulma cut the engine.
Before it had fully stopped moving, Goku leapt over the side.
"Master Roshi!"
He splashed through the shallow water and bounded up the beach barefoot, grinning like he had just found treasure.
The old man sitting in a beach chair slowly lowered his magazine.
He wore sunglasses and a loud Hawaiian shirt, looking more like a retiree than a legendary martial arts master.
But when he stood—
The air shifted.
Behind the dark lenses, his gaze sharpened.
"Well now… if it isn't Son Goku."
His voice was relaxed, almost amused, but there was unmistakable depth beneath it.
Goku stopped in front of him, fists clenched in excitement.
"I came to train!"
Roshi stretched his back casually, vertebrae popping softly.
"You've grown," he said. "Your stance is firmer."
Goku grinned even wider.
Bulma stepped onto the sand next, brushing her hair back. "Bulma Briefs. We've met before."
Roshi turned his head toward her, his grin widening slightly. "Ah yes… the young lady with the Dragon Radar."
Oolong visibly tensed.
Yamcha stepped off the boat more cautiously, scanning the island once before giving Roshi a short nod of acknowledgment.
Then Roshi's attention shifted.
To me.
I stepped onto the sand last.
Barefoot.
No armor.
No wings.
No hardened exoskeleton.
Just base form.
The ocean breeze brushed lightly against my skin.
Roshi didn't smile.
He walked toward me slowly.
Each step deliberate.
Measured.
The air between us grew still.
He stopped only a few feet away.
"You feel… different," Roshi said quietly.
There was no accusation in his voice.
Just observation.
"I am here to learn," I replied evenly.
His head tilted slightly.
"You're not like the others."
"No."
A long silence followed.
The wind rustled the palm leaves above us.
Bulma shifted slightly behind me.
Goku looked between us curiously.
Then—
Roshi smiled again.
"Well! Anyone who wants to train is welcome! But training under the great Master Roshi is not easy!"
The tension evaporated instantly.
Goku pumped his fist. "I can handle it!"
Roshi chuckled.
"We'll see."
---
The First Test
Later that afternoon, the sun hung high overhead.
Goku stood barefoot in the sand facing Roshi.
I stood beside him, feet shoulder-width apart.
Roshi held a small, smooth stone between his fingers.
"This is simple," he said. "I will throw this stone into the forest. Whoever retrieves it first wins dinner."
Goku grinned.
I remained still.
The stone flicked from Roshi's hand and vanished into the small grove behind the house.
Goku exploded forward instantly.
Sand shot behind him.
I followed — but not recklessly.
The turtle shell training had not begun yet, but I restrained myself intentionally. Base form required control.
The forest was small, but dense enough to obscure sightlines.
Branches snapped as Goku leapt from tree to tree above.
He laughed while searching.
"I'll find it!"
I moved differently.
Measured steps.
Careful foot placement.
Listening.
Wind direction.
Leaf displacement.
Weight shift.
Goku relied on speed and unpredictability.
I relied on environmental reading.
I spotted subtle disturbance near a tree root — displaced leaves, unnatural compression in soil.
I stepped toward it.
Just as I bent down—
Goku dropped from above, landing directly beside me.
"Found it!"
He grabbed the stone first.
His grin was triumphant.
I straightened slowly.
He had used vertical space.
An angle I did not fully prioritize.
Lesson acknowledged.
When we returned to the beach, Roshi nodded approvingly.
"Good."
He turned his gaze to me.
"You could have rushed him."
"Yes."
"But you didn't."
"No."
"Why?"
"Winning the stone was not the lesson."
Roshi's smile deepened faintly.
Goku tilted his head. "Huh?"
Roshi laughed.
"Looks like you brought someone interesting, Goku."
Bulma crossed her arms smugly. "Told you he's weird."
Yamcha remained quiet — observing.
---
That Evening
The sun dipped low, turning the ocean into molten gold.
Goku lay flat on the sand, hands behind his head.
"This is gonna be great," he said lazily. "Master Roshi's super strong."
I stood near the shoreline.
Waves brushed lightly against my feet.
Without armor, I felt lighter.
More flexible.
But undeniably less durable.
Thirty percent reduction in raw defensive output.
I could feel it in the way my muscles carried tension.
In the way my bones absorbed weight.
In the way my balance required more active engagement.
It was a limitation.
But also a refinement.
Without overwhelming protection, technique would matter more.
Positioning would matter more.
Timing would matter more.
Goku suddenly sat up.
"Oh! I forgot to ask! Why'd you come here anyway?"
"To refine my combat."
He nodded like that made perfect sense.
"Good reason."
He lay back down again.
"You're strong already though."
"Not enough."
He smiled at that.
"Yeah. Same."
For a moment, there was only the sound of waves.
Peaceful.
Calm.
Then Roshi's voice drifted from behind us.
"Strength without discipline rots."
We both turned.
He stood near the house, arms folded.
"You may both have power. But power alone means nothing."
He looked directly at me.
"And you — especially."
I did not respond.
But I understood.
He sensed it.
Not my transformation.
Not my origin.
But potential.
And potential without guidance could destabilize.
---
The Next Morning
Dawn broke with cool air and crashing waves.
Roshi stood outside the house wearing a turtle shell strapped to his back.
The weight was obvious even from a distance.
He removed two more from beside the doorway.
He tossed one toward Goku.
Then another toward me.
The shell hit my hands.
The sand beneath my feet sank slightly as I absorbed the weight.
Heavy.
Very heavy.
Even in base form, my body resisted the compression instinctively.
Goku staggered.
"Whoa! It's super heavy!"
Roshi grinned.
"This is the first step."
Goku adjusted clumsily, nearly tipping over before stabilizing.
I shifted my stance — redistributing weight through hips and shoulders.
Spine aligned.
Knees softened.
Balance recalibrated.
The reduction in base strength made the shell significantly more noticeable.
Good.
Constraint sharpened adaptation.
Roshi watched closely.
"You don't complain," he noted.
"There is nothing to complain about."
He laughed heartily.
"I like that."
Bulma yawned from the porch. "What kind of training is this? Carrying rocks?"
"Endurance," Roshi said simply.
"Foundation."
Goku bounced slightly despite the shell.
"We're gonna get super strong!"
I glanced at him.
"Yes."
Roshi stepped forward.
"You will run. Swim. Work. Train. Eat. Sleep."
He pointed toward the shoreline.
"And you will do it every day."
Yamcha leaned against the palm tree, arms crossed.
"This old man is serious…"
Oolong whispered, "Why does it feel like we're the only normal ones here?"
Puar floated silently beside him.
Roshi stopped in front of us.
"You both have talent," he said calmly.
"But talent is fragile."
His gaze lingered on me again.
"You especially walk a thin line."
The wind picked up slightly.
The ocean waves struck harder.
I did not look away.
"I will walk it properly."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"We'll see."
He turned and began walking down the beach.
"Ten laps around the island. Now."
Goku shouted excitedly, "Yes, Master Roshi!"
He took off immediately, sand spraying behind him.
I followed.
The shell pressed heavily against my back.
Muscles engaged.
Breathing adjusted.
Without armor.
Without overwhelming defense.
Without the safety of enhanced durability.
Just body.
Just discipline.
Just training.
And somewhere far across the ocean—
Unseen.
Unaware.
A faint ripple in the balance of this world had begun.
Not explosive.
Not destructive.
But steady.
Controlled.
Focused.
The anomaly had arrived as a warrior.
But here—
Under the watchful eye of the Turtle Hermit—
He would become something more refined.
Not just strong.
But tempered.
Not just powerful.
But disciplined.
The waves crashed rhythmically behind us as we ran.
And for the first time since entering this world—
I was not testing it.
I was becoming part of it.
Now—
I was a student.
---