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The clash didn't stop.Fists and feet crashed again and again, each impact echoing with a dull thud.
As their blows connected, the battlefield itself kept shifting.
Anyone watching could tell how one-sided it looked — Harry, holding back at only 360 power level, was clearly being pushed around by Raditz and his 550.
At one point, Harry was almost cornered — but every time, he'd twist the tide at the last second.
With each exchange, he refined his own technique — trimming wasteful motions, tightening his attacks, learning how his training paid off in real combat.
And before long, he slipped into that strange, intoxicating rhythm of fighting — that pure, wordless flow.
Even if all he could do was defend against Raditz's onslaught, Harry began to understand the joy of battle.
No wonder Saiyans are obsessed with fighting, he thought. It makes your blood burn, makes you crave strength — crave the rush of being pushed to your limits.
Raditz grinned through the flurry of punches. "You're actually keeping up? Guess you haven't been slacking off after all, huh? Been training in secret?" His tone dripped with mockery, but there was a flicker of respect there too.
He'd thought this fight would be an easy win — that his strength alone would overwhelm Harry. But somehow, Talot was still standing.
"I don't waste time," Harry said with a smirk. "Here—let me show you something."
His body blurred—then split into several afterimages that surrounded Raditz from all sides.
Afterimage Fist.
It wasn't the Turtle School's version from the legends, but something similar — his own variation, honed through understanding and instinct, moving so fast that even Raditz couldn't tell where the real body was.
Raditz narrowed his eyes, scanning rapidly left and right. "So this is your escape trick? Just gonna run and hide? That's not how a real warrior fights!"
Harry's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, teasing. "Every move has its use. You just don't know how this one's really meant to be used."
"Ha! Party tricks. Fine then — if I can't find you, I'll just smash all your little shadows!"
Raditz's decisiveness almost earned Harry's admiration. In a blur of attacks, he tore through a dozen of the afterimages in seconds.
"There you are!" he shouted as he struck another image, convinced he'd found the real one.
But he hadn't realized — Harry had left that opening on purpose.
Raditz's fist tore through the final image—only to meet empty air.
"Wait—" His instincts screamed. "Damn it!"
Too late.
"Got you!"
Harry came crashing down from above with a flying kick.
Raditz barely had time to block before the impact launched him back more than ten meters. He flipped midair and landed on his feet, sliding backward before stopping.
"You used the drop from the air to add power, huh?" Raditz shook out his aching arm, wincing. "Guess you're smarter than you look."
Anyone else might've snapped back at that, but Harry just smiled calmly. He was still hiding his true strength, after all — no reason to get worked up over words.
"Like I said," he replied, voice steady, "fighting's not just about brute strength."
Then his aura flared — sharp, wild, like a tiger unleashed — and he charged straight in.
Raditz felt his own fighting spirit surge in response. His pride wouldn't let him fall behind.
The air between them exploded as their powers collided again, fiercer than ever.
The fight had reached its peak.
Neither of them noticed the growing crowd that had gathered to watch — Saiyans drawn in by the shockwaves and the sheer intensity of the match.
Among them stood a striking young girl, graceful yet fierce.
Her name was Celari. Like Harry and Raditz, she was only five years old — but her power level was a modest 100, making her a lower-class warrior.
Still, that was enough for her to avoid being sent off-world as cannon fodder. She'd grown up safely with her parents instead.
She and Harry had practically grown up together — childhood friends.
Though to Harry — a grown man reborn in a child's body — that bond felt… different.
That Raditz is so annoying, Celari fumed quietly, arms crossed. He comes back and immediately starts showing off, picking on Harry again.
She'd never liked Raditz. He'd always acted superior — and ever since joining Prince Vegeta's squad, it had only gotten worse.
Meanwhile, elsewhere—
Bardock had noticed the commotion too.
He'd cut his bath short the moment he heard his son and nephew were fighting.
To a warrior of his level, kids sparring was usually nothing worth watching — but this was his son and Harry, after all.
"That kid… I underestimated him," Bardock murmured as he watched. "Only 360 power, but he's fighting way above that."
There was admiration in his eyes — and curiosity. How had Harry managed to grow this strong? How had he learned to control his power so precisely?
Raditz was stronger on paper, sure — but if they'd been on equal footing, Bardock suspected Harry might've had the edge.
"Raditz is being too harsh," Gine said beside him, frowning. "He knows he's stronger by 200, but he's not holding back at all."
Bardock crossed his arms. "Hmph. Too much force breaks easily. He's grown up and gotten stronger, but he still doesn't understand battle. Harry's ahead of him there."
He spoke without malice — just the sharp assessment of a veteran.
Raditz had talent, no doubt, but his style was the kind of brute-force approach used by arrogant elite warriors — relying on power instead of skill.
"If you win only by overpowering weaker opponents," Bardock continued, "then you've already lost something important."
Gine glanced at him, puzzled. "You mean… Raditz might lose? But it looks like Harry's barely holding on."
"I didn't say he'll lose," Bardock said calmly. "I'm saying he could've won much more easily — but because he keeps charging in headfirst, even if he wins, he'll come out the loser in another sense.
"If it were a real battle to the death, that recklessness would've cost him his life."
As a fighter who'd clawed his way up through countless life-or-death struggles, Bardock could see Raditz's flaws with painful clarity.
Gine didn't quite understand everything he meant — her own power was only around 600, after all — but she trusted her husband's instincts.
And so, they both kept watching.
The sparks of battle burned on.
"..."
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