Chi-Chi stumbled back, heart racing. She looked at her empty hands, then at the silver-haired woman hovering in front of her.
"How is this even possible? You're… you're a sword."
She pointed at her, finger shaking.
"Master Korin gave you to me as a weapon. Weapons don't just turn into people!"
The woman let out a slow sigh, clearly unimpressed.
Then she drifted closer, not in a rush — just enough to close the space between them.
"'Just an object." she repeated lightly, almost amused.
"That kind of thinking is why you lost."
She stopped a step away. Up close, her gold eyes were steady.
"You really thought the lightning was just decoration?"
A faint smile touched her lips.
"You've been holding me this whole time… and you never once asked what I am."
She raised a hand and tapped Chi-Chi's forehead with a manicured finger.
"Ouch! H-Hey!"
The touch felt like a static shock.
"I am no mere weapon. I am a Sacred Treasure, born of divine flames, tempered by the Northern Wind. I have a will. I have a name. And my soul is older than every ancestor you can name."
Kumokiri floated back slightly, smoothing her dress.
"I am a Tsukumogami. A spirit born from the reverence and power imbued into an object over centuries. Korin knew this. That is why he gave me to you."
She narrowed her eyes, her expression darkening.
"You really have a gift for choosing the worst possible fights, don't you? My steel is embedded in your gut. It's already eating away at you. And your soul… it's drifting closer, thinning, fading."
Chi-Chi lowered her head, her chin touching her chest. Her silver hair fell forward, curtaining her face from the piercing golden gaze of the spirit.
"You're right." Chi-Chi whispered, her voice barely audible in the infinite silence.
Her fists, which had been raised in defense just moments ago, slowly uncurled, hanging limp at her sides.
"I thought I was ready…"
She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing the burn behind them.
"But I was lying to myself. I knew I wouldn't walk away from this in one piece."
She drew in a shaky breath.
"I was blind. Blinded by revenge. The very thing I swore against, the very thing my father warned me about, I walked straight into it."
She stared at her open palms, as if expecting to see the answer written there.
"And because I couldn't see past my own anger… I never saw the blade coming for my own heart."
Kumokiri looked down at the weeping girl, her golden eyes softening just a fraction—not with pity.
"Regret, eh?"
The spirit floated closer, reaching out to lift Chi-Chi's chin with a finger that felt like polished ice.
"Those feelings aren't the problem."
Chi-Chi sniffled, looking into the spirit's eyes.
"The problem is pretending you're above them."
Kumokiri withdrew her hand and spun in a slow circle, the golden clouds on her dress trailing light.
"You're disciplined enough that most people will never even come close to your level. Honestly? It's impressive. But even the most disciplined hearts still feel. That's not weakness."
She stopped spinning and pointed a long sleeve at Chi-Chi.
"That's what makes you human."
...
"...It doesn't matter."
Chi-Chi voice was quiet now, steadier than before.
"Discipline, humanity… none of it changes what's coming."
She lowered her gaze, fingers curling weakly against the ground.
"I'm going to die. And I learned that lesson far too late."
"Oh?"
Kumokiri smirked.
"You're going to die? And you're absolutely certain of that?"
"What do you mean by that?"
She crouched slightly, just enough to meet Chi-Chi's lowered gaze.
"Who do you think is keeping your heart beating right now? My steel is the only thing anchoring your life force inside that shattered body of yours."
Kumokiri tilted her head, almost amused.
"Yes, I'm drinking your blood… but I'm also the reason it's still flowing."
She extended her hand. It wasn't a demand; it was an invitation.
"You know… I'm feeling unusually generous today. I didn't like that ugly creature to begin with, and honestly? I think you've got potential."
A faint, teasing smile touches her lips.
"So if I give you another shot… are you going to do it properly this time?"
Chi-Chi's breathing steadied, just a little.
Her fingers tightened weakly against the ground, as if testing whether she still had strength left to claim.
"Another shot…?"
"Head back to Korin's Tower. As fast as you can. Tell him I sent you. He'll understand the rest. You're going to learn how to draw out the blade's full power. Not just wield it… but become an extension of it."
"Become an extension of it…?"
She pushed herself up slightly, wincing.
"Is that even possible?"
Her voice lowered, uncertainty creeping back in.
"And… would I even have time?"
Kumokiri stared at her for a long second — then sighed, almost theatrically.
"There it is again."
She flicked Chi-Chi's forehead lightly.
"Too much thinking. Not enough moving. You hesitate far too much for someone who doesn't have any other choice."
She turned slightly, as if the matter were already decided.
"You can't afford the luxury of fear."
Chi-Chi stared at the pale hand in front of her.
Rain.Silence.
The memories came back in flashes.
She took a slow breath. The anger that had been burning in her chest was gone. In its place was something quieter. It almost scared her how calm she felt.
"I understand."
She reached out and took the spirit's hand.
Something gave way.
The white space around them split apart like glass under pressure.
And then—
Rain crashed back into her ears. The smell of wet dirt and blood hit all at once.
Chi-Chi's eyes flew open.
The pain was still there, it was overwhelming, but it felt far away, like it belonged to someone else.
She was still on the ground.
The Kumokiri was still lodged through her, holding her in the mud.
She forced herself to focus.
She waited for that crushing heat. That suffocating pressure that always came with him. His footsteps. His voice.
Nothing.
The forest was quiet, aside from the storm.
The weight of his presence was completely gone.
He hadn't stayed.
He hadn't even checked.
He must have left right after striking her down, certain she was finished.
Certain she didn't matter enough to confirm it. He was probably already somewhere else, tearing through another town, moving on without a second thought.
The rain kept falling.
She was alone.
He didn't even care enough to watch me die.
The thought didn't spark anger.
That was gone.
What settled in instead was colder. Clearer.
Her hand rose slowly through the rain, shaking but steady enough. She closed her fingers around the hilt.
This time, the blade didn't resist. It felt… aligned. Familiar. Like it belonged there.
A faint blue pulse moved from the steel into her palm.
She drew in a thin breath and braced her heels in the mud.
Then she pulled.
The pain was immediate and blinding, but she stayed with it. No scream. No thrashing. Just slow, deliberate movement as the steel slid free.
Inch by inch.
Until—
It came loose.
She fell back into the mud, breath shuddering out of her. The sword slipped from her hand and struck a rock.
Blood started to spill from the wound in her stomach. It should have been the end.
Then the Kumokiri answered.
A cold mist rolled off the blade where it lay beside her. It drifted toward her body, drawn to the wound. Blue light followed, sinking into torn flesh.
A sharp hiss cut through the rain.
The bleeding slowed. Then stopped.
Ice formed over the injury—not thick, not permanent, just enough. A fragile seal. Something holding her together when she should have been falling apart.
She lay there, breathing in air that felt suddenly winter-cold.
After a moment, she turned onto her side.
The movement hurt. Everything hurt. But she kept going.
She pushed herself to her knees. Reached for the sword. Used it to steady herself as she forced her legs straight.
She stood.
Unsteady. Pale. Shaking.
A thin layer of blue frost covered her stomach where a fatal wound had been.
Chi-Chi stared toward the far edge of the storm, where the clouds were thickest.
She couldn't see him.
She didn't need to.
Something in her had shifted.
She slid the Kumokiri back into its sheath.
Click.
/////////////////////////////////
The storm didn't stop at the forest.
It followed him.
As King Piccolo began moving in earnest, the sky seemed to move with him.
With the Dragon Radar in hand, he crossed borders without slowing.
Cities fell quickly. So did the people who tried to defend them. Armies lasted minutes. Sometimes less.
He wasn't only searching for the wish.
He was removing obstacles.
Across the martial arts world, familiar names began to disappear. Fighters who had once stood proudly in tournament arenas were found broken, scattered, or simply gone.
Anyone with potential.
Anyone who might one day stand up to him.
One by one, they were erased.
Everything really fell apart when Master Roshi died.
He'd gambled everything on the Mafuba. It didn't work. It cost him his life.
That was the moment hope cracked.
Yamcha, Puar, Oolong, and Bulma disappeared soon after. They kept moving—caves, abandoned shelters, anywhere that bought them another day. They weren't planning counterattacks anymore. They were surviving.
Most of the world went quiet like that.
But not all of it.
Tien Shinhan didn't stop. If anything, Roshi's death pushed him harder. He trained with the same technique that had killed his master, fully aware it might kill him too. He didn't seem to care.
And then there was Son Goku.
He'd already lost once. He was bruised, humbled, still recovering. But quitting didn't seem to register with him. He got back up. He kept moving forward.
That was it.
Two fighters left who were still willing to stand in King Piccolo's way.
If they failed, there wouldn't be anyone else.
/////////////////////////////////
One day later...
At last, her hand caught the edge of the temple floor.
She dragged herself up with a shaky breath and rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling.
"I… made it."
"I can see that."
The voice was familiar.
Chi-Chi turned her head.
Master Korin stood a few steps away, leaning on his staff.
"I felt your Ki disappear, I thought… that was it."
Chi-Chi pushed herself into a sitting position. The movement was stiff, careful. She rested a hand over the patch at her stomach.
"You weren't wrong, Master." she said. Her voice sounded thin. Distant.
She met his gaze.
Something in her had changed.
"I died in that battle… but a certain spirit gave me a mission and sent me back to this hell."