"Again!" Yajirobe's sharp, impatient voice echoed across the training grounds.
I tightened my grip on the Greatsword, sweat dripping into my eyes. My muscles screamed in protest, but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of seeing me quit. "You just like yelling at people, don't you?" I shot back, forcing a smirk through gritted teeth.
"Maybe," Yajirobe replied, leaning lazily against a tree while gnawing on yet another drumstick. "But if you're gonna talk, do it while swinging that thing like you mean it."
I exhaled sharply and swung the sword again. The blade, massive and unyielding, cut through the air with a weight that threatened to throw me off balance. Yajirobe's precision made my swings feel clumsy, almost childish by comparison. For someone with a reputation as a lazy glutton, his skill with a blade was terrifying.
"Focus!" he barked, his tone slicing through my thoughts. "This ain't about raw power! Feel the weight, let it guide you. You're not breaking rocks; you're learning a damn art form. A dance!"
I adjusted my stance, letting the massive Greatsword's weight dictate my movement. Slowly, the blade began to feel less like a burden and more like an extension of my body. My thoughts drifted, and for a moment, I was no longer in the field with Yajirobe.
Flashback – a few days ago
"Let me get this straight." Bulma leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as she stared at me with an arched eyebrow. "You want me to make you two things: a Greatsword the size of a small car that absorbs your ki and the more ki it absorbs the heavier it gets—and a gravity belt that goes up to 500x ? That's what you're asking for?"
I nodded, unbothered by her skepticism. "Exactly."
"Do you realize how insane that sounds?" she pressed. "Even by my standards?"
"It's not insane—it's practical." I leaned forward, trying to convey how serious I was. "I need the sword because—well, let's just say it's… for training" I mean I am going to use it for training but mainly the dragon slayer sword with look so awesome in this verse including with how strong I'm going to get." And it'll allow me to train my body beyond its limits, to wield something so heavy that I have no choice but to master it."
She blinked, her mouth opening and closing like she didn't know where to start. "Okay. Let's ignore the ridiculous sword for a second. Why a gravity belt when I've already made the gravity chamber?"
"I need the gravity belt mainly because I don't think Yajirobe can survive in the gravity chamber including for the gravity that I need for my body to get stronger."
Bulma stared at me for a long moment before sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose. " Why do all the men around here love training so much."
Present Day
"Eyes up, idiot!" Yajirobe's voice snapped me out of the memory just as his blade came crashing toward me.
Instinct kicked in. I sidestepped and brought the Greatsword up in a clumsy parry. The force of the impact rattled my bones, but I held my ground.
"Better," he grunted, stepping back. "But not good enough. Again."
For hours, I repeated the drills: slashes, parries, thrusts. Each swing of the blade burned through my muscles, the added weight of Bulma's gravity belt pushing me to my limits. The sword itself making my training even harder because I put all my ki into it without truly realizing just how heavy the thing was going to be.
Yajirobe was relentless. His insults were as sharp as his blade, but his critiques were always on point. "You're thinking too much!" he shouted. "Stop fighting the sword and start fighting with it!"
The first two weeks were grueling. The Dragon Slayer felt like an immovable mountain in my hands, each swing draining every ounce of strength I had. Yajirobe never let up. "You call that a swing? I've seen toddlers with better form!" he'd yell, tossing rocks at me when I faltered.
By the third week, something clicked. My movements became smoother, my strikes more deliberate. The weight of the Dragon Slayer no longer felt less oppressive—it felt like an extension of my will of my own body. I began to understand what Yajirobe meant by "the dance." Each swing, each step, was part of a rhythm, a flow that turned combat into art and by the end of the month, I stood in the center of the training field finishing my training for the day as Yajirobe watched me from his usual spot under the tree, his expression unreadable.
"Not bad," he said finally, a hint of respect in his voice. "For someone who started out swinging like a drunk ox, you're… passable."
I smirked, gripping the hilt of the Greatsword with confidence. "Passable, huh? What's up with the High Praise ?."
Yajirobe chuckled, pushing himself to his feet. " Since you've been training for so long I thought how about you fight a real Swordsman"
I felt a spark of excitement finally I was going to fight Yajirobe someone I still think to this day deserve to spot on the Z Fighters,but i plant my Dragon Slayer into the ground. "Alright,Don't cry when I embarrass you."
Yajirobe snorted. "Let's see if that mouth can keep up with your blade Rookie."
He drew his katana in a smooth, practiced motion, the blade gleaming in the fading light. There was a weight to his stance—relaxed, yet sharp as a coiled spring. This wasn't the lazy, sarcastic Yajirobe I'd been training under. This was a master swordsman, and he wasn't holding back.
Before I could even think, he darted forward, his katana a blur of silver. I barely managed to bring the Dragon Slayer up in time, the clash of steel ringing through the field. His strikes were fast, precise, and relentless, testing every inch of my defenses.
"Come on!" Yajirobe barked, his blade slamming against mine. "Don't just stand there like a statue! Move!"
I gritted my teeth, falling into the rhythm of the fight. Every swing, every block, was a test of everything I'd learned over the past month. Yajirobe wasn't just fast—he was unpredictable, his movements flowing like water. But I'd trained for this. I'd studied his style, learned his techniques, and now it was time to put them to the test.
I shifted my stance, countering one of his strikes with a sweeping arc of the Dragon Slayer. The force of the blow made him skid back a step, and I saw his eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. "Not bad," he muttered, his tone begrudging. "But don't get cocky."
He came at me again, faster this time, his katana flashing like lightning. I met his strikes head-on, each clash of our blades sending sparks flying. Slowly but surely, I began to push him back, my movements growing more fluid, more deliberate.
"Alright," Yajirobe said, his voice tinged with something that almost sounded like pride. "Let's see how you handle this!"
He leaped into the air, his katana poised for a downward strike. Time seemed to slow as I stepped to the side, twisting my body to meet his blade with a precise upward swing. The impact sent a shockwave through the field, and for a brief moment, we were locked in a stalemate, our blades grinding against each other.
Then, with a surge of strength, I broke the deadlock, sending Yajirobe stumbling back. Before he could recover, I closed the distance, the Dragon Slayer's massive blade hovering inches from his neck.
The field fell silent, save for the sound of our heavy breathing. Yajirobe stared at me, his expression unreadable, before slowly lowering his katana.
"Well, I'll be damned," he said, his voice calm and measured. "You actually beat me."
I grinned, lowering the Dragon Slayer to rest on my shoulder. "So, am I passable now?"
Yajirobe snorted, sheathing his katana. "Passable? Kid, you mastered a style it took me years to perfect. And you did it in a month. That's not just passable—that's insane."
He crossed his arms, his poker face firmly back in place, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—pride, maybe, or respect. "Don't get a big head about it, though...But yeah… you should be proud. Learning such an esteemed swordsmanship in such a short time? That's no small feat."
For a moment, I stood there, letting his words sink in. Yajirobe wasn't one to hand out compliments lightly, and hearing him acknowledge my progress meant more than I expected.
"Thanks," I said, gripping the hilt of the Dragon Slayer.