He got up.
He stood up!
I thought it was over!
Chairman, run!
I knew it.
Pickle, I've had enough fun.
Take me. Take my life.
You cannot!
So, Pickle.
Do I taste good?
No!
I'll keep my promise.
After coming this far, I don't expect to walk out of this alive.
You've won. Eat me.
Not just my arms. Not just my legs.
Not just my head.
Don't leave anything.
He's gonna let him eat him. He really is!
Forgive me Pickle.
But this isn't the age of dinosaurs.
I cannot keep my promise!
They're not bullets. Forgive me.
Doppo!
Director!
Founder Orochi!
Tell them to put their guns down.
Noble elder, don't tell me...
that you plan on bringing shame on my son, do you?
What?
There was an unwritten promise made
between Katsumi and Pickle, man to man.
It's not something you have any say in.
He'll keep his promise.
Across all time periods, races, cultures, and intelligence,
there is one behavior that all humankind practices, regardless of differences.
The forces of nature go beyond human comprehension.
So when faced with threats beyond their control,
humans display incredible humanity that cannot be easily mimicked.
When encountering love, self-will, or tenderness,
for some reason, humans place the palms of their hands together.
Katsumi's arm was meant to be a trophy of war,
but it was granted by a friend.
Though he may be savage, he was human.
Though he may be a primitive man, he was his friend.
Be challenged.
Fight.
Win.
Eat.
Be attacked. Fight back.
Battle.
Win.
Eat.
In that age of constant battles,
there was no scarcity of food.
There was no lack of those from whom he could take.
He fought the heaviest of heavyweights.
There was no need to hold back.
He took from those far larger and more powerful than him.
It made him proud.
And now,
a new enemy faced him.
An enemy smaller than him.
He kicked with small feet,
and punched with small hands.
He is a weakling without claws, fangs or poison.
But his attacks were incomparably intense.
This one's fangs, that one's horn,
and another's stomping power. He was on par with them all.
Some things can be understood without language.
Most likely, this small male has made a sacrifice.
Even without knowing the word "sacrifice,"
he understands the essence of sacrifice.
This male obtained a powerful weapon in exchange for enormous effort.
Even with small hands, even with small feet...
Even without language, Pickle understood something.
He transformed those small, soft things
into fangs, horns and claws.
This achievement was an irreplaceable treasure.
But still he offered up such a precious treasure.
Effort, sacrifice, frailty, consolidation, honing, and treasure.
Without knowing a single word, he understood.
For the first time, he chose to withdraw empty-stomached.
Pickle's body had been filled with a mysterious feeling of satisfaction.
What?
- What? - Huh?
What's wrong?
Those... those 50,000 people disappeared.
The 55,000 members of Shinshinkai had filled the stadium.
Naturally, not a single one of them had left.
Every last member was kneeling on the ground.
They were unable to bear looking down on their respected leader from above.
Without any command,
they all knelt on their own.
By lowering their gaze, they displayed their devotion.
Baki was filled with regret.
I never thought you'd go before me.
Out of jealousy, he couldn't hold back this rude comment.
This playful, spoiled leader...
Who'd have thought he would blossom with such remarkable nobility.
His father was proud.
Though not related by blood, they walked the path of father and son.
Now that he thought about it, it was probably then,
when Doppo informed him of the great warrior Sea King Retsu's defeat.
You're the one who doesn't understand.
I'll say it again.
That's exactly what underestimating means!
He sensed something from his son he'd never even caught a whiff of before.
He's trying to change.
Incredible.
That was one hell of a change.
Where's Pickle?
Can't you hear that?
That howling that rumbles from the depths of the Earth.
Though Pickle appears uninjured,
to him, this was one heck of a fight.
This is Chinese tea.
It is my own blend.
That smells nice.
That's good.
The tea leaves in Chinese tea are fermented.
That's why it has a very rich flavor and aroma.
Yes, it's very rich.
Japanese gyokuro green tea is nice, but it doesn't quite do it for me.
I'll make you a cup of excellent gyokuro sometime.
Bancha, sencha, and hojicha teas aren't fermented either,
but they're all delicious.
Katsumi, I fully understand that it's inconsiderate to say this to you
now that you've lost an arm.
I envy you.
It's incredibly vexing.
I won't be humble.
Anyone who lives by fighting, by martial arts, would've been jealous.
That's the kind of fight it was.
I must admit that's true.
However, it goes without saying,
I did not achieve this alone.
Of course, there's you, Sea King Retsu, and Sea Emperor Kaku...
And our numerous predecessors in China, Okinawa, and Japan who,
for thousands of years,
never for one moment stopped evolving.
The breath and warmth of the hundreds of thousands, millions of our forerunners.
And it will continue into eternity.
I can feel it now.
I was fortunate enough to merely represent all that.
That fight was a collaboration between Japan and China.
But still, you didn't win.
Hi.
- Hey. - How dare you say that!
That was
something that needed to be said.
Baki,
I may have lacked strength, but I fought my utmost.
I won't let you deny that.
And there will not be a greater match for me.
Do you think you can pick up where I left off?
I sure will.
It was a mysterious sight.
The man was merely walking along.
But the people in the street...
they all similarly stopped for an instant.
But he was merely walking along.
For example, let's say there was a young impala
walking alone through the African savanna.
When he, unfortunately,
comes across a young cheetah.
It has the power to sprint from zero to 110 kph in four seconds.
It is a pro among pros.
Such misfortune it has encountered.
The situation the young impala finds itself in is so desperate,
its entire body cowers and cannot move a single step.
This is the exact same thing that was happening here and now.
None knew his name.
He was simply a stranger passing by.
Without knowing a single thing about him,
the 60 trillion cells in their bodies reacted before their minds could.
It doesn't look like you want to fight.
I was hoping you'd join me for a minute.
What I said?
Yes.
When I look back, that's what started it.
Without your words...
That's why nobody wants to be around you.
Not me, not Baki, not even your father.
...my only son, Katsumi,
never would have changed.
Don't tip it back until it's at your mouth.
Even a cat can transform into a lion.
For a good-for-nothing spoiled brat,
I think you could say he did pretty darn good.
However, Doppo Orochi...
you have made a crucial mistake.
You're exactly right.
So, you realize it yourself?
I'm disgusted with myself now.
I was far too lenient.
You.
Oh! Yes?
A Port Ellen 10-year-old.
Certainly, sir.
How would you like it?
On the rocks? Straight?
Give me the bottle and a mug.
What?!
Is he really gonna drink scotch from a mug?
He's gonna drink 70% ABV whisky from a mug?!
You were too soft? How?
That's right.
I was so dazzled by my son Katsumi's growth that I forgot myself.
Seeing my son develop in leaps and bounds,
seeing my child make phenomenal progress,
I forgot my duty.
The duty of a martial artist.
Even if we are father and son, we should never be lenient.
Although that is what I teach,
although that is what all martial arts proclaim,
we all become giddy at sentimental tales of growth.
The world's most powerful karate?
What a joke!
Doppo Orochi.
You've admitted it all now.
Deep beneath Colorado,
in the unmoving salt rock layer that is 1,000-meters thick,
there was an ancient warrior frozen for 190 million years.
Then that thing was easily revived in the modern era.
Doppo, how do you interpret this?
Excuse me. Get me a pen and paper.
Oh, yes.
It's this.
The number of years Pickle was asleep is 190 million.
And 50, give or take a few years,
is the number of years we can actively fight.
The answer...
is one in 3,800,000.
Ah, I see.
From a mathematical perspective,
anything below one in 300,000 is considered zero percent.
In other words, you could say that it will never happen.
This number...
It's no coincidence.
This is something to brag about.
Something incredibly big has noticed.
Someone up above
is saying this is the only time we'll ever be able to determine
who's the most powerful in the history of Earth.
Incredible!
This has never happened before.
I can't picture even the vaguest image or shadow of him.
Pickle...
You're awesome.
What the heck are you?
I can't get a full picture.
I've seen him with my own eyes.
It's burned into my mind.
Those extraordinarily long, ferocious hands.
Those legs like sturdy springs that power swift movement.
Those clear eyes lit with the flames of primordial times.
His skin. His mouth. Those overdeveloped canines.
And his appearance when he fights.
But still,
I can't picture him facing me.
I can't envision it.
Retsu.
Your monster factory.
Just as I expected, it's quite plain.
You're practicing, huh?
More like I'm getting taught a lesson.
That I'm nowhere near equal to that beast.
What the heck is Pickle?
I don't know. Neither I nor Katsumi know.
Not even the people who fought him know.
Unfortunately, neither Katsumi nor I
were able to trigger Pickle's fullest potential.
I can hardly stand this, Retsu.
Can you believe this?
I'm gonna slug it out with an unfathomably powerful dude!
We have no idea how strong he is.
We don't even have any idea what he'll do!
I get to fight with this dude!
I see you've prepared yourself.
Let's contact Tokugawa tomorrow.
That's takin' it way too easy.
We're not contacting him tomorrow.
Tomorrow, first thing, I'm gonna go to Pickle in person.
Baki...
This may not be something you want to hear,
but when I looked at you now,
I saw your father, Yujiro Hanma, in you.
It felt as if I was speaking to the Ogre himself.
I've been looking for you, Homo erectus.