That's what we all thought.
We couldn't believe that at the very end,
this is what he had waiting for us.
The first to notice it was, naturally, Baki.
Puncture wounds.
They looked like wounds by a sword like a falchion.
The old wounds ran in a diagonal row across Pickle's upper body.
When did that appear?
They're oval scars like he's been shot with a machine gun.
He didn't get those here.
Claws? Spines?
Whatever it was, it was from his time.
When, by whom, and how were those scars made?
We were the first ones to learn the answer to that.
We saw it, the same scars along his back.
Don't you get it?
The same scars ran along both his front and back.
It can only lead to one answer.
From the shape of the scars, their size, their era,
the true falchions were the tyrannosauruses' teeth.
Pickle was a man who had survived the jaws of a T. rex!
Our emotions, our esteem, our exhilaration,
how do you suppose we expressed it?
When the three of us reached our conclusion,
we simultaneously started to applaud.
By rearranging his joints, he transformed into full battle mode.
It was Pickle's final form.
Well, this just has to be said.
Now the real battle begins.
His final form.
After rearranging the major joints of the shoulders, elbows, wrists,
and hips, his shape was truly uncanny.
With the awakening of his primeval memories,
the already sturdy portions became even more solid.
The powerful portions were even more ferocious.
The strong portions were transformed to be even more resilient.
Thanks, Pickle.
That transformation, that metamorphosis,
I accept it as the finest appraisal, your friendship.
Humanity has continued to ceaselessly evolve since the moment history began.
Simultaneously, we've obtained copious weapons.
We've used stones, clubs, weapons, swords, guns, missiles,
and even nuclear weapons.
But, as a result, we've lost something, and we've left something behind.
That is what the ancient man Pickle taught us.
Tough skin, powerful muscles, sturdy bones,
and a spirit that doesn't succumb to pain.
As the weapons we wield became more and more powerful,
we must have lost these things one by one.
So much so that we can't even protect our own safety.
I'm right near you.
Inside your space. I'm not going anywhere.
From this distance, right here,
I will repay your friendship!
Damn. I've gotta get back there.
Pickle's mighty blow didn't send Baki flying!
He hasn't budged from that spot!
Even though you punched me with all your strength,
you couldn't send little old me flying.
It's quite simple.
I simply met it with the same strength,
but quicker and at a sharper angle.
This is skill. This is evolution.
We've obtained martial arts! We haven't left anything behind!
I won't give way a single step!
I've accumulated many things.
Strength, speed, stamina, and experience.
But in these, we're even.
We have the same conditions.
Neither of us can give way.
In fact, I may be inferior to you in all of these.
I can't even compare in muscle strength, weight, or skeletal systems.
In that case, what can I use to fight?
What can I use as support?
Technique!
I've been practicing these skills from so long ago, I don't even remember when.
I withstood pain, honed, nurtured, challenged, and fought.
The unconscious formation of the fist.
The placement of my feet.
Breathing left to nature.
My observant eyes.
Fighting skills that have been passed down since ancient times.
They live within me and support me.
The skills created in order to survive
were honed in order to protect,
nurtured by hatred,
and passed down through sadness.
I cannot let go of these links in the chain.
Suddenly, Baki saw it.
Having awakened to his own history,
it was inevitable that Baki's eyes would see this.
"It's the same with me!"
Innumerable teeth, innumerable claws, innumerable horns.
The friends that support him for what he is now.
You're right. You also have...
What's more, mixed among those hard objects were dissimilar forms.
Oh, now I get it!
Pushing aside the claws was Retsu.
Standing in front of the teeth was Katsumi.
Stepping on the horns was Jack.
They too had supported Pickle!
What does he see?
Pickle is crying!
It's settled. It's an all-out war.
I've never seen a more formidable enemy.
What should I do in a moment like this?
Should I toss or throw it into Pickle's area?
Into the middle of this fight?
What would I do at the frontline?
What can I do?
His left fist is approaching. Okay, Baki. What'll you do?
Oh! Oh, I get it. So that's what you decided.
Not blocking or dodging.
And the fist can't strike.
It has to already have been swinging.
Right. In response to the opponent's movements,
the body must flow with the fight on its own.
A counterattack can produce two effects.
Naturally, one of them is a physical effect.
Even a small force can produce great force.
But a counterattack's true effect is slipping through chinks in the heart.
When the heart is solely focused on attacking,
the jaw that should be clenched is open, and the well-muscled neck goes slack.
A counter blow to a body that's forgotten about getting hit.
There's no chance of recovery for ten seconds.
When a fighter forgets about getting hit, even if it's Pickle,
their toughness is reduced to the level of a newborn infant.
There was a man with a punch so mighty, it was said it could stop an elephant.
It was George Foreman, the 31st heavyweight champion of the world.
Though he was the proud holder of the highest KO rate in history,
surprisingly few of his KO wins were from ten-counts.
Meanwhile, there was also a champion who was called the weakest in history.
As you all know, he's "The Greatest," Muhammed Ali.
His blows were so quick they were dubbed "phantom punches."
He forced numerous boxers, Foreman included, to be given a ten-count.
It's the supreme clever punch that weaves through awareness.
For an opponent, it's like a surprise attack.
Baki has this ability now.
That's exactly why he's able to trade punches with Pickle.
That's why he was able to force his back against the ropes.
"The giant teeth that attacked me. I busted them with my clenched fists."
"The sharp claws that assaulted me. I grabbed them, twisted and broke them."
"When I was targeted, this is what I did."
"Against great size, I was..."
"Against great speed, I was..."
"I was..."
"In that era, I was the greatest!"
I am the greatest, but I'm getting cornered.
He's completely cornered!
His size advantage didn't work.
His strength advantage didn't work.
What incredible might of skills.
What unbelievable fighting ability.
The ancient man was bewildered.
Then...
What?
He's moving!
It's the lightning-fast teleportation he used in his fight with Jack.
Pickle is on the run.
And Baki is...
catching up!
Remember what I said.
I'm not going anywhere.
I won't leave your side.
The hopelessly big difference in strength, the impossible-to-fill gap in power...
Martial arts, the tool of civilization, overcame them.
He was on the verge of victory.
Although glory was within his grasp,
something sprouted in the heart of young Baki.
A bad habit was born.
Both fists thrust out forward before him,
the ancient man soon realized that it meant this was a fight of stamina.
It was a greed beyond redemption, an insatiable avarice.
At this time, he rejected victory based on skill,
and instead recklessly and thoughtlessly pursued a straightforward victory
based on stamina.
As a result,
it wasn't long before the difference in stamina manifested.
As inevitable as the sun rising in the east,
or water flowing to the lowest point,
the pathetic result was reached.
Pickle performed a move!
Amidst this contest of strength,
he felt the fear of losing.
In this lengthy contest between modern and ancient man...
the ancient man obtained a weapon.
Their deadly battle had ended.
Pickle isn't moving,
while Baki couldn't move even if he tried.
What do you think of this situation, you two?
That's a foolish question.
Though he doesn't display the will to attack,
as long as Pickle has the power of life and death over Baki, the answer is clear.
Pickle has won.
My opinion is a little different.
Moves were originally created by the weak so they could compete with the strong.
In other words, they're weapons.
I see!
Pickle has the body. He's got strength.
If he gains a weapon in addition to that...
The unwritten rule of those born with great strength
is that they don't have the right to use tricks.
A powerful statement as expected from Kaoru Hanayama,
one born with strength.
But what does that say about Baki, who backed Pickle so far into a corner?
In my heart, I'd like to give him the victory.
Retsu, you live by martial arts. Hanayama, you live by your mettle.
You are both right and you are both harsh.
- Already? - He can already stand?
Are you sure you don't want to stop him?
Leave him be. He's not some animal.
But I bet Professor Payne would panic.
Well, he took off before I knew about it.
I guess that means there's nothing wrong. This is so ridiculous.
When hurt and feeling depressed,
there's a sight he likes to see.
Around here, this place has the best view.
Since there's nothing blocking the view from here, I bet you can see it.
From before history began, far before then, still untouched.
The majestic view of the great Cretaceous period.
Awesome.
Boss, can I come to see it sometimes?
On this day, in the center of Washington D.C.,
ordinary citizens were prohibited
from entering a 700-meter diameter perimeter
around the famous old St. Renas Hotel.
This is the first time since I assumed office
that I've entered a room without security, besides in the White House.
And with the most dangerous man in the world sitting before me at that.
You sure talk a lot.
I... I'm sorry.
I apologize if I've offended you.
Anyway, this "great transition of power,"
as started by the 40th president, Ronald Reegan,
with codename Ogre, namely, Yujiro Hanma...
I only learned of this secret last week.
- Since that day, within my heart, I've-- - Hey!
Get on with it, would you.
Sorry. I got carried away.
Let's finish our business. It'll take ten seconds.
I swear that the United States of America
will have an amicable relationship with Master Yujiro Hanma,
and that we will respect you,
that we will never interfere with your life,
and will always comply with this promise regardless of anything that happens.
I, Barack Ozma, President of the United States of America,
swear before God to execute this genuine treaty of friendship.
This formality happens every term. What a pain.
A lump of coal...
Theory says that a pressure of 100,000 atmospheres
will transform coal into diamond.
It's not a phenomenon I can believe unless I see it with my own eyes.
Mister Ogre, since you're said to be more powerful than a nuclear weapon,
can you do it with your own hands?
In this aspect, you're not really any different than Bosch.
The glass table's been cut as if he were using a diamond!
Unfortunately, it's an artificial diamond.
Dang...
Yes, you could.
What should be done with him?
There is already no more room for debate.
We must return him to his original state.
You see, he is the victim of the curiosity of us modern humans.
Mr. Payne, what is your opinion?
You make it sound easy.
But what exactly do you mean by "original state"?
If he were to be returned to the salt rock layer in Colorado,
how do you think Pickle would live in the society of the distant future?
It seems to me that we are taking the problem in front of us
and throwing it into the laps of future humans,
under the pretty name of "humanism."
I agree.
We should take responsibility for Pickle's present situation.
Mr. Strydum, from what I heard,
you have been making that important cultural property
fight specialists in hand-to-hand combat and martial arts.
Is this true?
That was the promise I made to Pickle.
Promise?
How, when Pickle has no language?
It wasn't a promise made with words.
In schools, in workplaces,
in restaurants and in homes,
people debated what to do with Pickle.
In France, Germany, the U.S., India,
and in the United Nations, there was fierce worldwide debate.
500,001,572 VOTES
500,000,543 VOTES
After taking votes from one billion people around the world,
there was only a slim margin of 1,000 votes in the result.
A decision was made.
Mr. Payne, what do you think?
It's foolish.
However, it is the decision the world has made.
I have no choice but to remain silent.
A mere 1,000 votes. Humanity is foolish.
This result can only be described as unfortunate for Pickle.
We're just postponing dealing with the problem.
The key to solving it has been sealed away indefinitely.
What's this?
Pickle!
What's he doing here?!
Strydum, this is a show of my appreciation.
A gift to you for fulfilling our promise.
Pickle scoffs at the world and disappears into Tokyo.