I know you'll be able to, with your eyes.
With your vision, I'm sure you can see it.
How's this, Dad?
I'm sure that Yujiro Hanma wanted to see this.
I've brought it from far, far away.
T. Rex's rival, the Triceratops.
The dynamism of the young man's movements,
the heaviness of his feet as he planted them,
the look that conveys the ancient fighting spirit
made everyone there think the same thing.
The will behind this form,
the weight this form is endowed with,
and the murderous intent this form invokes
were made thoroughly clear to everyone there.
I... I can see it.
Awesome.
It's huge.
It's giant. Six meters tall. No, eight.
And especially through his father's eyes with their godly perception.
By now,
the young man's body had dissipated...
and only his will that created the illusion had taken physical form.
From the time of his youth, he'd often thought about them.
As he awakened to his body's will, he'd often thought about them.
He still thought about them after becoming an adult, to be honest.
Not just five or six times.
Just how darn strong were these guys?
Come at me.
I'll savor this, so come at me.
Just like I've dreamed, come at me!
He let loose! At last, he used what he'd never used before,
the Triceratops Fist!
Jesus!
That car!
They flipped it over!
I'll admit,
the strength it takes to steamroll through my body, which far surpasses 100 kilos,
while tearing up the asphalt, and even flip a car,
isn't that of your body, which barely weighs 70 kilos.
I fully enjoyed that primitive physical strength.
Now then,
the ideal of Shokeiken,
that is to say, the style that should be strived for...
I'll tell you what it is.
Yushoken, which imitates the bear's fighting style.
Kokeiken, derived from the tiger's force.
Toroken, which incorporates the fighting style of the mantis.
And then there is your original,
Kyoryuken, the dinosaur fist.
One may vary the forms,
but in essence, they're just imitations.
Interesting.
So, what are you gonna show me?
Don't miss it,
the ideal form of Shokeiken.
His father ridiculed it, saying it was essentially just an imitation.
What's he going to incorporate? What's he going to mimic?
You moron.
I'm totally making up this movement, of course.
What?!
What was that?
Huh?
I get it now.
That's so totally like you, Dad.
Hey, isn't that...
Shokeiken is derived from the fighting style of a stronger fighter.
That's why it culminates in the Yujiro Hanma form!
That's the shape of the light we just saw!
Sorry, man.
I don't know of anything stronger than this.
There's no doubt about that.
My dad lifted his arms aloft,
then let loose a blast into the empty air.
The invisible force flew through the air and slammed into me.
That's what it seemed to feel like.
His round kick drew a beautiful arc through the air.
Then, just like with the punch, an invisible force was unleashed.
That force had already gained a physical form
and could be clearly seen.
My dad's words were no lie.
Yujiro Hanma himself was performing "Yujiroken."
It was powerful, natural, and beautiful.
The real thing imitated himself.
No other form of Shokeiken could be more natural.
How was my own form?
Dad.
You have a fist as hard as Yujiro Hanma.
You have muscles as powerful as Yujiro.
You have the speed of Yujiro.
Yujiro Hanma performing Yujiro Hanma is obviously going to be perfect.
But, Dad.
Yes?
The virtue of a fighting form is never in its appearance.
Really? It's not about appearances?
What is it about, then?
Well, if you don't know, I'll have to teach you.
That's right.
The ideal form is always useful in battle.
I've got to teach my father that.
Shit.
I can't remember the last time I went down like this.
What? He went down?
What? What on earth just happened?
Now, his father just...
Did he trip?
It looked like he stumbled.
That brat. You've already reached that level at the tender age of 18, huh?
I had already conceded that my son, Baki, was the finest of toys.
However,
I never knew that you had that kind of thing up your sleeve.
I involuntarily transmitted a signal.
You used the half-second it takes for the brain to command the body
to move to your advantage.
Well done.
I'll pat your head. Come here.
What are you saying? That's ludicrous!
What the heck is this?!
Don't be shy. Come here.
This is a fight!
It's only natural for me to praise my son's great achievement.
What?
Tears...
What the...
What the heck is this?!
Come here. I'll pat your head.
Did he just...
"Pat his head"?
Right?
No doubt about it!
He said it! He said he'd pat my head!
And the way he's holding his hand...
Irrefutable evidence, he could only pat me on the head like that!
What are you doing? Come here.
I... I don't understand what you mean.
It's only natural I should praise you.
This is ludicrous.
Don't be shy. Come here.
This is a fight!
So what?
What father wouldn't praise his son for a great achievement?
This feeling...
Fifteen centimeters below the young man's collarbones,
deep inside, something akin to pain suddenly appeared.
Even though it hurt, he didn't want to let it go.
A pain that is difficult to let go of.
I can't bear to watch.
How touching...
The normalcy of being praised by one's father
was something he had lacked for 18 years.
The feelings of appreciation, accomplishment, and elation
when praised by your father...
the child had been far too deprived of them.
He had become far too unaccustomed to it.
You're so cruel, Dad.
Telling me that you'll pat my head at a time like this.
What? You don't want it?
I... I never said I...
His father's fist had been gripped so tight,
but had now relaxed so gently and was attempting to touch him.
"I don't care. I don't care anymore."
"I don't care if it's a trap. or if it's a trick."
"It's worth it if I can be patted by the palm of that hand."
No, I can't do it. I can't do this.
This moment is irreplaceable.
This is a fight to see who'll win.
This is a competition to see who's stronger.
Well said!
Nice...
This is a good opportunity.
It's a unique opportunity for you to experience the essence of strength.
Essence of strength?
Missed the conscious trigger, huh?
I can't move a muscle. It's like I'm in a vice!
So, about what "strength" is.
I wanted to pat you on the head,
but you rejected my desire to pat you.
What's going on?!
It's really quite easy to understand.
I'm going to pat your head.
Stop it!
Let go of me!
You're excited.
Strength is the power to realize your wishes.
Just look at that darling face of yours.
The young man tacitly understood the essence of strength.
How pitiful.
Let go of me, dammit!
How could he bully his own son like that?
He's a sadist to the core.
You're so greedy for praise.
You're so much trouble.
I'm free to kill you and free to love you.
It doesn't matter whether you reject it or not.
The power to be unaffected by conditions.
The power to realize your wishes just as you desire.
That is...
the most basic of what strength is!
"Endurance is also part of strength."
"Overcoming oneself is also part of strength."
Don't lose sight!
There's absolutely no need to listen to any of that other nonsense!
Awesome!
He landed like a figure skater!
Any other explanation is nothing more than words
to appease those who cannot realize their own will.
In other words, they're the excuses of the weak!
You strike him with full force, Ogre?
Strength itself is neither good nor evil.
The strong don't endure.
In fact, there's no need for endurance.
Even overcoming oneself isn't necessary.
Those excuses...
are pollutants that cloud the purity of strength, and should be eliminated!
His father's intentions were clearly conveyed.
The child gets the message sent as pain, and takes it as a lesson.
Your diaphragm is rising slowly, and your breathing is shallow.
I just praised you, but look at you now.
"You're a loser."
That was the unignorable nuance of what his father said.
But, even so, he couldn't stand. That was the state he was in.
I did enjoy it a little.
Now, to end it with a punch or end it with a stomp...
Whoa! It's him!
The living fossil!
It's Pickle!
What a night this is!
Pi...
I've thought of you many times.
Just look at how jealous he is.
This ain't none of your business, asshole!
Fuck off!
These words coming from a friend...
Pickle was from the distant past, the Cretaceous period,
there's no way he could know.
Yet, there are some things he did understand.
He'd been scolded.
It's the law of nature. Butting in is prohibited.
It's a rule that absolutely had to be obeyed.
The teeth that could tear through armor from the primitive age...
He completely trusted that they would never break.
But one had been busted.
Pickle, aged 145.5 million years...
has learned about social expectations.
Sorry about this unsightly incident.
For this banquet that was about to end, though I am happy that it's begun again...
My son, if your friend hadn't shown up, it would have been over!
I knew he'd do--
Shall we begin, my son?
The first trigger battle of the modern age.
I knew you'd do that.
When his father stepped forward,
his son, who predicted it, intercepted him with time to spare.
But his father had already predicted he would intercept it.
Person A decides to attack.
Half a second before that decision, person B predicts it and intercepts it.
Person A immediately senses that interception,
and intercepts person B's interception.
That interception by person A is predicted by person B,
then person A, then person B, then...
Sheesh.
How long will this cycle of interceptions continue?
Just how long?
Pardon me.
If I could have won at the start, I would have already done it.
But since I can't do that...
I can only do it this way.
I've got to search. I've got to seek.
Since I was born as a weak person, my only choice is to deceive you.
I want you to pardon that.
Fine.
Half a second before... the scramble for the conscious trigger.
I'll humor you.
As your father, I accept your challenge.
What?
I dare you to predict, and be the quickest to draw.
Like the swordsmen in olden times.
Like the gunslingers of the past.
Half a second before deciding to draw.
I will...
I will end this foolish game!
Go ahead and try.
I dare you!