The man was slumped against shattered glass—barely conscious.
Smoke still hung in the air.
The glow around Roshi’s body started to fade.
Hair softened. Shoulders dropped.
That impossible pressure—the storm around him—began to bleed away.
He was changing back.
By the time he turned to face the crowd,
he looked like just an old man again—calm, tired, unshaken.
The crowd didn’t know what to do.
Silence. Staring.
Then Ava broke it.
One fist in the air—“YEAH!”
Big grin, cheering like she’d just watched the final round of a title fight.
“That was insane!”“Did you guys see that?! He folded that dude!”"Is he alive?"
A few people started clapping.
Someone dropped their phone.
Someone whispered “He just went back to normal. What the hell was that?”
But Roshi?
He just breathed once, slow—
and started walking.