Krillin filled the water bottle that he carried with him at the lake as he looked up at the structure that stretched so high into the heavens that even when the cloud obscuring it moved on, he still couldn't see the top.
"So, this tower is the place Master Roshi guided me to, and if I manage to climb it and drink the Sacred Water at the top, I'll get stronger?" Krillin asked.
"That is the legend. I know none who have actually climbed the tower in the past, though, so I cannot say for certain. However, if you wish to get stronger, young Krillin, that is the trial I suggest that you undertake." Bora, the large, Native-American-looking man standing beside Krillin declared, his arms crossed in front of him.
Krillin reverted the water bottle back into its capsule form and tucked it into the pocket of his gi, before cracking his knuckles, thinking about the challenge ahead. "Well, it sounds like I'm about to find out. Thank you for everything."
Bora clapped Krillin on the shoulder. "It was an honor mentoring one as talented as you, young Krillin. Your spearmanship is excellent."
"I hope I get to use it one day, Mr. Bora." Krillin replied, bowing, "Learning from you has been a genuine pleasure." He was telling the truth. The large guardian of the Land of Korin was actually incredibly gifted with a spear. Spending a few weeks learning everything about it felt nice in that fundamental way that learning new things related to one's passion was… But at the same time, weapons were inherently breakable. Much less durable than Krillin's fists.
Spearmanship was a nice skill in theory, but he honestly couldn't see it being much use when the opponent could transform a city of glass, steel, and concrete into a barren crater with a single ki blast.
Krillin walked over to the base of Korin Tower and placed his hand on it, tracing the carvings. He couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship. It stretched further than the eye could see and every single level was just as detailed, with subtle differences in each one.
"Let's see if I have what it takes to follow Master's footsteps." He began climbing.
The climb was not fun. It was eight hours of not fun. Eight hours of monotonous not fun.
The day was cloudy, and the water vapor in the clouds covered Krillin from head to toe, but after the first hour, he'd already passed the cloud cover. By hour three, he was dry.
By hour four, Krillin was certain that he was nearing the top… and had a sunburn on the top of his shiny, bald head.
By hour five, the latter half of his thoughts from hour four had been proven true, but he'd realized that the former half, about being near the top, was untrue.
By hour six, Krillin's muscles were beginning to burn from effort. A slow, irritating burn that, as time went on, began making him wish that he could simply slice one of the arms off so that the pain would at least change somehow.
Halfway through hour six, he realized that the burning sensation was the most interesting thing about the climb, with the relief designs carved into the sides of the tower a close second.
Shortly into hour seven, Krillin thought that he saw the top of the tower, and sped up for twenty minutes or so, ignoring pacing in favor of finally getting to the top.
Around halfway through hour seven, Krillin realized that he hadn't seen the top of the tower. His vision was simply getting spotty from a combination of fatigue, sweat, and the fact that looking up in order to search for the top of the tower meant staring almost directly into the sun.
The sun was like some crazy ninja.
Naturally, upon this realization, Krillin let loose a scream from the depths of his soul.
He then spent around five minutes lazily hovering, seriously considering giving up.
In the end, the fact that giving up after over seven whole hours was completely insane made Krillin grab onto the tower once more and continue the climb.
It was around forty minutes after his brush with giving up that Krillin finally saw the tower's egg-shaped peak.
Immediately, he began flying. At this point in his skill level, flying required more effort than walking or climbing did, but it was worth it, so long as he wasn't seeing things again.
If he was, he'd simply fall for eight hours or so, then give up due to the tower being unclimbable.
Luckily, he wasn't seeing things. Shooting through a hole at the bottom of the structure, he found himself in a storage room of some kind.
Immediately, Krillin did the first thing he could think to do.
He fell to the ground and kissed the marble flooring, tears dripping from his eyes.
Then, he laid there for a while, hugging the floor as the feeling of sheer relief flooded his system, slamming into him so hard that his legs literally stopped responding to his commands at all.
Before long, the emotions, the accomplishment, and the adrenaline all began fading from Krillin's system, one after the other, until he was so tired that he couldn't move a single muscle.
Eventually, he fell asleep right then and there, on some random marble flooring in a deceptively normal-looking storeroom filled with clay jars.
"My floor will not return your affections, you know. If you want to marry it, you're probably out of luck."
"...Huhhh…?" Waking to a voice that sounded rather like it belonged to an old man or something, Krillin carefully peeled himself off of the ground and into something resembling a sitting, or at least a kneeling, position.
Clearly, someone had let him sleep for a long time, because the sky below was already red with the hint of light that just barely predated the dawn.
"Hello, kid. What's your name?"
Krillin rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, finally registering who'd spoken to him.
"Yoo hoo? Anyone home? I asked your name, kid." They asked again.
"...You're a cat."