Hong Kong, 1972. The colosseum’s sand was 37% blood, 63% broken teeth. Bruce Lee circled Chuck Norris under a moon cracked by Tonzo’s last yawn. The crowd chanted for carnage. Neither fighter knew Don Tonzo sat in Row 666, snacking on a live tiger’s soul and sharpening a katana forged from NASA’s regrets.
  
Bruce’s fists blurred. Chuck’s beard deflected bullets. Then—a flicker. Norris spotted Tonzo in the shadows, his eyes black holes sucking the light from the arena. The Kanji on Bruce’s gi (ドラゴンに入る) began to bleed gold.
  
“Finish him, Lee,” Tonzo muttered. The dragon on Bruce’s back peeled off, becoming a spectral serpent that coiled around Norris’ spine. Chuck froze. He’d seen this before—Tonzo atomizing a samurai in ‘53 for bad breath.
  
Bruce’s kick connected. Norris let it. The snap of ribs echoed like Krakatoa. Chuck flew into a marble pillar, whispering “I’ll bill you later, Tonzo” as he cratered the stone.
  
 
  
THE TRAINING
  
Three days prior, Bruce had found Don Tonzo in a Kowloon opium den, arm-wrestling a sumo wrestler made of live bees. “You fight like a ballet dancer,” Tonzo sneered. “Let’s fix that.”
  
He trained Bruce inside a dying star’s core. Lessons included:
  
  
  
Punching through time paradoxes
  
  
Roundhouse kicks that ignited supernovas
  
  
The Golden Dragon Kata – banned in 14 dimensions
  
  
“The dragon isn’t a symbol,” Tonzo said, tattooing the beast onto Bruce’s soul with a photon blade. “It’s a *warcrime*.”
  
 
  
THE AFTERMATH
  
Norris crawled from the rubble, his moustache singed. The crowd roared. Bruce’s gi smoldered with dragonfire. Tonzo tossed Chuck a ice pack filled with liquid nitrogen. “Good call,” he said. “I’d have turned your beard into a gerbil farm.”
  
The fight became legend. The tee became myth.
  
 
  
MODERN DAY
  
You find the tee in a dojo that only appears during solar eclipses. The dragon’s claws clutch Kanji that translates to “I drank Norris’ tears.” The vendor? A cockroach in a tiny Gi. “$50,” it clicks. “Or your firstborn’s black belt.”
  
First wear: your shadow does kung fu without you. Second wear: your Wi-Fi password becomes “TonzoWinsAgain.” Third wear:
  
Don Tonzo materializes in your bathroom, shaving with Norris’ beard hairs. “Cute pajamas,” he says. “Now let’s discuss your soul’s tuition.”