Frieza had managed, with no one to guide him and in a remarkably short span of time, to close the gap from 100 million battle power all the way to Super Saiyan Blue — all on his own. That alone proved just how sharp he was.
Right now, the enemy outnumbered his allies. Vegeta, Hit, Beerus — every one of them was watching him like a hawk, and none of them would sit back and let an unstable element like Frieza stick around. What if he decided to pull something? Taking him out of play early was simply the smart move.
Frieza, to his credit, kept things simple: no need for anyone else to lift a finger. He'd do it himself.
A genuine, serious wound — blood practically draining out of him — who was going to start trouble in that state? Who could possibly be in worse shape than him?
With no threat coming from his direction, no one had any reason to keep watching him.
Frieza felt it clearly: the moment his wound became undeniably real, Vegeta's, Hit's, and Beerus's gazes all slid away from him.
He had planned it well. The honey trap was executed beautifully. Only… he stared at his Chief of Staff. What on earth did you do to that laser pistol? How is it this painful?! You weren't trying to actually kill me while you had the chance, were you?!
As one of the scene's unofficial "directors," Ino had been watching from a distance. She was satisfied with Frieza's performance.
Sending Frieza up to perform — of course she'd had a fallback plan ready. If the man had turned out to be completely talentless, she'd been prepared to have him sing "Digging, Digging, Digging" or maybe "Cramming at the Last Minute." The first one didn't exactly match the image of a galactic emperor, but the second felt perfectly on-the-nose — just screech it out at the top of your lungs.
As it turned out, Frieza had read the room beautifully. Not only had he delivered a genuine performance, he'd used the occasion to inflict a real injury on himself — neatly meeting everyone's expectations in one stroke. Ino stopped paying attention to him after that.
She spent another half hour carefully, painstakingly keeping Grand Zeno entertained. By then she was completely exhausted.
She immediately activated Earth's ultimate weapon.
Mr. Satan — you're up!
During the Hawk Catches Chicks game, Goku had used Instant Transmission to zip Mr. Satan home and back, and he'd returned carrying a large bag, slightly breathless from the rush.
Was Mr. Satan scared? The atmosphere at the venue was heavy enough to crush iron — he wasn't an idiot, of course he was scared. But fear has a threshold, and once you've pushed past it, somehow it stops feeling like fear at all.
Mr. Satan had a remarkable tolerance for pressure. His power was negligible, yes, but he had qualities that Goku and the others simply didn't. His unshakeable self-confidence gave him a natural warmth and magnetism — it was a genuine part of why ordinary people on Earth adored him so.
Mr. Satan took over from Ino and the others, stepping in to entertain Grand Zeno. In a rare moment, even the Grand Minister glanced at him twice. "I hear you are Earth's savior. You're quite something — you carry a courage you haven't even noticed in yourself."
Do I have courage? Mr. Satan gave a dry laugh. He honestly wasn't sure he had that particular quality...
He didn't know who the Grand Minister was, but he knew Ino.
Himawari and Kale came by often to play with Videl, and Videl had visited Konoha too. Over time, Mr. Satan had even gotten acquainted with Shikamaru over in Konoha. Ino was currently in her nine-year-old form, which looked a little strange, but he'd weathered too many storms to be thrown off by something like that.
He glanced instinctively toward Ino. She gave a subtle nod: that was a compliment — don't overthink it.
"This is the latest model gaming console — watch me run through it once..." Mr. Satan crouched down to bring himself level with Grand Zeno, then held out the handheld device and began teaching Grand Zeno how to play.
Grand Zeno watched for a moment, then tilted his head. "This is kind of hard."
The air in the room dropped several degrees instantly. Frieza, still wrapping his wound, went completely rigid — not daring to move a muscle.
Mr. Satan kept his smile going and hastily produced another handheld. "Ha ha, that one was a little tricky, you're absolutely right... This one's much easier — watch here, all you have to do is jump over this part, and shoot right here..."
Gaming consoles, chocolates, claw machines, ring toss — Mr. Satan had raised Videl entirely on his own, and he had no shortage of tricks for keeping a child amused. In the end he even roped in Nappa, and together they performed a dramatic brick-breaking-on-the-chest act — somehow, through sheer showmanship, managing to run out the clock until the tournament was ready to begin.
The format had originally been first to three wins out of five. It was now changed to first to two wins out of three. Just get on with it, let Grand Zeno have some fun, then see him off — job done.
Whatever ultimate showdown between the Sixth and Seventh Universes, whatever clash of pride between Champa and Beerus — none of that mattered anymore the moment Grand Zeno had arrived.
"I hereby declare the tournament officially underway! Representing the Sixth Universe — Hit! Representing the Seventh Universe — Son Goku!" Shin stood at the center of the stage and made the announcement in a loud, clear voice.
Grand Zeno sat obediently to one side, occasionally sipping some yogurt, his attention mostly fixed on the competitors.
"Xiao Ino, who do you think is going to win?"
"Ah? Well..."
Ino hesitated. Grand Zeno was sitting right beside her now, far too close — that dense, overwhelming force of fundamental law radiated off him like a colossal jamming signal, and it was already interfering with her ability to read future timelines.
The images of the future blurred and smeared. In that moment, she genuinely couldn't tell who would come out on top.
"I'd guess the Seventh Universe's Son Goku. In my experience, Saiyans have incredible appetites — and among all of them, Goku eats the most."
Grand Zeno nodded several times. "I think so too. That Son Goku competitor really does look very at ease."
The Grand Minister smiled and nodded as well. "So that is Son Goku? Even I have heard his name. Seeing him now — he truly is a remarkable child."
Hearing the big shots weigh in, Beerus immediately shot Goku a meaningful look: you had better win this one. If you lose, I will end you.
On the other side, Champa was sending equally desperate looks at Hit: did you hear that? You had better lose this one.
Poor Hit. As a super assassin who had lived for over a thousand years — who, through countless blood-soaked battles using only a mortal body, had glimpsed just a sliver of time's deepest mysteries — his face right now was a masterpiece of supreme awkwardness.
Assassins and ninja were more or less the same that way — neither was cut out for a stage-style competition. And now there wasn't even a fight. It was an eating contest.
If it weren't for the circumstances forcing his hand, Hit would genuinely rather eat the humiliation in private than show up here and embarrass himself like this.
In the spectator area — particularly at the table where Ino and the others were seated — the dishes being served included whole shark fin soup and braised sea cucumber with scallions. Over at the competitors' end, meanwhile, each participant had received a basket of dorayaki — those sweet red bean pancakes that were Doraemon's favorite, two golden discs sandwiched together around a sweet filling, nicknamed after the pair of copper gongs they resembled.
Half a person's height worth of dorayaki, stacked high in a basket. Come now, honored guests — enjoy the cakes.
The imperiously cool Hit stared at the scene, his face going faintly green. He watched Goku grab one in his left hand, snatch another in his right, and start wolfing them down at speed — and scrambled to start eating himself.
One or two dorayaki on their own might be genuinely delicious. But an entire basket? That was a different story entirely.
Losing was a foregone conclusion. Even without the big shots shooting him desperate looks, Hit had to admit — there was simply no way he was out-eating Son Goku.
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