"That's Mr. Satan's daughter competing this time too. It's been a while, and she's already gotten so big," remarked the blonde female reporter as she interviewed Videl.
Videl rolled her eyes and completely ignored her.
She knew this reporter well — the woman was practically a fixture at her house looking after her father. There was no way she'd have gotten an exclusive with Mr. Satan otherwise.
"Dad, Goten, Uncle Piccolo is over there," Goku (GT reincarnated) said, spotting Piccolo after turning his head.
Goku and Gohan quickly went over to greet him.
"Gohan... you're not really going out there looking like that, are you?" Piccolo asked, a bead of sweat trickling down his face.
"Yep!" Gohan replied with a cheerful nod.
With that, everyone went up one by one to register.
Gohan signed up under his alias, the Great Saiyaman.
Piccolo entered under the name Majunia.
When Trunks and Goten stepped up, the tournament staff placed them in the Junior Division.
"What? The Junior Division?" Trunks was taken aback.
"That's right," the staff member confirmed.
"Hey, Goten, did you hear that? Anyone under fifteen can't compete with the adults!" Trunks complained to his friend.
"Huh?" Goten looked puzzled.
"Now there's a rule like that!" Bulma scoffed, thinking that the tournament regulations had gone to the dogs.
"We're not fighting in some junior division! We want to compete with the adults!" Trunks insisted.
"Huh? Sorry, but that's the rules of the tournament!" the staff member refused without hesitation.
"Hmph!" Trunks scowled, clearly unhappy.
Nearby, Krillin snickered to himself.
*Thank goodness they're stuck in the junior division. I wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of beating those two little punks.*
After registration, Goku and the others said their goodbyes to their families and headed towards the arena.
"Good luck, everyone!" Bulma called, waving her hand.
The group pressed forward.
"Looks like you and 18 did end up together after all, Krillin," Goku said with a laugh.
"Yeah..." Krillin nodded. "You called it, Goku."
"Hey 18, long time no see," Goku greeted Android 18.
"Hmph," she grunted in reply.
"Think you can beat me, Goten?" Trunks asked with a smirk.
"You bet," Goten answered confidently.
"You sure are full of yourself," Trunks said, his smile widening.
"My dad's been training me hard for a long time," Goten said with a grin. "He says the only path for a Saiyan to walk is the road to godhood."
"I see," Trunks replied, flashing his own grin. "What's a god to a Saiyan? My dad says Saiyans are gods."
Goten was speechless for a moment. "What does that even mean?"
"You'll find out when we fight," Trunks chuckled, leaving Goten thoroughly confused.
Trunks: "..."
*What on earth is he talking about? I don't get it.*
"That must be the last group of competitors. Once we get the shot, let's head to the prelims," the blonde reporter said, her eyes sparkling as she looked over Goku and the others.
"Sure..." the cameraman agreed, then rubbed his head and added in a low voice, "Don't they look a little... familiar? Like I've seen them somewhere before."
"Now that you mention it... they do seem somehow familiar," the reporter said, blinking her pretty eyes. Still, she couldn't quite place where she'd seen Goku and the others.
Over the years, since Goku and his friends kept a low profile, news about them had slowly faded from memory. In general, even the most explosive stories tend to cool off in about fourteen days. After that, fresh news takes its place. The same was true for Goku and his friends.
"Excuse me... I'm sorry, where are you all from? Have we met somewhere before?" the blonde reporter asked, approaching Vegeta and Piccolo to start the interview.
Neither Vegeta nor Piccolo so much as glanced at her; they simply walked right past.
The blonde reporter was left speechless.
The reporter turned to the cameraman. "You said we've seen them before — where?"
"I can't recall either, but I'm sure we have," he replied with a firm nod.
"Forget it," the reporter said, deciding to drop the matter. She then approached Goku and Krillin as they walked by. "Hello, excuse me. Where are you all from?"
"Oh, I'm from..." Goku had barely uttered a few words when Piccolo, through an intangible wave of energy, caused the camera to short out.
*Boom!*
The camera exploded on the spot. The cameraman and the reporter nearly jumped out of their skins.
Goku ignored the commotion and glanced back at Piccolo.
In the previous time, Piccolo had destroyed all the recording equipment like this. In the end, though, Gohan had still been forced to go Super Saiyan 2 and blown his cover.
"What happened? Why'd the camera break?" the cameraman whined, looking utterly miserable. "All that footage... it's all gone to waste!" the blonde reporter wailed, tears in her eyes.
"How did this happen? Man, this is so weird! I begged Mr. Satan for a spot to film this... I was hoping to get a worldwide scoop!"
"Why don't you just go stay over at Mr. Satan's place again? I'm sure he could pull some strings," the cameraman suggested.
The blonde reporter was at a loss for words.
"All contestants who need to change clothes please head to the locker room. Time is short. We need you to hurry," a tournament staff member called to Goku and his group.
Those needing a change: Vegeta, Trunks, and Krillin.
"You know," Krillin mused, "with us all in this thing, I almost feel sorry for the other competitors. Our real opponents are just gonna be each other, anyway."
"I wish I could fight the grown-ups!" Trunks complained.
Once changed, Vegeta and the other two caught up with the group, and together they entered the arena where the preliminaries would be held.
There was quite a crowd, close to two hundred people. Being here meant they'd all signed up for the World Martial Arts Tournament.
"Oh! Oh, wow! It's you!" a delighted voice called out from beside him.
Goku and Krillin turned their heads and instantly recognized the man.
Both men smiled and waved at the announcer who'd greeted them.
It was the very same referee and announcer from the World Martial Arts Tournament, the man who'd run the show back when Goku and Krillin were just kids. The once youthful announcer was now a middle-aged man, the hair on his head noticeably thinner. But he still sported his signature pair of shades.
"This is a day to remember. I can hardly believe I'm seeing you all again," the announcer said, beside himself with excitement. He grabbed Goku's hand and shook it vigorously. "Oh, I've missed you all! I've been waiting for the day you'd show up again! *You're* the ones who really beat Cell, not Mr. Satan, right? I've known that forever. Satan's daughter, she tells the truth, but no one ever believes her."
Goku simply shrugged and grinned, not willing to say one way or the other.
"To be honest, the tournaments since you've been gone have gotten boring. The level of competition keeps getting worse," the announcer said, sighing as he shook his head. "Are you all here together?" he asked, looking at the men behind Goku.
"That's right," Goku confirmed.
"A new generation to carry the torch," the announcer said with feeling. He lowered his voice, glancing at Piccolo. "If I remember rightly, that's Piccolo, also known as Piccolo Junior. He's working for you now?"
"Well, I suppose you could put it that way," Goku said with a nod.
"Good for you!" the announcer said, giving Goku a thumbs-up.
Meanwhile, Piccolo's face had turned a sour shade of green.
*What do you mean, 'working for you'? Really, Goku? I've had just about enough of you! I was the god of Earth, after all.*
"Attention all contestants. The preliminaries for the World Martial Arts Tournament are about to begin. Counting the Junior Division, we have a total of one hundred ninety-four competitors. Only sixteen will make it out," a voice announced over the loudspeaker. "Since the World Champion, Mr. Satan, has been granted a bye into the main bracket, we will be selecting fifteen qualifiers today."
"Ha ha, I'd better get going. I'll see you all in the ring. I'm sure you'll all move on," the announcer said, waving at Goku as he left.
"For fairness, we will use the punching machine for the preliminaries," a staff member announced. "The fifteen contestants with the highest scores advance."
A punching machine had been set up in a prominent spot. "To demonstrate," the staff member continued, "we are honored to have the World Champion, Mr. Satan, with us today. Let's see his score! Put your hands together for Mr. Satan!"
Mr. Satan emerged in all his glory, raising his right hand high, a triumphant shout on his lips: "Woo! There isn't a man on this planet who can beat me!"
Applause cascaded through the audience as they chanted his name. Then, a host of photographers swooped in, snapping off shot after shot of the champ.
Mr. Satan put his hands on his hips, his grin growing by the second.
Piccolo's eye twitched.
*Pop! Pop! Pop!*
One by one, the cameras exploded on the spot.
Mr. Satan was briefly puzzled.
*What's going on here? What happened to those people's cameras?*
"Uncle Piccolo?" Gohan asked, suddenly realizing what had just happened.
"I destroyed the cameras that the spectators brought," Piccolo said calmly. "So even if your costume rips, no one from your school will see. You can fight without worry."
"Thanks, Uncle Piccolo!" Gohan said, truly grateful. "Dad, I'm going to go find Videl," he told his father.
"Yeah, go ahead," Goku said with a grin.
Mr. Satan stepped up to the punching machine.
*Bang!*
His mighty fist smashed into the machine's target, and a number appeared on the display: 137.
"One hundred thirty-seven! The score is one hundred thirty-seven!" the staff member announced with excitement.
*Whoa!*
The assembled contestants were stunned. It was a very high score, higher than any of them had expected. Mr. Satan was laughing up his sleeve.
*Looks like I still have some punch in me!*
"See you all in the finals! Do your best!" Mr. Satan called out, shaking his fist in farewell. "I look forward to facing someone who can give me a real challenge!"
The champ then retreated to the VIP lounge to relax.
"Once you receive your number, please line up in front of the punching machine," the staff member said. "Junior Division contestants, please gather here."
Goten and Trunks went off to join the line, both of them looking thoroughly bored.
The adult division's punching tests began.
"Seventy-five... sixty-one points. Next, seventy-six... one hundred twelve points! Seventy-seven... ninety-two points!"
"Hmph, this is a waste of my time," Vegeta grumbled. By this point, he was almost regretting coming at all.
*Maybe I should have stayed and waited for Babidi to show up so I could settle things with Kakarot once and for all.*
"Hey Vegeta, you're not going to bust the punching machine again, are you?" Goku asked with a grin.
"Hmph," Vegeta snorted in reply, refusing to dignify the question with an answer.
"Next up: number eighty-four," the staff member called.
Number eighty-four was none other than Android 18.
Several of the male contestants were immediately mesmerized by her delicate beauty. They practically drooled at the sight of her.
*Boy, what a looker.*
"Take it easy, will you? Don't push too hard. We don't want to wreck the machine," Krillin warned her.
"I know," 18 replied without looking back.
She stepped forward and gave the punching machine a light tap.
The scoreboard showed a stunning 774.
"Seven hundred seventy-four points!" the staff member stammered, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.
The male contestants who had been ogling her a moment before were now rooted to the spot, dumbstruck.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The machine doesn't seem to be working properly. Please bear with us for a moment," the staff member said quickly.
Technicians rushed forward to perform a theatrical inspection.
"I told you not to hit it too hard!" Krillin whispered to 18.
"Is that what you said to me when we were in bed together?" 18 asked with a sly grin.
Krillin was stunned speechless, his face turning beet red.
*Please, not here! Have some decency. You're embarrassing me, woman!*
"It looks like everything's working again," the staff member said with a forced grin.
18 took great care to pull her next punch. The machine showed a mere 203.
"Two hundred three points!" the staff member exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers and sweat beading on his forehead.
Krillin took his turn.
"Eighty-five... one hundred ninety-two points!"
Goku and Piccolo each went up on deck.
"Eighty-six... one hundred ninety-nine points! Eighty-seven... two hundred twenty points!" the staff member called out. Then, an eerie silence fell over the entire arena.
"Sir, the machine's broken down. It can't be fixed," a subordinate reported. "We'll have to go out and get another one."
"Yes, sir!" his subordinate replied.
Vegeta stared. *Every single time it's my turn, something goes wrong with this infernal machine.*
"Destruction!" A thin smirk tugged at the corner of Vegeta's mouth as he whispered the word.
A single, crackling sphere of reddish-purple energy erupted from his hand and struck the punching machine dead-on.
In an instant, the entire device seemed to disintegrate like a soap bubble, evaporating into nothingness, vanishing before their eyes. The crowd was dumbstruck. They searched for any trace of the machine, but, of course, there was none. Even Goku was staring open-mouthed in shock.
*What kind of incredible technique was that? How did he make the whole machine disappear?*
"Goku, did you see that?" Piccolo asked, wiping a bead of cold sweat from his face.
"I saw it. Did you see that? Vegeta's amazing!" Goku said, marveling at the display.
"I heard him say 'Destruction'," Piccolo said slowly. "Isn't that... Destruction? The technique the God of Destruction is supposed to use?"
"So that's the power of Destruction! When did Vegeta learn a technique like that?" Goku asked, shaking his head in wonder.
Vegeta, a smug look on his face, shot Goku a sideways glance.
*Tremble, Kakarot. That little display should give you something to think about.*
In his previous life, when Vegeta and Goku had fought Zamasu, Goku had used Destruction on the fused Zamasu. Vegeta had been flabbergasted. He'd never imagined Kakarot was capable of such a technique.
Seven years ago, Goku had heard Whis say that he wasn't suited for the autonomous ultra instinct. Rather, he would learn more by training under Lord Beerus.
The desire to learn Destruction had begun to form in his mind then. *If Kakarot could use it in the other world, I should be able to figure it out, too.* Through hard study, he had indeed managed to learn the technique, though the Destruction he could summon was still a far cry from Lord Beerus's. Still, it was enough to give someone a fright.
"What happened to the punching machine? Did you make it disappear with a magic trick?" the staff member asked after a few stunned moments.
*What, are you blind?* Vegeta's expression seemed to ask. *I destroyed it!*
He ignored the staff member and turned on his heel.
"Where are you going, Vegeta?" Goku asked.
"Hmph, have you forgotten? The junior division matches are about to start," Vegeta said with a scoff.
"Oh, you're right!" Goku said. The two of them headed off to watch Goten and Trunks fight.
"That was quite a feat, Vegeta. Your Destruction technique is pretty powerful," Goku said as he fell into step beside him.
"It's adequate, I suppose," Vegeta said, a smirk of satisfaction on his face.
"You learned that from Lord Beerus, didn't you?"
"Correct," Vegeta said, not bothering to deny it.
"When did you pick that up?" Goku asked.
"I mastered it ages ago. I simply saw no reason to use it before today," Vegeta said, forcing a casual tone.
Goku was left speechless for a second. *If he 'mastered it ages ago', then he must have learned it during those seven years.*
"Gohan, Videl, you two are still waiting in line?"
"Yes, Dad," Gohan nodded.
"Hi, Mr. Goku," Videl replied sweetly.
"We're going to go watch Goten and Trunks. Good luck getting through the preliminaries!" Goku said, leaving with Vegeta at his side.
"What kind of technique was that? The one that man with the pointy hair used? Where did that punching machine go?" Videl asked Gohan, still trying to make sense of what she'd witnessed.
"I have no idea. That's the first time I've ever seen a technique like that," Gohan confessed.
The junior division's round robin matches had begun. "Ladies and gentlemen! After a long absence, the World Martial Arts Tournament is finally here!" the announcer shouted. "We're starting things off with our boys under fifteen vying for the junior division championship. The junior champion will walk away with ten million zeni, and the runner-up will receive five million. But we've got something really special planned for you. Our junior champion will be treated to an exhibition match with a special guest! And that special guest is..."
The announcer dramatically pointed to the entrance at the back of the arena. "Of course, the World Martial Arts Champion, Mr. Satan!"
Thunderous applause and cheers filled the arena. Mr. Satan emerged with arms raised to the sky, looking every bit the champion, a triumphant grin spread across his face. With the crowd roaring his name, he went racing for the ring.
Mr. Satan took a flying leap, bypassing the steps entirely. He landed in the ring in one swift motion. Or so he intended. Instead, he landed awkwardly, tried to find his footing, and promptly fell back, cracking the back of his head against the canvas.
"Ow! Ow! Owwww!" Mr. Satan wailed, rolling around the ring in agony.
"Are... are you all right?" the announcer asked.
The audience watched, feeling rather secondhand embarrassment. Mr. Satan knew he looked foolish, so he scrambled to his feet and beat a hasty retreat from the ring.
"It was a joke," he said, forcing a laugh. "I was just joking around!"
Applause and cries of "Mr. Satan! Mr. Satan!" echoed through the arena as part of the audience struggled to figure out what had just happened.
The lump on the back of his head throbbed, but Mr. Satan kept his expression fixed in a frozen smile, refusing to let the pain show.
"So Goten, what are you going to buy with your prize money?" Trunks asked.
"Oh, I dunno... maybe some toys and snacks, I guess. What about you, Trunks?" Goten asked, smiling.
"You're such a kid, Goten," Trunks said, shaking his head. "What am I gonna do with it?"
"What are you talking about, Trunks? You're a rich kid's son. How can you be a rich kid's son and have nothing you want?" Goten asked, grinning.
"No, you've got it all wrong," Trunks said. "I'm not a rich kid's son."
Goten: "..."
"Your family is the richest family in the world! If you're not a rich kid's son, what are you?" Goten asked, looking genuinely confused.
"I'm a rich kid's grandson," Trunks answered flatly.
Goten was lost for words.
Elsewhere, two brothers were talking. "What's your first opponent like?" the younger brother asked.
"I'm in luck," his older brother said, flashing a smug grin. "It's that little runt over there." He nodded towards Trunks.
"Let's go give them a hard time," the younger brother suggested.
The two brothers walked over to where Trunks and Goten were standing.
"I'm going to punch you clear across the ring!" the older brother announced as he squared up to Trunks. "You sleep with a nightlight?"
"Beat it, you creepy weirdo," Trunks shot back. "What's wrong with your hair?"
"What did you say to me?" the older brother demanded, steaming with anger. The only thing that kept him from taking a swing was the promise of all those eyes on him when he beat the little punk senseless in the ring.
"I'm going to break every bone in your body," the older brother promised, shaking a fist under Trunks's nose.
"Is that right?" Trunks said, his eyes heavy-lidded with boredom. "I'll be sure to give you a nice, soft place to fall."
To be continued…
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