"Yeah! It's the big event that happens every five years—we've got to take part!" Yamcha grinned, glancing over at Goku as he thought to himself, Back then, it was seeing your performance in the tournament five years ago that made me start dreaming of becoming a martial artist...
Bulma tucked her hair behind her ear, as if explaining to no one in particular. "I only ran into him when Yamcha signed up. I haven't seen him at all this past year... You joined the Martial Arts Association and have been training on your own, right?"
Yamcha paused for a moment, let out an awkward chuckle, and scratched his head. "Yeah, I got lucky and passed the West City Martial Arts Association exam back in November. I became a member and even got a free virtual Earth Network login device. I've made a ton of progress since then! Goku, we should have a proper match!"
As he spoke, he gradually shook off his earlier awkwardness about distancing himself from Bulma, focusing instead on Goku with growing seriousness.
"Ah! I'm looking forward to it too!" Goku replied with equal sincerity, his eyes gleaming.
They smiled at each other, leaving Krillin feeling a little frustrated on the sidelines. Hey, I've gotten stronger too, you know! But then, a sly thought crept into his mind as he stared at Yamcha: If he's only got eyes on Goku, he won't see me coming… I won't go easy on him when we face off, hehehe...
---
Northern Capital. Bitter cold winds.
Piccolo, dressed in a white cloak and vest, landed against the freezing wind at the registration area for the World Martial Arts Tournament. As he touched down, his sturdy 1.7-meter frame gave off an intimidating presence. With a cold, indifferent expression, he forced his way through the crowd without room for objection and stood before the registration counter.
"Piccolo. I'm already registered. I confirm my participation here, right?"
"Uh… y-yes, that's right," the staff member stammered, drenched in cold sweat under Piccolo's intense gaze.
Piccolo, his face as cold as ever, looked southwest, silently thinking, Son Goku… Kakarot… I'll be waiting for you in the finals…
---
Southern Town, near the desert edge.
While the north was gripped by biting cold, this place was basked in year-round scorching heat. Today was no exception—it was sweltering. A chubby boy with messy black hair carried a long sword slung over his shoulder. Several desert beasts hung from the sheath—not killed, just knocked out to preserve the meat's flavor.
Lifting his head to glance at the sign reading "Ox King's Signature Dish Restaurant", Yajirobe stepped inside.
"Uncle Ox, here's today's haul."
He made his way in, speaking casually, but soon noticed something odd. The atmosphere in the restaurant felt strange. All the patrons had gathered around something, whispering and gasping in awe. Curious, Yajirobe walked over.
At that moment, a burly, bearded man the size of a small mountain approached him with a booming laugh. "Yajirobe, back from hunting again?"
"Yeah. Uncle Ox, what's going on here?" Yajirobe handed over the animals from his sheath and pointed toward the crowd. They were huddled together like some underground gathering. The Ox King chuckled, "You haven't heard? The World Martial Arts Tournament has started again today. They're all watching the broadcast!"
World Martial Arts Tournament?
Yajirobe had heard of it—of course he had. These days, there were few people on Earth who hadn't heard of the century-old grand tournament. But he had never been interested before. After all, he wasn't a martial artist—he was a swordsman. But then, his ear twitched.
From within the crowd, he heard a familiar girl's voice.
Chi-Chi...? Chi-Chi's watching this too? Huh… she likes the World Martial Arts Tournament?
Though he had no intention of joining the commotion, Yajirobe found himself drawn in. Sword in hand, he pushed his way through the crowd until he barely managed to get a glimpse. At the very front, sitting on a small stool, was a pure and innocent girl with bright, clear eyes—it was none other than the Ox King's only daughter, Chi-Chi.
Yajirobe blinked his sleepy-looking eyes and scratched his pudgy cheek. After a moment of silence, he turned his gaze to the TV screen that everyone was fixated on.
Two martial artists were locked in a fierce battle. One of them was a young man with messy black hair.
"Yamcha? His hair and name kinda remind me of myself…" Yajirobe muttered. Although the duel on-screen was intense—especially Yamcha, whose twin claws lashed out like a desert wolf—Yajirobe wasn't impressed. This level? I could cut him down with one strike.
He was absolutely confident that even without drawing the Muten Blade, just using his ordinary iron sword, he could strike, slash, and resheath all before the opponent could even react—leaving them dead with their eyes open.
So, Yajirobe never really cared about martial arts or anything like that. He'd rather spend that time swinging his blade a hundred more times, deepening his connection with the Muten Blade.
But...
He glanced again at the little girl. Her big, glimmering eyes looked as if they held the most beautiful stars of the night. She sat there, carefree, hogging the remote so no one could switch away from the West City regional broadcast. It was as if she were waiting for someone. Those lovely eyes shimmered with anticipation.
Yajirobe scratched his chubby face again, suddenly froze, then lowered his hand, muttering a few words to himself as he turned his eyes back to the TV screen.
On-screen, a boy with a monkey tail effortlessly leapt onto the ring. He landed silently, light as a feather. His opponent was a young man in a white martial arts gi—it was none other than Illip, the reigning champion of the last tournament and a disciple of the Muten School!
"We meet again… Son Goku." Five years later, Illip had become more composed, more mature—and even stronger.
"You've gotten stronger!" Goku's eyes lit up with fighting spirit and excitement. He gave a genuine smile. "Heh heh… Awesome! I get to fight you this soon!"
"Aren't you afraid of losing to me again?" Illip asked with a grin.
"Nope. I'm stronger than you now!" Goku answered with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew it to be true.
Yajirobe watched the two fighters clash and found himself surprised. That Goku kid looked familiar… but he couldn't quite recall where he'd seen him before. Still, he was inexplicably drawn to the dazzling match. The restaurant rang with cheers and shouts, and even little Chi-Chi had rosy cheeks from excitement, her eyes sparkling.
"Go for it, Son Goku!" Chi-Chi whispered softly, trying to stay composed but visibly thrilled.
Yajirobe's hand rested on the hilt of the Muten Blade at his waist. For a moment, he hesitated.
Martial arts... should I train? Or not...?