Chapter 1: Contest of the Century!
"Toei Animation, Fuji TV, and Animax are proud to present to you, the loyal fans of the Dragon Ball franchise, the contest of the century!"
The commercial on the subway car's monitor was obscured by the sound of the train's wheels screeching across the tracks of Tokyo's primary train route. As always, the subway was jam-packed as everyone took their daily commute into the city. The usual throng of passengers was present: the gathering of teenagers dressed in their school uniforms, the blue collar workers heading to the factories, getting one last drag on their cigarettes before clocking in, and of course the classic Japanese businessmen adorned in their suits and grasping onto the day's paper.
In the middle of this congregation of half-awake citizens, one man stood out. There wasn't anything particularly abnormal about him; in fact, he fit the typical description of your average businessman to a tee. On any other day, he would have just been another tired suit mindlessly flipping through the day's paper, but not today. The balding, middle-aged man pushed up the frames of his glasses as a small smile appeared on his face. On this particular day, he felt almost as if he were twenty years younger... like he could do anything!
"Today's the day. It's finally arrived," he mumbled to himself along with a small chuckle. Beginning to hum the opening to his favorite anime, the gentleman closed his eyes for a brief second as he let this feeling of joy wash over his entire body. After months of planning, weeks of organizing and gathering up all of the submissions, the day had finally arrived when it would all pay off.
"Hey mister." Opening his eyes, the jolly fellow turned his head to see a young schoolgirl tapping on his shoulder. "Is that you on the TV?"
Looking back over to the monitor, the man's smile widened even more as he saw himself on the display standing alongside the attractive reporter.
"I have with me today the mastermind behind this project and the Producer of the next installment in the Dragon Ball Z franchise: Mr…"
A loud clanging sound rang throughout the subway car as one of the other passenger's bags slammed onto the floor. The Producer gave the offending object a cursory glance before returning his attention to the screen.
"…mind telling us about the competition!?"
"Not at all, Miss Chidori. You see, we wanted to bring in some new life to the franchise, so what better way to renew fans' interest in Dragon Ball by letting them be the ones to create the story? With this contest, we'll be taking submissions from Dragon Ball fans across the globe for the plot of the next feature film in the series. I believe it will be amazing to see what our supporters come up with, and I can't wait to read over all of your submissions! Remember though, you must submit your story by April 1st in order to qualify for…"
'Do I really sound like that?' thought the Producer as the subway's horn sounded, blocking out the sound from the commercial as the train began to screech to a halt as it pulled into the station. The congregation of passengers finally began to show signs of life as everyone began to jostle for position in order to get out of the car.
"So, does that mean that the competition's over now?" asked the young girl as she and the older man began to file out of the train.
"That's right. Admission has been closed and all of the entries have been brought to our headquarters so we can look over all of the applications!" replied the Producer cheerily as they walked out into the platform. "Were you interested in applying, young lady?"
"Oh no, not me!" the girl exclaimed. "I was just surprised to see someone from TV on the subway like a normal person! Well, it was nice meeting you, sir."
"You as well, miss."
The man gave a polite wave to the young girl as she ran off to join the rest of her friends. With another smile spreading across his face, the Producer pushed up his glasses onto his face and gripped onto his briefcase tightly as he began to ascend up the stairs, the first rays of the dawn beginning to peek through the cloudy overcast. Ushering in a new dawn, the celestial body tentatively erased all memories of longing darkness that caused all of the hustle and bustle of industrial Japan to pause for an entire night. An old poem written ages ago stated that as the sun engenders a new day, so does hope and optimism renew itself, and the stress and worries of a day long past are forgotten in the mists of life's trivial nature.
So as fate would have it, one of Japan's best and brightest strolled past the riverbanks of tranquil, blue waves that caressed the grassland mere feet from the boots of walking workmen. The Producer was a humble man, very self-reliant and incisive. He was astute in his studies - completing graduate school with utter ease no less - and an honorable man with a flair for the realistic and thought-provoking.
Adjusting his circular glasses to the correct placement, the Producer continued his stroll past the river. On each side were ferns, bushes, and more foliage, which prevented any stray splashes from pelting ongoing citizens. Down the stone-cobbled pathway was a large building, both in length and height, with the Dragon Balllogo plastered on a magnificent sign. The likes of Akira Toriyama had frequented that very place in years past, and as the Producer of Dragon Ball's feature films, it was truly a momentous honor to work with such a brilliant writer.
Entering the building through its sliding doors, the Producer traveled down the lightly tiled floor with his boots clicking and clacking the entire way. Going past the potted plants, secretary desks, and the like, he made his way to the elevator lobby where two silver elevators symmetrically faced each other. Pressing a button as he hummed "Cha La, Head Cha La" to himself, the middle-aged man awaited for the inevitable beep to alert him that his elevator had arrived.
It was almost difficult to wait for the upward journey to his office. He hadn't been this excited for a very long time; after all, it wasn't every day when he got to sift through ideas of lifelong fans to decipher what the future plot of the next Dragon Ball Z movie would be! A slight grin seeped through his slightly cracked lips as he sorted through all the clutter in his mind. What would the best story be about? Would Vegeta finally make the next step and become a Super Saiyan Three? Would a new fusion arise? Would a precarious malcontent of a villain be created from scratch? It was all so exciting to think about!
In moments the elevator slid open. The Producer eased his way in and instantly pressed button number twenty-three to take him up to his office. Seconds later, as the elevator was about to force itself closed, another man slithered his way in.
The Producer gave a friendly smile as his fellow employee did the same. "How are things today, Tite Mashima?" he asked kindly with a nod of his balding head.
Tite placed his hand on his neck and gave it a slight scratch as he slightly pursed his lips, glancing the other way. "Eh, so so... Work's a drag sometimes, you know?"
Reaffirming his claim, the Producer also nodded steadfastly. "I know what you mean. However, today's a different story." Immediately, his smile engorged into a large grin as shiny white teeth burst through, to Tite's melancholic surprise. "I presume you know about the contest?"
"Yeah, I heard about that," Tite mentioned with a grovel in his voice, taking another moment to scratch his plump, rosy cheek. "The Boss gave word that the submissions are in. You have quite the workload prepared," he stated, pointing a chubby finger. "I hope you know what you're dealing with..."
With a slight chuckle, the Producer rose his left eyebrow inquisitively, lining his forehead with layers of wrinkles. "Of course! That's the beauty of it! They're fan submissions made by inspired and creative minds that we usually don't have access too!" Hearing the elevator slowly screech to a stop, the Producer turned to look at the doorway. "Besides, FanFiction is, supposedly, a great way to express your inner ideas with like-minded people. It's a great thing."
As the door instantaneously opened, Tite slightly opened his mouth and rose his upper lip. Such a claim was mind-boggling to the hardened man who had seen his fair share of fan submissions in the past, although that could be his cynical nature. "Have you SEEN some of those stories? Calling it garbage is way too kind... I think your expectations are a bit too high..."
Exiting the door with a hop in his step and a wave, the Producer laughed off Tite's concerns with his seemingly typical grin. He didn't have a care in the world, which was unusual for the typically cautious man who tended to leave no stone unturned in his work. It was as if he was reborn to discover something phenomenal, something that would change the franchise forever.
"Well, that's a little unfair; I mean... everything has its flaws. Even Dragon Ball has some, but that doesn't stop us from enjoying it! I'm sure the fans know what they're doing, even if they do make a few mistakes here and there..."
The Producer strolled leisurely to his office and plopped down in his leather chair, rubbing his hands together excitedly as he opened the first page of the brand new script that he'd just gotten.
'Man, this is going to be great!' he thought anxiously. 'I've been a lifelong Dragon Ball fan like I'm sure many of these fanfiction writers have been, and I can't wait to see some of the ideas they whipped up!'
Unable to contain his joy and excitement, the Producer turned to the first page, which read in bold: External Happiness: Teh Stori Of Too Sayins.
Immediately, the Producer was enraptured by the intriguing premise; so much so, in fact, that he completely disregarded the incorrect capitalization and spelling in the title. Of course this story was surely about the introduction and development of two non-canonical Saiyans; however, it was much easier to appreciate a story like this one as opposed to the hasty and rushed storytelling of the previous movies. Eager to learn how this tale would unfold, he turned the page and allowed himself to be immersed in the world of Dragon Ball Z once more as if he were a little kid opening his very first volume of the Dragon Ball manga series.
"Goku pwrd down from his supper saying tree form sweat drippin' and poorin' down his face and exposed rippled chest, since he and Veggie had been spareing like all day long and all that. Veggie also pwrd down from his supper saying tree form cus he gets it 2 4 bein such a hawt baeb n all dat gud stuf," he read aloud to himself.
Despite the atrocious spelling and syntax - in addition to the horrific description of Vegeta as a "hawt baeb" - the Producer decided to continue on with the submission. After all, the plotline seemed fairly natural to him, and as a friendly man, he was willing to give any fan's work a chance. Besides, it was only fair that Vegeta achieve the Super Saiyan Three form eventually; he deserved it after all his hard work and characterization in the series.
Then he glanced back to read the next segment.
And immediately regretted it.
Though he'd been fortunate enough to ignore the sheer fangirling in the opening paragraph, he was not blessed enough to say the same for the second spoonful of idiocy.
"Veggie fazed beehind Goku and rapped his armz around hiz chest before leanin in with hiz lips pukured aimin 4 hiz neck saiyan "Ive been waitin 4 u Kakarot…"
The Producer immediately recoiled, throwing the stapled and organized script on the desk as quickly as he could with a scream of horror. Though the papers immediately came undone and scattered into a storm of pages, he had barely noticed - all he could see was the scarring image that the script had made sure to paint so vividly.
"W-What the hell have I done!?"
Will the Producer be driven insane by crappy FanFiction!? Will this story ever actually update!? Find out next time on…Contest of the Century!