Sutori-Artifex here. No time to explain. Accept this One-Shot bullcrap as a token of proof that I am actually alive. The last chapter of Masscreed's coming up. Also, I still need people to vote for the survival of either NEXUS or Second Dawn! Go to my profile in order to do so!

So yeah. Dragonball Z. Totally unexpected. I never thought I'd do this. I might just put this story up on the Poll and see if it can catch up to NEXUS and Second Dawn.

So, I'll be up front with this. This was an experiment of mine, to write something similar to what Akira Toriyama would write, blended with TeamFourStar styled humor. I wanted to keep my own style of writing and improve on it with influence from Toriyama, TFS, and other DBZ related creators.

But I wanted to try something new. There are NOT a lot of OCs in the Dragon Ball universe, oddly enough. At least, not nearly as many as there are for Pokemon, or MLP, or FNAF, or whatever. And most that exist are super believable, which is one of the cool points about the DB fandom. So, I created an ensemble cast of OCs like I did for NEXUS. They will have run-ins with canon characters who are still alive by their time. Namely Dende, Mr. Popo (I don't know if I want to run with Canon or TFS Abridged Popo. I think the latter is far more hilarious and fleshed out, but I don't know if I can get away with it), and Korin.

A few things to say from the get-go.

In this fiction, Dragon Ball is obviously canon. Every saga in DBZ is canon. Movies and filler may be accepted by me as fan-canon at my discretion. Dragon Ball GT is NOT canon here. And I don't think it is at all as this point, thanks to Super, which I consider canon. That said, Piccolo (who died permanently in GT) will make some sort of appearance here. And as for Goku (and possibly Vegeta) becoming a God, I would think his lifespan would increase dramatically. So, he should be here… somewhere. In the universe.

Note: The continuity from Dragon Ball Online/Xenoverse is present here. Majins are a race that exist. I dunno what I wanna do with the Time Patrol.

I've made numerous callbacks to Dragon Ball. The anthropomorphic animal population of Earth is going to get a boost in importance. It was kinda sad how they just faded into nonexistence towards the end of DBZ. Even the named characters like Oolong and Korin were borderline useless from the start, with Korin fading in importance during the Buu Saga. To represent them, I gave the party a character from this population. She's not as strong as most characters, but she's definitely not a useless character.

I brought back the Giras from the original DB and threw in a character to be the team tank.

Giving the World Tournament a Dragon Ball flavor to it, blending the City Stadium with the old Tenkaichi Budokai Island arenas. Putting Preliminaries back in, and reverting to the Pre-Hercule systems of earning the championship title.

Also threw in callbacks to older or obscure DB and DBZ techniques as I felt they were both humorous (Krillin's Balloon Technique) and/or consistant with the capabilities and limits of low power Earth warriors. Simple Full Power Energy (Waves/Balls/Blast Volleys), for example of the latter. It's debatable whether Kiais* fit here, however.

*Invisible blast of energy. Do not confuse with ki/chi, as in the type of energy.

Bah, I'll get back to all this at the end of the story. I won't waste your time. Read on, and enjoy! Make sure to vote on the poll on my main profile page to select your favorite of my three stories!

Age 856, Southwestern Forest

What does it mean to be human?

When Gods walk among Men, who themselves walk on the face of a planet teeming with monstrous beings that could kill a mere mortal human in one slash of the claw or chomp of the jaw. When otherworldly beings of immeasurable power share the streets with them. The Namekians, now no longer with a homeworld to call their own… the Majin, offspring of the planet sundering Buu… Saiyans, the proud warrior race born to battle and conquer.

When anything and everything could vaporize you with a glance, what good is humanity? Wait, scratch that. I have to include the anthropomorphics as well… Earthlings in general.

But, Shira, you must remind yourself; Earthlings are well on their way to becoming a warrior race. Just look at yourself. Have you not trained all your life to make something of yourself? That rude fellow back in West City told you of that tournament in the South Islands. Held once every three years. The prize money always seems to increase dramatically each new tournament… ha. 50,000,000 Zeni this time around. About $415,700 at the exchange office. It's not as though I want that kind of money. I do believe, though, that it is time to show this world what it is that you are made of, Shira. Give the prize money to a good cause.

The nomadic monk sat cross-legged on a flat stone in the middle of the Southwestern Forest, contemplating his next destination. The canopy of leaves was positioned in such a way that, as he sat in the center of a small clearing, the sunlight poured down around him and he could see the sunbeams if he opened his dark brown eyes to look. He smiled up at the sky, his sunkissed, peach-tinted skin glowing in the light. He heard the bushes behind him begin to rustle. He sat silent, a part of his attention divided to listen for more noise. Another rustle and a quiet footstep in the dirt.

"You," said a feminine voice from behind him, "Give me all your belongings." An anthropomorphic, specifically a fox, stood behind Shira with a dagger pointed to his back. He did not budge, taking in another deep breath, eyes closed as he kept thinking about the World Tournament. "You deaf or something? I said give me all your stuff!" she said, poking him with the dagger. No sense in killing him yet, Misua, she thought to herself.

Power level of "feels like 500."

Shira simply smirked.

53rd World Martial Arts Tournament

He wasn't used to travelling by boat. Oh, he wasn't seasick by any means, but every time the boat rocked and lurched with the waves, he felt like the damn thing was going to go down. He hadn't actually used a boat in quite a long time. He could fly. He knew that well, and he usually flew everywhere he went since he could. In fact, he had flown to South City to get on the Tenkaichi Budokai Contestant Yacht. As soon as he made it within range of his rival martial artists, he figured he would do his best to suppress his power level and appear like a meager combatant. He had purchased a plain, white linen robe without any detail to wear until he got into the ring. He usually trained topless – why not do the same in a fight? The pure simplicity of the outfit he wore was enough to fool his rivals, and he knew it. He had gotten several snide side-comments and snickers from others on the ship.

Or perhaps they were directed at his new partner. Upon that thought, he turned to his companion and asked her, "Did I really break your arm that hard?" He was playing coy, and Misua knew it. She grumbled and looked out over the horizon, toward the mainland.

"You're lucky senzu extract capsules are a thing," she said, rubbing her slightly sore right forearm. Her arm simply didn't look right since the incident. The reddish-orange fur fell out a little and there was a missing patch, clear as day, on the left side of the forearm. Anything else that could be noticeable was, thankfully, shielded from the public eye by her black gi undershirt, dark blue jodhpurs, and white-linen foot wrappings. She tucked her shadow-black cephalic hair into a bun and ran one of Shira's chopsticks through it to keep it stable.

"Oh come on, you had a dagger. I was unarmed."

"Well I didn't think you were one of those humans," she said in her defense, crossing her arms and huffing.

"Look where you are now, though. I already promised to give you some of the prize money," Shira replied.

"Assuming you win."

"Oh I'll win."

"You sound like my father."

"I'm not even going to play that game of Minesweeper right now."

That last one caught her off-guard. "Wait, you know what Minesweeper is? You're supposed to be some reclusive hermit."

"Hey!" Shira cried. "…I'm only a hermit if I'm old."

The two shared a brief laugh, and then fell into silence, listening to the waves go by and crash against the ship.

"Come on! Give me your stuff or I'm taking your life, too, 'sage!'" Misua shouted, prodding him with the dagger once again. Literally as quick as a flash, Shira had whirled around, out of a cross-legged position and now knelt down on one knee as he gripped Misua's right forearm. She tried to fight his grasp, and he ended up applying more power. She screamed as her arm snapped and the bone pushed through her skin. Shira struck her thrice: once in the other shoulder (dislocating it), once in the face, and once in the center of her chest, that last time with an open palm. She struggled to crawl away, whimpering in fear as Shira hopped off the rock and crouched in front of her. His hands were glowing with a bright, indigo light.

"I have no money, no possessions but the clothes on my back," he said, blank face unchanging. "But the attempt was admirable. Why do you desire material goods as you do, that you would assault a man peacefully meditating in the forest?"

The fox-bandit stopped, looking up and into the eyes of the man she was certain would kill her. "I-I need it, for my fa-family. My village isn't far from here, actually. I c-can show it to you if you don't believe me!" she said, in between sobs, tears of fear filling her bright blue eyes.

"Now, now. You brought this upon yourself. There is no need to fear me," Shira replied. He got up and walked back to the rock to grab his satchel. He had no true possessions, but he did have this one cheap, deteriorating bag that he kept necessities in – a toothbrush (no paste), a zeni coin purse for little purchases, a handful of medical capsules, and a few rudimentary cooking supplies, among which was his steel begging bowl (which he also cooked food on and ate from) and a firestarter. He retrieved the cooking supplies and the medical capsules and turned back towards the wounded bandit.

"Wh-what are you doing?" she asked, sniffling through the pain.

"Making us a little meal, getting this senzu bean extract ready for you."

"Senzu?"

"Ever been to the Sacred Land of Korin?" Misua shook her head. Shira shrugged and proceeded to explain. "Magic beans. No, they do not grow massive beanstalks," he joked. Misua couldn't help but try to laugh at that one. "Little beans that heal you and put you at your maximum energy in the span of seconds. They also provide enough of a meal to keep you fed for ten days," he explained. He walked about and gathered wood, setting up a tiny firepit in between the two of them. He set up a rack to place his begging bowl on and set to work searing some vegetables. "These capsules contain their extract. All the energy for none of the calories," he said in jest, shaking the tiny capsule between his thumb and index finger.

"That's… good?" Misua guessed.

"Handy. Nothing beats the actual bean itself. You just have to make sure not to eat too many," he said. "Unless you're interested in becoming a sumo wrestler."

Misua's eyes shot open, and for once, the pain seemed to subside as the mental image shocked her numb. Yay. "…not exactly the plan."

Shira chuckled, shaking his head. As the vegetables cooked, he crawled over to Misua and examined her injuries. "I'll heal you on a few conditions," he said.

"And what would those be?"

"You don't run away immediately afterward. I'd like the company and I threw enough broccoli on that bowl for two," he said, holding up his index finger. "I am on my way to the World Martial Arts Tournament, as well, and I'm willing to share the prize money with you to give to your village."

Misua nodded vigorously, having no adequate words to thank her village's savior.

"Good. Now… about these bones…" he said. Misua internally screamed, before she could externally scream. Shira grabbed the limp halves of her forearm and forced the bone back under her flesh to connect to the rest of her ulna. "Hold that in place. Stay calm," he said. He grabbed her OTHER screwed arm and rammed the humerus-shoulder joint back into the socket. She roared in agony once again, and when the pain faded, she experimented with moving the arm. She took the capsule and popped it into her mouth. The capsule activated and the senzu extract began to work its magic, sealing her bones together and repairing the flesh her ulna had torn through. She had previously formed bruises almost instantly upon being struck by Shira, and now those bruises were fading into nonexistence. She felt invigorated and her body was completely restored.

For a moment, she was tempted to run. But something about this man made her stay. With a grateful smile, she sat up straight and crossed her legs. "May I ask your name?"

"Shira. Yours?"

"Misua."

"Cute name," he said, tending to the vegetables. He put his index and middle finger to his right temple and in the blink of an eye, he vanished. Misua gasped, choking on her spit after accidentally swallowing it down the wrong pipe. As she coughed it out, Shira reappeared with a fish in his hand.

"…what the hell?"

"Learned that from the Turtle School some years ago."

"The teleportation or the goddamn insta-fish?!"

"Learned the last one on my own, I get hungry too, you know. It used to take forever to lock onto a fish's 'ki…' This one had only .1 to it's name."

Shira began skinning the fish with a steel knife, casting the scales to the side. He filleted it and set it down on the begging bowl to cook. "I only have one set of chopsticks if that's fine by you."

"…sure?"

"Great. I used to use any two twigs off the forest floor, but these were a gift and I felt it would be shameful to not use them. Plus, there aren't twigs in the desert, tundra, or mountains."

Desert, tundra, mountains, forests… he's been everywhere! "So… World Tournament?"

"Ah, yes. I should discuss that further," he said, flipping the fish over. "In the South Islands. The world's best fighters are going to congregate, and they are uniting in one arena to beat each other down for money. I'm not interested in it but I wanted to buy a couple more capsules, and give some to my old Orphanage. I'll give you whatever you need to feed your village, though. Out of 50 million zeni? Take 25 million. Split even."

Misua gasped again, this time it was much quieter, and in wonder, rather than shock. "You are… oddly generous to a woman who tried to rob you."

"You're a good woman, though. You are telling the truth, I can feel it," Shira said. The fish looked about done. He picked up his begging bowl and set it off to the side, toppling the wooden rack and letting it burn. "I'd appreciate if you went with me to the Tournament. Maybe you could compete yourself?"

"As long as I don't get a limb snapped again, I'm alright with that."

Shira let off a curt chuckle. "I doubt you will. It's not for a week or two. I could train you on the way down?"

"That'd be nice."

"So we're in agreement? You and I, partners in the journey to the World Tournament?"

"Why not?"

Shira nodded, smiling warmly, and picked up his bowl. Bowing his head, he offered her the bowl and chopsticks. She accepted the bowl respectfully and picked up half of the fish, putting it in her mouth. "How is it? I don't cook often."

She swallowed. "Better than some fish I've had," she said, shuddering.

He shrugged lightly as the bowl was returned to him. He took a piece of broccoli and bit into it, mulling over his plans for the tournament. "So… how long have you been out here?" she asked.

"Three days in this forest specifically. Just left West City after staying there for a week."

That seemed to impress Misua slightly, and she tilted her head inquisitively. "Are you a monk?"

"I belong to no temple. I follow my own path," Shira said in response.

"Same, I guess. I don't work with any other bandits… it's just me. I bring back most of the stuff I steal to my village but it's never enough. Some zeni here, some spare food and clothes there."

"Implying you've had a relatively high success rate in terms of completing highway robberies?" Shira asked.

"All it takes is the threat. If they don't comply, a High Speed Rush usually does it."

Shira nodded and finished his half of the meal, giving the bowl back to Misua. He noticed that the grass was beginning to burn around his fire pit. He sighed and reached into his pack to find something to quench the flames… to no avail.

Misua swallowed the last of the broccoli and grinned. Setting the bowl aside, she took a deep breath. Shira's brow perked when he caught wind of this. His eyes strayed to her slowly swelling stomach. Confused, he just patiently waited for her to make her next move. When her stomach had inflated a few inches, she exhaled, blowing a Super Breath out to extinguish the flames. Shira even slid across the ground and bumped his back into the flat rock he had been meditating on. Genuinely fascinated with the technique, he gave her a round of modest applause. "My own technique that I uh, discovered one day on my own. I'm debating with myself on whether or not to give it a name. 'Third Lung,' 'Inner Tempest,' or 'Pneumatic Blast.' If I name it, I keep it."

Shira laughed. Not a chuckle, or a snicker. An actual laugh – truly the origin story behind that move was one for an animated comedy skit. "Inner Tempest. Maybe it could come in handy at the tournament?"

"Aah… it's kind of embarrassing, really, I could go bigger," she murmured sheepishly. She perked up though, and smiled back at Shira. "Tell ya what. If we come across a bear or a dinosaur, I'll show you! It'll be like a typhoon blew through!"

With that and a laugh, Shira began to clean up. Sealing his satchel, he lifted Misua to her feet. Shaking hands, the two agreed to travel together to the Tenkaichi-Budokai.

Shira recalled the memory fondly; it was recent, yes, but nonetheless special. Misua was his first friend, after all. Nobody else had agreed to travel with him before! In his trance, he had failed to notice two things. The first thing he failed to notice, was that there was somebody new standing right beside him to his right. The second thing he failed to notice was a ki signature. Where the hell was this guy's ki signature?

He turned to the blonde, caucasian human with a degree of curiosity. The blonde, wearing a powder-white gi with a black belt wrapped around his waist, spotted Shira out of his peripheral vision and jolted, "Oh! So sorry!" he said, "Name's Carson, Daryl Carson!" he extended his hand to Shira.

"…it's nice to meet you, Carson Daryl Carson?" Shira said, blinking in confusion.

"N-No, just Daryl Carson. Carson's my last name."

"Shira," Shira said, shaking the peculiar human's hand.

"No surname?"

"No. Where are you from?" Shira inquired, noting Daryl's accent.

"Born in Boston!"

"Bos-what? OH!" Shira said, snapping his fingers and releasing Daryl's hand. "You're not from around here at all!"

"Got a strange invitation and an address. Managed to score a plane ticket to Yahhoy. I'm here to represent my dojo!" Daryl said, excitedly. "You look like a strong martial artist. What style do you use?" he asked, "Mine's Krav Maga."

Never having heard of that in his life, he simply said, "A mixture between Turtle, Crane, Demon, Cosmic, and other various artforms."

"Turtle? Crane? Sorry to say that I've never heard of those…"

Shira grinned, "Oh you'll see it. What's Krav Maga?"

"Israeli martial art. You'll see it at the Tournament."

Shira found that fair enough. Misua interjected. "How do you feel, about going up against the likes of my kind?" she asked.

Daryl chortled, a bit painfully if anything. "I… only just met your kind recently, at Yahhoy. God, it terrified me."

Right. The Dragon Islands were a unique land on Earth. The Anthropomorphics… the dinosaurs… the Giras… the list went on. Nobody foreign to the islands had ever seen them. Daryl was a lucky man to be seeing the rest of his world. "Name's Misua," the anthropomorphic fox woman said, reaching over to shake Daryl's hand. "Do enjoy the trip to the tournament grounds. I know I am," she said.

"Will do. Ah, I came here with an assistant and I should probably be checking in on him," he said, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Go, go. Do what you've got to do," Shira said, patting Daryl on the back, trying as hard as he could to suppress his energy.

Daryl bowed politely and jogged off to meet with said assistant. "Nice guy," Misua said.

Shira only shrugged. "He had no ki signature to sense. If I were betting I'd say he winds up dead before the Quarter-Finals."

Misua sighed, shrugging her shoulders and shaking her head. Pausing for a beat, she eyed Shira curiously. "So what were you zoned out for?"

"Just recalling out first meeting. I've been meaning to ask. Why did you stay? You could have left any time after I healed you. I even expected you to dart off as soon as the Senzu capsule finished healing you."

Misua bit her lower lip. It didn't take much thought to know why, but she didn't know how to phrase it. "You were so kind to me even after I tried to rob you of your few possessions. You healed me, heard me out, believed me, and offered to help me," she slowly explained. "Nobody's ever treated me with such forgiveness and kindness. I guess I… found you interesting."

Elimination ~ Daryl vs. Hain

Shira stepped off of the ship, with Misua at his side. He narrowed his eyes and briefly looked back and forth, scanning the arena island over as the duo made their approach. Before him was one of the many towering walls of the amphitheatre the tournament now called home. Built into the west wall was the station for application. Having already applied at a terminal in South City, Shira waved his printed application document before the man in the booth. Sliding it under the glass, he stepped to the left to allow Misua to enter her application. Misua took with her the tournament program card so she could show Shira. They walked away from the booth together, Shira whistling a casual tune. "You know, I'm actually pretty amazed that we managed to be the first in line," Misua noted, looking over her shoulder at the quickly burgeoning, single-file line.

"I'd have been willing to wait," Shira replied.

"Of course you would've…" Misua sighed. She couldn't help but smile. Besides that whole 'he broke her arm' thing, she actually liked him. His air of calm and sense of humor was charming, she believed.

They entered the tournament grounds and went straight to the contestant boarding facility. Being a tournament participant had its perks, including full access for free at the buffet, and a clean, comfortable hotel room. It wasn't like the tournament would last for days, but it was nice to have a place to stay and watch the other contestants on television.

Opening the door to his room, Shira stepped inside and immediately targeted the mini-bar. Kicking the door open as gently as he could manage, he crouched down to retrieve a can of beer from the small refridgerator. "You want one?" he asked Misua, who gave him a double-nod and raised her hands to catch the incoming can. Taking another one out of the fridge, he sat on the foot of the bed next to Misua and opened his can. "I'm going to come right out and say, all the asceticism makes this one beer worth it," he admitted, taking a sip. "This tournament is my vacation."

For the next half-hour, the duo talked about little things; Misua asked about Shira's years of training and asceticism, and Shira asked about Misua's bandit career, for example. Learning about the monk was interesting, to say the least. He claimed that he had been on his own for 15 whole years. Ever since he was 15, he said. So, 30 years old. That was incredible! She had only been a bandit for about six years, and she was only successful for about half of that.

In Shira's perspective, however, he greatly admired Misua's dedication to her village, and hearing her story only reinforced his will to win. The two found themselves without a topic of conversation, and so switched to small talk, as awkard as that was. A chime was heard overhead, and the voice of the tournament announcer called out to the contestants currently in the rest facility. "Attention all tournament participants! This year we will be holding our own 'Throwback Thursday' event by hosting preliminary matches between contestants! This time around, it will be televised and revealed to an audience! Report to the interior staging grounds as soon as possible!"

Saved by the bell, Misua thought to herself, trying to break the silent stare between her and Shira. "I-I should uh, we should go…" she said, breaking her concentration long enough to get up and leave.

Shira raised a brow and scratched his chin. "That was… strange," he said. She seemed a bit flustered, like she didn't want to leave despite having to.

"Another announcement: The previous tournament champion, Katatsu, was unable to make it to defend his title. That means the title of champion is anyone's game!"

He would soon follow her out the door and to the staging grounds. Upon arrival, he set eyes on the foreigner from his ship. That "Daryl" man was fighting another human in one of the three interior arena platforms. "Hain" it said on the program. A tall, burly fellow with long, brown hair. His body was massively muscular and coated in hair. All in all, he looked like that grizzly bear that one idiot would wake up during the winter season. From Shira's ability to sense ki, he was actually deadlier. "Sitting at… 200? 400? …350," he surmised to himself as Daryl assumed a fighting stance. Shira arrived just in time for the first blank to be fired, signalling the start of the match.

Daryl assumed a horse-stance and took a deep breath. Shira's eyes widened. His power level of one surged to 100, finally putting him on Shira's field of detection! Hain roared and charged toward Daryl, who sidestepped the hasty opponent. Hain was able to turn on a dime, and threw a meaty fist toward Daryl. He used Hain's momentum, yanking him forward and tripping him, lowering him to the ground and grabbing Hain's head, slamming his forehead into the concrete platform. Backpedaling away, Hain stood up and shouted in anger, rushing towards Daryl and punching him in the chest. Daryl went sliding across the floor, hissing in pain before standing up and readying himself. He screamed out a mighty "ORAH!" before sprinting towards his opponent and jumping back, psyching the aggressive Hain out. Another punch, and Daryl grabbed his wrist and flung himself up, whirling his legs around to sit on Hain's shoulders. Twisting his legs around one another, he forced himself forward and brought Hain flipping over, going tailbone first into the platform. Daryl used his position to hold Hain's arm and trap him on the ground. A nearby referee counted Hain down, and he failed to break away in the 10 seconds allotted. Daryl was the victor, much to Shira's shock and awe.

"He… spiked to 500… for about three seconds, but 500 from what I guess was a measly five…" he murmured to nobody in particular. A Namekian on platform two won his fight, and an Orin Temple Monk won his fight on platform three.

Elimination ~ Misua vs. Erhi and Shira vs. Yaki

Misua took a deep breath, sizing up her Namekian opponent. The match was set to start in about a minute. "So. Erhi, is it?"

"Correct."

"I'm so sorry about your homeworld," she said, with eyes that communicated her compassion.

Erhi grumbled and closed his eyes, trying to sense Misua's ki. He was young, and inexperienced. Perhaps, he was in over his head. When the blank fired, he was first to rush Misua. The two became locked in a struggle, parrying each others' blows. Erhi picked up the upper hand and pushed Misua back, causing her to slide toward the edge of the ring. She sped toward Erhi, who responded by throwing long-range punches by stretching out his arms. She ducked under the punches and grasped his wrists. She was pulled in at a violent speed, but she kept her cool and drove her feet into Erhi's chest. She began rapidly kicking his chest and stomach, using his arms for support. With a final backflip-kick to the jaw, she dismounted and landed on her feet, crouching on her knee and sliding back. Erhi cursed in Namekian, shaking his head and charging a ki blast. She responded with a High Speed Rush, striking Erhi multiple times across the body before kicking him hard in the stomach, knocking him off the platform. Breathing heavily, she lifted her arms up and cheered.

Over on Shira's platform, the battle had become heated. When the blank fired, Shira had left his ki suppressed so as to give the Orin Monk a false feeling of hope. Power level of 120. That's absolutely nothing to me. When the Monk's fist collided with Shira's cheek, he stopped and stood stiff as a metal pole, head cranked back from the force of the blow, fist still pressed to his cheek. Not a sound was made, and he didn't even stagger. "Fifteen years traveling the world and learning from multiple different schools and masters made me into what I am. Would you like to see it, sir?" he asked.

"H-Hey! What's the big idea! I punched you, how aren't you moving!" he said. Shira turned to him his left cheek, and the Monk punched it, yelping in pain as Shira failed to even move his head in reaction to the strike. Like if a wooden stick struck a thick tree. Shira lifted his fingers to his temple and with a whistling sound, teleported behind the Monk. He rammed his elbow into the poor boy and afterimaged ahead of him, grabbing his face with his hand. "Surrender. You're outclassed and I don't like to hurt people when I don't have to," he whispered. The Orin Monk held his hands up in defeat and began wailing in fear, flailing his body around as he tried to get free. Shira threw the monk onto his back and bowed in respect.

"Do not torment yourself. You lost to someone who outclassed you with a power level of 2,000," he said. His words seemed to echo throughout the hall, giving a handful of preliminary fighters a moment of dread. The referee called his victory and he hopped off the platform.

Meanwhile, over on the third platform, another fight had began and ended with two other fighters. A scrawny man with a dark brown crew cut and traditional Turtle School orange/blue uniform came out on top over a particularly vicious looking anthropomorphic tiger.

Lunch Break

After their preliminaries, Misua and Shira watched the rest of the battles in the round, amazed with the strength of some of the fighters. As the contestants duked it out, Shira began to rethink his earlier boast. That crew-cut guy was kicking it at about 1,950. Right behind him by 50. Several others had levels going beyond 1,000. And he could swear that Misua was suppressing her own ki right now, but then that only begs the question as to why she didn't unleash it in the forest a week prior to today. She was 500 when I took her down. Now she's at about 1,000 even.

Daryl had actually gotten quite a lucky draw, getting dealt the weakest of the weak in the preliminary round and somehow avoiding all of the strongest foes. This "Krav Maga" looked… pretty, but weak. Little did he know about the practice's dirtier attacks which were illegal by Tournament Ruling. Daryl still held his own and made it to the Quarter Finals, along with Misua, Shira, Crew-Cut, and a handful of others. A chime over the loudspeaker signalled the break for lunch.

At the nearby buffet, Shira and Misua sat together with Daryl (who invited himself) at a table in the far left corner of the outdoor establishment's boundaries. Shira ate mostly leafy greens and fruit, Misua helped herself to fine meat, and Daryl seemed to not understand the meaning of "free" seeing as how he mainly went for the ramen noodle budget-diet. "I saw you… in that first fight," Daryl said, slurping up his noodles. "How did you move so fast!"

"I didn't move at all," came the curt reply.

"Bullshit."

"No, I'm serious. A technique known as Instantaneous Transmission. Taught by the New Turtle School."

Daryl considered this. He had seen big green plant-based aliens… big, fat, pink, bubble-gum aliens… anthropomorphic animals, and this one dinosaur-like creature. At this point I'm just going to believe it because it seems reasonable in context. "So, what are you going to do with your prize money?" Daryl asked.

"Charity," Shira said, "Her village needs it more than I do."

Misua nodded in confirmation. "Same. If I win it all, somehow, I'm putting it all into my village. It's… poverty-stricken. I don't like discussing it, really."

"I was just going to invest it for my dojo," Daryl said, shrugging. Gee, now that I hear them, I don't think I deserve to win… Suddenly, as soon as he finished that thought, the ground began to rumble. "Oh God, the dinosaur-man!" he cried.

"Dinosaur man?" Misua said, tilting her head.

"Giras," Shira replied in deadpan, dabbing his napkin against his lips without a single fearful thought in his mind. Misua had her silent aha moment and watched the entrance for the incoming monster while Daryl cowered.

Slamming open the door, the cerulean-backed Giras in a comically large, black overcoat that managed to fit around his big, cream colored belly, stomped over to the bar and took a seat, leering angrily at anyone he caught staring. "Milk," he demanded, and the bartender obeyed as fast as Shira could afterimage.

"PFffpfpftttt."

"Who the hell was that?" the Giras boomed, searching the area for any sign of the man who laughed.

"Name's Marucha, milk-drinker!" cried a voice most arrogant. One Shira seemed to recognize. A man stood in the corner of the eatery, arms and legs crossed. He wore an electric blue jumpsuit with a white breastplate worn tight on his torso, with white, stained metal wristcuffs and combat boots. Cosmic School, Shira thought. Perhaps the most overconfident martial arts school in existence.

"Oh. Look at that, it's the man whose ass I kicked in West City," Shira said, giving Marucha a smirk of condescendence, locking equally brown eyes with his unofficial rival. He hadn't seen his uniform before, and didn't know he was a Cosmic School student. The Saiyan-esque armor was a giveaway of his allegiance however. He was just another one of those power-thirsty bastards copying the techniques of the late Vegeta. Big Bang Attacks, Final Flashes, and Photon Bombers galore… At least this guy didn't copy the characteristic spikey asparagus hair, instead sporting his blended black and brown hair in a medium-messy style (or lack thereof)… not dissimilar from Shira's own, actually. I was thinking about getting an "Asian Breezy" with a tiny cut of the prize money, actually.

The Giras simpered in response to Shira's wisecrack. I like this human, he thought to himself as he pointed a finger to the arrogant tournament contestant. "Then that's two people who could annihilate you in a fight!" he laughed.

"Real men drink He-Tap," Marucha retorted. He turned his head toward Shira. "I'll have you know I've been lifting since we last met, beggar."

"Milk is healthier than that swill!" the Giras shouted back.

Marucha gave a haughty laugh for what felt like the longest time. "Oh, OH! That was a good one… truly. What would a lardball like you know what healthy feels like? Your blood is gravy for God's sake!" he quipped. "You hear me? GRAVY!"

The Giras's golden eyes bulged, and so did a vein on his forehead as he smashed his comically large glass in his hand, the shards burying themselves in his skin, the pain and blood enraging him further. True, he was, ah… heavy… he had a big belly… but all Giras did, right? Grah! I hate how he's not wrong… he thought, and as he thought, he had just enough time to prepare his comeback. "Oh-ho, that is rich. Seems like you've got jokes. Well… maybe it compensates for your lack of security and ability to actually fight. Cosmic School is such a sad, reckless martial art. Real cop-out. Oh, and by the by, I'm not fat, I'm pleasingly plump."

Marucha's hand began to glow. "You wanna take that back?! I KNOW THE BIG BANG ATTACK!"

Punk, you do NOT know the Big Bang Attack, thought Misua, rolling her eyes and facepalming, turning away from the action.

Shira bolted straight up and afterimaged between the two. "ENOUGH! Settle this in the ring! Your power levels are both incredible, there's no doubt in my mind that you'll both be a great match for each other!" he thundered, floating a few inches off the ground for dramatic, intimidating impact.

Marucha's hand ceased to glow and he sat down with a grumble. The Giras too dropped the attitude, sitting back down and ordering another drink, a little more polite this time around.

Teleporting back into his seat, Shira shoveled another mouthful of salad in his face as though nothing had even happened. "What's your deal?" Daryl inquired. Shira said not one word the rest of the lunch break.

Quarter Finals ~ Misua vs. Daryl

At the end of the lunch break, the cameras began rolling once again as the contestants were called back for the Quarter Finals. First up to fight were Misua and Daryl Carson. Looking at the guy, Misua felt pretty awful about this fight, really. He was ridiculously outclassed. She could end it with a ki blast, but it might kill him. She sighed, taking her fighting stance as Daryl assumed his one power level raising technique. Misua couldn't sense him, she had no way of knowing he was so weak outside of Shira's telling her he sucked. Honestly, him beating that grizzly bear of a human was a surprise on its own, so there was no telling how many surprises he had. He has potential. Give him that, Misua noted as the match began. "Alright folks, the moment you've all been waiting for! The outdoors Quarter Finals! The meat of the competition! I hope your eyes have been hungry, because this is gonna be a visual feast!" cried the overly enthusiastic announcer. Yeeeah, not as good as the previous guy.

Circling around each other, the two fighters sized each other up, Daryl rolling his neck and stretching out his arms, eyes focused on Misua. I'll go easy on him. He's harmless. I'll just lower my ki down to his level, maybe a little lower, and let him try to land a bl-

"OH! Did you see that attack!?"

Carson had sprinted toward Misua while her power level was dropping and leapt toward her, spinning through the air and slamming his leg into her elbow. An airless gasp escaped Misua as she felt her arm bend in the other direction, staring dumbfounded into nothing in particular, arm smashing against her torso then flopping down, limp, dangling side to side like a pendulum. Immediately her power level surged and she retaliated in sheer ire, slamming her opposite fist into Daryl's torso and sending him sprawling through the air like a ragdoll, colliding face-first with the wall of the arena and cratering in it. "Fantastic technique!" the announcer cried, "I've never seen a punch THAT hard!" All in the span of little more than a second. She stared at Daryl's unconscious body, as if entranced, as she sluggishly limped over to the edge of the arena and fell to her knees. With a sharp inhale, she raised her head up to the sky.

"FU-"

Udan vs. Marucha

"Alright, everyone! That was some match! Ha, looks like poor Daryl didn't last long against the wrath of Misua! Ten whole seconds!" the announcer shouted into his microphone. A staff member ran up to whisper into his ear. He cleared his throat. "Eight seconds! That being said, we'll be moving onto the next match!"

The audience roared in excitement and laughter due to the announcer's comical mistake and blunt correction. "He's big, he's bad, he's got a fist that'll punch like a semitruck and a tail that swings like Ichiro Suzuki on a good day! Give it up for Udan!" Again, the crowd went wild as the massive, imposing Giras marched onto the stage, waving a hand to an audience he didn't care to actually look at.

"Next up! The descendent of the glorious Hercule Satan (Praise Be Upon Him, He Who Rests In Peace), the son of the Master of the Cosmic School! The Warrior of West City! He who started from the bottom and battled his way to the top! I give you, Marucha!" The arrogant fighter flew out the door of the interior arena and hovered over the exterior stage, clenching his fists. For ten seconds as the countdown ticked by, they narrowed their eyes and glared at each other.

"Fight with honor, scaleback. None of that Merry-Go-Round Gum shit. That won't work, anyway," Marucha demanded, jabbing a finger toward Udan.

"I'm a Giras of my word. No gum from me." Udan cast off his overcoat, taking on a boxer's offensive stance.

"What, are we strip-fighting? I don't swing that way!" mocked Marucha. Udan only glared in response.

When the starter blank fired, Marucha leaned toward Udan and pushed against the air with his feet, blasting forward and rearing his fist back to strike the Giras.

Udan caught Marucha's fist, the back of his own hand ramming into his snout as he used his free hand to punch Marucha's stomach, knocking him back. He spun around and swung his deadly tail toward Marucha, who latched onto it and went spinning with the Giras. Stopping abruptly, Udan looked around for Marucha, too enraged to pay attention to his ki signature… or the feeling of something weighing his tail down. Marucha let go, hovered up, and gave a cocky grin. A wink to the announcer, and the announcer humored the West City Warrior. "It looks like Marucha's disappeared! Where could he have gone?!" he shouted, looking "bewildered" as Udan whirled left and right, violently so, trying to find his target. Marucha just strafed opposite of where the Giras was looking, to avoid being spotted.

"Come out and face me, bastard!" Udan cried, hands flaring with energy.

"Haha! Ki warriors! This is turning out to be an interesting battle! Oh, if I can just see a beam struggle my life will be complete!" the announcer cried in delight, the crowd sharing his sentiment.

Marucha chuckled darkly. "This is getting ridiculous," he admitted, and just as Udan turned, Marucha swung his foot and drove it into the poor creature's face, knocking him to the edge of the ring. "I hope you can manipulate ki energy as well as I can, because I want to try out the Gallick Pistol," he laughed, lifting his hand and aiming it at Udan. A tiny purple orb formed just before the palm, swelling to the size of an orange.

"Just you try it, I guarantee you it won't do anything to anyone but yourself!" Udan barked, raising his hands and forming a Full Power Energy Ball.

"Gallick Pistol…" Marucha murmured. Udan threw the ball. "FIRE!"

A purple beam flew forth, striking the FPEB and warping along its surface. That damn ball is pushing my beam back! Marucha put a little more effort into the Gallick Pistol, but his effort fell short when a simple ki blast struck him upside the head, making him flinch and lose focus. His Gallick Pistol came back on him, along with the FPEB. Crying out, he felt his clothes ignite as the ball exploded and sent him flying down into the stage.

"A marvelous display of energy combat! I've never seen a Full Power Energy Ball collide with a Ki Wave and push it back like that! Ladies and Gentlemen, this is truly a battle for the record books! Not since the days of Hercule Satan have we seen a fight like this!" the announcer called. The audience flared up, screaming their praise to Udan, or roaring for Marucha to get up.

G-gukk… Gah, I'm being pressured by a Barney & Friends audition reject! How is this even possible! The blood of the Satan Family runs through my veins! The knowledge of the Saiyans fills my mind! Marucha's thoughts were racing as he picked himself up, stumbling a couple times on the ascent. Cursing under his breath, he assumed a horse stance and powered up, screaming as he did so. Udan stepped forward and clenched his fist, watching for sudden movement. Marucha finished powering up and grinned. "PLAYTIME'S OVER, THEODORE REX!" he boomed.

"Oh, come on, nobody's going to get that reference," Udan remarked. As soon as the last syllable left his mouth, Marucha's fist was in his face. Udan slid back, now prepared for the assault. The two became locked in a struggle for the opportunity to Rush Attack, striking each other in the arms and legs, trying to knock one another back, parrying blows and striking at their torsos, putting out inconsequential damage to one another. Eventually, Marucha broke the lock, kicking Udan in the belly and sending him flying. He afterimaged behind him and double-uppercutted him into the air. Afterimaging yet again to catch up, he roundhouse kicked the poor Giras, then afterimaged one last time, just over the arena stage, and frontflip kicked him in the head, sending him crashing into the stage.

"I'm at a loss for words! He's moving so quickly! So effortlessly!"

Udan survived, rolling over and standing back up. Spotting Marucha as he was about to land another rush, Udan used his wings to leap away. Marucha landed, then jumped up again to attempt to hook kick Udan. He flapped his wings to try and escape the attack. He floated for just enough time to escape the hook kick, and the shock of having missed such an easy hit staggered Marucha in the air. He was promptly stomp-kicked out of the air. Udan landed, grabbed Marucha's calf, and swung him back, slamming him into the ground before flipping him up into the air. Flapping his wings, he caught up to Marucha and began repeatedly bashing his face in with swift punches. As Marucha was about to fall back and let gravity take him down, Udan grabbed his face and swung him around, waving his arm full-circle like the blade of a windmill, before doing so one more time and releasing Marucha as his arm came down, tossing him like a badminton birdie into the stage, nose-first. Udan fell with gravity and slammed his foot into Marucha's back. …okay good, nothing cracked or crunched. He's still alive, Udan thought, not wanting to MURDER the man.

"H-Holy! If there's any coming back from that…"

Marucha snarled, causing a small energy explosion to knock Udan upward. He crawled ahead and avoided Udan's second coming, bouncing up when the earth quaked with the Giras's impact. He hissed and held his nose. Giving himself a second, he shoved it back into place and screamed in rage and agony. Rolling onto his back, he regarded Udan with a foul grimace. "You… aim for the nose like you're some schoolboy getting revenge on a bully…" he quipped.

"…again, I feel like there's some kind of cultural reference there that I'm missing."

"Whatever! FINAL CRASH!" Marucha retorted, holding his hands out, body in a crucifix position. Two periwinkle energy orbs surrounded his hands. He rammed his wrists together and combined the energy, holding his hands out flat and firing a powerful ki wave. Udan only barely managed to leap out of the wave's path, belly-flopping onto the stage (it was at this moment that he was glad he had enough "padding" to avoid breaking something from the force of the impact).

Marucha eyed the Giras vehemently, completely and utterly exhausted and as humiliated as Udan had predicted he would be. "G-Guh… G-go t-to hell…" he sputtered. His eyes rolled back into his head and his head fell limp, hitting the back of it on the stone arena. Udan blinked in horror, standing back up as the officials began counting down over Marucha. After six, they gave up as Marucha had not moved an inch, and proceeded to call TKO and move him to an infirmary. He muttered something about Whoopie Goldberg, and that was the end of that.

"And the winner is Udan!"

The hundreds flooding the arena either erupted into applause or hollered in anger. Udan could see wads of zeni being handed off amongst members of the audience, while others cried his name. That Full Power Energy Ball really impressed them, it seemed. He chuckled, half of it saying Oh My Gamikai I Barely Survived That, and the other half, the louder half, saying YEAH! I'M THE CHAMPION!

After relishing in his surprising victory for a moment longer, he dismissed himself, heading directly for the contestant dormitory to rest.

Sobi vs. Shisu

"These two contestants had dominated in the preliminaries, and now they've come to take home the gold, but first they must combat each other to move on to the Semifinals!" the announcer began. "To my left is the revolutionary renaissance man himself! He's a poet, an artist! And that's just in his spare time after working as a New Crane School teacher! Alright everyone, hands together for Sobi!" Sobi, a young man clothed in a green gi, yellow undershirt, red belt, and green pants, bowed to the audience a count of three times, one for each set of stands. His shaved head seemed to glisten in the sun, though that might just be sweat from having trained for the battle before it began.

As the audience cheered, a short, scrawny man with the dark brown crew cut, the exact one Shira saw in the preliminaries, cracked his knuckles and sneered at Sobi. "To my right, the one and only enigma from Central City! The wonder who awed us all in the preliminary matches! Shiiiiiiiiiisssuuuuuuuuuu!" Shisu straightened his gi and assumed a Turtle School combat stance as Sobi prepared a countering stance from the Crane School.

The countdown began. "So… you're Turtle?" Sobi inquired, circling his opponent. His stance was unmistakable. He had to be Turtle.

"Headstrong Crane… of course I am," Shisu replied. His voice seemed a bit high pitched at first. He cleared his throat and spoke in a much deeper tone towards the end.

"You underestimate your own ability as a human being, you know." Sobi raised a brow at his opponent, curious in regards to the apparent crack of the voice.

"Maybe I just like to support allies."

"I can respect the support position in a team. I just think we should train to put ourselves on par with the Namekians and Majins. We don't act now, and our people could end up a minority. Earth might just become a Majin homeworld. Or another Namek."

"Don't count on it. 9 Billion won't be replaced just like that. We're more likely to evolve into something else entirely," Shisu said, stomping his foot and stabilizing his position, charging a ki wave behind his back, "…than be reduced to nothing."

The blank fired. Shisu pulled his hand out from behind his back and a blue energy wave fired off. Sobi had his reflexes in tune, however, and jumped into the air, leaning diagonally and spinning like a top. He held his position in the air. "Dodon Ray!" he shouted, striking Shisu in the chest. He flew back to the edge of the stage.

"A traditional ki beam attack! Do I smell serious competition?"

"Nice shot…" he remarked. Shisu began to float, then he kicked off of the air and flew for a Rush Attack. He slammed a fist into Sobi's chest, following up with two more strikes. He backflipped away, dashed in with knee poised to crack Sobi's chin. The hit landed, and he delivered a successful front kick to the sternum. With his right leg, he roundhouse kicked Sobi in the ear, sending him flying away.

"What?! An Eagle Kick! The last time a technique like that was used… Videl Satan! Did the New Turtle School start teaching the Satan Family's techniques?!"

He spat out blood onto the arena stage, coughing the rest out in a mist-like form. He abhored the taste, and didn't want to be beaten any more. "Alright… I'll give you that one, Turtle apprentice…" he said. Afterimaging, he wound up in front of Shisu, and successfully delivered an upwards kick to his chin. As Shisu fell back, Sobi grappled his ankle in one hand and flipped him overhead, coming around for one full circular motion before releasing Shisu, throwing him out of the ring. He stopped, hovering just over the ground, smirking before somersaulting upward. Rushing for Sobi once again, Shisu flew over and began kicking him in the sternum repeatedly, each kick looking like a step to a dance number. Backflipping, Shisu knocked Sobi into the air briefly before twirling around and hook-kicking him back down into the stage. Floating over him, he put his hands to his hips.

"Kaaaaaameeeee…"

The Crane Master froze, eyes widening. "No, no, no."

"Haaaaaammmmeeeeeee…"

"NO NO NO NO NO," he cried, holding his hands out in a triangular position, thumbs overlapping. "SHIIIN…"

"HAAAAAAA!"

"KIKOOOHOOOO!"

A Kamehameha and a Tri-Beam collided halfway, creating a massive, shining sphere in the middle of the beam struggle. The force of the struggle began to crack the stage, deepening the crater in which Sobi lay. The beams were not that powerful, to be entirely honest. The announcer knew this. Having seen the records and hearing the stories, the legendary Z-Fighters and Hercule Satan were capable of leveling cities in a single blast… they could annihilate planets. Now that they were gone, the strongest of the strong power levels had dropped from the millions back to the hundred thousands – for those with the lifespans long enough to make the most of training. "YEP! Beam Struggle! My life is complete!"

The Tri Beam inched closer to Shisu's body. Just as it threatened to make him lose balance, pain wracked Sobi's body. D-damn it! I'm… overtaxing… my body… he realized, as his lifeforce began to ebb. The Turtle Wave forced his attack back at rapid pace before shattering Sobi's attack. The waves both exploded, boring a hole in the stage that ran into the ground underneath it. Sobi lay, unconscious and barely alive, inside said hole.

"…well is that a Ring Out or a KO?"

An official ran to Sobi's help, trying to rouse him but failing. Checking his pulse, he called emergency services to recover his body. That same official walked over to the announcer and asked for the microphone. After receiving it, he turned to the audience. "Contestant Sobi utilized a form of ki wave known in the New Crane School as the Shin-Kikoho, or Tri-Beam. This attack uses the fighter's life-force – every source of energy in the body – to sustain and empower a blast considered stronger than average. The strain of having used it resulted in devastating internal injury and the loss of consciousness. Shisu's Kamehameha caused serious second and third-degree burns around Sobi's body. He is alive, but unable to compete. We are ruling in a Technical Knockout. Shisu wins the match."

Shisu began taking deep breaths, trying to recover his energy. He floated down to the ground and fell to his knees, laying prostrate, forehead and fists on the ground. Just… barely won… I have to do this. I need to win.

Shira vs. Laksuo

"Here we have it, folks, the last match of the Quarter-Finals! Between these two, I KNOW it's going to be a grand battle! On the left! The traveller, the lone warrior of the Dragon Islands! Student of the Turtle, the Demon, the Crane! A true Martial Arts Savant only 30 years young! The Sage of the West, put your hands together for Shira!"

Misua (who had taken a healing capsule for her arm, which was now in a sling for the duration of its healing period) and Daryl had joined up to watch from the sidelines as Shira politely Ninja Bowed to the audience, then to his opponent, a boy (probably not even 20) with dark skin and short, curly black hair. Shira looked him over. He wore blue jeans and a red tank-top of simple design. His eyes were slanted-almond in shape, most clearly Asian, yet his skin was a rich brown. Half-Black, Half-Asian? Blasian? Shira smiled. Such an interesting opponent and yet we haven't even begun. My, he's powerful.

"Next up, the young man from East City searching for his inner strength, the boy who admitted to weakness yet stunned us all in the preliminaries, Laaaksuo!" the Blasian boy sighed, chuckling anxiously, bouncing side to side on his toes.

"I detect little malice in you, my friend," Shira said, assuming a Crane School battle stance.

"I-I'm just here… to show off what little power I have," Laksuo said.

The countdown began. Shira inputted his last thoughts, saying, "Though I am here to save a village, I cannot help but feel that your goal is noble as well. I sense torment. I'll go easy on you."

"No! Give me everything you've got! I can win! I'll show those bastards what for! They'll never mess with me again!"

"See, now I know my ponderings had weight. You are bullied."

The blank fired. "Sh-shut up!" Laksuo boomed, powering up. He rushed Shira, smashing his hands into Shira, raking his fingers across his face then finishing with a strong punch to the forehead.

"A Wolf Fang Fist! Haven't seen that in a while!"

Shira flew back, flipping over and stabilizing himself, crossing his arms and sizing up his opponent. Moderate power level… surged with anger to rival mine for a moment. I won't taunt him. Even if it makes the fight more than fair, it's not proper to hurt him mentally for the pleasure of hurting him physically. Such behavior is barbaric. "A fantastic technique my young friend. Would you care to see one of my own?"

"Like I said! Everything!"

Shira smiled, though not in malice, but with warmth. Finally, someone eager to fight him consensually! Perhaps I should train for tournaments more often, he thought, powering up and speeding towards Laksuo. He struck the boy in the sternum a count of four times, one per second. He then drove his knee into Laksuo, launching him upward a few feet. Following that, he delivered a strong double-axe-handle to put Laksuo's back on the ground. Backflipping away, Shira took on a defensive stance and allowed Laksuo to rise.

"Incredible technique! What posture!"

"Y-you're not bad at… at all!" Laksuo said, rolling over and climbing to his feet. A stream of ki blasts shot from Laksuo's open hands, striking Shira and forcing him back.

He felt each and every one of them burn as he struggled to walk against the ki blasts. He failed to do so, and staggered back with each impact. As soon as the yellow energy dust settled, Laksuo had thrown his body through it and into Shira's field of vision. Laksuo struck Shira across the jaw, grabbed his wrist with his other hand to brace his arm, and jabbed his elbow back in the direction from which his punch came, turning Shira's head the other way. He advanced, beating Shira's throat with his other elbow once before releasing his arm and using his elbow yet again to strike Shira in the stomach. He stepped back and punched him once again, in the sternum this time. Shira fell back and onto his rear, holding his jaw. He looked at the boy and said, "I've never seen an attack that interesting, actually. Elbow Combo…"

"Oh, another new attack! We're full of inventive warriors today, people!"

"Thanks. Invented it myself. Thought about using it, never had the courage."

"So, you're here to find that courage?" Shira inquired, levitating to his feet.

"Y-yessir."

"Then I say to you, that you've already found it. All that's left for you to do is face your oppressors," said Shira, reassuming the Crane Stance.

"You want to finish this battle?"

"Indeed."

They both leapt back from each other. Laksuo began focusing as hard as he could, hands in front of his face. He began to call forth a Full Power Energy Wave, yellow ki swirling about in between his hands, slowly forming a sphere.

Shira stood on the other end of the stage, on the isthmus between the hole Sobi left and the edge of the stage itself. He stood with two hands at his hips. "Kame…"

Laksuo's eyes widened. He had heard of the famed technique. He didn't let that stop him. He furrowed his brow and charged his attack, stepping back to apply more force to it once he pushed it out. "Take this!" he cried, stepping forward and throwing the orb out, elongating it into a wave attack.

"…hameha!" shouted Shira, firing his Kamehameha. The two waves collided and formed a sphere in the middle of the arena. It was smaller than the beam struggle that put Sobi in the hole that Shira now stood over. Neither were using their full power, anyway. Shira could tell. Somehow, Laksuo knew that Shira too had been holding back. He was still a noble opponent.

The sphere moved toward Shira, who had contemplated the outcome of the fight. He was ready to allow Laksuo to win on live television. He glanced over at Misua, who watched on, almost on the verge of tears – if Shira lost this struggle, he'd be blasted down onto his back. In that instant he remembered what he had come here for. He couldn't lose now, and besides: if this boy could fire a ki wave this strong at such an early age, he was destined for great things. Nobody would dare torture him again. That said, he couldn't betray Misua. Reason told him to push this wave back and beat Laksuo. After giving it another moment's consideration, he stared closer at Misua's face. The first tear fell. Huh. He hated to see a woman cry. Taking the mental note of that, he sighed and shook his head. I'm sorry, Laksuo.

He applied more energy to his wave, causing the struggle to surge back toward Laksuo at breakneck pace. Before he could respond, the sphere detonated several feet away from him, sweeping his legs out from under him. He toppled off the stage and the officials called Out-of-Bounds. Shira descended to his knees, in a reverent position of prayer and folded his hands in his lap, bowing his head solemnly, staying silent as the announcer shouted his praise. He knew he'd probably have to make it up to the guy, later.

Intermission

Taking a break to repair the stage and allow the contestants to heal up, the tournament reopened the bar to give them someplace to be if they possessed the energy and lacked the injury. Shira sat cross-legged, hovering over his table. Having instantly transmitted to the eatery, he had a headstart on the other participants of the tournament, and spent that extra, quiet time to peacefully meditate. He did not, however, accurately estimate the amount of time he'd have. An enraged Marucha kicked the gate to the bar, breaking it off it's hinge and sending it hurling across the bar, out the other side and into the bushes. "You're up early," Shira remarked as Marucha swiped a barstool out from under the bar and sat himself down on it.

"F$%# off!" he boomed, jabbing an accusatory finger Shira's way. "You encouraged the dinosaur!"

"I believe…" Shira began, "that I said your power levels are both incredible, there's no doubt in my mind that you'll both be a great match for each other. I encouraged you both."

Marucha only grunted to imply some degree of acknowledgement. "Damage is done. I can't face my master, my father, knowing I got stomped by somebody who looks like they ate a bus full of steak on the way here, and then the bus," he scoffed, slapping the bar counter with a flat hand, restraining his power level to avoid having to pay for the counter in addition to the gate he'd inevitably be fined for. A tall glass of some adult beverage was promptly poured. It delivered a spicy, potent aroma that Shira managed to barely pick up on. He wasn't sure what it was, but he figured it had a high alcohol content.

Shira just shrugged lightly, as if Marucha's concern wasn't all that terrible. In his opinion, it really wasn't. "Then don't," he said.

"The hell does that mean?"

"The true master would be able to recognize that the student has flaws and work to correct them together, not damage the student's person or esteem by belittling them for the defeat. You learn more from defeat than victory, anyways. Cosmic School has… issues… understanding that. It's why I left after a single day."

"You missed out on devastating techniques, O High and Mighty. Besides, I can't leave, my father's the current Master of the School, as the announcer said, and as I just explicitly said. He's the only one I can say is stronger than me and keep a straight face," Marucha said with a snicker, taking a drink of his beverage. He looked up at the thatch ceiling. Oh how he wanted to light that on fire and just watch the tiki-themed bar burn down…

"New Crane and New Turtle are much more wholesome for one's spiritual health. They inspired me to create new techniques that I am eager to use in the semifinals," proclaimed Shira, who floated gracefully down to the ground, setting himself down and walking to the bar. He ordered a glass of milk, to Marucha's strange blend of amusement and personal offense. Turning to face the hotheaded human, "Developed them over the years."

"What's it called? Saint School?" Marucha said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolled his eyes.

"Oh you're so close," Shira said, blinking in unpretentious surprise. Marucha glared at him, assuming insanity. "Tenshi, means 'Angel.' The name is a work in progress were I to settle down and create a school to teach what I know," he explained, laughing giddily. "Besides, the kanji for Tenshi might not look good on a dogi."

"You're a real smug bastard you know that?"

"Thanks."

At that moment, other participants began to arrive. The Orin Monk Shira had defeated, the tiger Shisu had dusted, and the Namekian Misua had beaten walked through the nonexistant gate, sitting down, sparsely spread throughout the eatery. The more recognizable faces arrived. Daryl was first, oddly enough. Then Shisu, Laksuo, Misua, Udan, and Sobi. "Oh God, the whole pitiful plethora's here," Marucha quipped, returning to his drink. Shira left him to sulk, joining Misua and Daryl (whom he couldn't seem to shake away for the life of him) at the usual table. Misua's sling was now nowhere to be seen, and Daryl looked like he hadn't just recently bellyflopped sideways into a stone wall nose-first.

"That was absolutely, unequivocally remarkable!" Daryl said, lowering his voice while he tried to scream. The paradox did not work out well for him, but he didn't need to know that.

Shira nodded proudly and smiled, saying, "My many thanks to you. You both are better than I had imagined." He fixed his undershirt and put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "And everyone else… I made dangerous underestimations in regards to their power levels…"

"Power levels?" Daryl said, "What kind of ridiculous joke is that supposed to be?"

Beat.

"Oh God you're serious. Explain," he added, expecting a lecture.

"The intensity of somebody's spiritual concentration of ki energy in the body. It's one of the most important factors in the strength of displaced energy attacks, like the beams, balls, and waves you saw launched around the fighting grounds during Quarter-Finals," Misua explained, beating Shira to the draw. Shira's subsequent, impressed sturgeon face and congratulatory gawp said it all. Not Bad. "I read Groundbreaking Science on the way here," Misua said. "Kinda just put it into my own words."

"So that explains the light show…" replied Daryl, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot. "Think I can do that?!"

"With education," said Shira, curtly bowing his head in affirmation.

Marucha had a comment as usual. "Good luck teaching that scrub how to fire a ki blast the size of an eyeball. It'd be a miracle if he could pull that off, not even speaking of flight or high speed rushing," he taunted, "Look at that, someone who can't do what real warriors can do."

Misua narrowed her eyes, glaring daggers towards the Vegeta idolizer. "Neither can I…"

"Look at that, someone who can't do what real warriors can do."

Misua banged her forehead on the table. Shira just silently told him off, signalling to his friends to ignore the man. As they were about to resume the conversation, Sobi, nursing his still aching head, hobbled over to the table. "So, you spent time in Crane School? Why don't I recognize you?" he inquired, leaning on the table and staring Shira down. He meant no malice, but he found it hard to believe – he was a Crane Master, he should recognize Shira if he had been Crane at one point.

"Yes I did. I began martial arts when I was merely 15. Learned my basics there, about how to fight and manipulate ki, then I took off on my own." Shira glanced Sobi over. You're up early. Apparently healing capsules cover third degree burns.

"That explains how you learned the sky-dancing technique…"

"Learned my most utilised abilities from New Turtle actually."

Sobi quirked a thick, brown eyebrow. "About that."

Misua invited the Crane Master to pull up a seat, and the four got to talking for a few minutes about each other, summing up their histories. Eventually, Daryl got around to a big question that had bothered him for some time. "Hey, not to stray too much off topic," he began, and then pointed to Laksuo, who had been sulking by himself on the end of the bar opposite of Marucha, "If you guys learned how to fight and shoot lasers from your hands in dojos… who taught him?"

Shira's eyes widened, and he slapped a hand to his head and groaned. "That's right… I have to go speak with him!" he verbally recalled. "Excuse me, please."

As Shira stood to go talk to the young man, the others continued their conversation, going down an increasingly pointless route about local entertainment. Little did Shira know, they replaced him with Shisu soon enough once he got curious.

Shira tapped the boy's shoulder, clearing his throat. "Mind if I have a seat by you?" he asked. Laksuo shrugged indifferently and Shira took his place beside him. "I'm really sorry, about that match."

"Don't. I asked you to give it your all. I'd be mad if you had let me win," Laksuo disclaimed.

Sighing, Shira leaned on the counter, regarding the boy with a certain level of distress. "You still don't believe in your own abilities?"

"Everybody these days is learning how to fight. I'm not that special…"

"Can those punks in college fire waves of energy?"

"Their leader can. And he's stronger than me!"

"…Namekian?"

"Majin!"

"Daaaammn…."

Laksuo groaned in frustration, leaning back and wiping his hand across his face. "I don't know if it'll be enough!"

"Well, on the bright side, only the leader will want to mess with you after this, right?"

Laksuo gave him a look that said it all. Dumbest thing I've ever heard.

"Why haven't you beaten them down yet, if you don't mind my asking?" Shira inquired. Usually when it came to this type of bullying, a fight was the only true way to shut the assailant in question up.

"I don't want to fight them. I don't want anyone to get hurt, and I don't want to risk my education. Scholarships, you know?"

"Don't your parents pay?"

"N-no, they don't. They could, but they don't want to," Laksuo replied, his words sounding and feeling most bitter.

Shira stayed quiet, struggling to come up with a way to get the lad out of his predicament. "You still like ice cream?" he said, making an attempt to get on Laksuo's good side. Of course, he got the death stare. Grinning, he replied. "Wha-hat?" he said, "I still like ice cream, and I'm freaking thirty!"

Laksuo mulled it over, and agreed with a "Sure, why not?" Maybe we can talk about it over that.

Shira smiled, but that nigh-instantly dropped off of his face as he leaned toward the bartender. "Do you serve ice cream around here?"

Laksuo shook his head, trying to fight the simper that was working its way past his lips. The bartender nodded and offered to check to make certain. Shira directed him to bring two cones to his table. Gently slapping Laksuo's shoulder with the back of his fingers, he asked if he wanted to sit with his entourage. The duo walked back in time to see Shisu twirling his fingers, blue, wispy energy spiraling around the digits. "And he's good with kids. Whaddya know?"

"I'm 19," Laksuo said in his defense.

"You can't drink. You're a kid."

Shira snapped his fingers. "Oh, reminds me." He afterimaged to the bar, snatched up his drink of milk he left untouched, and transmitted back to the table. All eyes were on him as he quietly and politely sipped from the tall glass.

Udan leaned against one of the beams holding the roof aloft, arms crossed. "You too?" he asked, noting the milk in Shira's hand. Upon receiving an affirmatory response, the Giras strode over to the table where all the action was currently happening, and stood over Daryl and Misua. "Go on. Keep talking. Don't mind me."

An unsettling silence ensued; the group had just finished a subject of conversation, and if anyone had remembered anything to perpetuate it, Udan's intimidating appearance chased away the memory. In the mean time, Laksuo's ice cream arrived. He set Shira's cone down in front of him and held his own treat in his hand, waiting for someone to break the uncomfortable hush. "Tell me how you all got to be as strong as you are," Shira requested, leaning forward and folding his hands together on the table, taking an earnest interest in the responses of his new acquaintances.

"Crane Master," Sobi said. That one was obvious. "Been working on it since I was twelve. I became 23 last February, so you can imagine that I devoted just about all of my time to training."

"Happy birthday, s-sir," Laksuo sputtered, "I mean late, birthday."

Sobi smirked, "Right. You, kid?"

Laksuo continued stammering, "I lift… I punch bags, and I uh, I like to run a lot."

"The ki blasts, I meant. But thanks for the information. I might switch up my training regimen," Sobi responded, showing some teeth in his next smile.

"It just… came out one day when…" he fell quiet. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's fair. My first ki blast shattered my TV set one afternoon. Lost some stupid first person shooter match. I can't even remember the name of it. My parents were so pissed they sent me to a Crane School stay-camp and didn't talk to me until I got my shit under control," Sobi said, laughing towards the end of his story.

Shira found the tale enthralling. He thought he was the only human this strong these days up until today (well Marucha put up a decent struggle). Oh how impressed he was to know that he had been dreadfully wrong! He took his ice cream in hand and gave it a gentle lick as Shisu took control of the conversation, scoffing. "Sounds like me when I ki-blasted my dad's scumbag girlfriend. Made him real proud that day…" he said, looking at the back of his oddly well-kept nails.

Misua shrugged. "I'm not that… powerful, really. I just learned I could move really fast one day, and I decided to help my village out. Had to start stealing to feed my parents. Then I got better, fed my brother, then me. The whole village started bumming me for stolen zeni and foodstuffs over time."

"That's going to end today, Misua," Shira declared, pointing at the ground. "Simply because I am winning this tournament."

Udan rumbled, shaking his head. "That would be me. I've got a village too, you know. One that doesn't even have any houses. I want to make the Giras into something. Something important. We're living in caves for crying out loud. 'Guess it was that which drove me to become what I am now…"

"What, a tub of lard?" Marucha said, taking a stab while he could.

"This tub of lard sat your ass down on that concrete! I beat a Cosmic today. Your insults can't hurt me now, because NOW I'm PROUD," he said, smacking his belly, jabbing a finger toward Marucha, then pointing to himself with his thumb. Marucha merely rolled his eyes.

Misua, Sobi, Laksuo, and Shira respectfully applauded Udan, the lattermost beaming with wonder in his eyes as he continued to listen to his companions, continuing to nibble away at his dessert. Shisu cleared his throat. "I'm winning. My dad used to be the Dean of South City General Hospital. Made a huge amount of money. After I blasted his girlfriend, she sued, framed him for the assault, won the case since nobody suspects a little kid of having done the deed, took all his money because it was either a gigantic fine or a prison sentence, and the whole affair caused him to lose his job and all his credibility.

"What a bitch," Daryl commented.

"You've got absolutely no clue."

Shira's eyes rolled back, then side to side towards the corners of his head as he processed the stories into countable information. "So, one vote charity, two votes village donations, one vote family fortune restored, one vote wealth and glory to demonstrate to pathetic college bullies, and two votes dojo funding?" he asked.

"Sounds right," Misua stated, giving the thumbs up.

"Laksuo and I already lost the chance for the grand prize. So it's down to one vote charity, two votes village donations, and one vote family fortune," remarked Sobi, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping back, quirking his brow at Shira once again.

"Oh look at you all. Can't grow the balls to play it simple and invest it for yourselves. No, you all gotta be angels along with this pretentious poser," Marucha griped.

"Just for that I might actually let myself listen to the teachings of another. He seems well traveled, right?" Sobi replied, deriding Marucha's protesting jeer.

"I thank you. I wish you all the best of luck in future endeavors. As for the others in the semifinals with me, fight well. And, guys, PLEASE don't break Misua's arm, whatever you do. She's had it rough," he said, letting out an exaggerated, rasping chortle at the end of his warning. He transmitted back to the stage grounds.

Misua did not have the opportunity to retort. "HEY! FU-"

Semifinals ~ Shisu vs. Misua

And now, to test to see if Shisu would listen to Shira's one request.

"And we're back, folks! The Quarter Finals were a splendid show indeed! To sum it up, we had: Daryl Carson, Misua, Udan, Marucha, Sobi, Shisu, Shira, and Laksuo! Coming out of that and into the semifinals, we now have Misua, Udan, Shisu, and Shira! No relation, I don't think," the announcer said. Of course he couldn't resist the harmless joke. Shisu shook his head and let off a deep sigh, preparing his Turtle Stance. "You already know who it is, but just to make certain! In this corner, Shisu! In the other, Misua!"

Applause roared throughout the stadium as Misua shuddered, having seen her opponent in action. "I already know I'm a goner," she said, curling her hands into fists and raising them up, ready to fight.

"I'll lower my energy. I know that's what you did with Daryl," Shisu stated, appearing to relax, closing his eyes and loosening his muscles, storing away some of his power. "They paid money to see a fight. Can you ki blast?"

"Not really…"

Shisu huffed indignantly, but lowered his energy further. The two warriors stood, anticipating the shot of the blank, to make their first move. Eventually it did fire, and Misua was first to the rush. She punched Shisu in the gut, staggering him before striking him in the ear, knocking him down onto the concrete. Shisu rolled over to escape a stomping blow. "That was a dirty attack!" he cried, sweeping Misua's legs out from under her, levitating to his feet. "Not like I expected more from a bandit!"

"A simple technique to start us off!"

That comment seemed to set Misua off. She made haste to rise, however she only got to her knees before Shisu kicked her in the jaw, knocking her back down with a pitiful, vulpine yelp. Growling, she stood back up, internally grateful that Shisu permitted it this time. She hit Shisu in the sternum with an open palm strike, pushing him back with a low energy kiai. "How's that for a bandit?" she asked.

"Excellent response! Let's see how this battle shapes up!"

Shisu rubbed his chest as his feet slid across the stage, wincing in pain all the while. "Not horrible. Give me your all." He responded with a rush attack, punching Misua in the stomach, then following with a hard uppercut. As gravity pulled her down, Shisu double-axe-handled her chest, dashing back as Misua's back hit the concrete. Flipping up and onto her feet, Misua charged forward and lunged onto Shisu, latching onto him and grabbing his arms. She began to repeat the technique she used on Erhi the Namekian, repeatedly kicking Shisu's chest, pulling on his arms.

Without warning, Shisu overturned himself, slamming Misua's back onto the stage once again, pinning her down. In response, Misua shoved him away with her feet, rolling back and standing up. Rushing once again, she tried to strike him in the nose, but she was promptly swatted away, tumbling across the stage.

I can't… keep getting close to him. Even with suppressed power, he's still wiping the stage with me! Misua thought, trying to create a half-decent strategy. …I could go for ring-out victory. But I'd have to… ugh, I don't like doing this in public…

Shisu sprinted up to Misua and leapt into the air, attempting to front kick her in the forehead. Misua barely managed a sidestep, Shisu's foot flying past her eyes and over her snout. He somersaulted mid-air and landed on his feet. "You know… I don't see many of your kind doing martial arts. There was a lion, this one time. Wasted a tiger in preliminaries. Beat this bear bandit at one point… oh my. I think I killed him now that I think about it," he said. A beat, then his eyes bulged as he recalled the brief memory in horror.

Misua noticed that Shisu was monologuing and saw her opportunity. She took a deep breath. And she didn't let it go. "Yeah?" she replied, having seemingly consumed the air. Another breath… just getting warmed up. "Sad to say I've killed people with this next move. You might want to brace yourself."

Shisu turned around, face contorting in shock as his eyes fell on Misua's bulging belly. "Oh that's not even how you're supposed to Super Breath! What are you even trying to do?!"

A shrug. "Dunno. Can't fly. Made it myself. Blowing you away. Bye." Another deep breath and Misua decided to just shut up and do the damn technique. Her entire body filled with air at lightning-quick pace, stopping just before the point where it would ruin her outfit.

"…when I said 'shape up,' I didn't think I meant 'round,' right?" the announcer said, laughing raucously, "An intriguing choice of technique!"

Shisu realized why Misua had been so slow at first. REALLY!? WAS SHE TRYING TO SCARE ME INTO LETTING HER GET A FREE ATTACK?! F$%# THAT! NO, SERIOUSLY! He snarled, his power level rising and getting the better of him. He ran forward at such speed, that he accidentally afterimaged. Misua, in her condition, was unable to guard the attack, and Shisu rammed his fist into Misua's exposed bellybutton.

Misua opened her mouth and engaged phase two of the strategy. The Super Breath attack. Unfortunately, the pain of Shisu's all-out blow caused her to open her maw wide as if to scream, rather than to make a small "o" with her mouth and blow a controlled breath of air. If the first phase hadn't been used, no sound would have come out anyway. It would have knocked the wind out of her, awful joke aside.

Because that's exactly what happened here.

An overwhelming wind erupted from Misua, emptying her body of air in mere seconds, the tempest lifting Shisu off his feet and pushing him away from the stage. For every action, however, there would be an equal and opposite reaction. Needless to say, Misua was blown off-stage as well, since she hadn't the time to control the blast of wind.

The audience thundered with either applause or laughter or both at the whimsical spectacle. Misua tumbled off of the stage, hitting the grass outside the boundaries, cursing in spite. She looked up to see Shisu on the ground on the other side of the stage.

Shisu himself was at a loss for words, and he prayed he wouldn't be at a loss in the actual tournament. …Well now that I think about it, the Balloon Technique was Master Krillin's invention and he discarded it without ever teaching it so it can't be the same technique and why the hell am I applying logic to this? He asked himself this question internally, a little tiny voice screaming in the background of his musings.

The announcer was also at a loss for words. "It… seems we might actually have a draw, here folks! And I mean, actually a draw! I haven't received any word from the officials, they can't see who landed first!"

Shira watched silently from within the audience, sitting with Daryl on his right side and Laksuo on his left. Sobi sat behind him, up a row. While the judges worked to correct this problem, he inputted his two cents. "Say what you will, she's resourceful, even if that technique was a little out of the ordinary," he observed.

"She probably created it herself," Sobi wondered aloud, tilting his head and resting his cheek on his hand.

"She did. She used it to blow out my cooking fire, the day I met her," Shira replied.

Sobi sniggered. "You meet a lady and the first thing you do is make her dinner. I like you, I really do," he said, slugging Shira on the shoulder.

Shira, however, felt his face heating up. "It wasn't like that… the first thing I did was break her arm. Then I made her dinner."

Sobi broke into sputtering laughter. "Oh my Kais, and you still got her to go with you to this tournament on good terms?! You're better than I thought!"

Just take the compliment.

"Maybe you should teach her to fly," Laksuo stated, rubbing his chin and looking at Misua as she lay on her back, cheeks as red as beets. "She doesn't seem to like that technique."

"The breath or the other thing?" Daryl asked.

"The other thing."

"Well I thought it was kinda cute." The mundane martial artist felt the weight of the confused glares from his newfound friends that day, and he didn't know what provoked it.

Shira dropped his glare after piecing it together. "Eh. It has its uses," he noted. "And I don't know if I'm the teaching type. I offered to train her, not much actually occurred. Sobi?"

"Only if you win. I can't take thieves into my fold."

"…going now," Shira said. He remembered then, that Udan had been preparing for the fight in the dormitory, resting up before he threw down with Shira. He stood up and shuffled down the aisle to the stairs, and departed just as the announcer decreed the official ruling.

"Ladies and gentlemen. For what may be one of the first times if not the first in the history of the Budokai-Tenkaichi, we have a simultaneous Ring-Out! I don't know how it happened, neither do the judges, but we must rule this in a draw!" Confused shouts, moans, and groans erupted from the audience. The announcer's enthusiastic face was instantly wiped off. He tried to find the right words. "A-Ah, well, that's not all bad! B-Because…" he tried to say something… anything… "They'll be working together in a 2v1 against the winner of the next semifinals match!" he declared. The officials panicked in their booth as the audience exploded in applause.

…so, we both win? What the hell just happened?" Shisu thought to himself. Misua laughed in delight, climbing to her feet and running back onto the stage, throwing her arms around the one official still on the stage, hugging him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!" she cried, still giggling. The anthropomorphic dog official blushed and tilted his head, unsure of what to make of this. He gave an aside-glance to the announcer, who clasped his hands together pleadingly. He rolled his eyes, patted Misua on the back, and she broke away from the hug. He bowed to her and left to go tell the other officials to give the double-team thing a try.

Shisu finally lifted himself up, walking onto the stage and holding out his hand. "Fine. I'll give this a whirl," he said. Misua excitedly took his hand and shook vigorously. "This means I'm a runner up! Top-Three!" she cried. "We'll all get prize money! You, me, and Shi-" she stopped.

Just give it a feeewww seconds… thought Shisu.

"Oh… we have to fight Shira… or Udan… if Udan's stronger than Shira."

Udan vs. Shira

"The last match of the semifinals is sure to be a real show-stopper! As if the last match wasn't!" the announcer cheered, chuckling anxiously, tugging on his collar. Truth be brutally told, he felt lucky to have even made it out of the last screw-up. That COULD have cost him his job! "So without further ado, I bring you, Udan and Shira! Give it your all, gentlemen!"

Shira closed his eyes, shifting back and holding his hands out toward Udan, the fingers of his left hand floating a centimeter over the wrist of his right hand. "You are most peculiar – unlike any Giras I've ever seen. Most of them just wanted to push me around."

"We have a tendency to be greedy and aggressive," Udan admitted, curling his hands into fists and assuming the stance of a prize fighter.

"What's to convince me you won't hoard the prize money?"

"I'm better than that. I've trained far too long, and far too hard to prove that my people are not as weak as they seem to be in this day and age. Humans surpass us left and right now. We're just about nothing!"

"Funny, I was about to say humans are surpassed left and right by the Namekians, Majin, and any other race," replied Shira. "Including your people."

"I'm flattered. No, truly," Udan said. His tone betrayed his sincerity. Shira smirked in understanding, so he guessed the point was taken as it was intended.

"Give me your all. Merry-Go-Round-Gum if you must."

"Will do."

"Say, why do you call it Merry-Go-Round-Gum? I never got to ask. Never met a friendly Giras."

"…I have NO idea. I'm chalking it up to a lost in translation thing."

The blank fired. Udan took the first rush, striking Shira in the chest with his knee. With surprising agility, he switched to battering Shira's body with strikes from deft hands across the body. With a headbutt, he finished this High Power Rush and sent Shira bouncing on the concrete, a few feet from the Giras.

"And a High Power Rush to kick us off!"

Shira used a kiai to lift himself up, hovering in the air diagonally, eyes locked onto Udan. "I felt that. Not gonna lie," he said, cracking his neck to try and work out the developing cricks. "Would you care to have a taste of my own techniques?"

"Boy, would I…" Udan muttered, trying to read Shira's poker-face, to no avail. Shira afterimaged before the titan and pounded him in the jaw. Grasping Udan's throat, he shoved him onto the ground. He afterimaged again, sitting on Udan's chest and machine-gun-punching his snout before jumping upward with a backflip. He landed, the tips of his shoes on Udan's gut, using his flight to hold him up.

"Magnificent! I've never seen an attack that fast! Poor Udan's going to have a toothache after that one!"

"So. What should I call that?" he asked. Udan was becoming increasingly annoyed with Shira's audacity, and with a shout, a powerful kiai threw Shira back onto the concrete. Lifting himself up, Udan dusted himself off and took on a horse-stance. He opened his mouth, a band of blue particles streaming out and wrapping around Shira at a lightning-fast speed. It then solidified into a bright pink adhesive, binding his arms to his body. I asked for it, Shira thought to himself, blowing a lock of hair out of the way.

"It… it appears that Shira has been bound in some kind of sticky residue! Officials are scrambling to justify or denounce the technique!" cried the Announcer. There was a beat. "As the gum came from inside Udan's body, they're deeming it legal!"

Udan expected the usual, flimsy red tape, and it really didn't bother him. Holding his hands out in front of him, Udan began to create another Full Power Energy Ball. "Don't know. Have this!" he cried, throwing the half-developed ball at Shira when the latter began rushing again. The sphere of energy hit Shira head-on, exploding and launching him into the sky.

Shira recovered, still able to control his ki. He grunted, struggling against his restraint. He only felt it tighten. "Keep fighting it, and you'll only make it worse!" Udan taunted, chuckling darkly.

At that moment, Shira had a spark of revelation. He couldn't force his way out. He had been in this mess before, and every time, Giras of vastly inferior power level had been the ones who put him in said mess. He could snap that gum like it was wet paper maché! It must depend on power levels, he thought, the strength of the gum… it's a ki-based support technique! He relaxed his muscles as best he could. In that time, Udan had flown up to Shira and slammed his thick tail into Shira's side, sending him rolling through the air and toward the ground. Using a kiai to keep him away from the ground, he tumbled onto the concrete stage and levitated to his feet. He continued working his arms up through the loop of gum, smirking as it began to slide off. Slightly. He knew it would stick to his clothes, and he'd need a little assistance from his ki.

Udan came crashing down, double-axe-handling Shira's head, burying his face in the concrete stage. He flipped Shira over with his foot and bounced him into the air, drop-kicking him higher into the sky. Shira's eyes remained closed as he began to float in the air. With a mighty shout, a powerful kiai exploded from his sides, opening enough space between him and the ring of Merry-Go-Round Gum for him to make a rapid descent toward the stage, falling through the gum and escaping his trap, much to Udan's surprise.

Shira stopped his descent – still a way's away from the stage – and charged power in his right hand, beginning his counter attack. He began swiping his hand through the air, energy spheres flying from the cloud of energy surrounding his hand and wrist and flying down around Udan. The speed gradually increased until his hand was afterimaging from side to side. "Gekiretsu… Madan!" he screamed. Udan flapped his wings, taking off into the air with a little ki support. He tried to shield his face with his forearm, taking a few energy blasts to the arm and body regardless. He grabbed onto Shira's wrist, parts of his body smoking from the blasts.

"This could go either way, folks! Make your bets now!"

For the first time in a long time, Shira believed he might actually lose. Looking into the eyes of the unamused Giras, he quickly glanced to his still energized hand and fired a half-power ki wave into Udan's chest, knocking him away. He followed with a Meteor Crash, rapidly beating on Udan's chest with his fists and feet. He frontflip-axe-kicked Udan down at the end of the assault, sending him crashing into the middle of the stage. Floating high above, Shira began charging what he hoped to be the last attack.

"Kaaaameeee…"

Udan's eyes shot wide open in fear, holding his hands up to power a counterattack. A Full Power Energy Wave had to suffice. A red-orange sphere appeared over his hands, growing larger by the second.

"Haaaaaameeeee…"

Udan closed his eyes, firing the wave.

"HAAAA!"

The two waves crashed together, forming a brilliant, purple sphere in the middle. At first, Shira's Kamehameha was winning the upper hand. And it truly looked as though it would be a repeat of Sobi's defeat. However, upon opening his eyes, Udan saw that he had a chance. And that was all it took. With an earth-shattering roar, a surge of energy rushed through his wave, assimilating with his side of the beam struggle and forcing his rival's attack back toward him. At last, it couldn't handle it any longer. The sphere exploded and engulfed Shira in energy.

Udan took a few deep breaths, amazed by his outburst of power. Covering his face with his hands, he silently prayed he didn't kill the poor guy.

His prayers were answered when he heard a distant, prolonged screaming. The volume increased, and he parted his fingers to peek at the sky. Just in time for Shira to come crashing down on his stomach.

When the dust cleared, the audience could see Shira laying on top of Udan, who was completely stunned from the impact. Shira's stamina was nonexistant at this point, and he struggled to move his exhausted body. He couldn't fly, or float, and his muscles were racked with pain. Expecting to have hit the concrete stage, Shira internally noted that he had landed on something soft. Without even opening his eyes, he knew what he hit. "Uh… hey, there," he muttered.

"H-hey…" Udan responded with a raspy voice, feeling lightheaded. Between the haze of confusion, the empty lungs he struggled to refill, the incessant soreness throughout his body, his lightheadedness, and the blush creeping onto his cheeks, he didn't know which emotion or sensation to focus on most. All he knew for certain was that things were becoming too much for him, and everything was going dark. With a thud, his head hit the stage and he passed out.

With a grunt, Shira rolled his aching body off of Udan and sat up. "Good fight… good fight… I think you deserve to win, honestly…" he remarked, holding his head in one hand. Udan didn't reply. "Buddy?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at the unconscious Giras. "Ooohhh damn it…" he mumbled, reaching over and checking his pulse. He sighed, closing his eyes with a smile of relief when he felt what he was looking for. Officials rushed over to count Udan down, and Shira backed away.

One. Two. Three. No response. Four. Five. Six. He's beginning to stir. Seven. Eight. Nine. Holding his head and groaning, dizzy.

Ten.

Eyes open. Looking right at me.

"And it looks like Shira wins! It's a knockout victory!"

A wide grin broke out onto Shira's face as he doubled over, panting and halfheartedly whooping "enthusiastically." "Yeah… woohoo…" he said, throwing an arm into the air. "I won…" Obviously, he knew he had another fight to go. With two people. He'd just take a moment to rest here and… start… tipping forward…

Wait, was he blushing?

*Thump*

Intermission II

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out just how horribly disadvantaged Shira was in the Finals. Not only was he injured and fatigued from his brief stint fighting Udan, but the Announcer had unwittingly partnered Misua and Shisu for a 2v1 against him. He needed to recover as fast as he could. Shisu was already a challenge without Misua assisting him. And probably wanting revenge for the broken arm and dislocated shoulder.

Shira rummaged through his satchel upon returning to his room, muttering his disdain under his breath when he began pulling out his necessities. Where's the Senzu capsule… come on, come on! He was well aware that the tournament officials would provide him a healing capsule to recover, but it was impossible for them to have Senzu extract. His fingers touched something small and oblong, and he sighed in relief, pulling out the little capsule no bigger than the phalange of his thumb. He pressed the top button and popped it into his mouth, grinning as he felt the rejuvenating wave cleanse his wounds and soothe his aching body.

Setting his satchel off to the side, he decided to spend his intermission in meditation. Usually, he did it on a rock, in the sand, on a tree branch, or hovering over a lake or mountain peak. Excepting those last two options, he was usually on a hard surface, and he did that in the Lotus Position, always. This time, he simply laid down on his back, eyes facing the ceiling, and rested his arms at his sides. Breathing deeply, he began to clear his mind to allow the subject of his contemplation to stand out, so that he could focus on it.

What is it that makes them so powerful? They are all human, excluding Misua and the Giras. And Giras are never that powerful, he thought to himself. Are we all just mutants of our species, brought together by circumstance? Perhaps I should not question it as much as I have been. Perhaps I should just accept it, and embrace them. I am beyond honored to be fighting warriors of such high caliber.

And then a notion crossed his mind that he never thought would cross his mind. He was about to let it pass, but the implications of it snagged his attention, and he diverted his focus to picking it apart. It is possible, that this is a sign that I should cease my nomadic way of life, he asked himself, that the appearance of these warriors is ominous of something greater to come? Has the Universe guided them to me, or has it guided me to them? If so, why so?

An image of Misua flashed in his mind. …right. I hadn't thought about what I would do after the tournament in regards to the people I've met. I probably would have just left Misua at her village with the money and went on my way. So why can't I bring myself to do that?

Then came the image of Udan. A powerful, noble soul. Unlike any of his kind I've ever met. Not only does he rival me, but he claimed to be fighting to use the money to improve the status of his race. And it's a logical quest; the Giras all inhabit caves and dens, living in small packs. Considering that they're fully capable of complex thought and well-constructed speech, suffice to say they're as sapient as any other race, namely humans, Nameks, and Majins.

Daryl, surprisingly, came next. Oh. Him. Ah, an intriguing outsider. I actually can admit that I have much to learn about the world beyond the Dragon Isles. We are rather… isolationist. Does the rest of the world know about ki? Are their Majins or Nameks where Daryl is from? I know Anthropomorphics, Giras, and our other native races are just that – native to the Dragon Isles and nowhere else. That said, I do have much to learn from the man. And he has much to learn from everyone else here. If he'll stay.

He saw Laksuo next. He's such a good, young man. A bit immature, and afraid. Likely left over from High School, but I can't say I blame him. And if there is one thing I abhor, it's a bully. I should help him… I can't do that as a nomad.

He opened his eyes as he heard the sound of a door opening. He turned his head over to the left to see Misua stepping into the room, setting a keycard down on the desk. She caught sight of Shira and jumped a bit in surprise, "Oh, I'm so sorry, were you asleep?" she asked him.

"No, no. Just meditating."

"…lying down."

"Yep!"

"Right," she said, a bit skeptical. She continued, however, walking over to the bed where Shira lay, sitting down at the foot of the bed. "So, as you know, Shisu and I are supposed to fight you… at the same time."

"I'm well aware of that, and I've just been gathering my strength, getting a few things off my chest," Shira replied.

Eyes darting from side to side, she lifted a brow. "You haven't told me anything. I didn't even know you were stressed?"

"Oh no, no. I, am doing that on my own. Meditation, remember?" he said with a cocky smile.

"So Udan really gave you a hard time, huh?" asked Misua, turning around and lying on her belly, facing Shira. She decided to let the topic of his unusual meditation go, for the time being.

"Oh it's fine. He's a magnificent warrior. I feel like I underestimated him, just like that Marucha guy still does," he said in reply, sitting up straight. "So Shisu really pushed you to use the Inner Tempest, aye?"

Misua rolled her eyes and groaned, burying her face in the mattress. "You're not letting me live that down, are you?"

"Oh I will, I don't know if Shisu will. Or Sobi. Or Laksuo. Or Marucha, definitely not that guy. If it's of any consolation, Daryl thought it was just adorable," Shira said with a laugh. Misua's face flushed, mostly at the thought of Marucha unloaded his best inflation-based quips unto her. Honestly, in regards to Daryl and his many foreign peculiarities, she was just going to accept the complement and move on. "You're on the right track," Shira continued, "making your own techniques like that. As cartoony and impractical it might seem, I would stick with it until I can replace it with a better ability. You know what I mean?"

"Well…" Misua began, "I don't really have that much experience, inventing new moves and such."

"Neither did I. It takes practice, and the payoff is SUPER satisfying. Let me tell you, the first time I unloaded a perfect Saint Cannon, I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day!"

Misua rolled over onto her back, smiling in curiosity. "Saint Cannon? What's that?"

"My magnum opus. I think," Shira replied. "To best understand my techniques, you have to understand what defines them. You see, Turtle School relies mostly on ki, and practices the arts of peace and war. Victory by the art of war. The art of war is strategy, which is derived from the art of peace. Think of it like a big mountain, if the mountain could punch you back," he quipped. "Crane School," he continued, "Is largely based on the idea of self-sacrifice. It uses life energy rather than ki in most instances."

"Is this relevant?" Misua questioned, growing a tad impatient.

"It is very relevant. I'm listing off the many martial arts schools in relation to my techniques," Shira replied. "Demon School relies on tenacity and patience. A perfect Demon must be willing to wait for his attack to be fully prepared, and must be braced to receive a beating before the charge is complete. It is ki based. It is often considered a dark school, mostly because idiots can't get past the name 'Demon,'" he explained. "Then there's Cosmic. Cosmic Students learn the old techniques passed down from the Saiyans, most notably Prince Vegeta. They're concerned with becoming absurdly powerful, copying strong techniques rather than making their own."

"So… the attitudes and philosophies of each school affect the properties of their techniques?"

"Precisely!" Shira said, clapping his hands and pointing to Misua. "Turtle is wise, and calculated. Thus, they are incredibly powerful and reliable. Crane is sacrificial, and puts out more power at the cost of life energy. Demon is patient, and most attacks need charging – those with little wait are usually weak, but quick, repeatable, and able to be spammed. The tenacity. Cosmic is strong, and recycles old but devastating abilities."

"So what's yours?" Misua asked, rolling back onto her belly and kicking her legs back and forth through the air.

Shira remained silent, giving it a moment of reflection. "I'm not too sure, yet," he said, gazing off into space, turning his head to face the window to his right.

There was a pause, and Misua pushed herself up and off of the bed. "Well, alright. I'll leave you to think about it. I've got to go talk with Shisu about the upcoming fight," she said. She moved to make her exit, but before she left the room, she swiveled around on her heels and walked back to Shira. "Hey, Shira?"

"Mm?" Shira broke out of his trance, fixing his eyes on Misua as she approached him.

"Everything that you've done. Telling me about the tournament, taking me here, and fighting so hard to win the prize money for my home village," she said, sighing towards the end.

"There's really no need to thank me. I would have no use for this prize money. And besides, I haven't won yet."

"First five places get prize money, remember? So thanks to you telling me about this tournament, and thanks to a little luck, I'm still earning a huge profit to take home. You, too. It just comes down to Shisu and I now, for the grand prize. Either way…"

"So then I guess it's mission accomplished? All that's left to do is fight one more match?" Shira asked. Misua nodded, and then there was another beat.

Before he could react, Misua pressed her lips to his cheek and gave him a light kiss. "Thank you, Shira."

And before the moment could turn awkward for the both of them, Misua took her leave, making haste for the door. Touching his cheek, Shira fell back onto the bed and resumed meditation. That conversation gave him plenty of material to work with, it seemed.

Well that was a peculiar way to thank someone. I have to ask, though, why she stopped by to talk to me. Especially if we're opponents in the Finals. Wouldn't Shisu have stopped her?

…Shisu. Shisu's an odd one. Rather lithe for a man. High pitched voice, too. But wait – calling Laksuo a kid? When Laksuo's 19? Wouldn't it be a bit hypocritical to do that if Shisu himself was a kid? Something's not right, here. Perhaps I'm overthinking it, or I'm worrying too much about something so petty. But, I can't help but keep thinking I'm sensing feminine energy.

…

So. My own Martial Arts School? I could do that. But Misua's right in asking what it's about, really. I guess I've focused so much on the other schools that I forgot about my own techniques. Maybe that Saint Cannon wasn't perfect after all.

Finals ~ Shira vs. Misua/Shisu

The announcer took his place on the stage and began yelling to the crowd, revving them up by talking hype about the Finals, and giving a brief summary of the tournament. Shisu and Misua waited inside the interior-arena building, biding their time for the moment they could show themselves to the audience.

They hadn't said a word to each other, but Shisu had just been rehearsing his final words to Misua before the fight. He cleared his throat, getting the fox woman's attention. "Let's make this clear," he said, "Shira obviously outclasses you. Don't think I didn't see the patch of missing fur there on your arm. He broke you like a Kit-Kat bar."

Misua sweatdropped, recalling the memory less-than-fondly. "So what do I do?" she asked.

"Leave most of the fighting to me. Jump in to distract him so I can deliver a blow."

"What if he goes after me first since I'm weaker? And I can't exactly fly. How do I catch up?"

Shisu sighed and shook his head. "I'll keep him on the ground as much as I can. If he flies away, I throw him down. If the battle stays in the sky… just conserve your energy."

"A-alright…"

And here's hoping you don't repeat that one technique.

On the other end of the stadium, Shira stood on the corner of the stage, with Sobi and Daryl there to coach him. "You're ready for this, right?" Sobi asked, crossing his arms and staring intently at the building in which Shira's opponents were hiding.

"Of course I am. I'm going all out," Shira replied.

"That's the right attitude to have," said Daryl, "Go out there and win this tournament!"

Shira walked toward the announcer as his name was called and stood by him. "And his opponents this match! In a most unique event brought to us by happenstance, we bring you the Tournament's FIRST 2v1 Finals match! Put your haaaands together for, Misua and Shisu!"

The duo jogged out of the interior arena and onto the stage, which had been patched up again for the Finals during the second intermission. Waving to the crowd, Shisu and Misua took their places in front of Shira. Removing his robe, Shira, wearing nothing more than snow-white gi pants and simple, brown cloth shoes (more like slippers), adopted a horse stance and began powering up, cracks forming under his feet. His brilliant indigo aura flared up and surrounded him. He stood straight and dispelled the aura, the burst of energy resulting in a kiai that caused the announcer, Shisu, and Misua to stumble.

Not bad… Misua thought, eyeing the barechested Shira up and down with a libidinous smile.

Not bad at all, Shisu thought. He was much more subtle about his admiration, however. He took on his Turtle stance, grinning. This was bound to be a grand battle. Misua attempted to mimic Shisu's posture, though she did so slowly, and clumsily.

Shisu shouted, snapping into a forward stance. He inhaled, held it, then exhaled. No words. We fight as soon as that blank fires off, he thought.

"May the strongest warrior win," Shisu remarked. Not another word was spoken until the blank fired.

Shisu took the first rush, clashing with Shira. The two began striking each other, a motion-blurred flurry of punches and kicks being the only thing the audience could see. Misua lunged into the scrap, punching Shira in the side of the head, breaking his concentration and allowing Shisu to get the first attack in. Hammering Shira in the stomach, he leaped back and rushed forward again, hands igniting with blue energy. He began kicking him rapidly in the chest, performing the Deadly Dance. He followed up the last kick by backflipping, then spinning like the top, arms out straight. He slammed his energy-charged palms into Shira's cheeks, catching him in a tornado of painful strikes. He kicked upward and struck him in the chin, sending him upward. "Good!" Shisu said to Misua, "Keep doing that! I'll bring him down!"

"Ooohhh! A powerful first attack!"

Shira overheard Shisu's order, and recovered in time to block his next assault. He began to repeat his the technique he used on Laksuo during the Quarter Finals. He struck Shisu in the chest and sternum a count of four times, then kneed him in the gut, popping him higher into the sky. Shira then afterimaged ahead of Shisu, raised his leg up, and axe-kicked Shisu in the back of the neck, propelling him into the stage.

"An improved take on a previous technique!"

"I call that one the Soldier's Charge!" he cried after Shisu. He put his fingers to his temple and searched out Misua's energy. Teleporting behind her, he tapped her shoulder. Stiffening up in shock, she turned around and delivered a powerful punch to his throat, staggering him. She followed up with a Daikaiten Kick, spinning around in a panic, striking Shira in the head with her left foot repeatedly. He was knocked to the side, rolling across the stage as Misua marveled in her small miracle.

Shisu picked himself up, and began firing weak ki blasts at Shira. He began deflecting them, slapping them away with his right hand as he hovered over to his attacker. He reared his left fist back, swinging it toward Shisu, who caught it in his right hand, attempting to elbow Shira in the face. His elbow was caught by Shira's right hand, and the two were locked together. Misua joined in once again, latching onto Shira and tugging him away, forcing him to lean back. Shisu ruthlessly double-axe-handled him in the heart, causing him to topple over, pinning Misua underneath him. He rolled over just in time for Shisu's fist to come crashing down onto Misua's back.

"Ouch! A little friendly fire! That's to be expected, I just didn't think THAT would happen!"

Casting the screaming Misua off of him, he jumped out of the way, taking off into flight. He made a U-Turn and rammed his fists into Shisu, sending him tumbling back into the air. Correcting himself, Shisu returned fire with an Eagle Kick, but instead of kicking him down, he knocked Shira high into the air, afterimaging toward him and continuing to batter him. Shira eventually found an opening to catch Shisu's ankle, throwing him away long enough to pull off a rush. He struck Shisu in the jaw, then with his other hand, uppercutted him in the chin. Grabbing Shisu's throat, he flew down to the ground and slammed Shisu into the stage. "Paladin's Punisher," he said. Afterimaging above Shisu, body parallel to the stage, he held his hands out flat, fingers spread and thumbs overlapping at the nails. Holding his arms completely straight out, he began firing a rapid stream of ki spheres at Shisu. "BULLET KI!" he cried. Shisu, in a frenzy to escape the attack, flew away from the stream, only to find that the attack would follow him with astonishing accuracy.

Grinning, Shisu put the pieces together and had the perfect idea. Flying straight toward Shira, he nosedived at the last second. Shira had a moment of shocked realization, and began trying to deflect his own attack. Shisu fired a weak ki blast at his back and ruined his timing. The first blast slipped past his fingers and drilled him in the arm, pushing him back. He tried to pick his momentum back up, but one ki blast after the next rammed into his chest. He took seven shots in total before falling to the stage. Standing back up, Misua delivered a roundhouse kick to his cheek, knocking him back down.

Shira cursed, spinning himself around to sweep Misua off her feet. "I'm so sorry," he said, grabbing her ankle. With a yelp, she found herself being hoisted into the air and thrown off stage. "I'll be sure to beat Shisu now!"

"And Misua is out of the match!"

"Beat me? That so?" Shisu asked, hovering to Shira's level, intrigued.

"You're not exactly wiping the floor with me," Shira retorted.

"Oh, you're right. I haven't gotten to that part yet!" Shisu rushed Shira, and the two became trapped in another clash, floating from one side of the stage to the opposite, back and forth, side to side. The two were quickly wearing each other out. In a desperate gamble to leave the clash, Shira thrust his open hand to Shisu's chest and fired a wide, low-intensity burst of indigo colored ki, propelling him away from his opponent. It burned off the top half of Shisu's gi and shirt, reducing the lower half to nothing more than a torn and singed sash at "his" waistline.

Shira's eyes shot open when he noticed the strangest thing he's seen all day.

A pair of B cup breasts. Attached to Shisu. Shira blinked, then squinted, trying to focus on them on the offchance they weren't actually there. "You son of a bitch!" Shisu screamed, their voice rising from it's forced masculine tone to its proper, higher-pitched, feminine-though-still-deep tone.

"Oh my! That's… that's quite the surprise!"

What. The. Fu-

An iron fist was planted in Shira's stomach. Shisu hunched over and charged her ki, before expelling it in an Explosive Wave, toppling Shira over.

As the inevitable beatdown ensued, Shira's entourage caught sight of Shisu's chest from the stands. Daryl stared, mouth agape. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Misua, and could tell she was just as shocked. "Shisu is… a woman?!"

"That explains why her voice kept fluctuating from deep to high," Sobi observed aloud.

Laksuo noticed, and shuddered at the sight of Shisu's chest. "Euch, and here I thought she was a guy…" he muttered.

"Kid… we all thought that," Udan remarked, raising his scaly brow and eyeing the 19 year old curiously. An oddly exaggerated reaction to this revelation.

Marucha, who sat in the front row of the center stands, was almost drooling at two sights. The first, was Shisu's bouncing breasts. The second, Shisu, on top of Shira, on the verge of caving the latter's skull in. "Wha-hata… hada… Whadda woman…" he murmured to himself, taking immense pleasure in seeing his defeat in West City avenged by the pint-sized warrior woman.

Eventually, Shira had enough of the beating, and used the first opening he found to deliver a kiai, pushing Shisu into the air. His face was bruised from the repeated punching. He felt around for his teeth with his tongue. All accounted for. It seems she had a concept of mercy. He thought his nose might be broken, but at the moment that was of little concern. Shisu landed gracefully on her feet, thrusting her arm out to the side. Ki swirled around her forearm and shot out, sharpening into a conical blade, a blue light enveloping her arm. "This was supposed to be a secret!" she boomed, and as quick as a flash, she slashed Shira across the face, cutting him open across the forehead, down the brow, over his eye – just missing the actual eyeball – and down his cheek.

He cursed, staggering back and holding his hand against his face as the audience gasped. It wasn't hot enough to cauterize, and when he lifted his hand away to observe it, he saw it soaked in blood. He surmised that Shisu had sliced open a shallow bruise and let the blood start pouring out. Drops of thick, crimson blood dripped down off his brow, appearing as a blur in front of his right eye before joining the bloodstain on his cheek.

"Why… why would you conceal something like this?" he asked, becoming drowsier by the second.

"How many women do you see in this tournament?" Shisu asked, clenching her fists.

Shira growled, scanning the stands to look for any female contestants. Only Misua came to mind. "Not many…"

"Only two. And only one actually showed up looking like a woman!" Shisu said, jabbing a finger toward Misua, who was laying in the grass, near the stage. "Why do you think that is?" Shira had no adequate response, only panting heavily, trying to gather his energy. "Because, martial arts is built upon an antediluvian hierarchy itself built upon rules written by stupid, old, men!" Shisu spat. "Rules that make it impossible for women practitioners to be taken seriously by their male comrades!"

Shira coughed, a little misty blood escaping. He had been absolutely torn apart by Shisu… and he loved the challenge. "You know… you'd be exponentially stronger if you just let go of that bitterness… it's holding you back. I can feel it," he replied.

"I have worked far too long, and far too hard, to get to where I am now! I dress like a man because it directly resulted in my instructors giving me their A-Game! There! I said it!"

Shira sighed, shaking his head. She's not a lost cause, he mused. "If you won't listen to me now, then we'll just have to end this. If you lose, you have to hear me out," he said.

"Ha! Deal, but only because you're one punch away from biting the dust," Shisu retorted sharply, stepping back and putting her hands at her hips. "Kaaaaameee…."

Now, now is the time, Shira. You know what must be done to make it perfect. He stood, straight up, with respectful posture. He gestured with his hand; index and middle finger extended upward but relaxed, so that they bent slightly on their own. His thumb, ring finger, and little finger were bent, partially folded down toward his palm. To Daryl, who was just barely able to see it, it looked strongly like a Catholic Hand of Blessing. He held his hand up over his forehead, and a golden ki began to radiate from his palm, expanding to encompass his hand in a translucent light. "Seijin…" he said, bringing his voice from his chest, making it much more powerful and commanding. He brought his hand from his forehead to hover over his chest

"haaaaaaaaammeeeeee…."

Let the energy flow naturally… do not force it.

"HAAAAAAAAAA!"

"TAAAIIIHOOOOO!"

The sky blue ki wave exploded from Shisu's hands as she lunged forward and threw the wave toward Shira. Shira, however, stomped forward authoritatively, thrusting his hand, palm now facing Shisu, out toward the oncoming ki wave. A golden wave of his own erupted from his palm, firing out and into the Kamehameha, creating an energy clash in the center of the stage.

"Absolutely incredible! Shira is FULL of inventive, new techniques today! Both contestants look tired! This! Could! Be! IT!"

Shisu's attack began to push toward Shira, who for a moment, faltered in confidence. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Upon letting it out, his attack seemed to enlarge, more power being put into it. A surge of energy slapped against the energy clash, shoving the Kamehameha back a good margin. "How?! How are you staying so calm!?" Shisu roared over the sound of the raging ki blasts.

Choosing not to waste time and energy answering, Shisu kept up the attack. With the deafening sound of thunder, the energy clash exploded, knocking Shisu off her feet and off of the stage, while the wind only pushed Shira back a few feet, away from the blast. He waved his arms about in a full circle, slamming his fists together before dropping into a wushu Ma Bu horse stance, left arm bent above his head, right arm outstretched, pointed toward Shisu. He concluded his finishing dance by springing up high into the air, frontflipping, and putting himself into a levitating lotus position just over the stage, legs crossed and hands folded over each other.

"Ring Out! Ladies and Gentlemen, behold the new World Champion, Shira!"

The audience began screaming louder than the monstrous crackle of lightning, shouting their applause for their new champion. Marucha slammed his fist into the railing of the seating stand, snapping it in half, as Sobi, Laksuo, Daryl, and Udan invaded the stage, running up to him and congratulating him on his victory. The fatigued warrior looked back over his shoulder at a smiling Misua. He had a bit of energy left. He afterimaged toward her and picked her up in his arms, floating gently back over to his entourage and setting her on her feet before letting himself fall back to earth. The two of them just about collapsed, using each other as support, when Sobi and Udan swooped in to hold them back up.

The announcer sprinted toward Shira, his hand shuddering with the microphone as he failed to contain his palpable excitement. "That was beyond impressive! It's unlike anything I've ever seen! This tournament was insane, I never thought I'd get to see a fabled ki warrior, much less six! What say you about this year?" he asked, shoving the microphone up to Shira's face.

"Six? It's about to be seven," he said, tightening his hold on Misua, who beamed with pride for the Champion.

"Taking on students, I see? What with your never-before-seen techniques, I sure would sign up for that school myself! What can you tell us about it?"

Shira looked at all of the new friends he made today, and smiled knowingly. "I haven't really thought about teaching a group of people anything, really."

Udan slugged him gently on the shoulder. "I could use the advice for the next tournament, really."

Sobi, the Crane Master, said, "Agreed. I figure I must be open to receive the teaching of another master. Is it false to believe that both our splendor shall grow from studying under each other?"

"I've been wanting a mentor that could accept me for who I am for some time, now! I think you'd be the one, Shira!" Laksuo practically chirped, clenching his fists, face just shining with delight.

Shira chuckled, smiling with profound warmth towards his friends, now, he guessed, his students. "I could teach," he replied.

"Might I ask what you would teach? What have you to say to us today?"

Shira cleared his throat. "As I meditated before this match, I came to a few realizations about my life and how I've lived it. I have studied with just about every Martial Arts School in the Dragon Isles, and while I've mastered none, I'm proficient in all. And each teaching brought me something that I want to pass down, were I to take students. Four Tenets if you will," he explained. "A member of the Angel School must live a life of balance. They must honor their family, friends, and foes alike. They must always, always act virtuously in and out of battle, and in the face of their opponent, they must understand their enemy and offer unconditional love and forgiveness."

"And so these insights guide you in life?"

"Indeed, sir. Balance, Honor, Virtue, and Compassion. The Four Tenets of the Angel School. It is positive energy and one's own determination that empowers the Seijintaiho. Saint Cannon. It draws on ki, yes, but it's perfection, its sheer power, comes from one's own willpower to do good. If you attempt to use this technique with darkness in your heart, it will fail you. Just a little something for you all while I'm still conscious."

Shira's black humor seemed to get a chuckle out of Udan, Sobi, and Daryl.

"Astute teachings, in my opinion. Go on and rest up, World Champ! We won't soon forget this glorious tournament!"

"Actually I have one last thing to say," Shira replied, looking off to the side at Shisu, who struggled to pick herself up. "Sobi, you mind?"

The Crane Master ran to Shisu's aid and helped her onto the stage. She was too tired to fight it, and so she just ran along with it. As soon as the two finalists were face to face, she picked her head up and glared daggers, right into Shira's eyes. Fitting that the sickeningly sweet saint has chocolate brown eyes, she mused, anything but amused. "What have you to say to me?"

"Tell me something. Can you sense ki?"

"Somewhat."

"You know we are evenly matched."

"What are you getting at?"

Shira chuckled, taking a deep breath. Things were starting to go dark around his peripherals, but he had to stay awake for this. "You lost. I'm putting it bluntly. Why do you think that is, if we are evenly matched?"

Shisu came to a stunning realization, one that said that maybe, just maybe, he could have let her win, but refused to do so. She remained silent, pride not permitting her to speak her piece. Eventually she overcame it, though it appeared visibly painful. "You… gave it your all… and overpowered me finally," she stuttered, grimacing as she realized that her earlier rant held no value in Shira's case.

"I cannot say I know how you feel but I can say I easily see what you mean. Remember I was in Crane and Turtle. And, I had female colleagues. It was eye-rollingly pathetic, to be frank, to see my then-current sensei suppress his power level and hold back on powerful techniques when he sparred with the women. Demon was even worse about this, and there were very few humans in that school. Don't even get me started on Cosmic. It's half the reason I left," he explained, shaking his head sadly.

"So then you know why I wanted a disguise?"

"With your pattern of logic you could have easily used your being a woman to help you win the tournament. Wouldn't have worked, but you felt that if you did win, it'd be because of your sex, and thus it would not have been honorable."

Shisu sighed, conceding his explanation. "I wanted to earn it properly, and fight as hard as I could to win the tournament."

Shira nodded in understanding, the darkness spreading. "Alright well I'm about to black out so I'm going to do you a favor," he said. He straightened out his postured, reaching limply for the microphone.

"Hi, uh. I'm out of Senzu Extract capsules and I don't think the Tournament's healing capsules are going to work as well. So, I might be needing South City General Hospital here soon," he said, as soon as he had taken the microphone.

What is he doing? Shisu thought, tilting her head, confused.

"The old Dean, um…"

"Futimako."

"Dr. Futimako. In case anyone from South City General is watching, that… trial, it wasn't accurate at all. He only heals, never hurts. I can attest to that. His girlfriend lied under oath and blamed him to cover her abusive, parasitic nature!"

The audience became confused, wondering how this was even relevant. Shira noticed one man in particular stroking his goatee thoughtfully. Perhaps that was someone who knew Dr. Futimako. Shisu snatched the microphone. "He's right, all of it. I'm Futimako's daughter!"

Shira eyed his empty hand, a bit bewildered at the lack of microphone in his hand. He smiled as he heard Shisu vouch for his outburst, however. He didn't get to hear the rest of it. He passed out and, without any of the resistance he had put up earlier, fell forward. The additional, sudden weight spooked those holding him up, and they accidentally dropped him. He collapsed to the ground, taking Misua with him (the latter giving a high pitched yelp before being knocked out cold on the stage.)

Post-Tournament

It had been a week since the Budokai-Tenkaichi. Shira, Shisu, and Misua had rested up and could leave South City General. Shira and Shisu's testimony at the end of the tournament resulted in South City's medical community reevaluating Dr. Futimako's status. While he could not legally replace the current dean in an instant, he was reinstated as a doctor and member of the staff.

When the three warriors left the hospital, they found themselves surrounded by their fellow tournament contestants. The group agreed to divvy up the prize money won by each of them, to go toward their specific goals. 50,000,000 was the Grand Prize. 2nd place won 25,000,000 zeni (and seeing as how there were two 2nd place winners, they had to squeeze out 50,000,000 and split half-and-half). Semifinalists each got 15,000,000 zeni, and Quarter-Finalists had a laughably large gap, earning 1,000,000 zeni only (obviously due to Misua and Shisu pairing up and winning two 2nd place prizes, thus screwing the Quarter Finalists out of a larger sum of zeni).

Totalling together into a pool of 119,000,000 zeni. 972,818 dollars, Daryl calculated.

Shira oversaw the division of the prize money and split it based on how much was a fair price based on how important a certain goal was. Charity was more important than personal use or organizational funding, they decided. Misua, whom Shira had promised to help from the very beginning, took away a straight 50,000,000 to put her village on the map.

Udan, to kickstart advancement in the Giras people, took away another 30,000,000.

Shisu would take 10,000,000 to finance her father, to hold him up until he started earning more money for himself.

That left the others, who had less noble but still worthy intentions. Laksuo took another 10,000,000 cut to put into college. Sobi took another 10,000,000 for the Crane School, and Daryl was left with 9,000,000 zeni. Or, $73,568 when he exchanged it. Shira, needing nothing, took nothing. Though that did not stop Misua from giving him 8,000 zeni to spend for travel supplies.

With the problem of money taken care of, the group dispersed, and split up to complete their goals.

Daryl returned to the United States, where he used the money to expand his studio and invest in it's financial future. He incorporated the foreign techniques he learned into the curriculum, blending them with the Krav Maga he already knew and mastered, igniting an interest in foreign Martial Arts all across the Eastern Seaboard.

Sobi put his share into the New Crane School, and with it, he was able to build a new and technologically up-to-date dojo in the generally reclusive North City, bringing his school to the mountains of the main Dragon Isle.

Laksuo would put his money into college as he said he would, planning on using it for the next year (as in a few days, he would be released for the summer) to continue pursuing his degree in biology.

Udan returned to Giran Village, his old home, and convinced his family to get an education – a trend that spread throughout the Giras people.

Shisu's plan was exectuted flawlessly, and her family fortune bloomed once again. Needless to say, her father was extremely proud of his daughter.

Shira (who now wore his hair in that Asian Breezy) and Misua went to the latter's village and as it turns out, it was indeed a place that existed, and it was indeed a place that was horribly impoverished. When Misua returned with her large cut of the prize money, a riotous celebration ensued (in which Shira was even invited to stay for dinner by Misua's parents. He gladly accepted). It would be a while before her village would ascend from its previous situation completely, and longer before it was truly put on the map, but both would occur, eventually.

For the fellow fighters who found each other in the likeliest of places, life was going well. Which is why Laksuo had the idea to reunite when he was let out for summer vacation.

Orange Star University

Of all the things the group could have hoped would happen, what was occurring to Laksuo now was not on the list by any means.

School was all over, and hordes of cheering students were erupting from every major exit the university had, dashing for their cars, vans, trucks, whatever they drove. The more ki-inclined individuals could be seen flying out of windows and doors, taking to the skies to trail their vehicle-driving schoolmates down to nearby clubs, gyms, pools, or (for the nerdy) museums and planetariums.

Laksuo had been eagerly awaiting the arrival of his friends, waiting on a courtyard bench. He watched the students vacate the school, especially the ones that could fly. As powerful as he was, he knew it was only by freak chance. He had no true training outside of watching others do it on TV. Assuming that they were late (and this was understandable given traffic both in the air and on land), he took his backpack off, set it to the side on the bench, and withdrew from it a drawing pad and a sharp pencil.

He began to sketch the skeleton, thinking about who to draw. His thoughts drifted to the tournament, and he had some inspiration, blushing slightly. He made the first mark, lightly sketching a characteristic bald head.

He was at this for half an hour, a deft hand gliding across the paper, sharp mind flawlessly recalling the subject of his art's devotion and equally sharp pencil projecting his thought into reality. He blushed as the full-body portrait became recognizable, and took out a pen with the intention of inking the portrait.

Before he even uncapped the pen, however, a large, viridian hand shot out and snatched the sketchbook from off his lap. Laksuo's eyes bugged out as he looked up at the band of bullies that tormented him relentlessly the past year. "Give that back," he replied, expression betraying the cool tone of his demand.

"What the hell is this?" the Namekian asked, looking at the portrait. He let his human friends take a look, and immature snickers broke out amongst the group. "Oh look, Fagsuo has a crush!" one human said in a condescendingly high pitched voice.

"That's not my name, Pincel," Laksuo replied, tiredly.

The group snickered at the picture for a while longer before the group was separated by the power of their leader, an enormous, male Majin. "Give me!" he shouted, voice a much lower pitch that the majority of his kin. He snatched the sketchbook out of Pincel's hand and began hollering with laughter, ripping the page out and shoving it in Laksuo's face. "Oh my, Laksuo, who the hell is this?!"

"S-someone I met at the World Tournament…" he murmured.

"The one you lost?" the Majin replied. Laksuo cringed. "Weak. I could have beaten that Shira, you little faggot. Any of us could have!" he said. Pincel and the other humans chuckled, while the Namekian brute crossed his arms with a dark leer. Laksuo remained silent. "What, got nothing to say?" the Majin said, aggressively jabbing Laksuo in the shoulder, coming face to face with him. "Huh? C'mon, answer me you queer shit."

"I don't want to have to fight you, Kadaba," Laksuo muttered, looking down at his lap.

Kadaba grabbed Laksuo by his chin and forced him to look up into his blood red eyes. "You will look me in the eyes and say that, faggot."

"I don't. Want. To have. To fight. You," Laksuo replied. He was responded to with force. With a choked cry he found himself hoisted from the bench and thrown onto the ground in the middle of the horde of bullies.

"Teachers are all busy at a meeting. Argot disabled all the security cameras. Who knew Namekian antennae could access technology?" he sneered. Argot the Namekian smirked proudly. Kadaba crumpled up the sketch and threw it out in a stiff arm, the intense friction igniting the paper, which was just as quickly extinguished when it hit an unintentional target in the forehead.

"…so those are the kids that pick on him?" whispered the voice of Misua, who stood by Shira's side. Sobi blinked in surprise and knelt down to pick up the piece of paper that had hit him.

"Give me two minutes with the Majin and they'll all disperse," Shira replied, crossing his arms, narrowing his eyes at the bullies.

Sobi, meanwhile, was gawking at the sketch in his hand. It was a picture of him, standing tall in a seductive pose while wearing nothing more than ill-fitting boxers. Next to the portrait was the caption that read: "Sobi-Bō," with little hearts beside it. This is… flattering, he said, blushing profusely. He looked up from the sketch to see Laksuo on the ground. He could hear the relentless insults. Priming the boy for the beating.

"Faggot."

"Loser."

"Your parents reject you."

"You're weak. You can't even get up and fight."

It went something like that. Looking back down at the picture, Sobi's hand clenched around the paper and something ignited within him. Folding it gently, he slipped the paper between his belt and dogi and punched a fist into his palm, cracking his knuckles. "Give me half a minute with all of them," he said. "This is personal."

Sobi marched forward, stamping his feet into the ground. He put his hands together in a triangular position and took a deep, nasal breath. Kadaba had grabbed Laksuo by the shirt and lifted him up to his level, rearing his fist back.

"Shiiinn…."

Kadaba blinked, raising a brow. "Who's there?" he asked. His entourage turned around to see the entire team of Quarter and Semifinalists, headed by the Champion himself, standing at the edge of the courtyard.

"KIKOOOOHOOOO!"

A circular beam of energy rammed into Kadaba at full speed, tearing him away from Laksuo, who found his window of opportunity and drove a fist into Pincel's jaw. Sobi rushed into the fray, machine-gun kicking Argot in the chest before afterimaging and uppercutting one of the other human thugs into the air. Laksuo helped as best he could, punching and kicking Pincel until he was knocked unconscious. He then charged a low-power energy wave and hit Argot, who had recovered and prepared to strike Sobi from behind. The blast hit him in the side of the torso and sent him flying into a nearby tree. As Sobi dropped the last of the goons with a midair axe-kick to the back, he fell to earth, landing on his toes.

"S-Sobi!" Laksuo cried, he looked over to the rest of the gang. "Shira! Udan! You made it! And just in time, too!"

"Ah, sorry we were late," Shira called out, standing on his toes and holding a hand into the air. "We made a wrong turn somewhere on 45th Street."

Laksuo laughed delightedly. He was just about to run over to Sobi and hug him when a bright pink flash of energy stopped him, passing just in between the two. Both men turned their heads to see an enraged Majin standing with his right arm stretched out in the direction the blast traveled. "I… will not be humiliated in front of my gang by a wretched homosexual like you, OR your white knight!"

Udan blinked. "Wait, he's gay?"

Misua looked over her shoulder, smirking slyly. "Udan, we all knew that."

Udan sighed in defeat, and the group continued to watch the show unfold.

Sobi took on a horse stance and powered up, cracking the brick pathway underneath him. He stood up straight and stuck a finger out toward Kadaba. "Stand down, now, or face the wrath of the Crane," he demanded. Kadaba refused, and sped toward Sobi, fist drawn back. "I warned you," Sobi replied, "DODON RAY!" A bright yellow beam shot out from his fingertip, striking Kadaba in the forehead, clotheslining him. Sobi rushed up to him and began to rapidly punch him in the stomach and face as he flew back, taking him on a shallow, diagonal path through the air and toward the ground. When Kadaba finally landed, Sobi kicked him onto his belly and used him as a footrest. "So how long have you been messing with Laksuo?" he asked.

"Not… talking!" Sobi stamped his foot on Kadaba's back. "Two years! It started in high school!"

"Why?" came the next question.

"Go f&$% yourself!" He was pushed harder into the ground. "Gaah! He's gay! I caught him kissing a boy under the bleachers after a game!"

Sobi was about to ask his final question, but extended the interrogation for that information near the end. Smirking, he leaned closer. "What became of the boy?"

"He dropped out of school, last I heard he was making himself busy with drugs!"

"Did you have anything to do with it?"

"WHY WOULD I TELL Y-Guak!" Sobi's foot moved to Kadaba's neck.

"Did you. Have anything. To do. With it?" Sobi asked once more.

Kadaba's voice was choked and raspy as he struggled to get air out. Air began to blow out as steam from his various pores as his pink face reddened. "We might've! We picked on him too!" he tried to say. The pressure lightened up.

"Know this. Laksuo is best friends with the world's toughest fighters. Some bullies get beaten down by the victim's family members. Maybe bitten by a pet. Sometimes, even strangers deliver justice. You, my friend? You just pissed me off. The next time I hear that you so much as said a single ill word to my good buddy Laksuo… I will personally come down and Kikoho the f%$# out of you. Capisce?"

"Crystal… clear!"

Sobi raised his foot off of Kadaba, who got up and began sprinting, crying loudly as he ran away from the courtyard. What a loser, Sobi mused with a smile. Everyone in Kadaba's band was either unconscious or too sore to move. The crisis was averted. He walked over to Laksuo and hugged him tight. "You okay?" he asked.

Laksuo was too stunned to speak for a moment, his dark face brightening up with the color of the tomato. Eventually he put his shaking arms around Sobi and returned the hug. "Y-y-yeah, I'm fine… better now, actually."

After about a minute, they broke off from each other. "I uh, saw your sketch," Sobi said.

Laksuo's eyes, which were closed for the duration of the hug, had shot wide open. He spotted the folded paper in Sobi's belt, and his face actually managed to become more red than it already was. He began to stutter incessantly, pointing at the paper, then at himself, then Sobi, then the ground, then the sky for some reason unknown even to Laksuo. He eventually ran out of breath and stared at the ground, completely flustered beyond words. He took a deep breath, one that was swiftly cut off when Sobi approached him and kissed him on the forehead.

"I thought it was really well made. Thank you," Sobi mumbled, his own cheeks darkening with a shade of cherry red. "Shira told us something on the way here that we wanted you to hear about."

Laksuo wordlessly nodded, following Sobi over to Shira, who stood with a knowing smirk on his lips, arms crossed at their wrists behind his back. "Laksuo, it's been a little while. Besides this, how did school treat you?" he asked.

"Ah, well. Okay, I guess?" Laksuo replied, struggling to form words, eyes stealing quick glances at Sobi.

"Good to hear. I must thank you for inviting us to come back together. I concocted the perfect team activity during the week of separation," Shira said. "A scavenger hunt of sorts."

A moment of silence was followed by Udan complaining. "A scavenger hunt, Shira? Of all the things we could do, a scavenger. Hunt," he said.

Shira grinned. "I will explain elsewhere. It is not safe to speak here. Those thugs may still be conscious, and I'd rather not risk them telling Kadaba," he said. Without another word, he grabbed Misua around the waist and blasted off into the sky. Oddly enough, Misua did not make a single sound – implying she was used to this by now. Udan grabbed Daryl (who was much less compliant as he was brought here by Shisu) and followed suit.

"Alright, Sobi. We'll be in the Sacred Lands if you need us," Shisu said, pursuing the others, leaving Sobi with the flightless Laksuo.

"All that way?!" Sobi replied, "Why am I always last to know these things?!" He looked over to Laksuo, who stood with a blush still on his face, along with the understanding of the implications.

Sacred Land of Korin

So flying with Laksuo wasn't as bad or as awkward as Sobi imagined it would be. He held the student in his arms, keeping him from falling to earth. He laughed and cheered as Sobi soared high above the ground. The two watched the city turn to suburbs, the suburbs turn to grassland, the grassland turn to desert, the desert turn to mountains, and the mountains turn to a grand, viridian forest.

Still, as nice as this was, Sobi couldn't help but feel… uneasy. He sensed something nearby. A power that would fluctuate in and out of being. For now he chose to disregard it, realizing that he was still carrying precious cargo.

He had never been around these parts of the Dragon Isles before, so one could only try and guess how shocked he was, when he passed through a cloud and bore witness to a titanically tall, thin tower in the distance. "So these are the sacred lands…" he thought to himself. He looked ahead, seeing Shira begin his descent. The rest of the party followed him down and touched down softly at the base of the tower.

"Finally. Not like that ate a few hours of my time," Udan said, flopping down onto his back, sighing as he felt the soft grass beneath him. The local villagers were… less than enthusiastic that a member of his kind had come here so suddenly.

An adolescent boy ran up to Shira, laughing excitedly. "Shira, Shira!" the boy cried, stopping just in front of Shira.

Shira crouched down to the child's level and ruffled his hair. "Hey, Iku, how are you holding up?"

Iku grinned from ear to ear, and spotted Shira's new friends. "I'm doing great! Who are those people, though?"

"The fox is Misua, the Giras is Udan, the human woman is Shisu, the three humans are Daryl, Sobi, and Laksuo, respectively. I met them at the World Tournament!" Shira explained, gesturing to each friend as he said their names.

"Wow, they must be strong, just like you!" Iku exclaimed.

Misua blushed, scratching the back of her head. "Well, I wouldn't say I'm strong."

Iku's father, a tall, lean-yet-toned Karinga Tribe soldier, approached from behind Iku, holding his hand out for Shira. "It is good to see you once again. You said you wouldn't come back. Are you now in need of the Dragon Balls?"

Udan cringed in horror. "Aaach, you mean… some poor dragon… why would you need those?!"

Shira snickered and rolled his eyes. He's heard that at least five times. Daryl scratched his head. "Dragon Balls?" he, Laksuo, and Misua asked in unison. Sobi the Crane and Shisu the Turtle had heard whisperings of the magical artifacts from their respective schools, but they were still in the dark about the matter.

"Shira?" Iku's father asked, gesturing to Shira's party.

Shira turned and clapped his hands together. "I can tell you here. We're safe," he said. "At the top of this tower, there live the gods of Earth."

The sweatdropping was real, at that moment. "Gods?" Daryl asked, shocked and awed. "I thought there was only one?"

"Three at the top of this tower," Shira continued. "Korin, then Dende, then…" he froze, and shuddered. "A being that wiped the floor with my body," he said, "literally."

The entire group had a moment in which panic gripped them. Misua froze up, eyes bugging out with her lower jaw dropped as far as it would go. "What?! What is this thing?!"

Shira felt himself choke up. "Mr… Popo."

There was a deafening silence. A being stronger than Shira? Question is, how much stronger? And, this thing is a GOD? The train of thought crashed violently as raucous snickering was heard from Daryl. "Popo… and that's a big mean champion-smashing deity?"

"HHIIIIIIIIIIII…"

Daryl stiffened up, hearing what had to be the most menacingly creepy internal voice he ever had the misfortune of experiencing. Everyone around him shuddered and took several steps back from him. Shira shook his head, having seen this coming a mile away. He cleared his throat and continued. "I had the blessing of training with them briefly, and they told me of seven magical objects called Dragon Balls. When brought together from all around the Dragon Isles, they summon a dragon named Shenron. Shenron has the power to grant three wishes, anything you want. Even immortality or resurrection from the dead," he explained. He quickly had the captivation of his audience, and continued, saying, "The limit drops to two should you bring back a mass of people from the afterlife. Once your wishes are spent, Shenron will return to his rest and the Dragon Balls will become inert and spread around the world, to wait one full year."

"What power…" Shisu said, enthralled by the prospect of having three of her greatest desires fulfilled.

"Indeed, which is why I refused to pursue them for years. I finished my training, said my goodbyes, and pledged to never return. Mainly because of Mr. Popo," Shira finished explaining.

"So, why tell us this? Why return?" Sobi inquired, tilting his head, scratching the shiny, bald scalp.

"Simple. I want to give you all the wishes."

There was a moment of mumbling among the party. Udan pumped his fist and cheered. "Haha! Now this sounds like fun! I could wish the Giras a capital city! That'd speed things right along!" he said.

"I would wish for the human race to have a massive boost in natural power, so that we could truly ascend and become a warrior race," Sobi said, clenching his own fist.

"That's two wishes confirmed," Shira remarked, leaning against the tower.

"You must have at least one wish…" said Misua, smiling faintly at Shira, who merely shrugged.

He didn't really have any wishes to make, he realized. However, there was one thing he was considering. "Meh. If I had to wish for anything, I'd wish for my family back," he muttered.

"What was that?" Daryl inquired, lifting up a blonde brow, blue eyes scanning the now distressed World Champion.

"It's nothing, really. I doubt that wish could be fulfilled."

Only Misua and Laksuo had been close enough to Shira to hear his mumbled wish. Misua appeared downcast, sympathy welling up for Shira. Laksuo looked away, shrugging bitterly. "My parents don't even really love me. I had to work my ass off for various scholarships to pay for college. I'm just a gaayy little mistake…"

Iku began to pout, crossing his arms in a huff. "Well, I don't mean to be rude but you guys are killing the mood with this tragic backstory stuff! You couldn't have saved it for the Dragon Ball hunt? Or revealed it when making your wishes?"

Shira cracked a smile at Iku's response to their swapping of sob stories. "Ha, the kid's right. What are we waiting here for? Let's go!" He said. He suddenly wrapped his arms around Misua's waist and launched into the sky, disappearing behind the clouds. Misua's screaming could be heard for a moment, before it faded away. She wasn't afraid of flying. It was what waited for her on the top of that tower. Big, black, and it wears a turban.

Daryl's eyes began to twitch as Shisu, rolling her eyes, grabbed the back of his gi and yanked him into the sky to pursue Shira and Misua.

Udan flapped his wings and followed them up as well.

Sobi, at least, had the decency to ask Laksuo if he was ready before abducting him from the comfort of the ground beneath him. With an affirmative nod, Laksuo lifted up his arms for Sobi, who put his arms around him and lifted off, slowly at first, before accelerating.

The Karinga tribe watched in awe as this new group of adventurers took off, up Korin's Tower, to begin their training for the Dragon Ball hunt.

A lone figure watched, eavesdropping from a tree, smirking to himself. "Dragon Balls, huh? So they're real. And now the little bastards want to use them. Not on my watch…" he murmured under his breath. "Father was not pleased that I lost to that obese lizard," he continued, pressing his fingers to a large, violet bruise on his cheek that still hadn't healed. His hair was matted with twigs, leaves, and sap from the trees he had jumped around on, pursuing his rivals with a suppressed power level.

"I will bring those Dragon Balls to my father… Ha, we'll become the most powerful beings in the universe with those three wishes! Two for our individual immortality, and one for a massive power boost!" he monologued, externally. Next to him on the tree branch was a tiny bird, who gave him a simple glance, head tilted, eyeing him up and down like he was the dumbest sack of rocks it had seen all day. "What the hell are you staring at?"

The bird flew away, and the man bowed his head, chuckling darkly. "Or my name isn't Marucha…"

From high in the sky, a ways away from Korin's Tower, sinister laughter rumbled through the air. "Others pursuing the Dragon Balls? Fantastic. All the more fun I'm going to have," said a deep, malicious voice. A green fist was clenched in front of his broad chest. His sickly, seaweed green skin glistened in the light of the sun. "I'll build a third Namek, with me as it's Emperor…" he muttered under his breath. A bird had flown out of the forest below, where he sensed a faint but fluctuating energy level. It chirped and sang, flying past his face. Grimacing, he thrust his fist out to the side and opened it into a flat hand, a blast of yellow-orange energy firing from his palm toward the poor bird, who was vaporized almost instantly after uttering one final, shrill cry. "I should continue my search. They aren't worth my time when I could have a headstart on them…"

With that he flew off.

If you made it here, congratulations. This is the longest single chapter I have ever posted in my time as a novice writer. This was largely an experiment, and I don't expect anyone to want to see it continued like people do for Halo: Nexus. But I thought, hey. I recently got Dragon Ball Xenoverse. I got myself into Dragon Ball via TeamFourStar's Abridged series. Why not give this a go?

Yeah… I am garbage, I am actual garbage, because I was thinking of an Undertale ficlet next. Shorter than this. And honestly I'm tempted to have Chara show up somewhere in the future of this fic's canon if I could get away with it. Destroy one world, move to the next, amiright? At this point, with the scaling difficulties of DBZ villains… Demigra could affect all of time and with it, space… but he had a convoluted plan and stuff. Chara wiped out the entire cosmos and all of history, past, present, and future, by slashing it with the Real Knife. I want to see this fight.

Stupid fantasies aside I hope you enjoyed. Tell me your favorite character in the review section, and I'm going to update my poll with this story and see if it catches up, any.

Anyway. It took me quite some time to develop the characters for this story, and I hope you liked them and found them interesting! Fun fact, every one of the primary characters to the exception of Daryl (whose canonicity will be determined by you people) is named after a type of noodle, in keeping with Toriyama's naming scheme!

Well Shisu was originally a noodle and then I lost track of what noodle it was so I turned it into sushi. Her father is named after Futomaki, a kind of sushi. The theme is there forever.

Power Levels (Tournament Saga)

Note: Numbers are kinda asspulled

Mystery Namekian: 5,000

Shira: 2,000

Shisu: 1,950

Marucha: 1,800

Udan: 1,750

Sobi: 1,700 (2,100 fighting Kadaba and goons)

Kadaba: 1,275

Laksuo: 950

Misua: 500 (750)

Daryl: 1 (300)