Chapter 29

"Hang your head in defeat and join the hundreds of others who have fallen before me! For this tournament may host many a fine warrior, but I, Han'na Michee, am the one true martial artist!" Michee's golden eyes began to glow and a mass of shimmering, multicolored chi rose up from behind her. "Oh! beautiful spirits of courage and life! I open myself to you so that I may...

"... Be gifted the music of a birdsong at sunrise!" The chi shifted to blazing reds and warm oranges.

"... Keep to the path of my destiny as brightly and closely as the tail of a comet streaking across the night sky!" The chi jumped away from Michee in white and blue sparks.

"... Channel the burning passion of the great sun that is my homeland!" Now purple, the chi swelled into a massive ball of energy and Vegeta braced himself. But no attack came.

"... Weave the very atoms of the universe through my own, so that we may move together through the choreography that leads me to take this trifling contest by—oof!" The chi dissolved as Michee crumpled to the ground, curled up and gasping for air. Vegeta had not seen an end to the show, but had seen a guard that was completely down and had gone in for the kill. He was about to look for the next challenger when—

"You... dare...?" Michee growled as she rose to her feet. "By knocking me down you defaced my art and therefore my soul. Now I cannot let you go unharmed."

"You got up?" Vegeta eyed her warily. He had put his full strength into that punch. She should at least be unconscious.

"Now, now, now then..." Michee's flowing pastel sleeves and feathery white hair blew around her as she wound up to attack. "It seems you want to see for yourself the horror and beauty possessed by one who dances with the stars and planets, for example—OW!" Vegeta attacked her again. She had somehow left her guard down a second time. But again, she got up.

"Philistine! Ingrate! Office drone! How were you allowed to set foot on this planet?! I'll teach you myself why one must appreciate the—ugh!"

"Never have I encountered such—ack!"

"Without art, life would be an empty—argh!"

"You don't understand, I have devoted my—cease and desist, pond scum!"

"What are you?" Vegeta breathed. Michee was taking damage, but his attacks were mostly just irritating her. He would be impressed if he wasn't so irritated himself. It wasn't possible to sense chi, but he knew there was no power behind her show. It just looked flashy. So why was she able to withstand his attacks? "Stop the fireworks and hit me for real," he said.

"An ignorant child like you needs to learn the value of art."

"Are you saying there's no beauty in a single punch that has your whole strength behind it? I won't even dodge. Just show me."

"Really? That's beautiful to you?" Michee paused, looking at him curiously.

"Of course. You can't call yourself a martial artist if all you do is throw your chi around."

"Hmph! If you understand that art takes different forms, I may have been doing you a disservice. I'll oblige you, child." Michee drew back her fist and Vegeta raised his arms in front of his face.

Her strength matched her toughness. Vegeta was knocked ten feet backwards into the concrete. One of his arms felt bruised, like it had almost fractured, and his nose was bleeding. He was just about to get up and start the fight properly when he caught a glimpse of the next challenger waiting in line.

"You're in!" Vegeta announced, scrambling to his feet. "Find any contestant named Sinkgi, Mata, or Fu before supper and they'll get you training. Quit the exhibitionism and fight for real and get some speed. You're too strong to have such flaws. I'll find you later, now go." Vegeta kept the next challenger in sight as he shooed Michee away, and by the time they were facing each other his heart was beating out of his chest. "Loe Ott." He wanted to savor this, this moment before the fight that would change his life, but... something felt off. Michee's punch had taken too much out of him. The look in Ott's eyes wasn't interested enough. He didn't want to do this in a back alleyway.

But it would take a lot more than that to make Vegeta push away a chance like this, and he was just breaking into a run when—

"No fighting outside of matches! Disqualified! Disqualified!" Someone tackled Vegeta from the side, knocking him over. He was back up and fuming in an instant, but Loe Ott was gone. Most of the crowd was dispersing... or being escorted away.

"Orchestrating crude backstreet brawls is illicit activity that will not be tolerated," said the tackler. He was wearing sunglasses and a long robe, deep red, marked with golden swirls and etches. That robe belonged to only one person: Teckanon, the CEO of the Galajū.

"Why have a training building if we can't fight outside of matches?" Vegeta asked coolly, managing not to crush Teckanon for interrupting his fight.

"The training rooms are closed to the public, built to withstand strong impacts, and guided by rules that only allow sparring. This kind of informal skirmish ring is prohibited at the Galajūichi Budōkai. You will no longer be allowed to compete."

Vegeta knew that if he told them he wasn't a contestant they'd just do something else. Jettison him off the planet or lock him up in a holding cell. "This is the galactic martial arts tournament," he said.

"That's besides the point."

Vegeta settled into a fighting stance and smirked. "What you just said was so idiotic that I didn't understand a word. I'm assuming you just challenged me to a fight. I'm up for it... let's go."

"Of course I'm not—"

"Grow a spine, Teck!" Now an older alien was on the scene, wearing a tinted moonocle and a sash that was the same style as Teckanon's robe. "I didn't give my job for you to be so tepid! Have you already forgotten how to play?"

"Quiet, dad—I mean Kīmon!" Teckanon tore off his sunglasses and shot twin beams at this father, who stepped aside effortlessly. "You're following me again?! I'll run this place how I want, it's mine now! Get back to the heritage center before I kick you off this planet!"

"I have a deal for you. I'll leave by the next cycle and never come back if you win against me and the kid. You always turn up your nose but I know you have it in you." Kī walked to Vegeta's side and put a hand on his shoulders. "What could an old man and an amateur do against the top brass of the Galactic Martial Arts Tournament?"

For an instant Vegeta saw something familiar in Teck's eyes but then he put his sunglasses back on. "All right... If I win against both of you, pops is leaving for good and—"

"Hold on, if we're fighting two against one it's gotta be you two against me," Vegeta cut in. "I'm not—"

"No, my son has to be taught a lesson—"

"No, dad has to stop sticking—"

"Wrong—"

"Quit—"

"Stupid—"

"Listen—"

*⁂*⁂*

The CEO of a major record label broke out in a cold sweat. He must have misheard what the unfamiliar man who had just broken into his office had said. "C—come again?"

"You get the final say on the work of hundreds of musicians every year, right? What are you bringing to the table?" The stranger's voice came harsh and muffled from behind his balaclava. "I brought the drum machine and some synths. You're well equipped yourself." He jerked his head at the wall of autographed instruments that the CEO had on display. "Write a song for me."

"... Right now?" The CEO felt queasy. He adjusted his sunglasses and took a breath... then jumped for the panic button behind his desk.

In an instant the stranger had a gun to his head. "Right now."

Forty-five minutes later, the stranger took off his headphones. "That was terrible." Simple and repetitive and no soul whatsoever. If the suits weren't worth anything, why the hell were they running the place? Both of them looked to the gun sitting in the stranger's lap.

The door burst open and an unfamiliar security guard marched in, grabbing the stranger by the arm. They were gone without even a word to the CEO. The CEO collapsed with exhaustion and terror and called his wife.

In the lobby the "security guard" ripped the stranger's mask off and gave him a rough shove towards the door, not bothering to take the gun away. "So that's where you went! I don't like being stood up. Do you want to get this album together or not?"

"Sorry. Yes," mumbled the bassist, not older than twenty-five.

"It's time for our meeting. And this time, I'm escorting you to my office personally."

*⁂*⁂*

Vegeta and Kī walked in silence until they reached the outskirts of the city. A marble obelisk lay on the forest's edge, narrow but five stories tall. Vegeta followed Kī up the building until they were both seated in a comfortable office.

"You've been keeping a low profile, Prince Vegeta," Kī said, pouring them both a cup of black tea. "You know how easy it would be for you to turn this place upside down. Most people here would recognize you by your tail, but you carefully keep it hidden. Why?"

"That's not why I'm here," Vegeta said warily. "And it got cut off. How did you recognize me?"

"How could I not?" Kī gestured to his right and Vegeta's heart stopped as he looked right into cold black eyes. A man's portrait, larger-than-life, graced the study wall. His hair was jet-black and spiked upward like locks of flame. His hairline plunged and his hawkish eyebrows furrowed in a deep "V." A long red cape flowed out of his spotless armor. "You look exactly like him."

Vegeta took a sip of tea instead of reacting, his head throbbing painfully at being caught so off-guard. He had always remembered his father as angrier, bigger, more monstrous than even the other Saiyans. That man in the portrait wasn't him... at first glance Vegeta thought he was looking in a mirror. "I've never had tea this good before," he said, stalling but telling the truth all the same.

"That doesn't surprise me." Kī sat back with a nostalgic look on his face. "It was your father's favorite as well. He was the royal patron of this tournament for decades before Maj and Bisque, right until the tragedy of Planet Vegeta."

"My father was weak. Only 500," Vegeta said, avoiding the portrait's eyes. "I can imagine him coming here and living vicariously through the feats of others he couldn't accomplish himself."

"And how do you compare?"

"I'm going to break 20,000 and become second only to Freeza in a few more years. I'm already stronger than any Saiyan ever was. But Maj and Bisque... They're royal patrons? After my father?"

"Yes. They were only invited to succeed him because of their passion for the martial arts. They can be so temperamental. I've lost count of the number of times they've threatened to sink us because the humidity made Bisque's hair frizzy or Maj lost one of her socks. But then, they aren't the only people who would have had a hard time measuring up to the warrior race."

So threatening to withdraw funding to the Galajū was a regular thing with them. "Then they don't really like it here at all, do they?"

"Their race is flighty and they're spoiled on top of that, but the Galajū has had more than we could ever have asked for under them. Besides, they've started to mellow in their age and Maj falling ill has brought out shades of patience in Bisque I never knew he had. It would have to take something big to turn them against us now."

"Something like Maj dying on Sazz because her nurse went missing?" Vegeta asked innocently.

Kī looked like he had just smelled something unpleasant. "She's been stable so far, thank the void, but—well, I don't want to talk about that. I don't know how you resuscitated her... Maj's biology is too specific for anyone other than Daylee Chou... but no matter. All I'll say is this week, Maj is the Galajū. If you love this tournament, keep her alive to the best of your ability. Talking of, why haven't you registered as a—"

"Kīmon, sir! Generator House Green just had another power outage!" A tournament worker burst in through the door, knocking after.

"Again? Thank the technician whose idea it was to give the generator a generator. Safely pick apart every inch of the house and find out what the problem is. I like my tournament like I like myself: not in pulp form. Got that? I'm sure you feel the same."

"What generator?" Vegeta asked.

"Actually, you might find this interesting. Sazz was originally just a lump of rock. Its gravity was much too heavy for anything to live or grow on it, and due to its fixed orbital path the current parking hemisphere was the only section with any gravity at all."

"Sir..." the worker urged from the doorway.

"So when my great-grandfather discovered this planet he created a means of distributing the gravity more evenly by taking a few Gs away from the parking hemisphere and spreading them throughout the planet."

"Sir."

"My ancestor's invention amounted to two gravity generators, one in the parking hemisphere and one in the green spot." Kī gestured out the window. "Without them, the spaceships on the one side would be pulverized under the weight, and the people on this side would be left behind in outer space. So it's troubling to all of us when even the room that houses one of the generators starts hiccuping. Which is why I have to cut this visit short—one of my remaining duties is supervising the generator when it's being worked on." Kī joined the impatient attendant. "Walk out with us. I have a feeling I don't have to tell you to keep quiet about this incident—"

"I only talk about things that matter to me."

"Exactly. It's nice to have a Saiyan around again. Other guests would feel scared for their lives."

"... I've been invincible these four days. Everyone just wants to practice or learn or win in a controlled environment. Things aren't like that where I come from, not for a second. I hope you find out what's wrong with the generators, but it's hard for me to be scared by something so familiar."

*⁂*⁂*

It was the night before the first rounds of the semi-finals. All four of Vegeta's group had passed the preliminaries, joining thirty-two other finalists who would fight in front of an audience over the next two days. To close the day, they had a solid four-hour training session in the room with Vegeta. They were all making good progress. Sinkgi's movements were twice as efficient, though he still bounced all over the place. Fu only gave up once every three fights and his arms were covered with bubbles almost to the shoulder, though no one knew why that mattered. Michee was the least experienced with the group by far, but she was also the strongest and the gravity wasn't an issue for her. Once she finally began to trade her light show for actual attacks, none of them could beat her. Not even Vegeta.

Mata hadn't shown another sign of any sort of hidden power, even with Vegeta constantly beating and taunting her. He would have given up already if he hadn't known she was hiding it on purpose. Besides, she was such a strong fighter all-around that he trained better with her than any of the others.

It wasn't until they had all left, exhausted, to recharge for tomorrow that Vegeta knew sleeping was going to be a trick. He was looking forward to tomorrow so much. He had been purposefully ignoring the contestants on Sazz all week so he would see the tournament proper through fresh eyes.

He had to read for a little while before he settled down.

Their unique and overarching love of battle classifies the Saiyans as one of the more simple races. This inherited passion bestows members with a high chance of fulfillment and direction in life, but also a high level of competition and the uniquely Saiyan need to "just be the strongest."

Day 8 of 10

A short man with huge red lips and a huge red mouth dashed onstage. "Aliens and spacemen, you've come light years upon light years for this moment!" His eyes were screwed shut as he bellowed at the top of his lungs in a voice that was loud and crystal clear even over the cheers of the full stadium. "Please make some noise for... DAY ONE OF THE SEMI-FINALS!"

The noise was deafening. Vegeta could feel it vibrating around him, under him, and through him as he cheered along. Some people were literally falling out of their seats.

"As always, it falls to you to give our contestants a welcome heard throughout the galaxy!" the announcer continued in his impressive voice. He seemed to be lifting off the ground with the sheer force of it. "We all know how important it is to warm up! To start, what's your name?"

The jumbled roar of sound from the audience was incomprehensible.

"What did you eat for breakfast today?"

"Chicken and Caesar salad!" Vegeta yelled along with fifty thousand other people.

"Give me one fact about yourself!"

"This is the year I'll win the Galajū!" screamed Mata, like she always did.

"Favorite place in the universe! Please hire!" burst Sinkgi, along with his face.

"I'm scared of my father!" sobbed Fu, hoping no one was listening.

"I live on a sun! I live on a sun! I live on a sun!" Michee chanted, beginning to glow and rise out of her seat. Her friends pulled her back down.

"I can turn into a giant monkey!" Vegeta shouted gleefully, holding onto one of Michee's legs and forgetting all about the past and present.

"And finally, repeat after me... A box of biscuits!"

"A BOX OF BISCUITS!"

"A box of mixed biscuits!"

"A BOX OF MIXED BISCUITS!"

"And a biscuit mixer!"

"AND A BIC-SIC MAKER!" More than half the audience fell apart at the end, Vegeta included. It felt like that time Zarbon had kicked him in the stomach. He couldn't get a breath. His eyes were watering, he was laughing so hard.

*⁂*⁂*

Results for the official Galajūichi Budōkai morning semi-finals

SCARVE VS MUZZLE

Winner: SCARVE

Time: 35m

Category: Resignation

TRIAN VS DENT

Winner: TRIAN

Time: 49m

Category: Resignation

LOE OTT VS HAN'NA MICHEE

Winner: LOE OTT

Time: 3m 09s

Category: Knockout

*⁂*⁂*

By all counts she was disrupting the public, but nobody moved to complain. They were too entertained watching what was, to them, just another show.

"LORD VE-GE-TA. I ASKED YOU FOR DIRECTIONS TO THE ART GALLERY AND YOU SENT ME TO THE GALLOWS." Michee's voice was getting close to announcer-levels of ear-splitting noise. "WE BOTH KNOW USING MY TALENTS WOULD HAVE WON ME THAT MATCH."

Vegeta had his back to her, busy checking the time on an audience member's clock.

Michee twitched. It felt like she stubbed her spirit against the corner of a table. "How can one boy be so relaxed in the face of this, Lord Vegeta? Somehow, my art hasn't been getting through to you. You've said it's pointless, that brute force is the only way to go. I listened. And look where that has gotten me. I shall communicate my feelings and soul to you once more." Then she screamed.

Vegeta was prepared for Michee to snap. He was not prepared for her to shriek like a banshee while seven knotted tentacles sprang from her back, casting blood-red light on her robes and hair. Chi dragons gnawed on the tournament building behind her and a murder of chi crows blocked out the artificial sun. Vegeta's hair bristled and his muscles locked up, gluing him in place. Michee and her fabricated scene of hell glared at him. He didn't move, couldn't move.

Michee left the scene, her statement made. "That was pretty cool," Vegeta said to no one in particular, heart pounding. Had she just intimidated him? He felt shaken, like he'd slipped on the edge of a cliff and nearly fell off. Wow. But even if he did finally see what she meant, that didn't change anything. He wouldn't be caught off guard like that again. And it was his turn to pay her back and show her what he was about. He just felt a little faint of heart right now.

Michee had lunch with Mata, Sinkgi, and Fu. They were all too busy thinking about their afternoon matches to look out the window and see Vegeta walk by, pulling three carts of food.

The semi-finals building was equipped with two stadiums, allowing all sixteen matches to take place over the course of the day. The afternoon block of matches saw Sinkgi drop out of the competition. The contestants scheduled to fight that day were invited to supper with Bisque and Maj, as well as a few minor sponsors.

"Have you found your nurse?" Mata asked Prince Bisque, tactfully keeping her voice down.

"No, and poor love's holding on by a thread." Bisque's eyes hadn't left his pale sister the whole day. He poured her another glass of grape juice. "Tell Vegeta to stay ready. I'd hate to have to personally ruin this establishment that we both love so much."

"That would be a terrible thing," Maj said faintly. "But whatever my brother does in my honor is justified. Please pass the tapenade and brie."

Mata and Fu both won their evening matches, advancing to round two along with fourteen others. By the end of the next day, day 9, the two finalists would be decided.

Vegeta rarely slept more than nine hours. That day, he trained for twelve. 1:00 PM to 1:00 AM. Something about keeping his growing exhaustion in check with food made him cold. But he was safe: this wasn't the subzero death of space, this was the gravity of his home.

As the hours passed, his power level dropped. 10,000. 8,000. 5,000. 1,000. 700. He didn't know the numbers, but he felt every single point.

Vegeta was too busy training away his entire time in the Freeza Force to notice his Emergency Bisque Comm going off.