"This is a pretty good match so far," said Videl.
Gohan couldn't answer; he was getting a back rub from her.
***
Vegeta swooped to the other side of the ring to try and attack before Mirai could recover. However, his son planted a foot on the ring to right himself. Immediately he flew as well, and before Vegeta could react Mirai slammed headfirst into his stomach.
Reacting on instinct, his hand shot out and grabbed his son's long violet hair. Thus it was that Vegeta's momentum was not what it would have been. Instead of landing halfway across the arena, he merely stumbled back a few steps, dragging Mirai with him.
Tearing a few hairs loose in the process, he dropped to the arena floor and out of his father's grasp. Then he swept the Saiyan king's legs out from under him.
Vegeta crashed to the ground. Mirai aimed a kick at him, but he managed to roll out of the way. Then he rose again.
"Not bad, boy, not bad. But still I am your superior!"
And the two collided again.
***
"Your brother's doing pretty good!" said Goten.
Trunks nodded.
***
"You're both doing great!" yelled Bulma from her place in the stands.
"Still can't decide who to root for?" whispered Chi-Chi next to her.
"Nope."
***
By this time both combatants were very bloody indeed. Because each of them knew the other's signature attacks, it had degenerated into a simple slugfest. Punches and kicks were being rapidly exchanged, with very little attention paid to blocking or form. They were concentrating simply on power and punishment.
The roar of the crowd increased with each blow, until they were on their feet screaming support for their chosen favorite. They seemed about evenly split, although it could be ascertained that most of the ladies seemed to be rooting for Mirai.
And then, they could distinguish a new sound, one that rose above even that of the crowd.
"OK! That was one exciting half-hour, wasn't it?"
It was the Budokai Announcer. Rather hesitantly, they stopped attacking. They were both thinking the same thing: Had that been a whole half-an-hour?
"Our combatants were too evenly matched for either of them to lose by ringout or knockout! It looks like it'll be up to our judges to decide the winner!"
The seven judges at ringside gathered together and talked for a moment. Then one of them talked to the Announcer.
"We have a winner! Our judges have turned in a four-to-three split decision! Advancing to the next round is...VEGETA BRIEFS!"
Vegeta staggered out of the ring and back to the fighters' area.
Mirai, meanwhile, supported himself on the arena wall. Suddenly his vision was obscured by a towel landing on his head. He toweled the blood off his face, then quizzically looked into the audience to see who had thrown it.
His gaze was caught by a pretty red-headed girl in the audience who was waving frantically at him. They just stared at each other for a long moment.
***
Yamcha, who was watching this, put his hand over his face. "Oh boy. Here we go."
Raditz, Iroke, Nappa, Bardock and Turles looked at him in confusion.
"We have love interest. Seen it a dozen times." He shook his head.
Gohan couldn't answer; he was getting a back rub from her.
***
Vegeta swooped to the other side of the ring to try and attack before Mirai could recover. However, his son planted a foot on the ring to right himself. Immediately he flew as well, and before Vegeta could react Mirai slammed headfirst into his stomach.
Reacting on instinct, his hand shot out and grabbed his son's long violet hair. Thus it was that Vegeta's momentum was not what it would have been. Instead of landing halfway across the arena, he merely stumbled back a few steps, dragging Mirai with him.
Tearing a few hairs loose in the process, he dropped to the arena floor and out of his father's grasp. Then he swept the Saiyan king's legs out from under him.
Vegeta crashed to the ground. Mirai aimed a kick at him, but he managed to roll out of the way. Then he rose again.
"Not bad, boy, not bad. But still I am your superior!"
And the two collided again.
***
"Your brother's doing pretty good!" said Goten.
Trunks nodded.
***
"You're both doing great!" yelled Bulma from her place in the stands.
"Still can't decide who to root for?" whispered Chi-Chi next to her.
"Nope."
***
By this time both combatants were very bloody indeed. Because each of them knew the other's signature attacks, it had degenerated into a simple slugfest. Punches and kicks were being rapidly exchanged, with very little attention paid to blocking or form. They were concentrating simply on power and punishment.
The roar of the crowd increased with each blow, until they were on their feet screaming support for their chosen favorite. They seemed about evenly split, although it could be ascertained that most of the ladies seemed to be rooting for Mirai.
And then, they could distinguish a new sound, one that rose above even that of the crowd.
"OK! That was one exciting half-hour, wasn't it?"
It was the Budokai Announcer. Rather hesitantly, they stopped attacking. They were both thinking the same thing: Had that been a whole half-an-hour?
"Our combatants were too evenly matched for either of them to lose by ringout or knockout! It looks like it'll be up to our judges to decide the winner!"
The seven judges at ringside gathered together and talked for a moment. Then one of them talked to the Announcer.
"We have a winner! Our judges have turned in a four-to-three split decision! Advancing to the next round is...VEGETA BRIEFS!"
Vegeta staggered out of the ring and back to the fighters' area.
Mirai, meanwhile, supported himself on the arena wall. Suddenly his vision was obscured by a towel landing on his head. He toweled the blood off his face, then quizzically looked into the audience to see who had thrown it.
His gaze was caught by a pretty red-headed girl in the audience who was waving frantically at him. They just stared at each other for a long moment.
***
Yamcha, who was watching this, put his hand over his face. "Oh boy. Here we go."
Raditz, Iroke, Nappa, Bardock and Turles looked at him in confusion.
"We have love interest. Seen it a dozen times." He shook his head.
