"One hundred thirty-s–?"

Kuririn clutched his stomach. The coordinator for the morning had taken position on one of the four rings in the building. Everywhere Kuririn looked, monstrous fighters loomed high over his head. And according to the coordinator with the big mustache, there were one hundred thirty-seven of them.

How many times would he have to fight just to get to the main stage?

'I deserve to be here, I deserve to be here, I deserve to be here…'

More than one of the competitors glowered at him. Kuririn shrunk back closer to Goku, trying to keep Mirin's encouragement in mind.

The older Son's voice kept getting quieter in his head.

"Only eight contestants, however, will be allowed into the final competition," the old man said. "Therefore, we will hold preliminary matches in four blocks; two contestants from each block will move onto the quarterfinals. Matches will last one minute, ending when one fighter gives up, loses consciousness, or is knocked out of the ring. Should the match not conclude within the time limit, a winner will be decided by ruling."

The atmosphere teemed with anticipation, the sort of tension that could only be built by a gathering of people who'd trained relentlessly toward one goal.

"However, note that killing your opponent is grounds for disqualification. Weapons are also forbidden," he said. He gestured to various attendants in the building. "Now, each of you please collect a number and divide yourselves accordingly into four blocks."

Goku and Kuririn lined up with the others; Kuririn pretended it didn't bother him that the attendant had to kneel down for him to reach for a lot. He suspected Goku genuinely didn't care.

"93," he said. "Goku, what'd you get?"

"Um, 70."

"That'll put you boys in block three." Yamcha said.

Kuririn looked at Goku's friend.

Wait. Boys? As in, plural?

Kuririn slowly turned to face the board, weighed down with dread.

As in, with Goku?

The numbers 93 and 70 stared him in the face, both written in bold marker under block three.

"Ah! I don't wanna fight Goku!"

"Hm," Goku said. "They're pretty far apart, though."

"He's right," Yamcha said. "You two won't meet in the prelims."

Kuririn blinked. He checked again; he and Goku were in the same block, but different brackets.

He heaved a sigh of relief. He clenched his hands, thumping his fists against his hip.

'Get a grip!'

"Yamcha, what about you?" Goku asked.

"I'm 35, in block two," he said. "I'm relieved we're not in the same block, myself."

Goku tilted his head.

"How come?"

Kuririn smirked.

"Nervous?"

"Ha!" Yamcha laughed. "No, it'd just be a shame if we only got one minute for our rematch."

Yamcha grinned at Goku.

"Don't you lose in the prelims!"

Goku nodded.

"You too!"

"All right, let's meet up later."

"Man," Kuririn said as Yamcha wandered toward his block. "I dunno how you two are so confident. There're so many huge guys here!"

"It's fine," Goku said. "We trained with the Old-timer, after all!"

Kuririn frowned, wishing his stomach would cooperate with him.

"But he didn't actually teach us anything about fighting."

"Aw, he wouldn't a' made us do all that stuff for nothin'! Don't worry about it!"

Again, Kuririn wondered what, if anything, Goku based his impressive confidence on.

"I guess…"

Sweet Rice Wine

"Who is he to say whether or not I can watch the preliminaries?!" Bulma grumbled indignantly, storming away from the entrance. After I'd corralled her and physically removed her.

"A staff member who works here." I said, flat as paper.

Being the straight man to a group of friends comprised of lunatics wasn't always rewarding, but someone had to do it.

"I paid for the flight tickets," Bulma said, ignoring me in favor of ranting. "It's my boyfriend in there, I should get to watch!"

"Aren't you rich? Like, ridiculously rich?"

"It's the principle!" She said as we came around the side of the building with less of a crowd and more grass.

"Of course."

Bulma glared up at the high windows with her hands on her hips.

"Can't even see inside from here," she said. Without even looking at him, she doled out orders. "Oolong, make like a stool."

Ah, the spoiled heiress; almost like we'd never parted.

"Why is it always me?!" Oolong squawked, not unreasonably.

"Don't start a scene here, you two," I said. "Bulma, step onto my shoulders. I'll be steadier than him, anyway."

Bulma huffed imperiously, throwing a dismissive look at Oolong and dipping her head in an excessive show of gratitude.

"Thank you, Mirin."

I crouched onto one knee so she could climb up; not exactly what I had in mind for all the training I'd done in secret, but if it kept her from complaining.

"I can see!" She exclaimed. She shifted a bit once I stood up. "Whoa–perfect!"

"Mirin-san," Puar said, hovering at the window beside Bulma via… whatever the fuck powers talking, blue, transforming cats had. "Don't you want to watch Goku?"

"Obviously," I said. "But it's just the preliminaries. Make sure and tell me when Kuririn goes up first, okay?"

"The bald boy?" Puar clarified.

"Yep."

Oolong stared at the brick wall by my leg, grumbling.

"… !"

I snagged his overall straps and hoisted him up so he stood on my left hand.

"Uh, thanks."

I grunted.

"Son-kun's going!"

Sweet Rice Wine

"What good is fighting a tiny ant pellet?"

Yamcha turned at the loud, grumbling query; as he suspected, a giant, leotard-clad man had entered the ring for block three opposite Goku. He smirked and moved closer, curious to see the results of Goku's training.

"The time limit is one minute." The referee said primly.

"Keh! As if I'll need it."

Goku's opponent underestimated him; question was, by how much?

"Begin."

The large man lunged, quicker on his feet than his size would indicate. Compared to Goku, though, he looked like a statue. The boy had already taken his back in a burst of speed, hopping on one foot as if he'd overshot. The lumbering fool hadn't even realized where he'd vanished, staring dumbly at the empty space while Goku approached with a mischievous grin.

"Over here!" He said, nudging playfully at his opponent's calf.

"AOWK!"

The giant stumbled forward and crashed outside the ring. Stunned silence permeated the space for a beat; the ref numbly declared Goku the winner. Other contestants murmured that it must have been luck.

Yamcha knew better; Goku's opponent still hadn't collected himself and his expression was one of pain, not confusion. He hadn't tripped. Goku knocked him out of the ring, with just a casual nudge.

Yamcha watched Goku walk back beside Kuririn; the other Kame student probably bore watching, too.

Sweet Rice Wine

"Man, what luck," Kuririn said. "I can't believe he fell out on his own!"

Goku stared at his hand, thinking.

"He didn't."

"Huh?" Kuririn blinked. "What do you mean?"

Goku remembered the rules about killing and turned to his friend.

"Kuririn, unless yer opponent's real strong, don't go all out!"

"What are you saying?"

"If ya"

"Oi, oi, oi! Is that Kuririn?"

Goku looked up. Two guys–one tall, one short, though both taller than them–were walking toward them with weird grins on their faces. They both looked a bit like Kuririn with six dots on their forehead, and their sleeveless robes looked like what Kuririn used to wear all the time.

"I'd know this runt anywhere!"

Goku blinked. Mirin called Kuririn a runt, too, but it sounded different when he said it.

"S-senpai." Kuririn said, dipping his head.

"Seems like yesterday you were running outta Orinji Temple bawling your eyes out."

They laughed. Goku wondered what was funny.

"Who let you in here, anyway?"

"You aren't actually trying to enter the Tenkaichi Budokai, are you?"

Tall not-Kuririn slapped his hand on top of Kuririn's scalp, moving his head around. Kuririn stood frozen and let him.

"Y-yes. I'm here to"

They laughed again.

"That's hysterical! A no-talent runt like you? Hey, which number are you?"

"N-number 93."

"Kyahahahaha! Lucky me~!"

Kuririn's eyes went wide and he took a step back.

"Y-you mean–?!"

Goku blinked. Kuririn seemed nervous to fight the Tall one for some reason.

"Hey, don't run away, runt! It'll be just like old times!"

Tall and Short not-Kuririn walked away, still laughing.

"Hm," Goku said, watching them leave. "I don't like 'em. Their attitude sucks."

Kuririn kept staring at the floor.

"They were always picking on me back at the temple."

Goku blinked again.

O~h.

They were bullies.

"M-maybe I should drop out."

"What're ya sayin'?" Goku asked. "Remember what Mirin said? Ya gotta fight back against people that pick on ya!"

Kuririn finally looked up from the floor.

"Technically, Roshi said"

"Those guys ain't that tough! Listen, when your match starts, just go all out!"

Kuririn blinked at him.

"But you just said"

"Aw, those guys're askin' for it! Trust me!"

Sweet Rice Wine

"Ah," Puar said. "I think that's Kuririn!"

"Little bald guy against a taller bald guy with a nasty face?" I asked.

I could feel Bulma staring a hole in the top of my skull.

"I'm not going to ask how you know that."

I grinned.

"Great," I said. "Hop on down; we'll have a better view pretty soon."

"Huh?"

"Trust me."

Sweet Rice Wine

"Go for it, Kuririn! Just one blow, you'll see!"

Kuririn gulped as he clambered up into the ring. He appreciated Goku's positive outlook, but he wished his Kame classmate would just shut up. His loud confidence was only gonna make his fight harder. He could see his old bully plotting out ways to prolong the match for the full minute and make it embarrassing.

"Heh," he said, leering down at him. "Maybe you finally graduated from being a crybaby; at least you haven't run away."

He adopted a familiar stance from Orinji Temple. Kuririn hadn't felt so unprepared since he'd started Muten Roshi's training.

"I won't hold back, then!"

Kuririn shivered.

"Begin!"

"Horah!"

"!"

A punch to start; Kuririn was in the air above his opponent's head before he knew what he'd done. Acting entirely on reflex and with Goku's advice to use his full strength in mind, he kicked off the ground the second he landed and sunk a flying kick into his opponent's gut just as he turned around.

"HYARGH!"

Crash!

He flew straight through the far wall of the building.

And narrowly missed an ice cream cart.

Before coming to a full stop and leaving an imprint in another wall.

Kuririn's eyes about bugged out of his head.

'I did that?'

"See?" Goku said, wearing a smug grin.

Kuririn absently noted his other old bully had gone blue in the face.

"N-number 93 wins."

Kuririn left the ring numbly, staring at his hands as Goku had.

"See?" Goku said again. "The Old-timer's training made us crazy strong!"

"No kidding."

"WHOO~!"

Kuririn, and not a few other contestants, jumped at the sudden, loud exclamation from outside.

"That's called karma, punk ass! Sit in i~t!"

Goku giggled. Kuririn stared at the hole, where Mirin and his friends had appeared, though Mirin was facing away from the building and looking unusually animated.

"Aniki doesn't like bullies." Goku said, as though that explained what he'd just seen.

Kuririn could only nod.

"I… see."