"Okay," said the announcer, gesturing at his whiteboard and his bucket. "I'm
going to call your name and assign you a number. Then we'll use this determine
who fights who. Is that okay? Let's get started. 'Killer', you're up first."
The big black man stepped forward and put his hand in the box, and withdraw a small ball. He checked the number and showed it to the announcer.
"Killer is Number 14!"
Killer frowned. "It's just a shame that I'm just a minor non-ki using martial artist who only exists to get beaten in the World Tournament."
"Hey, well," the announcer shrugged. "That's life. Now, next is Kibito."
The burly sidekick took his ball from the box, gazed at the number, and his eyes tore into an expression of pure, cold terror. The announcer pryed the ball from his frozen fingers.
"Kibito, you're Number 7."
Dashing back to Kaioshin's side, Kibito whispered, "Does this mean he is the Majin, Lord Kaioshin?"
"What?"
"When I was a child," Kibito hissed, "I was always terrified of the number 7. It was my worst fear. Only a Majin could know this!"
"I think it was just coincidence, Kabito, he had no way of knowing... what, you were afraid of the number seven? Seven of something in particular?"
"No, just seven. Specifically the number itself. With the long flat bit, and the sharp diagonal bit..." Kabito shuddered. "Please, don't make me go into detail."
"Krillin, you're up! And... the ball is 1."
"I admit it, Krillin! You are Number One!" said Vegeta, and then hesitated. "Wait. This is the wrong time to say that."
"Number one," said Krillin, depressed, dropping the ball. "That means I fight first."
"Great Saiyaman! Come take your ball please! I see, you're Number 8."
Gohan glanced at the board as the officials marked the placings. He was up against Kibito.
"Watch out," said Goku quietly. "That one isn't normal. Plus, he's Cell."
Kaioshin smiled up at Kibito. "It seems that we are fortunate, Kibito. This will make things very simple for us."
"Unless..." said Kibito thoughtfully. "Unless HE is the Majin."
"Shut up, Kibito."
"Now, next is... Number 18? What sort of name is that?"
"It's my name," said #18. "Give me that ball. It's Number 9."
"No, really. What sort of name is 'Number #18?'"
"What's YOUR name?"
The announcer hesitated, and then scrunched his brain in concentration. "I... I don't think I have one."
"Exactly."
Worried, the announcer rubbed his face and checked his clipboard. "Okay, next is Shin. Take your ball, please. Yes, you're Number 3."
Goku glanced at Kaoishin. Who was this mysterious fellow? Why was his ki so mysterious? When was he going to get to eat? Just why DID they create the Nazca Lines?
"Next is Spopovich!"
There was silence. "Spopovich? Are you here?"
"That must be us!" Trunks declared, shambling forwards, dragging Goten beneath me. "Here I come, the Great Spopovitch! For I am Spopovitch, a legal adult who is participating in the adult section of the tournament, like an adult. Spopovitch, that's my name."
A giant fist slammed into him and held him back. Spopovitch snarled.
"Ohhhh," said Trunks. "Did you say 'Spopovitch?' I thought you said... uh... I thought you said, 'You guy over there, the handsome ADULT in the ADULT clothes who isn't Spopovitch.' Silly me."
"You were wrong, Trunks," grumbled Goten.
"Hey, you didn't try to stop me!"
"Wow," said the announcer, handing Spopovitch the box. "You sure have changed since last time. Is that a new cologne you're wearing?"
Spopovitch slammed his fist into the box and squeezed it out, clutching the tiny ball. "That's Number 6! Okay, next up is Jewel!"
Jewel, a willowy man with long blonde hair, stepped forward. "You realise you're just here to fill up the excess gaps in the tournament for people who don't count to the plot, right, Jewel?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
"Just so we have that out of the way. Jewel is Number 16!"
"Okay, next is Son Goku!"
"Yes!" screamed Goku. "My turn!" He raced to the box, hopping eagerly from foot to foot. "Okay! I got the ball! Is this my opponent? Let's fight, ball! DIE! DIE! Take that! Oh, you're good, ball, but are you good enough? I got him! I GOT HIM! Do I go to the next round?"
Vegeta slapped his forehead with his hand. "Oh, Kakarotto, you never change."
"And YOU never change," snarled Piccolo. "That was MY forehead."
"And he used my hand," Gohan complained.
"No, Goku," said the announcer patiently. "The ball merely gives you a number we'll use to match you to a real person. Now, your ball number is... er... 11, I think. You bent the ball a little."
"Oh," said Goku sadly. "I thought it was a famous martial artist disguising himself as a ball."
"Miss Videl! You're up next!"
The crowd cheered for the daughter of Mr. Satan, although some of them only cheered because she was hot.
"That's me!" Videl reached in. "I'm Number 5!"
"Is she really Mr. Satan's daughter, Gohan?" said Goku, curious. "She doesn't look like him."
"Yes, she's a lot cuter than Mr. Satan," said Krillin.
"As usual, Krillin, you're wrong!" said Vegeta. They stared at him. "What? I was just disagreeing with you all because I do that! I didn't even hear what he said! What did I say?"
"Er, as I was saying," said Krillin cautiously, "You're really in there, Gohan. Good for you."
"What? She's not my girlfriend! She's just my friend who happens to be a girl!"
"Next up is Punta!" The large Indian man with a stomach the size of a small hill wobbled up and grabbed his ball. "Okay, you're number two, you crazy racial stereotype-you. Vegeta, you're next."
"My turn!" Vegeta pushed his way forward. "Yes! Yes! Look! Kakarotto! Haha! LOOK AT MY NUMBER?! What do you see, hmm? What do you see!?"
Goku frowned. "I don't know. It's hard to tell."
Piccolo sighed. "Goku, he has Number 12."
"Oh," said Goku, realisation dawning.
"And you're Number 11 on the board," said Piccolo helpfully, pointing at the board that had Number 11 and Number 12 connected. "And you know what that means."
"No," said Goku.
"You idiot, Kakarotto! It means that my number is higher than yours! I finally surpassed you, Kakarotto! I finally surpassed you!"
"What? Vegeta, don't you realise you're fighting Goku in the first round?"
Vegeta blinked. "I am? Hey, you're right! That's EVEN BETTER!"
Piccolo sighed. "I'm ready to just hit myself in the stomach, spit out an egg and go live in seclusion somewhere."
"Now for Mighty Mask," said the announcer. "God, this chapter is getting long. Mighty Mask, please step forward."
"That's us!" said Goten, taking careful steps forward. Trunks waved his arms in an approximation of somebody moving.
"It is I, Mighty Mask! Let's see, what ball do you have for my ADULT self? It's Number 13!"
"You look a little different too, Mighty Mask," said the announcer. "Were you always so... tall?"
"I grew," said Mighty Mask sternly. "Because I am an adult, and we grow."
"Okay, then. Ma Junior, please step forward."
"Ma Junior?" Goku ducked into a fighting pose. "He's back! Ma Junior is back! And he's going to kill us all! Stand behind me, everyone, I'll destroy him with my Kamehameha!"
"Goku!" snapped Piccolo. "I already explained my secret identity thing to you! It's me, Piccolo!"
Goku smiled. "Just testing, Piccolo."
Piccolo relaxed. "Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought you wer--"
"KAMEHAMEHA!!!" Goku punched the air. "Yes! I distracted him with conversation and blasted off his arm!"
Piccolo regenerated it with a squelching sound. "Goku."
"Yes, Piccolo?"
"There's a sandwich in that wall. Go dig it out with your forehead."
"You bet," said Goku, his eyes gleaming. Piccolo reached for the ball. "I'm Number 4."
Shin and Piccolo exchanged meaningful glances. I'll have to fight him first, thought Piccolo. He's got a ki like I've never sensed before. Something tells me this one is different.
I hope my mohawk is looking good, thought Kaioshin. It takes a lot to keep it how it is. It's been a while since I had lunch, I wonder if I can get something to eat before we fight?
"Okay, I'll be drawing Mr. Satan's ball for him, as he couldn't make it to this little session of ours. He's Number 10. And that leaves Yam, who is number 15. Okay, the numbers are drawn! The Tenkiachi Budokai can begin!"
The big black man stepped forward and put his hand in the box, and withdraw a small ball. He checked the number and showed it to the announcer.
"Killer is Number 14!"
Killer frowned. "It's just a shame that I'm just a minor non-ki using martial artist who only exists to get beaten in the World Tournament."
"Hey, well," the announcer shrugged. "That's life. Now, next is Kibito."
The burly sidekick took his ball from the box, gazed at the number, and his eyes tore into an expression of pure, cold terror. The announcer pryed the ball from his frozen fingers.
"Kibito, you're Number 7."
Dashing back to Kaioshin's side, Kibito whispered, "Does this mean he is the Majin, Lord Kaioshin?"
"What?"
"When I was a child," Kibito hissed, "I was always terrified of the number 7. It was my worst fear. Only a Majin could know this!"
"I think it was just coincidence, Kabito, he had no way of knowing... what, you were afraid of the number seven? Seven of something in particular?"
"No, just seven. Specifically the number itself. With the long flat bit, and the sharp diagonal bit..." Kabito shuddered. "Please, don't make me go into detail."
"Krillin, you're up! And... the ball is 1."
"I admit it, Krillin! You are Number One!" said Vegeta, and then hesitated. "Wait. This is the wrong time to say that."
"Number one," said Krillin, depressed, dropping the ball. "That means I fight first."
"Great Saiyaman! Come take your ball please! I see, you're Number 8."
Gohan glanced at the board as the officials marked the placings. He was up against Kibito.
"Watch out," said Goku quietly. "That one isn't normal. Plus, he's Cell."
Kaioshin smiled up at Kibito. "It seems that we are fortunate, Kibito. This will make things very simple for us."
"Unless..." said Kibito thoughtfully. "Unless HE is the Majin."
"Shut up, Kibito."
"Now, next is... Number 18? What sort of name is that?"
"It's my name," said #18. "Give me that ball. It's Number 9."
"No, really. What sort of name is 'Number #18?'"
"What's YOUR name?"
The announcer hesitated, and then scrunched his brain in concentration. "I... I don't think I have one."
"Exactly."
Worried, the announcer rubbed his face and checked his clipboard. "Okay, next is Shin. Take your ball, please. Yes, you're Number 3."
Goku glanced at Kaoishin. Who was this mysterious fellow? Why was his ki so mysterious? When was he going to get to eat? Just why DID they create the Nazca Lines?
"Next is Spopovich!"
There was silence. "Spopovich? Are you here?"
"That must be us!" Trunks declared, shambling forwards, dragging Goten beneath me. "Here I come, the Great Spopovitch! For I am Spopovitch, a legal adult who is participating in the adult section of the tournament, like an adult. Spopovitch, that's my name."
A giant fist slammed into him and held him back. Spopovitch snarled.
"Ohhhh," said Trunks. "Did you say 'Spopovitch?' I thought you said... uh... I thought you said, 'You guy over there, the handsome ADULT in the ADULT clothes who isn't Spopovitch.' Silly me."
"You were wrong, Trunks," grumbled Goten.
"Hey, you didn't try to stop me!"
"Wow," said the announcer, handing Spopovitch the box. "You sure have changed since last time. Is that a new cologne you're wearing?"
Spopovitch slammed his fist into the box and squeezed it out, clutching the tiny ball. "That's Number 6! Okay, next up is Jewel!"
Jewel, a willowy man with long blonde hair, stepped forward. "You realise you're just here to fill up the excess gaps in the tournament for people who don't count to the plot, right, Jewel?"
"Yes. Yes I do."
"Just so we have that out of the way. Jewel is Number 16!"
"Okay, next is Son Goku!"
"Yes!" screamed Goku. "My turn!" He raced to the box, hopping eagerly from foot to foot. "Okay! I got the ball! Is this my opponent? Let's fight, ball! DIE! DIE! Take that! Oh, you're good, ball, but are you good enough? I got him! I GOT HIM! Do I go to the next round?"
Vegeta slapped his forehead with his hand. "Oh, Kakarotto, you never change."
"And YOU never change," snarled Piccolo. "That was MY forehead."
"And he used my hand," Gohan complained.
"No, Goku," said the announcer patiently. "The ball merely gives you a number we'll use to match you to a real person. Now, your ball number is... er... 11, I think. You bent the ball a little."
"Oh," said Goku sadly. "I thought it was a famous martial artist disguising himself as a ball."
"Miss Videl! You're up next!"
The crowd cheered for the daughter of Mr. Satan, although some of them only cheered because she was hot.
"That's me!" Videl reached in. "I'm Number 5!"
"Is she really Mr. Satan's daughter, Gohan?" said Goku, curious. "She doesn't look like him."
"Yes, she's a lot cuter than Mr. Satan," said Krillin.
"As usual, Krillin, you're wrong!" said Vegeta. They stared at him. "What? I was just disagreeing with you all because I do that! I didn't even hear what he said! What did I say?"
"Er, as I was saying," said Krillin cautiously, "You're really in there, Gohan. Good for you."
"What? She's not my girlfriend! She's just my friend who happens to be a girl!"
"Next up is Punta!" The large Indian man with a stomach the size of a small hill wobbled up and grabbed his ball. "Okay, you're number two, you crazy racial stereotype-you. Vegeta, you're next."
"My turn!" Vegeta pushed his way forward. "Yes! Yes! Look! Kakarotto! Haha! LOOK AT MY NUMBER?! What do you see, hmm? What do you see!?"
Goku frowned. "I don't know. It's hard to tell."
Piccolo sighed. "Goku, he has Number 12."
"Oh," said Goku, realisation dawning.
"And you're Number 11 on the board," said Piccolo helpfully, pointing at the board that had Number 11 and Number 12 connected. "And you know what that means."
"No," said Goku.
"You idiot, Kakarotto! It means that my number is higher than yours! I finally surpassed you, Kakarotto! I finally surpassed you!"
"What? Vegeta, don't you realise you're fighting Goku in the first round?"
Vegeta blinked. "I am? Hey, you're right! That's EVEN BETTER!"
Piccolo sighed. "I'm ready to just hit myself in the stomach, spit out an egg and go live in seclusion somewhere."
"Now for Mighty Mask," said the announcer. "God, this chapter is getting long. Mighty Mask, please step forward."
"That's us!" said Goten, taking careful steps forward. Trunks waved his arms in an approximation of somebody moving.
"It is I, Mighty Mask! Let's see, what ball do you have for my ADULT self? It's Number 13!"
"You look a little different too, Mighty Mask," said the announcer. "Were you always so... tall?"
"I grew," said Mighty Mask sternly. "Because I am an adult, and we grow."
"Okay, then. Ma Junior, please step forward."
"Ma Junior?" Goku ducked into a fighting pose. "He's back! Ma Junior is back! And he's going to kill us all! Stand behind me, everyone, I'll destroy him with my Kamehameha!"
"Goku!" snapped Piccolo. "I already explained my secret identity thing to you! It's me, Piccolo!"
Goku smiled. "Just testing, Piccolo."
Piccolo relaxed. "Maybe you're not as dumb as I thought you wer--"
"KAMEHAMEHA!!!" Goku punched the air. "Yes! I distracted him with conversation and blasted off his arm!"
Piccolo regenerated it with a squelching sound. "Goku."
"Yes, Piccolo?"
"There's a sandwich in that wall. Go dig it out with your forehead."
"You bet," said Goku, his eyes gleaming. Piccolo reached for the ball. "I'm Number 4."
Shin and Piccolo exchanged meaningful glances. I'll have to fight him first, thought Piccolo. He's got a ki like I've never sensed before. Something tells me this one is different.
I hope my mohawk is looking good, thought Kaioshin. It takes a lot to keep it how it is. It's been a while since I had lunch, I wonder if I can get something to eat before we fight?
"Okay, I'll be drawing Mr. Satan's ball for him, as he couldn't make it to this little session of ours. He's Number 10. And that leaves Yam, who is number 15. Okay, the numbers are drawn! The Tenkiachi Budokai can begin!"