Only Because I Like Living in Hell

By SariaSubi-kun

SariaSubi: I am sooo sorry I didn't update. I—

::Navi pops out of nowhere::

Navi: Instant messaging nachos are the nachos for me!

SariaSubi: *sweatdrop*

Navi: Hugs not drugs!

SariaSubi: *annoyed* Kills for thrills!

::a scream is heard as the schoolgirl and the fairy disappear::

Marianshi: What really happened was that SariaSubi typed up all of chapter three, then LOST it. Yeah…..a really crappy floppy disk.

Chapter 3 –

            The day was hot, Trunks admitted that to himself. The idea of wearing a jacket in this weather was probably not a good one. Then again, Piccolo had all that weighted clothing on that went down to the ground. Maybe once he got himself working, taking that he got paired with one of the guys, the perspiration would cool him off.

            Everyone who had qualified was gathered around a chalkboard held up by two small priests, with the announcer standing in front of it. The announcer had already told Goku that he had missed him, things hadn't been the same, he knew Hercule didn't beat Cell, yadda yadda. Now all fourteen fighters were gathered around the board and were ready to draw their numbers.

            Wait, Trunks counted them all; Ten, twelve, fourteen….there was only fourteen, not sixteen.

            Two were missing.

            "Ooookay!" the announcer threw his hands up in the air with excitement, "let's begin the drawings! Now, I think we all know the rules; you come up here and take a ball. That ball with have a number on it. That number is your spot in the first round. Whoever gets the other ball in your bracket will be your first opponent. Got it? Good. Let's begin." He looked down through his sunglasses at his list. "The first person to come up and draw is… Krillin! Krillin, come up and draw your number."

            Krillin gave a smug look and walked up to the pulpit to take his number. He figured, with his luck, he'd be put with one of those regular humans who called him "shorty" but then were quickly defeated.

            He didn't know his opponent yet, though, so there were no guarantees.

            He looked down at his number ball. "Um, number 14," he held up the green ball.

            "Number 14!" the man announced to the priest who soon scribbled Krillin's name under the bracket. Krillin walked back over to the guys and rubbed the back of his bald head.

            "I just hope that I get matched with one of those regular fighters over there in the first round. I need a victory! Yeah!" he faked a punch and grinned triumphantly.

            "Can we have Yamcha? Yamaha!"

            "Right!" Yamcha made a confident fist and walked over to the podium and reached in.

            "Number 6!" the blonde announcer called energetically, and the name was scribbled on to the board.

            It went like that for some time. There were about four regular fighters who thought they were "hot shit" and were going to win. Gohan was paired up with one with cherry red hair spiked up named C. Vegeta was greatly perturbed that he was in the last match of the first round, and with a headstrong freak that had purple ears and blue hair named Moreebdeth. Moreebdeth gave a freakish grin towards Vegeta's way, but Vegeta just growled and walked away. No one saw him for the rest of the draws.

            Yamcha in the end was paired up with  an old master named Zen. He seemed like one of those old Chinese masters who meditated under waterfalls and fought bears in the mountains for fifteen years without sleep. Yamcha sighed. He could have at least been put up with a better opponent.

            Piccolo was far beyond irritated when he was set to fight Hercule in the fourth round. If there was anything he didn't need, he didn't need a dumb idiot dancing around the arena while cameras flashed in his face.

            Tien and Chiaozu were matched up against one another. Tien smirked and patted Chiaozu on the shoulder.

            "Hey, old friend, looks like me and you are duking it out against each other."

            "Then Tien," he smiled, "it will be an honor."

            But the most exciting match of all was the first one. It was Goku versus Trunks. Everyone, even the announcer for dramatic effect, nearly fell over. They hadn't seen Trunks fight for the last year, and Goku was brought back to life for the day. It didn't seem possible that such a pairing would be matched in the World Martial Arts Tournament.

            "Well, Trunks," Goku looked towards his young friend, "may the best man win."

            Trunks smirked challengingly. "Don't worry, Goku.  He will." He eventually found his father in a corner somewhere with his arms folded, watching the whole thing, and stood next to him.

            "Boy, you better teach that low-graded Saiya-jin a lesson. If fate didn't want ME to battle him, my son in the next best choice."

            Trunks blinked in puzzlement and spoke softly. "I guess…"

            At the end of the whole drawing, Krillin had no opponent in the seventh round with him, and neither did the human gangster Dan in the fifth.

            The announcer was confused. He took his sunglasses and scanned the list and looked up again. "Um. Is Minima or Seito here? Minima or Seito?" Everyone exchanged glances with each other and shook their heads "no." A small, tubby priest ran over to the announcer from the entrance and leaned up to him. He bent down as he whispered in his ear and nodded. He looked back up at list and then at the fourteen fighters before him.

            "Well, sirs, it seems that Minima and Seito have been replaced by two late contestants. Um, are they here? Two new fighters, please identify yourselves or you will be forfeited. Please."

            That was when things became confusing. There were no two other fighters there. Everyone glanced around, but no one was there.

            A flash of worry ran through Trunks. He had a feeling it was…them. If it really was, then there could be trouble. They had to be giving off that energy that he and Krillin felt before. That man who was doing the preliminaries was cowering in fear just standing in front of them.

            "Fighters, if you are not here, you will be executed from the tournament." No one came. He sighed. "Okay, then, how are we gonna do this…."

            "It seems you are a bit hasty. We're here, you idiot."

            The disruption of silence caused everyone to look up at the entranceway. There standing there was, just like Trunks had thought, were the two girls from before.

            They walked without sound except for the clunk of their black boots against the pavement. All the men stopped and stared with open mouths. How in hell did two girls who looked like they just came from the local high school get into the preliminaries?

            Dan and C blinked. "They came in over Minima and Seito. Dude, that's impossible!"

            "They probably gave the judges a lap dance!" Dan snickered.

            The short girl stopped walking and glared at the two gangsters. Just those violent purple eyes made them jump.

            The Z-Fighters were just as much surprised. Trunks heard his father whisper next him, "What the hell…?"

            "Wow," Yamcha mused, "two babes in this tournament. Amazing!"

            "Yeah," Krillin scratched his arm, "interesting."

            "I wonder if they were really powerful enough to get past the preliminaries," Goku wondered softly.

            "Don't be so sure, Goku," Piccolo told him, "they beat just normal humans. They could be good for normal people, but it's not like it's a threat to our strength."

            "Hmm. I see," he nodded, and looked on.

            The duo stopped in front of the podium and board. The shorter one leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest which still had some others' attention. The taller one, the louder one, put her hands on her hips. The two looked completely different except for the long black jackets they both had on.

            "Well, then, aren't we going to get started?" the brown-skinned one asked.

            "Urm, yes," the announcer blushed and shook, "um, your names please?"

            The taller one grinned. "My name is Hallie," she said with a bit of a strange accent, smiling.

            The announcer wrote down the name quickly and looked up again with a shaky look, still blushing. "A-and you, miss?"

            The shorter girl crossed her arms again and glared dangerously at the man. He moved back a bit in nervousness. Hallie noticed this and nudged her. "Saria," she hissed, "cut it out."

            "Ch," she tilted her head up, locks of her wavy brown hair falling behind her. "Fine. My name is Saria. Let's do this already." She stalked away, shoving her hands in her pockets. Saria turned around and watched Hallie draw her number.

            "O-okay," the announcer stuttered, "number 9. That means you will be matched up with Dan in the fifth round. I guess it's safe to say that you're facing Krillin in the seventh round, Miss Saria?" he gave a smile.

            She looked the other way. "Yeah, whatever…."

            Krillin grinned as he and the others were walking to the waiting room that looked out over the ring. "Wow," he blushed, "one of those pretty girls is fighting me in my first bout! It's a shame I'll have to defeat her," he pretended to look defeated. "Oh well," he shrugged, "maybe we can go on a date afterwards!"

            "I don't think so."

            Krillin turned to where the cruel voice came from. He found Saria glaring at him with her arms crossed. She brushed her hair with her hands and walked past him, ignoring him the rest of the way. "Well if that wasn't rude…."

            Yamcha smiled reassuringly. "Hey, man, you can't always win. At least now you won't feel bad about defeating her, right?"

            Krillin grinned. "Yeah. But I've got to be a man about it!" He and Yamcha laughed it off, but Trunks glanced over at the two. There was just something wrong about this whole scenario. He didn't know if he should be worried about it.

            Or if he should prepare.

            The first round was minutes away. In the crowd, the family was getting anxious in the crowd.

            Chichi had rung the end of her dress for the hundredth time. "This is so nerve racking. Goku against Trunks? I hope they don't hurt each other too badly. Or cause to much damage…"

            Bulma smiled. "Don't worry, Chichi, Trunks will end it quickly, so there's nothing to worry about."

            Chichi shot up. "What did you say?! GOKU IS GOING TO WIN!"

            "NU-UH! TRUNKS IS!"     

            "WE NEED THE MONEY!"

            "SORRY SISTER, BUT TRUNKS IS TAKING HOME THE GOLD!" she shrieked, but then took a breath and sat down. "Besides, if you want to talk money, remember, the androids in his future destroyed everything. He'll use the money towards that."

            Chichi blinked. "Oh yeah. Hadn't thought of that."

            "Echee ksnodon, Halle. Itskeke ooadaka toudu lisofenedir."

            "Ritslan, Sarya, ritslan."

            Trunks furrowed his brow and looked away from Saria, who was looking back at him, and turned his attention to the tournament.  A few years ago, he would have been a bit worried, even afraid, to be matched with Goku. But things had changed. Goku had been dead and Trunks had been training. Things might be more different this time. And for the first time in a while, a sly smirk came across Trunks' face.

            "He seems confident, don't you think, Sarya?"

            She grunted and shook her head. "Call me Saria here, Hallie. I don't want anyone to discover what my name in our language is."

            "Ah. Whatever. The boy seems confident he'll win, no?" She put her hands on her hips and turned her face towards Trunks.

            "I guess. The outcome is obvious to me."

            "Me too."

            Saria scratched her long fingers up her coat sleeve. "It's hot out. I wish I could take it off…"

            Hallie was the one who shook her head this time. "Saria, if you think calling you Sarya may be dangerous, think of what they'll think when everyone sees your arms!" she wailed, waving her arms with enthusiasm. Saria flicked her hair.

            "I don't want to watch the stupid humans fight an unentertaining match. We have reasons that we're here."

            Hallie sighed. "I know, I know. But geez, Saria, you can be so melodramatic."

            Saria eyed her from the corner of her violet eye. "I don't have fun. Fun is a dumb human word."

            Her companion laughed, then cocked her eyebrow in amusement. "These humans maintain this planet. We kinda need it, ya know."

             "I don't give a damn. After this, it's poof, dust, g'bye," she flicked her hand.

            Hallie was confused. "You know, you've lived on earth since you were ten. Why wait now to destroy it?"

            Saria grunted in dissatisfaction. "I don't," she pointed at Trunks, "like him."

            Hallie shook her head and leaned against the wall with Saria. "That's a stupid reason."

            The blonde announcer strolled out onto the fighting arena with a broad smile, microphone in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the Tenkaichi Budokai! We have some fierce competition here today, folks! The first round will begin shortly," he lowered his voice to raise the enthusiasm, then raised it high to shout, "so stay in your seats! This will be the most amazing World Martial Arts Tournament you will have ever seen!" He gave a big grin to the crowd and turned around and walked down from the arena. He poked his head into the waiting area, causing all the fighters to look up. "Okay," he whispered, "Goku and Trunks, get ready!"

            Both of them nodded and looked at each other. Goku adjusted his belt and looked deep into Trunks' blue eyes. He looked straight back. An invisible fire was flowing through one of the men and then out into the other, a fire no one else could feel or see. Slowly, they tore their eyes from each other and turned to the arena.

            And the short figure in the corner watched and felt it all, already knowing the outcome.