Quick note: Longer than usual chapter ahead.



Blending In
13



Tonkeshin felt like he needed a better workout routine. Something to make him tight after the day was over. Just one last burst of training to top off his increase in strength.
Two days ago, he tried jogging up and down the embankment behind the hotel. It became less challenging within three hours. He made attempts at sprinting in the wet sand, but all it did was increase his heart rate. Lifting boulders was out of the question - too many people would freak out. Swimming didn't offer much improvement either.
He needed something more.
"Aww, don't get so depressed. Maybe the receptionist at the front of the hotel can point you to a good place." Greg told him. The rest of what he said got muffled behind his hamburger. "I wouldn't be surprised if she pointed you to the gym though."
"You need the gym." Tonk joked.
"Yeah, I need - hey, green beanhead!" Greg socked his shoulder and laughed, "Get outta here and go work out. I'll go sightseeing until you get back."
"Okay then. See you, hamburger breath."

Clanking metal. People grunting. Music. Whirring machinery. Shoes squeaking. Chatter. Power drinks. Sweat. Old clothes. Freshly applied deodorant. Air conditioning. A hard tile floor.
Those were the different sensations that bombarded Tonkeshin as he opened the glass door. Greg was right, the receptionist did point him to the gym right next door!
Tonk lowered the hood of his pullover sweatshirt. A sweep of his hand removed the raindrops from his lycra shorts. It was raining lightly when he stepped outside and walked here. Now warmth bathed him. The sun was popping out.
Hm, looks like it's not going to rain all day like the weatherman thought. . .oh well, this place'll be a good spot to work out.
Putting the tip of his cane against the corner of the door frame, Tonkeshin swept it in a complete arc until he touched the opposite corner. Nothing in his immediate path except for a bumpy rubber floormat.
And the pounding beat from someone's boombox.
Tonk extended a hand at waist level to catch anything sticking out above the reach of his cane. He let the door swing shut behind him, cutting off the clean smell of a morning after rain. Two steps left him standing right on the floormat his cane located before. He reached up to adjust his shades. His fingers encountered skin. Woops, he forgot the sunglasses. They were probably still sitting on top of the TV in his hotel room. Oh well.
He sighed to himself and turned his head. Using his large, pointed ears like sonar receivers, he pinpointed the locations of different equipment and people.
Treadmills, stair-steppers and bikes lined the right wall. Weights and resistance machinery on the left. The aerobic area was just ahead - obvious because of the music and a shrill woman's voice counting off.
"And one, and two, and three, keep those bodies moving! And four, and five, and six. . .now twist! Two, three, four. . .and twist! Two, three, four. . .that's it, keep it up!"
Tonkeshin turned left. He really had to tap his cane hard to hear it on the polished floor. Locating the wall didn't take long.
It seemed like an out-of-the-way spot. Tonk leaned his cane against the wall and went about stretching his muscles. First his arms, then his neck and sides. He finished off by sliding into all forms of the splits and throwing a few kicks higher than his head. Checking to make sure he was completely loose.
"Hmmm," Tonk muttered to himself. Where should I start? I don't even know a thing about the weight equipment this planet uses. . .except for the difference between barbells and dumbbells. Oh well, I'll figure it out on my own if I poke around.
He felt the rack behind him. His hands encountered a cold metal bar with thick disks on either side. Aha, dumbbells. He picked two up and did a few easy curls. No resistance at all. A frown creased his brow. Hm, it's about thirty pounds by raw guessing. I need something heavier.
Tonk put the dumbbells down where he found them, grabbed his cane and explored the rack some more. The dumbbells gave way to huge, heavy disks.
Suddenly, a loud clank sounded off to Tonkeshin's right. There was the angry muttering of one man and the chuckling of two others.
"Man, I can't get past three-fifty!" growled a deep, watery voice.
"C'mon, Mac, you've been at it for an hour. Take a rest," said a higher voice, which was punctuated by a sneeze.
"Well I gotta go. Work calls." Added the third person. Footsteps retreated.
"Later, Angus!" The other two replied.
"Excuse me," Tonkeshin faced the sound of a duffle bag being zipped. Whoever these guys were, they were sweating up a storm.
The noises stopped. He felt two pairs of eyes staring at him.
"Yeah?" It was Mac, the one with the watery voice. "Oh hey! You're the blind guy I saw on the news a while back! You really lookin' to train here for a bit?"
"You took the words right out of my mouth," Tonk chuckled, "I'm looking for something heavy and the dumbbells here aren't enough. How about. . .oh. . .the heaviest barbell. Know where I can find it?"
The guy with Mac snickered. He was cut off when Mac said, "Why don't you try pressing this thing on the bench right next to you? It's three-fifty."
"What? This?" Tonk curled his left hand around the middle of the barbell and lifted it almost as easily as he did the dumbbells. He gave it a few test pumps. "You know, this would be a good warm up. Thanks!"
Silence.
Tonkeshin hardly noticed it. He treated the barbell like an oversized dumbbell, doing presses, rows and curls. He completed his weight warm-up with a few lunges and squats. It didn't make him breathe hard, but his muscles felt nice and hot.
Smiling, he let Mac and the other guy guide the barbell back into the rack.
"Thanks. . .is there anything heavier?"
More silence.
Mac cleared his throat. "Um. . .hey Norm, go get this guy another hundred."
"Sure!" The smaller man replied.
Tonkeshin heard soft grunting. The clank of new weights being slid onto the barbell.
"Okay, try now."
Tonk lifted it. He shook his head and put it down. "More."
"More?!" Norm gasped. "Hey, Mac, you go this time. Get another one-fifty. Lesse if this guy can take six hundred!"
Tonkeshin honestly didn't understand their surprise. He hadn't learned yet that not everyone on the planet was as strong as he was. Yes there were others stronger, like Piccolo and a few more he'd been sensing intermittently over the past few days, but he came from a planet where lifting many times more than his own body weight was normal.
Hmm. . .I guess most of the human race here never learned to tap into their inner ki. What a shame.
More clanking sounds woke him from his reverie.
"Six hundred." Mac finished snapping the disks into place. His sneakers squeaked their way around the bench. "Okay, it's all set. You sure you don't wanna lay down and press it right?"
"Maybe after I've burned everything else." Tonk smiled politely. He stretched his hand out to locate the barbell again.
This time it provided some good resistance. Tonkeshin felt himself tighten in all the right places when he performed the same exercises as before.
Mac and Norm never made a sound while Tonk worked out. In fact, he realized, they were moving away. By the time he'd finished his routine they were slamming the door.
"Hey!" He called after them, "Was it something I said?"
Well, there went his help with the weights.
Tonkeshin didn't dare sling the barbell around to find the rack. He lowered it to the floor and groped for his cane. His fingers encountered something else along the way.
The hard rubber-coated roundness of a weight plate attached to a long barbell. The disk itself had to be at least as big around as a car tire. Just like the ones used in sports competitions.
"Well, hello there, beautiful." Tonk grinned. He'd read about these things. It was exactly what he'd been looking for.
Pulling his pullover off and discarding it by the wall, he fumbled his way around the barbell. Excitement bubbled in his stomach. He rubbed his palms across the weight disks and the bar itself. It had to weigh at least eight hundred pounds.
Perfect!
Tonkeshin wiped his hands off on his shorts. He squatted in front of the barbell and gripped it from underneath. It was solid. He stood up slowly, pulling the barbell up to his knees. Then he curled his arms up to his chest. The effort made him grunt. He felt his pectorals, biceps and shoulders all flex in liquid sequence.
Oh yeah, this is what I'm looking for! Tonk thought to himself with a grin.
He hefted the bar onto his shoulders and did some squats until his his legs and butt felt like they'd spontaneously combust. Then he switched to pumping the weight overhead - first he lowered the bar to his chest, then he'd lift it up and ease it down onto his shoulders. All done quickly to maximize the explosive bursts of energy in his muscles.
Everything else disappeared. Only the weight, his body in motion and his breathing existed in the universe. Nothing else.
Tonk relished every moment of his workout. The sweat beading all over his skin. His pounding heart. How his muscles flexed and burned. All the energy going into each movement.
"Always work to near exhaustion, but never to the point where you can't move. If you can't hold up your own body weight after training, you've done too much." Nail used to tell him.
Tonkeshin lowered the barbell after a half hour of non-stop lifting. He straightened and arched his back, curling down into a handstand. The cold, padded floor felt good against his sweaty palms.
Not even the faintest waver. He raised himself to his fingertips and curled all but his index fingers. Still no waver. He lowered back to flat hands, did sideways splits and turned right side up while still maintaining balance on his palms. His muscles rewarded him with a slow burning sensation. He smiled and raised himself back into a full handstand. Pulling his legs together again, he stretched himself until he swore his feet would touch the ceiling. So relaxing and comfortable and -
"Hey, buddy, are you gonna hog up the mat all day, or are you gonna let someone else use the olympic 'bell?"
Startled, Tonkeshin lost his balance. He toppled forward and crashed face-first into the metal bar on the barbell.
"Owww!" He sat up, clutching his head. A fall like that would've killed him if he was a normal human.
The rude weightlifter didn't offer any apology.
"Sorry." Tonkeshin mumbled anyway, standing up. The barbell tripped him when he went for his shirt. He took another spill.
"Dude, what are you? Blind?"
Tonk laughed into his shirt. He didn't speak until he'd freed his face from the cloth. "Actually," he shuffled to the powerlifting benches, groped twice and picked up his cane, "I am."
A gasp sounded from the burly man, "Oh geez, I'm sorry. I didn't know! You ain't hurt are you?"
"Naw, I've taken worse bumps than that." Tonk grinned towards the weightlifter. "Enjoy your workout."
The other guy sounded relieved. Probably afraid of a lawsuit. "Sure, sure. Later."
That didn't keep Tonk from rolling his eyes as he walked away. A quick jog on the treadmill and then he'd take a break for a while to let his muscles recover.
He approached the nearest treadmill with mild trepidation. Wait, why was he afraid of a silly exercise machine?
Tonk leaned his cane against the wall and stepped onto the treadmill. He touched the control panel - no braille. Great. But quick sweep of his hand let him find the buttons. A large square one flanked by smaller rubbery rectangles. Up above was a plastic panel that probably displayed digital readouts.
He pressed the large button. The treadmill whirred to life, but the belt didn't move.
Frustration trickled up Tonkeshin's nerves. Asking someone to help him with a stupid treadmill would just make him look as helpless as the news was making him out to be. He'd figure this thing out if it killed him!
And it nearly did.
Sweeping his fingers to the right, Tonk pressed the button furthest from what he assumed to be the "start" key.
The belt jerked up into a shallow incline and sprang into motion at maximum speed. Tonkeshin lost his footing. He landed chin-first on the moving belt. One of the drawstrings on his pullover got yanked in and wound about the wheel turning the belt. It cinched the jacket tight around his neck.
"Ack!"
With his air supply cut off, Tonk almost panicked. He pounded the buttons to no avail. Finally he used his sharp thumbnail to slice the drawstring off and let the machine have it. So much for the forty dollar pullover.
At the same time he found his own bullheadedness hilarious. How funny he must've looked, fumbling with a silly treadmill. Laughter bubbled up in his throat. He rubbed the back of his head and reached for his cane, grinning like an idiot. "Okay. . .that's it. . .I'm sticking to weights!"

Tonk spent the next few days working out with the olympic barbell. If he wasn't drinking, peeing, showering or sleeping, he was exercising with the weights.
He only needed to sleep once every other night. And nights were boring. Nothing was open except for the casinos across the street.
So he'd sneak into the gym and exercise. The door didn't lock very well and just a pass of his hotel room's key card between the door and the frame usually let him right in.
Training while completely alone left Tonkeshin quiet, peaceful and content. Nobody around to yell at him for using the equipment as he saw fit. Like doing handstand push-ups with two thirty pound dumbbells strapped to his bare feet.
He'd finish it all off with a relaxing meditation on an empty beach. Only the ocean and wind kept him company.
His mind was clear. No worrying about work, the Tournament or how he'd deal with his bills when he got home. Just endless calm.

Tonkeshin awoke after the best few hours of sleep he'd ever had. He rolled over in bed and fiddled with his watch.
"The time is now. . .four-thirty a.m.." the watch told him.
He sat up, tugged the top sheet off his braille tabletop calendar and read the new date aloud, "May seventh."
A smile formed. Excitement formed a bubble in his stomach, "This is the day I've been working for."
Tonk dropped to the floor for some pushups. Then he steamed himself in a long, cleansing shower to loosen himself up. After he washed and rinsed, he just stood there and let the spray pour down over his skin. Mentally preparing himself for the day's events.
Feeling around in front of himself, Tonkeshin turned off the shower and stepped out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back into the room.
It was too quiet.
Tonk pulled out his discman and buried his head in the headphones while he laid out his clothes for the day. One set to be donned soon, the other to be put on at the Tournament.
Like a good omen, the unmistakable first chords of his favorite song played first. He couldn't help but hop in place like an excited little kid on Christmas as he pulled on his boxers and zipped up his jeans. His shirt buttoned, so donning it with headphones on wasn't a problem.
He was practically dancing to the beat when he laid his Tournament outfit in the duffle bag. Along with it were some water bottles, a jar of petroleum jelly to grease himself up, his spare cane and his meditation book in case he got bored. Doubtful, but just in case.
Next, he dialed Greg's cellphone and left a voicemail, "Greg, I'm heading off early to check the arena out. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. This is it! I'll see you there." The cellphone then found a home in his back pocket.
A few moments later found a wildly-grinning Tonkeshin speeding away from the hotel in a taxi.

The actual arena was more massive than he imagined. Just getting to it was a long walk. Tonk felt his cane bump something hard. He stretched a hand out to touch the hard stone surface.
The ring. . .this is where it's going to happen! Tonk closed his eyes and smiled, climbing up onto the fighting floor. His vivid imagination let him feel, hear and smell the people filing in, cheering and carrying on.
"Time to see how big this thing is."
Tonkeshin tapped his way across the fighting floor. One side to the other, then corner to corner. Bigger than he imagined!
He put his toes on the edge of the ring, bent his knees and whip-backed to the opposite side. Then he spun and ran from one corner to the other. Letting his excitement flood out in his crazy gyrations. After he got that out of his system, he just stood there in the middle of the ring and stared blankly towards the sky.
Thump.
"Have fun?"
Tonkeshin startled at the raspy voice. He faced the source and grinned, "Hey, Piccolo! Yeah, I had to get some of the excitement out of my system somehow. Today's the day."
"Yeah." A swish sounded. Piccolo climbed onto the fighting floor. He came closer, which made his soft voice seem louder. "Your power's increased a lot since we last met."
Closer than Tonkeshin expected! He raised his head and eyes more towards Piccolo's face. "I've been training pretty hard for the past few days." Tonk rubbed his neck and grinned, "The people in the gym didn't like me being there much for whatever reason."
". . .gym?"
"Nevermind." He chuckled, "So what brings you here so early?"
Piccolo's voice muffled, he was looking away, "Wondering why the heck you're here at the buttcrack of dawn." He sighed almost in delight, "Sun's just coming up over the east wall."
Tonkeshin felt warmth graze his left ear. He faced its source and exhaled noisily. "Well I guess I wanted to check this place out before I have to sign in. Don't want to get lost."
"I could show you around a bit." Piccolo was walking away again. He didn't speak until he'd returned to the spot he just vacated, "Here, it's your cane."
"Thanks." Tonk stretched a hand out to grasp the leather handle. "Oh! I've been sensing some pretty strong powers over the last couple of days. Know who it is?"
"You'll find out soon enough, Tonkeshin. Coming?" Piccolo was already moving off to the right. His tone suggested a smile - something Tonk guessed was a rarity on him.
"Hey, wait for me!" He followed Piccolo down a few steps and onto a walkway made of the same material as the ring. It rattled and crackled against the tip of his cane. Grass flanked the pathway. Good, it would be the perfect shoreline later.
"Once the Tournament begins," Piccolo started when they passed through a doorway, "There will be an object in front of this archway. You'll have to step around it to reach the path to ring."
"Okay."
"This is where the warriors usually mill around when their match is coming up. Nothing much here except a drinking fountain in the back. There's two doorways, one on the left and one on the right. The left is the locker room, the right leads to a hallway containing a cafeteria on the right and bathrooms and showers on the left. If you get lost, I think the rooms are labeled with that bumpy language you read with your fingers."
"Braille, you mean." Tonkeshin chuckled, "Cool."
"Hm."
He couldn't stand it anymore. Turning fully to Piccolo, he asked, "You seem so gosh-darned familiar, Piccolo. Like I've known you for a long time, yet we've only met a few times."
Piccolo swished an article of his clothing. Whatever it was, it seemed to flow loosely. His strong hand came down on Tonk's shoulder, "If you defeat me in the Tournament, I'll answer all your questions."
"Okay then. . .and if I win. . ." He thought for a moment, "I'll bring you the best smoothie this island has to offer. Trust me, you'll like it."
That actually got a small snort of a laugh from the other Namek.
"It's a deal."
Tonkeshin grinned, winked one eye and gave Piccolo a thumbs up.
More voices sounded. Tonk turned towards them, "What's going on out there?"
"They're getting ready to start signing people in." Once again, Piccolo was walking away on those quiet feet of his. "I'd advise you to get signed in before it gets too crowded. Otherwise you'll be stuck in a long line. Come, I'll lead you."
"Right, thanks a lot." Tonk struggled to contain the excitement bubbling inside him like carbonation in soda. He just wanted to skip, flip and cheer until exhaustion calmed him down.
It was really happening! Today was the Tournament!
He paused, briefly and turned back towards the fighting floor. A smile curled his lips upwards. He resumed his original path, guided by the tap of his cane and the swish of Piccolo's clothing.
In a few hours I'll be fighting in this arena. This is so exciting, I can't wait! Just one more thing to make it truly real.
"Name?"
"Tonkeshin."

Author's note: There you go, it's Tournament day! I know this chapter was pretty long, but I didn't want to break it up any more than I had to. smile I also added the goofy gym routine to lighten the mood after last chapter's angst. Treadmills and Nameks just don't mix. chuckles

And in case you missed it, Angus, Mac and Norm are all puns on restaurants around where I live - Black Angus, MacDonald's and Norm's.

I didn't mention it in the story, but Tonk's favorite song is Clocks by Coldplay. No it isn't my personal favorite(oddly, I have several ultra favorite songs, too many to name), I just imagine him as liking a song like that - and it happened to be on the radio while I was writing this, lol. peace sign Hope you enjoyed this chapter. It'll get wild later on!