Good news - I have the story completely finished! Sadly, this does mean we are coming closer to the end of this story, but fear not. It will certainly not be the end for these characters, as a whole. When this story is all completely uploaded, there'll be a little break as I get ready to start putting up the proper sequel to A Thrilling Chase. I'm very excited from what I've had written, so far, and I hope you all are going to like it, too.

Enough about that, for now. I'll be able to tell you more by the time the last chapter of this story comes out. For now, enjoy!


It was that time of year, again – the most exciting time of the year, for a martial artist. Every year for a week, the strongest and most capable fighters all over the Earth would gather to prove who was the best and strongest of them all.

Once again, it was time for the World Martial Arts Tournament.

Starting as a humble gathering for local villages and tribes, the WMAT, as it was often abbreviated as, grew into a global event. Hundreds of fighters from all corners of the globe made the sacred pilgrimage to the Papaya Islands for the smallest chance of competing in the prestigious event. Even more gathered to watch the fights go down, cheering for their favorite fighters.

Goku begged Chi-Chi for a chance to fight in the tournament, again; he had voluntarily stepped down for the past two years, to care for his family, but he needed to get back in the ring. She didn't put up a fight, knowing how happy it made him, and said yes. Now, he could return to reclaim his title as the World Champion.

The Sons waited in line at the registration booth. Even though they had arrived early, the line was five-miles long. Piccolo decided to tag along, as well. He was curious to observe the Earth warriors, and to compare it to what he had seen, before. He wondered how much had changed, in the years that he was gone.

Goku was hopping up and down in place. "Man, it's been way too long! I can't wait to see how many strong guys are here! There's gotta be at least hundreds!"

Piccolo snorted. He was seemed a bit too eager to get his ass kicked. Though, by analyzing the energies here, not many of them would be a match for him. However, he knew well not to underestimate them. Some of them might prove to be a decent fight, for Goku. Piccolo, himself, had no interest in entering – it wouldn't be too interesting of a fight if he overpowered everyone.

Chi-Chi came back up, carrying a tray of snacks. She groaned. "This line has been going on, forever. How close are we, to the front?"

Goku leaned his head out of the line. "I think we're getting close, now!" Then, he immediately grabbed the food on the tray, and started digging in.

She shook her head. "I swear…" She handed the bottle of water to Piccolo, and took the drink she had gotten, for herself. Gohan was swaddled over her chest. "This was just as bad when I entered, all those years ago."

Piccolo raised a brow. That seemed unlike her. "You entered the tournament."

"Sure did. Entered just for that pig, right there," she pointed at Goku. "Had to make him hold up his promise somehow."

"Promise?"

"To marry me, of course." She put her hand on her cheek, as her face flushed a light pink. "When we met, he promised to marry me. It was so romantic. He proposed, right after our fight."

Piccolo was about to speak, but held his tongue. The fewer questions he asked about this, the better. Any clarifications would probably only confuse him more. He didn't know what he expected, honestly.

After another half-hour of waiting, they finally reached the registration booth. The man sitting at the booth was finishing writing out the last contestant, and looked up at them. He looked really tired and frazzled. Piccolo glanced backwards – he pitied the poor man, given how much longer the line still was.

"Hi, are you here to sign up for the tournament," he asked, in a drowsy voice.

"Sure am," Goku said, enthusiastically.

"All I need is a name…"

"Son Goku!"

The man at the booth yawned, as he scribbled out his name. "Thank you. Are there any other members of your party entering?"

Goku looked down, and put his finger on his chin. He looked back at Piccolo. "Are you entering, Piccolo?" He shook his head. "What? Why not? You'd do amazing, here!"

He scoffed. "It wouldn't be too much of a fight, at my current power."

Goku ran over to him, and grabbed his arm. "But it would be so much fun to fight you! Come on, pretty please?"

Piccolo stared down at him for several moments. It was clear that he wasn't going to budge on this one. He sighed, and pushed him off, walking up to the booth. "Ma Junior."

The man at the booth scribbled out his name, as well. "So, Son Goku and Ma Junior. Is that correct?"

He sighed. "I suppose it is."

"Thank you, gather at the auditorium tomorrow morning at eight, good luck and fight your best," he said, in an uncaring tone. He leaned his head up. "Next fighter, please."

Piccolo took two steps out of the line before Goku tackled him, in a hug. He grabbed onto his back, crushing him in a backbreaking hug. "Yahoo! Thank you so much! I knew you'd want to do it, after all!"

He clenched his teeth, and grabbed onto his arms. "Get off of me," he said, between his teeth. He tried to pry him off, but Goku wouldn't budge.

Chi-Chi laughed, as she went up to join them. "You boys are already making this hard, for me. I don't know which one of you I should root for."

Thankfully, Goku jumped off of him. Piccolo sighed, in relief, and straightened out his clothes. "You can cheer for both of us," he said. "Winning doesn't matter. I just care about the fight!"

"Well, I say that we all should go out to eat. You two will need to keep up your strength, for tomorrow."

On cue, Goku's stomach rumbled loudly. He blushed and scratched the back of his head, laughing along the way. "Yeah, let's go do that."


The next morning, all of the contestants were gathered in the auditorium in preparation for the elimination round. The event was closed off to the public, so Goku and Piccolo made their way, alone. When they reached their destination, they were surrounded by hundreds of the strongest and most confident fighters on the planet. However, by the end of the day, only eight of them would be moving to the next round.

The last-minute training and conversations were cut short when a microphone was tapped. "Ladies and gentlemen," a man said, standing in the middle of the room. "Please make your way over to one of the booths available at all corners of the room and draw your number. Once you have your number, match it with the corresponding bracket and go to the assigned room. Once everyone is in his or her proper place, we can begin the elimination round. And please – no trading."

"Good luck, Piccolo," Goku said. "You better make it, to the ring!"

He smirked. "I was planning on it."

"Then I guess I'll see you there!" He patted him on the back, before running to grab his number.

Piccolo stood in the line closest to him. Luckily, it moved quickly, and he was soon reaching into the fishbowl for one of the many pieces of paper. He took out a slip, and walked away, so the next contestant could draw their number. He opened it, seeing that he was number 70. Looking up at the large poster on the wall, he was to head to Room 3. He spun on his heel and followed the crowd to the designated room.

Once he was inside, he began to size-up his opponents. In terms of power, they were nothing to write home about – above average for humans, but paled in comparison to anyone else he had known. All of diverse heights and shapes, but their energies were about the same – it was a bit difficult for him to tell one from the other.

Soon, all of the fighters were gathered. An assistant stood up on the stage, addressing the crowd. "Alright. Here is how these fights go – we will go by the bracket system that you can see, behind me." There was another poster behind him of just the Room 3 bracket. "We will go in numerical order to determine who fights when. The matches will last a minute, at max. A victory is chosen through a knockout, a ring-out, or a forfeit. If the match is not over by the end of the timeframe, a referee will determine the winner by performance. As with normal tournament rules, killing an opponent means an automatic disqualification, and any and all weapons are strictly prohibited.

"To begin with, I am going to need number 69 and number 70. Please make your way to the stage."

Piccolo waited in the crowd, for his opponent to make it on stage, first. A fit young man walked on stage, and flipped his long, red hair back. Piccolo sighed. This was going to be boringly easy. He cut through the crowd and climbed on stage.

The assistant walked over to the young man, first. "Can I get your name, sir?"

He chuckled. "Fruie Dula Merre: fighter extraordinaire. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my good sir." He winked at the assistant.

The assistant put a hand on his cheek, and looked away, bashfully, as he wrote his name down on the clipboard. Piccolo just rolled his eyes. He must have been trying to schmooze up to the ref; if it came to a draw, then the points would be in his favor. Piccolo didn't understand that: wouldn't it be more legitimate if you won through your own strength, rather than through manipulation? Humans were odd creatures.

The assistant cleared his throat and walked over to Piccolo. "A-and your name, sir?"

"Ma Junior."

He wrote down his name, as well. "Alright, gentlemen, we will start when you two are ready. Once again, you have one minute to fight." He stepped out of the ring.

Fruie gave Piccolo an once-over, putting his hand on his hip. "My, my, aren't you a big boy? You know, green has always been my favorite color. I'd truly hate to discolor you."

Piccolo ignored his comment, and got into a fighting stance. Maybe this would have worked if he was a horny teenager, but he had long since grown immune to these sorts of tactics. He wasn't even being subtle about his attempt to get him to throw the match.

The smirk on his face faded, and he quickly took a stance, as well.

The assistant raced his hand, ready to press start on his timer. "Aaaaaaaand, begin!" He brought his hand down, and started the timer.

Fruie charged Piccolo head on, but he vanished before him. He looked at the empty spot on the stage confused, not realizing that his opponent was floating above him. Piccolo kicked, and he went flying off of the stage, crashing through the brick wall.

Medical assistants rushed over to Fruie, checking his pulse and vital signs. They gave the assistant thumbs up, as they unfolded a stretcher, quickly carrying him away.

The assistant gawked at the scene, stopping his timer. He was rendered speechless by the display. Eventually, he shook his head, and jumped on stage. "Contestant 69 Fruie Dula Merre has been eliminated. Junior will be moving forward, in the elimination round."

With that confirmation, Piccolo hopped off stage, the crowd parting as he went to stand against the wall. That was more satisfying than he would have been willing to admit. Maybe this wouldn't be quite so boring, after all.

"Now, will contestant 71 and 72 please come forward?" There was a long pause. "Contestant 71 and 72, please."

When the assistant looked up, half of the room had cleared. The round was put on hold, as the remaining numbers were accounted for. All of the missing fighters had one thing in common – they were in the same bracket at Piccolo. None of them wanted to get pounded, so they had forfeited the entire tournament.

Thus, Piccolo had cleared the elimination round, by default. He would be moving onto the quarterfinals.

He was told that he could rest, until the finalists were called; he didn't need to stick around to watch the remaining fighters. Wanting to keep his possible opponent's strength a mystery, he decided to leave. He'd wait to see if Goku made it through, yet.

Slowly, the remaining fighters trickled out of the rooms and back outside. Of course, many of them coming out would not be moving onto the tournament. Few seemed to be taking it well, as many looked hurt and disappointed by their losses. A few of them were whining and crying about it to their peers. Piccolo just shook his head, at the sore losers.

"Hey, Piccolo!"

Goku came running up to him, from behind. He looked particularly giddy – even more than usual. He was jumping in place, as soon as he reached him. "Did you make it? Did you make it?" Piccolo nodded. "Hey, me too! Maybe we'll get to face off against each other! Man, that would be awesome."

He raised his brow. "If you think you can make it, that far."

"Oh, you're on!" Goku lifted his fist and pushed it towards him. Piccolo glanced down at it, not sure what he was trying to do. But, Goku kept staring at him, waiting for him to make a move. Hesitantly, Piccolo lifted his fist, and bumped it against Goku's. Goku's grin grew bigger, and he nodded.

A loud voice spoke over the intercom. "Attention, finalists: please begin to make your way to the tournament stage. The fights will begin shortly. Thank you."

"Better get over there, then," Goku said. Piccolo just nodded. "Just follow me – I've been there, before."

Goku and Piccolo were among the first to arrive, backstage. Only two other contestants were there. One was a petit, thin woman with curly purple hair; she sat in the corner of the room, adjusting her makeup. The other one was an older gentleman with an afro and a mustache; he was practicing poses to himself. Once the assistants cleared them of their identities, they were allowed in.

"Hey, it's you!"

A man with slicked-back blonde hair, sunglasses, and a suit came running up to them. Goku's face lit up with recognition, and he lifted his hand up in a wave. "Yo!"

"Oh, we missed you last year. No offense, but last year's tournament was an absolute snooze fest without you. Have you come back to reclaim your title?"

He shrugged. "That's the idea!"

"Fantastic! This will make for a fantastic story – after a year of rest, the old winner has come back to show everyone what a real champion is like! This'll be even bigger than your proposal, my guy!"

Goku laughed. Piccolo just stood next to him silently, not knowing who this man was or why he was acting so chummy with him.

At that moment, the man took notice of him. "Well, hello! Don't think I've seen your face around here, before. Tell me this is a friend of yours!"

Goku glanced at Piccolo. "Uh-huh! He's gonna be fighting, too."

"Amazing! Well, good luck to the both of you! I look forward to seeing whatever you come up with, on the stage! I know the audience is gonna love you!" The man waved goodbye, and walked away.

He still had so many questions. "Who the hell was that?"

"Him? Oh, he's the tournament announcer. He tells everyone what's going on and stuff. He's really cool!"

Piccolo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. So he'd have to deal with his obnoxious commentary for the entire tournament. That was just fantastic.

Another pair entered the room – it was Krillin and Yamcha. Goku waved at them, and they came sauntering over to them.

"I knew you two would make it," Goku said. "Everyone's coming back together. Man, this is gonna be the best tournament ever!"

"We didn't think you'd managed to make it out here," Krillin said.

Goku playfully punched his arm. "You know I wouldn't miss this for the world! It's been way too long since I had a good fight."

"Don't tell me you've been slacking," Yamcha said. "Just because you're a dad now doesn't mean you can stop with your training."

"Come on, you know I wouldn't do that. I've been getting stronger, this past year, and I can't wait to show it off!"

"Oh yeah? I guess we'll see when we get on stage. You might have barely beaten me last time, Goku, but I've been training, too. Maybe I can take that title back, from you." Yamcha puffed out his chest, in a display of confidence.

Goku put his hands on his hips and smiled. "Well, you're more than welcome to try!"

Krillin looked over and saw Piccolo. "Oh, hey! You showed up, too! Didn't think I'd get to see you, again. Piccolo, right?" He nodded. "So, you're fighting in the tournament, too?"

He thought that would be obvious, given that only the finalists were allowed in here and no one else: not even family and friends were allowed. He bit back any snarky comments he had. He should probably be a little respectful to Goku's friends. "I am," he said, succinctly.

Goku put his arm over Piccolo's shoulders. "He wasn't going to, but I managed to convince him!"

He snorted. "You were practically begging."

He shrugged. "Hey, as long as it works!"

"Figures you guys would make it, this far."

A new person was walking up to join the group. He was taller than the rest of the group, dressed in a dark green-gi and purple wrist gauntlets. He was completely bald, not unlike Krillin. However, his most striking feature was the third eye plastered on his forehead.

"Tien!" Goku pushed past the rest of the group to say hi. "Man, it's so great to see you!"

He nodded. "I could say the same about you. After you didn't show up the past couple years, I was beginning to think you had given up fighting. Thought the married life might have finally humbled you."

He laughed. "You guys are ridiculous! You know I couldn't give that up – it's what keeps me going."

Tien chuckled, as he shook his head. "Never change, Goku."

Krillin looked around. "Hey, where's Chiaotzu? Thought he'd be with you."

He looked down, seeming sad. "He didn't make it, through the preliminaries..."

"Oh, that's too bad," Goku said. "But hey, at least he can still cheer you on, in the stands!"

"That's what he said, too."

Piccolo's attention was pulled from the conversation, when the last contender entered the room. This one was different from all of the others. He was a thin man, wearing glasses and a white polo shirt. He looked like he had wandered into the room, thinking it was the bathroom or the way to the stands. However, the security cleared him, and he was allowed to enter; that meant he had to be a competitor.

They met eyes, for a moment, and the mysterious man smiled at him. Piccolo leaned back. He looked like he knew something that he didn't. There was almost a mischievous twinkle in his eye, as he did so. To say it was slightly unsettling to him was an understatement.

Thankfully, he didn't have to think about it, for long. The tournament announcer crossed into the front of the room. "Hello, fighters," he shouted, silencing the conversations and pulling everyone's attention to him. "Congratulations for making it this far. Now, we'll begin drawing numbers, deciding who's going to face off against whom. When I call your name, please come up and take a number out of the box. After that, we'll begin the match! Is everyone ready?"

Everyone collectively voiced his or her agreement, at varying levels of excitement.

"Then, let's get started!"

One-by-one, the finalists were called to the front. Each took a number from the box, and placed in the corresponding bracket. The final line-up was as followed:

1. Ma Junior VS Shen

2. Yamcha VS Ranfan

3. Krillin VS Mark

4. Goku VS Tien

Piccolo was set to fight the unknown fighter, from earlier. As the general rules and regulations of the tournament were listed off, he could feel him staring at the back of his head. It made it very hard to concentrate on what the announcer was saying. He wanted to smack him and demand to know what his deal was, but he held off. Soon, they would be in the ring; he would hold off his questions until then.

A hand was placed on his shoulder. "Good luck, Piccolo! You're gonna do great!"

He glanced backwards. Goku smiled and nodded at him.

"You too, Goku."