Chapter Twenty-One

Arrival on Papaya Island

xxxx

May, Age 774

For over seventeen years, there had not been so much excitement drawn to the small isle off of the southern coastline. Papaya Island was famous in itself, having played host to the biggest event in martial arts for hundred of years. The announcement of the 25th World Martial Arts Tournament took the world by storm, as there had not been a tournament for seven years; which, granted, was a poor turnout at the time, as the Earth was being terrorised by the evil android known as Cell.

Naturally, martial arts fans scrambled for their tickets, extra seating had to be accommodated for as well as room for hundreds of fighters that were expected to turn up. The streets were cleaned and shops were stocked, ready for the hoards of tourists to pass through on their way to the arena. Tournament officials were briefed, stall owners stood waiting and Mister Satan's hair stylist was prepped in his private suite as dawn crept over the horizon.

The streets were full of life as soon as the first airbus landed in Durian Airport. Fans and fighters of all shapes and sizes chatted enthusiastically as they made their way to the ancient temple grounds. The officials at the signing-in booth were floored as hundreds of martial artists signed up, each one claiming to be the world's strongest, each one with the hope of swiping the title from under Hercule Satan's feet.

Some fighters showed off their bulging muscles to adoring crowds, whilst others sat in a meditative silence. Children cried for the latest Gold Fighter figurine and fans boasted loudly about their Hercule autographs over the booming advertisements that were televised above the entrance walls.

So engrossed in their activities, that no one paid much attention to the small group of people dragging various bags and luggage through the bustling crowd. One may observe that they were an odd looking bunch and not necessarily put them together as having a common interest. If one were particularly curious, one may find them recognisable as previous tournament contestants, some even champions.

Although no one would be as brave as to approach them, for want of not angering the flame-haired man at the centre of the group any further.

"I've ridden galactic slugs faster than that vehicle!" spat Vegeta, hoisting his duffle bag over his shoulder.

"Oh do be quiet Vegeta," said Bulma, rolling her eyes at her husband, "Here, do something useful and hold Bulla."

Vegeta huffed, but took his daughter from his wife anyway. The two year old yawned, grabbing onto her father's spandex as she snuggled into his chest, wisps of curly blue hair falling over her face.

"I wonder where Goku could be," said Krillin, grasping the hand of his own daughter as they walked.

"I don't sense him yet," said Tien, "Do you really think he'll be here?"

"Goku has never let us down before" quirked Master Roshi, his sunglasses glinting in the morning sunshine, "He'll be here, don't you worry about that."

"I just can't wait!" Puar squealed as he circled Yamcha's shoulders, "It's been so long!"

"It has hasn't it?," said Krillin ogling the stands as they walked by, "Wow, I can't believe how much this place has changed, it looks like a world fair!"

"That's what you get when you've got Mister Satan hamming up the tournament the way he does," chuckled Yamcha.

"Ooh, I can't wait to see Goku land a hit on that oaf in the finals," Oolong growled, punching his chubby fists together.

"And what makes you think Kakarot will even make it to the finals?" snorted Vegeta, "I don't know why any of you weaklings bothered to show up. The only real fight will be between Kakarot and I, unless the eldest brat has decided to take a break from babysitting."

"That reminds me, where is Gohan?" asked Krillin, ignoring the prince, "I haven't seen him or Chi-Chi anywhere."

As soon as Krillin finished his sentence, a booming voice reached their ears, and a giant of a man made his way through the crowd towards them.

"Hello friends!" Ox-King beamed as he approached, placing the Son family luggage on the ground with a thud.

Goten immediately jumped from his shoulders, tackling Trunks to the ground in a fierce hug. The spikey haired six year old was already dressed in his orange and blue gi, and Krillin couldn't help but exchange a knowing smile with Yamcha.

"GOKU?!"

Krillin jumped, as Chi-Chi seemed to materialise in front of him and grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt, "Where is he? Have you seen him?!"

"N-no! Chi-Chi he's not here yet!" Krillin cried.

Chi-Chi sighed, dropping him to the floor and looking sadly at the others.

"I thought he'd be here by now," she mustered, allowing a sympathetic Bulma to console her.

"Well Goku may not be here, but someone else we know is," smiled Master Roshi.

"Piccolo!" Goten cried, as they caught sight of the Namekian warrior.

Piccolo quirked his lips as he emerged from the shade of a nearby palm tree.

"Hey kid. Where's your brother?"

"Yeah where is Gohan, Chi-Chi?" asked Bulma as the gang greeted their fellow warrior, "I would have thought he'd be travelling with you."

Chi-Chi growled, "That young man! He snuck out last night when we were all in bed, doing who knows what with who knows who! He didn't come back until five am! I don't know what I'm going to do with that boy."

Bulma patted her friend on the shoulder, attempting to ignore the small snorts of laughter coming from Krillin and Yamcha.

"Aw let him live a little, he is still a teenager Chi-Chi," Bulma soothed, "where's Gokuto? Have you left him with Mister Lao?"

"Oh no," said Chi-Chi, "Gokuto was still asleep when Gohan got back, so I offered to bring him with us. But you know what Gohan's like with the baby, he said they'd both catch up behind us."

"Well he'd better hurry up," a blue-haired Launch quipped, looking at her watch, "Him and Goku both, the signing in desk will close soon."

The gang looked around them apprehensively for any sign of their friends.

"Maybe we should split up and look for them," said Yamcha.

"I'll go and comb the area," Krillin offered.

But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, a familiar whirring sound filled the air and, within an instant, the spikey haired warrior in question appeared.

They gaped, as Son Goku stood before them with Baba the witch at his side, the same wild hair, the same orange gi and the same goofy smile greeted them. It all seemed like a dream, until the familiar voice pierced the awestruck silence, the same voice that seemed lost in their memories seven long years ago.

"Hi everyone, I'm back!"

They laughed, and they cried as they embraced him. The only indication that he was deceased being the shining golden halo atop his head. Goku laughed along with them, that infectious goofish laughter that even brought a smile to Piccolo's lips.

It was only until Goku noticed Chi-Chi did the laughter die down.

The ox-princess smiled, a forgiving smile that caused Goku's heart to soar, "I've missed you Goku."

"I've missed you too Chi-Chi," he started, moving to embrace her, "I- huh?"

Goku stopped, catching sight of a small messy mane of hair behind his wife's skirt.

"Er Chi-Chi, I think there's a little me hiding behind your leg!" Goku exclaimed dumbly.

"Goten, its alright honey," cooed Chi-Chi to the seven year old behind her.

The man's eyes widened, as slowly, a small head appeared and obsidian eyes clapped onto his own. Goten looked so much like him, in fact, exactly like him.

Goku blinked, and kneeled down to greet his youngest son, "Hi, I'm Goku."

"I-I'm Goten," the boy muttered nervously.

"Hi," Goku beamed, winking up at his wife.

After a few seconds, Goku was nearly bowled over as the orange and blue blur connected with his torso, "DADDY!"

"Hey little guy!" Goku chuckled, whirling him around in the air.

Goten giggled loudly as the gang looked on at the happy scene.

"Goku," Baba coughed, interrupting their father-son moment, "I'll leave you be now. Good luck in the tournament, and remember, you have seventy-two hours. That's all I can do."

Goku nodded, "Alright, thank you Baba!" he called, watching the pink haired witch fly off into the distance.

"Goku, it's so good to have you back," Krillin grinned, clapping him on the back.

"It's great to be back," he smiled, hoisting a beaming Goten up onto his shoulder.

He looked around, expecting someone else to come and greet him, a very important person. The very person he had come all this way to see, "Where's Gohan?"

"Oh he's-" Krillin started, before he was drowned out by a loud rumbling sound. The roar of an enormous engine was accompanied by the sound of shredding guitar music coming from over the horizon.

Goku looked in the direction, frowning, as a sleek black motorcycle with shiny silver cylinders skidded to a halt in front of the entrance to the grounds.

The music was almost deafening, causing several people to turn in its direction. There were two riders. One was a teenager, dressed in grey skinny jeans that were purposely ripped at the knees and a dark t-shirt, a studded belt and biker boots. He had messy long hair tied into a low ponytail, which much resembled the toddler's on the booster seat behind him. He had several tattoos that ran down the sleeve of his left arm, although a reddish jagged scar could be seen through the ink.

He had a cigarette tucked behind his ear, the lobe of which was stretched with something that resembled a plug. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses, that reflected the stone towers of the entrance way.

Th young man sighed, leaning back in his seat, as the engine rumbled heavily over the temple grounds.

"Oh, there he is!"

xxxx

Gohan sighed as he killed the engine, running a hand through his unruly long locks as he sat back in his seat. Going out to a bar last night seemed like such a good idea at the time, it wasn't like he could sleep with the knots of nerves twisting in his stomach. Every time he closed his eyes he was met with the vision of the last time he saw his father alive, and each time he was reminded of his failures.

The mere thought of meeting his father again was enough for him to sneak out of the house and meet up with his intern friends a skanky bar in West City.

The plan was to have a couple of whiskeys to make him sleep then get up early with his family in the morning. That idea had crashed and burned after he lost count after his eighth glass, and several hours later, he found himself waking up at someone's roof top terrace in South City.

Peeling himself from underneath the two naked girls practically stuck to his chest wasn't an easy feat, but finding his clothes was near impossible, until he remembered he had been the one to initiate skinny dipping, and soon found his attire at the bottom of the swimming pool. It was safe to say that his mother was not impressed when he turned up ten minutes later at home, and practically threw him in the shower in an attempt to sober him up.

Last night's endeavour certainly did nothing to help calm him, and now the knots in his stomach were accompanied by a sickly feeling he was sure was from his hangover.

Gohan shook his head, he hadn't drunk that much in a while, and felt a little guilty about leaving Gokuto all night. Luckily, he had provided both him and Goten with the long story of how his father almost defeated Frieza before bed, and the children had gotten so excited about meeting the man they had completely over-exerted themselves, falling into a deep sleep.

The teenager grinned at the thought of how he found Gokuto that morning after his shower, completely sprawled out on his bed, his unruly ebony hair fanned about him as he snored, clutching his toy dragon Icarus tightly to his chest.

Gokuto had been excited all morning about meeting his grandfather, and Gohan's head was already banging without the added pressure of a two year old squealing in his ears every five minutes.

He looked towards the large entrance, with ancient stone gargoyles embedded into its walls. The place was huge, and certainly beheld all the grandeur his father talked about in his youth.

"Daddy this place is huuuuuuuge!"

Gohan couldn't help but smile as Gokuto vocalised his thoughts. The two year old was sat behind him, practically standing up in his seat, his emerald green eyes wide as his tail waved wildly behind him.

The teenager chuckled, swinging his leg over the bike and placing a booted foot on the ground.

"Nice wheels kid!" A passer-by exclaimed.

Gohan raised a hand in acknowledgment before readjusting his sunglasses and unbuckling Gokuto from his seat.

"I wanna press the button! I wanna press it!" the little boy squirmed in his grasp, his chubby hands stretched outwards.

"Alright! Alright kiddo! Calm down for a minute!" The teenager scolded, before allowing his son to decapsulise the bike in a puff of smoke.

Gokuto clapped in delight as the halfling pocketed the capsule and repositioned the toddler on his hip.

Looking around the grounds, Gohan knew he was stalling. He knew that just by stretching out his senses he could pick up the energies of the Z-fighters in an instant, but the longer he stayed away from where his father would be the better.

"Daddy?"

"What's up?"

"Sweeties?"

Gohan looked down at his son, whose eyes were fixed to nearby vender, who was giving out brightly coloured, sugary coated lollypops to throngs of excitable children.

"Later."

"Aw," Gokuto pouted, looking longingly at them as they passed it.

The young saiyan felt a little bad, but he could not deal with Gokuto on a sugar high right now. The young boy already had oodles of energy and could be positively destructive after sugar.

"B-but I want sweeties," Gokuto sniffled, his emerald eyes brimming with tears.

"Oh come on kiddo don't cry," soothed the teen, now wishing to Kami he had just caved.

Gokuto started to sob, causing several heads to turn in their direction. He really didn't need this right now, anything was better than one of his son's tantrum, although he was a good kid most of the time, the young saiyan would rather face a post Goten and Trunks pranked Vegeta in the gravity room.

"I-I want sweeties!" Gokuto cried louder, now several people were ogling them. A couple of them tutted at the teenager as he attempted to calm the child down.

"Gokuto, please work with me here! I'll get you some sweets, but Daddy needs to sign in before the desk closes!" But his attempt was in vain, as the little boy hiccupped, tears running down his cheeks.

The teenager hurriedly looked around for a distraction, something, anything-

"Oi Gohan! Over here!"

Alright, maybe not anything.

Gokuto was immediately silenced by the voice, and turned his head in the direction of the source, his tears ceasing abruptly as he caught sight of Goten.

Gohan sighed, allowing his son to scramble over to the gang and turned to face his brother, but he was not prepared for whom he was enthusiastically pointing at.

"Look! Look Gohan! Daddy's here, just like you said!"

The young saiyan halted in his tracks, his throat running dry as he stared at his father. He should have known that he would have looked the same as he did seven years ago, but he was unprepared for the reality of it all. The only indication that any time had passed was that Gohan was now so tall that he could look his father directly in the eyes.

An uncomfortable silence grew between them, as Gohan noticed that neither of them had said anything for over a minute. The gang was looking to and from them expectedly, and he could almost feel their nerves intermingling with his.

The teenager urged himself to speak; to say, something.

He wanted to say he was sorry, to cry out seven years of bottled up anguish and guilt, he wanted to shout and scream, hit his father so hard that he would feel how much he had hurt him when he said he didn't want to return. He wanted to say that he missed him, that he had needed him. But all he managed to do was to open and close his mouth like a fish out of water.

Luckily, his father was able to stop staring at him long enough to muster a sentence, "G-Gohan? Is that really you? Wow you're giant!"

Gohan nearly fell over. Was that really all he could say? After seven long years? That he had gotten taller? Well no shit Sherlock.

"Er, thanks Dad." He muttered, lowering his head to avoid looking at him any longer.

"Hey," said Goku, making his way over to him, "Take off those sunglasses son, let me see you."

Gohan reluctantly did as he was told, the sunlight piercing his vision so that he squinted up at his father's beaming face.

"There's my boy," Goku smiled, looking into his onyx orbs.

The teenager quickly slammed his glasses back over his eyes, earning him a confused frown from his father. Luckily, Gokuto chose that moment to slam directly into Goku's legs whilst he was in the mist of running around wildly with Goten and Trunks.

"Whoopsie! Sowwy!" The toddler squeaked from the floor, before hiding behind Gohan.

The full blooded saiyan laughed, as Gokuto looked up at his father and whispered, "Daddy, who's that?"

Goku's laughter stopped short, "D-Daddy?"

"It's your Grandpa kiddo," Gohan answered, ruffling the boy's hair.

"G-Grandpa?!" was all Goku could muster, before Gokuto launched himself at him with impressive speed.

"Hi Grandpa!"

The teenager couldn't help but smirk at the absolute dumfounded look on his father's face. He held Gokuto out with outstretched arms, his eyes bulging as he caught sight of the child's wagging tail.

"G-Gohan?"

"Er, surprise?" said Gohan, forcing a nervous grin.

"Heh heh," Krillin grinned wickedly as the gang approached them, "That's right, bet you didn't expect to be an old granddad when you got here huh?"

"Not helping Krillin," the halfling growled.

Goku shook his head in disbelief, "Just how long was I gone for?! I thought you might have been babysitting!"

The halfling face-palmed, he forgot how dense his father could be sometimes.

"But he's so cute! I can't believe I'm a grandpa!" Goku beamed, hoisting his giggling grandson into the air, "hey, what's your name little guy?"

"Gokuto!" the toddler laughed.

"Gokuto huh?" He pressed, flashing Gohan a knowing smile, "How old are you Gokuto?"

The boy frowned, his tail swishing behind him in thought, "Er… erm…" he struggled, his emerald eyes glancing over to his father.

"Two," The teenager whispered, a smile playing on his lips.

"Two!" Gokuto repeated at his grandfather, grinning widely.

Goku chuckled, yet his eyes widened when it finally clicked just how old Gohan was when the boy was born.

"Attention! All remaining fighters please report to the signing in booths! They will be closing in five minutes! I repeat, five minutes till closing!" Boomed a somewhat frantic voice over the tannoy system, it seemed that the tournament officials were struggling with the sheer volume of competitors.

"Come on you lot, we'd better get a move on!" Bulma called, as the Z-fighters quickly gathered their belongings and respective children and proceeded to make their way down the path.

Gohan walked behind his father, watching as Goten ran in front of him to grasp Goku's hand. Gokuto was happily kicking his legs either side of Goku's hip, looking in awe at his surroundings.

The teen saiyan couldn't shake a sudden feeling of longing at the two children grasping onto his father. He walked more slowly, his mind whirring as he battled his feelings.

"Come on kid," said Piccolo as he placed a hand on his shoulder, "Don't give yourself a hard time, just try to enjoy the weekend."

Gohan forced a smile up at his mentor, wishing he could escape somewhere to have a cigarette.

The young saiyan walked in silence, listening half-heartedly to his father's conversation with Krillin about the Otherworld. He didn't need to keep being reminded that his father was still dead, the halo above his head was already taunting him.

The only entertainment Gohan got from the conversation was when Krillin had to explain how Android's were able to have babies.

As they approached the booths, he found Trunks whining about how he would placed in the junior competition.

"It's not fair!" Trunks growled, imitating his father's scowl, causing the poor tournament official to cower behind his papers.

Goten jumped from Goku's side to join his best friend, hoisting his chin up to the table as he frowned.

"I'm sorry boys," The old man stumbled, his glasses falling down his nose, "But all children under the ages of sixteen automatically qualify for the junior division, it's the rules"

"But rules are boring!" Goten pined, earning himself a glare from his mother

"I'm sorry but it's out of my hands," the official stated, smoothing his hands over the wooden desk.

"Fine, we'll take the stupid junior division," grumbled Trunks, snatching his fighters ID badge out of the officials hand.

Gohan smirked, as Bulma gave the purple haired prince a stern telling off, and made his way to the adult booth.

"Name?"

"Son Gohan," stated the teen, flashing a grin as the pretty blonde looked up at him, he might as well get some kind of fun out of this tournament.

The girl was about in her early twenties, her brown eyes sparkled as she began to stare at his muscled torso before they eventually found his face.

"Is something wrong?" asked Gohan with a wicked smile.

The blonde cleared her throat and blushed, "O-oh I'm sorry, I zoned out for a second there… your name p-please?"

Gohan placed his hands on the desk in front of her, casually leaning closer, "Son Gohan" he paused, "what's yours?"

The teen smirked as the girl giggled, fumbling with his ID badge.

"Brat! Stop flirting, we haven't got all day!"

The young saiyan rolled his eyes at the sound of Vegeta's voice, noticing that the majority of the gang we're eyeing him in amusement.

"Fine," he sighed, grabbing his ID and papers before joining them.

"You're not competing as The Gold Fighter?" asked Piccolo as he approached.

Gohan snorted, "Are you joking? I'd never get any peace if I did, it would be utter pandemonium!"

"Don't flatter yourself brat," Vegeta scoffed.

"Tell me V, just how many naked bosom's have you sharpied your signature across?"

"Hmm, looks like we're all in the same hotel." Chi-Chi mused, cutting across him on purpose, as she flicked through her husband's tournament documents.

Bulma rolled her eyes at the young saiyan, "Right come on, it's this way" she called, leading the way for the gang to follow.

"What's The Gold Fighter?" Goku asked aloud.

Yamcha chuckled, "Oh, you'll find out soon enough."

"Um, alright," said the spikey haired warrior, adjusting Gokuto who was once again craning his neck on the search for sugar, "I can't believe just how big this place is!"

"I know right," agreed Yamcha, looking through his own stack of documents as they walked, "We never had any of this rubbish before! Look here! A whole itinerary for the weekend," he informed the fighters, rolling out a longer piece of parchment, "Friday: Adult Preliminaries and welcome party, Saturday: Junior Division and Sunday: Adult Finals and award ceremony!"

"It going be quite a weekend," Tien said with a wry smile, as they strode up the path towards the hotel grounds.

"It can't be!" A voice came from behind them, "Goku? Is that you?!"

Gohan turned around curiously, just as a smartly dressed man rushed to greet them.

He wore a dark blue suit with red tie, his dark blonde hair was slicked back by copious amounts of gel, and a blonde moustache tickled his upper lip. The teen recognised that he worked for the tournament, as he had various ID badges and passes strapped around his neck. He smiled in relief as he grasped his father's hand tightly.

"It is you! Wow, I never thought I'd see you again!" The man positively beamed.

Krillin laughed, "Hello Mister Alonso it's good to see you too!"

"It's been a long time!" Yamcha smiled.

"It certainly has!" said Alonso, grinning widely at them all, "I tell you without you lot these tournaments have nothing but been capital B boring! Are you ready to shake things up? You look like you've brought a few more with you this time!"

"You bet," Krillin winked.

"Great!" said Alonso, lowering his voice to a whisper, "So tell me, it was really you who defeated Cell wasn't it? Come on Goku baby you can tell me!"

Gohan gulped, as his father looked over at him with a wide grin, "Well…"

"I knew it!" Alonso grinned as the teenager let out a sigh of relief, he'd rather not get into that any time soon, "So, you've not always had that ring over your head right?"

"Well I've been dead ever since my fight with Cell," Goku explained, "But they let me come back this one time to compete in the tournament!"

Alonso looked just as flabbergasted as Gohan felt, how on earth could his father act so casually about it?

"Well, that's weird!" Alonso laughed, "But with all the crazy stuff you've done it'd be stupid of me to start doubting you now, am I right Goku baby?"

Gohan shook his head with a small smile, as Goku introduced the tournament announcer to the other fighters who he hadn't met. It was amazing the affect his father had on people, they immediately seemed to trust him, yet it only made the teen feel all the more guilty that he had deprived every one of him all these years.

"So, do you think you lot can get through the fight without blowing up the ring this time?" asked Alonso.

"We'll try," Piccolo smirked.

"And that's exactly the kind of attitude that this tournament has been lacking! Haha!" he laughed, "By the way, which hotel are you staying in?"

Yamcha showed him, handing over his papers.

"Oh no no!" Alonso exclaimed, positively horrorstruck, "This just won't do! You're living legends amongst these grounds! Here," he offered, grabbing a card from his pocket and thrusting it into Goku's palm, "You people deserve the best. That there's the key to one of the best suites in Le Satane, save Mister Satan's of course. It was supposed to be reserved for old Jackie Chun, but he never showed up! Even has a stripper pole screwed into the ceiling like he requested," he added with a wink.

Immediately, the key card was ripped out of Goku's hands by an irate Master Roshi, "GIMME THAT!"

"Er, Master Roshi?" Goku asked in bewilderment.

Roshi blushed, when he realised all eyes were upon him, "I-I just wanted to get there first… I uh, need the loo."

"Be sure to check it out after the preliminaries!" said Mister Alonso upon his leave, "Good luck in the tournament Goku!"

"Goodbye! And thank you!" Goku waved as he rounded the corner.

"Well at least we know not everyone is a complete twit for believing for Mister Satan's lies!" laughed Yamcha.

"Finally! The royal treatment!" snorted Oolong.

"Attention! Will all fighters competing in the Adult Division please report to the warm up pavilion, the Adult Preliminaries will begin shortly!" Another flustered voice sounded over the tannoy.

"Ah well, I suppose we'll meet you later," said Bulma, taking her daughter away from Vegeta.

"Yeah, we'll see you after the prelims!" called Goku, placing his grandson on the floor and ruffling his hair.

Gokuto giggled, before he ran over to Gohan, who picked him up to nuzzle his nose.

"I'll see you later 'Kuto," he smiled, yet the young boy pouted.

"But Daddy, I wanna come with you!" Gokuto huffed, his tail waving around behind him.

"I won't be long kiddo," The teenager mused glancing devilishly over at his mother, "Don't you want Grandma to get you an ice cream?"

The little boy's eyes widened, "Ice-cream!" he bellowed, bounding over to his now scowling grandmother.

Gohan ignored her, bidding a short goodbye to the non-fighters as he; his father, Vegeta, Piccolo, Eighteen, Krillin, Yamcha and Tien made their way over to the warm up pavilion.

Trunks and Goten unwillingly went to the hotel with their mothers. The young saiyan couldn't help but feel bad for them, although he was sure they would have a good match against one another in the finals of the junior division.

"I'm so excited! This is going to be great!" exclaimed Goku, as the group passed through the thatched roofed entrance way.

"Speak for yourself Kakarot," spat Vegeta, "I'll be glad when we get around to the real fighting."

Gohan's eyes widened, as the sunlight engulfed them once more. The young saiyan had never seen so many fighters. Hundreds of martial artists from every corner of the world were spread across an open aired platform. Competitors of every size, shape and ability were in for the win. The majority decided to show off, lifting weights and flexing their muscles, sizing up their opponents.

"Yeah, I'm one of Mister Satan's top students," He heard a muscled man boast towards a camera.

He was being interviewed, by a tall red haired woman in a blue pastel suit. The young saiyan noticed that there were several gaggles of press everywhere, busy shoving microphones under competitor's noses.

"Glory hogs," said Krillin with a roll of his eyes.

Soon enough they were waiting along with the sea of competitors, rumours spreading quickly that a punch machine would be used to determine the places for the championship.

The teenager was getting increasingly bored, and fed up of listening to his father's adventures in Otherworld whilst they waited for the officials to bring out the machine.

Quietly, the young saiyan slipped away from the group, leaning against a nearby wall so that he could still see what was going on, but far enough so that he could sneak a cigarette.

Grabbing the one behind his ear and lighting it, Gohan breathed a long drag in an attempt to calm his nerves.

"Hello there! Where are you from?"

The teenager turned, his eyes landing upon the female reporter from earlier. She held her microphone outwards, a cheery smile awaiting his answer.

Gohan rolled his eyes, he didn't want to be here anyway, without someone shoving a camera in his face.

"Are you competing in the tournament?" The woman asked again.

The Halfling sighed, taking another drag from his cigarette.

"What does it look like?" he asked in annoyance, it seemed pretty obvious to him, seen as he was waiting in the area where the preliminaries were held.

"Oh, well I'm sorry," The reporter smiled, "It's just that, you're not exactly dressed for fighting."

Gohan looked at himself, before glancing over at some bloke in a chicken costume.

"I wear what I want," he said casually, flicking some ash onto the floor.

"Ooooh, a bad boy," she grinned wickedly, before turning to the camera, "Looks like we have our token bad boy of the tournament! With his edgy look and attitude, this guy's sure to be scoring high up the list on who's hot and who's not this year! Just look at those muscles!" she added with a wink as the camera focussed in on him, "Tell me, how old are you? Are those tattoos real? And how did you get that scar?"

The young saiyan scowled, honestly could he not get a break? "Look lady, just get out of my face, I'm not in the mood."

"Sure hot stuff," The reporter giggled in excitement, practically fawning over him before turning to the camera, "What a cutie! No doubt they'll be a few ladies wanting his autograph-!"

BOOM

Gohan detected a jump in Piccolo's Ki just before the camera exploded.

The reporter and her cameraman shrieked, falling to the ground in fright. Several people gasped around him, as the damaged device smoked from a heap on the floor.

The young saiyan met his mentor's eyes from across the grounds, giving him an amused look.

Throwing down his cigarette stub, Gohan casually stepped over the frantic press team, before making his way back over to the group.

"Hey, where'd you go kiddo?" His father asked him with a cheery smile.

"Ah, getting mauled by a reporter," he said simply, before turning to the Namekian, "That was you wasn't it?"

Piccolo snorted, "Can't have your head getting any bigger."

"Oi!" Gohan pouted, "I have a very humbly sized ego, thank you very much."

"Oh?" his mentor quirked, "So you're being humble when you bring girls up to the Lookout and tell them that you're the Guardian of the Earth?"

Gohan rolled his eyes, "Oh come on, that was one time! And Mr. Popo managed to wipe her memory of it afterwards, which I still haven't forgiven Dende for by the way."

"Dende still hasn't forgiven you for setting the West Wing on fire."

"He told me to burn the sheets!" the teen retorted.

Piccolo scoffed, but failed to hide his smirk, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you kid."

The teenager smirked back, as a short, stocky man with wire rimmed glasses stepped up to the podium.

"Welcome participants, to the preliminary rounds!" he yelled into his microphone.

Several cheers rang around the pavilion, as tournament officials wheeled out a punch machine behind him.

"Pfft, what a joke," Yamcha muttered beside him, and Gohan couldn't help but agree.

"As you can see," the man called, "We will select the finalists by way of punching strength. The fifteen people with the highest scores on the punch machine will qualify for the fifteen spots."

"Punch machine, really?" Krillin moaned, "That's a new one."

"It's ridiculous," spat Vegeta, who was stood next to Gohan, "I say we just destroy them all now, save wasting time."

Goku chuckled, "Aw come on Vegeta, don't be like that. I think it's funny."

"Tch, you would, clown," the prince growled.

"To test the new machine, and give us a score to go by, we invite the defending world champion to make the first hit," continued the official, whirling around and gesturing to the large entrance way, "Let's hear it for Mister Satan!"

"Here we go…" The teenager heard Tien sigh, before the crowd behind him erupted.

Mister Satan hadn't changed all that much since the last time he saw him. Although the sheer size of his ego seemed to have doubled since their last meeting.

Hercule Satan sported the same tight curled hair and humongous jaw. His moustache and side burns were expertly shaved into neat lines, his hairy arms and chest bulging with rippling muscle. He was wearing a white and brown gi, though the golden championship belt that usually rested on his hips was lifted high into the air as he stepped out into the middle of the pavilion, unleashing a mighty roar.

"YEEEEAHHHHHH!" Hercule bellowed, relishing in the limelight.

"DOES ANYBODY WANT THIS?!" he roared, waving the belt above his head.

The crowd went wild, sending Gohan's head reeling from his hangover.

"I want it just so I can bash him to death with it," snarled Vegeta, the vein in his temple throbbing in annoyance.

"YEAAAHHHHH!" Mister Satan cried, sizing up the punch machine.

"You'd better watch out!" he grinned wickedly, pointing a huge finger at the mechanism.

"I-is he challenging it?" Goku blinked in disbelief.

"Ugh, first Cell, now a punch machine," Krillin groaned, placing his face in his hand, "What next?"

"Well at least he's challenging something that he actually stands a chance at beating," said Yamcha, causing the group to burst into laughter, even Vegeta smirked.

"HOOOOO!" Mister Satan howled, slipping into his signature stance. His brow was furrowed in concentration, sweat dripped from his temple as the crowd grew silent, waiting.

"Being the defending champ, Mister Satan automatically qualifies for the tournament," the official whispered down the microphone, "Now, lets see our hero in action."

Silence swept the podium, until the Champ's eyes glinted in malice.

Drawing back his fist in one swift motion, he yelled "SATAN PUNCH!" before he fired it towards the machine, hitting the pressure pad with an almighty THWACK.

Gohan stared, as the numbers on the dial whizzed, before '137' flashed upon the screen.

"Incredible!" the official cried, "Mister Satan has scored one-hundred and thirty-seven points!"

The crowd gasped and cheered in astonishment and praise, whilst Hercule grinned in triumph, puffing and panting as he addressed the crowd.

"Well!" he puffed, exiting the podium, "Good luck to all you fighters! I hope that one of you at least breaks a hundred, so that we can have a decent match!"

"Break a hundred…" Vegeta scoffed as the Champ left through the entrance, "I'll break his neck."

"Wow Vegeta, you're grumpy today," chuckled Goku, "What's gotten into you?"

"Shut up Kakarot," he scowled, "I came here for a fight, not to stand around all day watching that idiot make an even bigger idiot of himself."

"I don't know," quipped Krillin, grinning madly as Hercule tripped on his shoelace and fell off the last step of the podium, "you don't come across entertainment like that everyday."