AN: Alright, okay, this is the second draft of this Author's Note because enough has happened since I first wrote it. Originally I just said that this took awhile because I hadn't actually seen the Buu arc all the way through up till now and it was subject to wobbly quality, but this has become a secondary issue. Dragon Ball Super has progressed pretty far into the manga as of this writing, and something is happening that threatens the structure of this story. I am now in a horribly lopsided race with DBS to finish this story before it's too late, and I will be doing everything I can to overcome my slothful ways. It may not be pretty, but we're about to churn out a lot of work. Counting on you guys.

Also, Dragon Ball Heroes is stupid.

28

Time once was that the World Martial Arts Tournament was the big event, the one that was marked on every calendar and attendance was always packed to the walls. People would make pilgrimages from all over the world and from many walks of life to witness the spectacle that was the best fighters on the Earth battling it out to determine that year's champion. There were fan favorites, underdogs, seemingly unstoppable heels, upsets and the thrill of combat - all without any scripting and usually bringing such incredible and unusual sights that everyone would be talking about them until the next tournament.

That was what Goku had last seen of the Budokai, when he and Piccolo had had their massively destructive confrontation on Papaya Island. He knew that the venue had been changed to Orange Star City after that (doubly fortunate since Papaya Island was now mostly rubble and under water), but he had thought that even more people would go to the event since it was in a public place.

He was wrong.

Instead of tight groups of milling attendees to push through, there wasn't much of any kind of crowd to circumvent as the Son family walked down the walkway towards the main entrance. Goku could see exactly three stalls where merchandise and souvenirs were being sold, and it didn't look like business was doing so great for them. The registration desk was actually visible all the way from here, with hardly anybody gathered around it to declare their names and entrance. Though not deserted, the arena and surrounding grounds still looked barren when the number of people there was contrasted against the size of everything to accommodate estimated numbers.

"Man, this is pretty different than what I was expecting," Goku said as he craned his neck around to see if maybe everyone was grouped up somewhere else. "Does this city not like fights, or something?"

Gohan, a little ahead of him and carrying a gym bag over a shoulder, looked back at him as they walked. "From what I heard, it's actually because of the controversy from the last Tournament, or at least the Champion. He unexpectedly resigned as Champion just a bit after Sel was killed, which meant that the title defaulted to the runner up, but he was found out to be part of a bribery and gambling scheme so he was stripped of the title and it went to the guy who finished behind him, but he ended up being arrested for attempted murder when he nearly caved a guy's skull in at a press conference. After that, the officials decided to just suspend the championship until this tournament, but a lot of bad press had soured the public's perception of it."

Goku quirked an eyebrow. "You knew all of that already?"

His son shrugged and turned forward again. He'd shared what he had found out.

Chi-Chi had been scanning the sparse crowd for familiar faces, but the distinctive figure of Chioutzou really was difficult to overlook. He was, as ever, floating in the air next to Tien, who was looking up at a board that had an impressive sprawl of rules. The former was wearing an almost ceremonial shirt with black buttons up the front with gold and green embroidery along the cuffs and collar. Tien was still in a traveling cloak and scarf, looking far warmer than the spring heat dictated but completely dismissive of such a hindrance. She nudged Goku to get his attention and nodded towards the duo.

The saiyan visibly perked up. Doubling his pace and diverting his family to go meet with the former Crane students, it only took a second before the two groups met. "Heya, guys! Glad to see you here!"

Tien turned and gave a thin smile, nodding to Chi-Chi and Gohan, his gaze lingering for a moment on Goten. Chioutzou greeted them politely, bowing at the waist while maintaining his hover.

"I wasn't sure that we'd be seeing you here," Tien admitted, awkwardly. He looked back at Goten. "I take it that this is you son, too?"

His confusion was warranted since Goten looked like a miniaturized Goku on any given day, but for this occasion he had been dressed in a slate gray suit and pants his size, polished dress shoes and a wide-brimmed hat that sat a bit squashed on his head of spiky hair. He looked like an exact copy of Goku the very fist time the former Crane students had met him, at a similar tournament nineteen years before.

Goku crouched down and put a hand on his youngest's shoulder. "Yep! This here is Goten. Goten, this is Tien and Chioutzou, remember when I told you about them?"

The boy had been looking shy before, but now he seemed to view the three-eyed man with something close to awe. "Did you really beat up my daddy?"

Tien smirked as Goku balked. "Yeah, I beat him and won a tournament for myself. He won our rematch, but it was just because I got tired."

Goku stood up, looking cross. "Now wait one minute! We had a fair rematch and I won without any sort of interference!"

Chi-Chi huffed out a sigh, not at all impressed with the posturing. She remembered that fight, though she'd been pretty focused on Goku, who had seemed pretty invincible for most of that day. Only really faltering when...

She quickly looked around, completely expecting Piccolo to arrive just then, but he seemed to be a bit delayed today. That was unlike him.

Tien had changed subjects without Goku and turned his attention to the elder of the Son boys. "Gohan, I hardly recognized you. You've grown up a lot since the last time we met." There had been almost a doubling of height and he'd let his hair grow out down his neck, not too dissimilar to what he'd had before entering the Room of Spirit and Time. "Anything going on with you?"

Gohan shrugged and half-smiled. "Not a lot has happened since Broly attacked. School, mostly."

Unnoticed, Goku's expression soured at the mention of the twisted saiyan, but he was smiling again a moment later. Chi-Chi and Chioutzou had started up a conversation for the first time in their lives.

"I know most recipes advise against it, but I usually let the sauce boil for a few extra minutes to thicken it up, which I believe allows it to maintain its own flavor better instead of just bleeding into the noodles."

Chi-Chi looked taken aback. "But wouldn't that make make it taste overdone? Goku never cares if it's perfectly done or chewy, but Goten really doesn't like it when I make it too strong."

Chioutzou gestured excitedly. "You'd be right, but that's why I add a measure of wine to it!"

They had all been milling around as they talked, making a sizable group, so it was no wonder Yamcha found them immediately. He was wearing tan slacks and an unbuttoned jacket, but with a bright pink shirt underneath and scuffed sneakers that had once upon a time been part of a sponsorship. He'd kept his hair short since Sel, but it was shorter in the back than in the front now, with the bangs on one side sticking stubbornly upwards. He strolled right into their small circle, hands in his pockets and smiling easily.

"Hey you guys, did you already register?" He was greeted by his old comrades and introduced to Goten, then joined in with the small talk as they started towards the registration desk. They really did seem to be the liveliest activity there; anyone competing was keeping to themselves and the spectators were mostly tourists who had heard of the Tournament from some program or brochure. A few were more dedicated fans, having attended at least a couple of the events in the past and were harder to dissuade.

With the atmosphere a bit subdued, the Z-Fighters all gathered around the desk and gave their names to the attendant. Unfortunately, it was only then that they learned Goten was forbidden from entering.

"What! Why?" Goku leaned against the desk, frowning mightily at the poor employee who had broken the news. All the others were just as annoyed and confused, with Goten even being a bit hurt.

"It's n-not my fault, I swear! They were going to add a Junior Division last time but then there were a lot of inquiries into the screening process and the fact that kids competed against adults in the past was brought up and we risked losing all of our sponsors if we didn't stop anyone under the age limit from fighting. I'm sorry, but he just can't compete, probably won't even be able to at the next tournament."

Goku stepped away, scowling, and Gohan was suddenly in the attendant's face, eerily calm. "My brother is worth more than any other fighter that's signed up, and it would be a greater danger for them than it would be for him if they fought. If you really think he can't compete than I invite you to test him right now. See if you can even arm-wrestle him without breaking your hand."

The man's eyes went wide, the threat of those words raising the hairs on his neck. Chi-Chi hurriedly grabbed her son's arm and dragged him away, the teenager grudgingly going along without a further word. The attendant realized he'd just made pretty much all of these people angry, and he also knew it wasn't about to get any better.

"We also...also require proof of identification before you can be officially registered. Eh, ID's will work just fine."

A few of them automatically reached for their wallets, Goku needed a second to remember he had something like that, Chioutzou extracted his from a breast pocket, and Tien looked stricken. "I don't have any sort of ID," he admitted, looking like he'd just taken a kick to the gut. "I never needed one before, living in the mountains."

"But he can still compete, right?" Goku demanded frantically, looking quickly between the three-eyed warrior and the now red-faced attendant.

"I'm sorry, sir...the rules..."

Tien buried his face in the palm of one hand. "Of all the stupid ways to lose a tournament..."

"You mean there's really nothing we can do?" Yamcha groaned, slouching onto his back foot.

"Not unless he can procure a form of identification in the next fifty minutes, no."

The group was silent as the ID's were checked and the names of those eligible were entered into the ledger. Yamcha frowned as he watched his own name being written down, a spark of inspiration lighting in his head. "Wait, wait a minute." Everyone looked at him as he leaned against the desk to poke the ledger with a finger. "What about if your own records say who he is? Tien has competed in two Budokais in the past – the twenty second and the twenty third - so you must have a record on him."

There was a bit of a pause as the others looked expectantly at the now sweating attendant. He glanced between them for only a moment before pulling a phone out from under the desk. He punched in a number and hunched over with it squeezed against his ear. When he talked, it was hushed but they could hear most of what he said anyway: first asking the person on the other end if they could verify somebody based on Tournament records, then insisting that they go check for a three-eyed man named Tien. He didn't talk but remained hunched up, no doubt feeling all of their eyes burning into the back of his head.

Then, when the other person got back to him, he visibly tensed up. The phone call ended and he took his time straightening up in his seat. If he was perspiring before, he looked like his forehead was leaking now. "I'm...I'm terribly sorry, but it seems that the records from both of those Tournaments were lost: either stolen or destroyed."

Yet again, a collective groan rose up from the assembled fighters. Tien closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. "I'm going to kill Piccolo."

"Are you now?"

Of course the namekian chose that moment to make his presence known, standing next to a short man with black hair tied back into a ponytail and a traveling pack over his shoulder. Piccolo was wearing the same purple gi, white mantle and turban as always, evidently not a fan of shaking up tradition.

"Piccolo!" Goku shouted from what was now the back of the group. "Glad you made it!"

"I saw you yesterday, Goku, you knew I'd be here."

"Hey, a lot can happen in a day. And anyway, we're not exactly having the best luck here."

Gohan stepped forward and nodded in greeting to his old teacher. "There's been some rule changes. Goten and Tien can't enter the tournament." He made finger-quotes. "They were 'afraid of losing sponsors.'"

"Well that's pretty lame," the short man chipped in, rubbing at the knot of his traveling bag as he gave a disdainful tilt of his chin. "After everything they've seen you'd think they'd have a bit more backbone by now."

That voice...no way, it couldn't be...but...

Goku hustled up next to Gohan and looked closely into the face of the stranger, very quickly realizing it was no stranger at all "Krillin?!" The man smiled a little crookedly and gave a sort of half wave. "KRILLIN!" The saiyan whooped as he caught his best friend in a bear hug, laughing and clapping him on the back.

"Whoa! Not too tight, Goku, or you'll pop my head off!" Despite his protests, Krillin was grinning like a loon, too, and he didn't hold back from thumping the other fighter back.

"I ran into him when I stopped by Capsule Corp," Piccolo explained, crossing his arms and leaning back onto the heel of a foot. "Apparently he only just got back last night."

Krillin extracted himself from Goku's embrace, still keeping a hand on his shoulder as he looked to his other friends. He was smiling widely now, and his eyes were shining with emotion. "Bulma sent me a message a few months ago; said I should come back for the tournament. I felt like it was time I came home, so there wasn't any reason not to." He shrugged. "So here I am."

Yamcha stepped forward to clap the former monk on the shoulder. "Well it's great to have you back, man. I don't know who else would be the voice of reason if we needed it."

Tien frowned. "I'm certainly more reasonable than you are, Yamcha, so maybe it's being headstrong that's in limited supply here."

"Fat chance! Who was it that said the three of us should attack Sel to buy Trunks time?"

The two kept quibbling as Gohan circumvented them and crouched down to look his old friend in the eye. "Hello, Krillin."

"Wha..." Krillin studied the young man for a second before lighting up all over again. "Gohan!? Holy cow, you got tall! Last I saw you, we were still pretty close!"

"I was still a kid, and kids grow," the half-saiyan smirked, reaching out and giving Krillin a hug of his own. The smaller man laughed again and hugged back, taking the opportunity to discreetly swipe at his eyes when no one could see. "I don't suppose you happen to have your ID with you, do you?"

"Uhhh, no, I don't think I do – why?"

Some filling in and panicking later and Krillin joined Goten and Tien on the sidelines, having not even thought of renewing his legal ID since he got back (Piccolo revealed that'd had a driver's license for years, much to the monk's chagrin). "Wow, this is pretty crap. I traveled actual light years and bureaucracy is what stops me." He shook his head in quiet disappointment before cracking a wry grin. "Oh he's just going to love this when I tell him."

But before he could be questioned on who 'he' was, a chime rang out over the PA system, followed by an announcement that there was only five minutes left for registry and the tournament would begin ten minutes after that. Goku began craning his neck around, trying to locate somebody in the still sparse crowd.

"We're all here, Goku," Piccolo reminded him, curious. "Who else did you think was coming here?"

The saiyan, opened his mouth to answer, but didn't say anything and quickly looked away. "...nobody, I guess. I just had a funny feeling."

They moved through the entryway of the tournament grounds proper and split up, with the participating members heading towards the locker rooms and the others heading to find good seats in the stands. There were and abundance of choices.

"I don't know if I'm really feeling it, actually," Yamcha confided in the two Son men as he kicked off his shoes. "I kinda joined just to see if I could go against Tien – see if I could get my win back from last time we competed against each other."

"When he broke your leg."

"...YES, Goku, that time he broke my leg, thanks for reminding me."

Chioutzou had meticulously unbuttoned and folded his dress shirt and was wearing an undershirt with his black pants and green cap. "Tien said that you would most likely say that, and that he was looking forward to a rematch as well, but he really wanted to see if he'd been able to catch up to Goku. He's been really focused on that for years; even said he'd maybe come up with a few new tricks."

Goku did a kind of half squat, hands clenched above his head. "Aaaaaahh! I really wanted to see what he could do, too, and Krillin and Goten! This just isn't fair at all! Why did they have to get all bent out of shape about the rules now!"

Gohan tossed his duffel a bit forcefully into his locker and closed it with a slam. His face was dark. "Someone is always letting fear and greed get the better of them and dictating the lives of those around them." He scowled at the pale blue metal of the locker for a moment before giving his head a shake and looking back at the others. " This city really isn't a nice place, when you look below the surface."

"Whoo, intense," Yamcha muttered but didn't say anything else. Piccolo, however kept his gaze on his former pupil, noting the tension in his shoulders and the fist he kept clenching and unclenching at his side.

A man wearing the customary robes of the attendants bustled into the room, nearly colliding with a participant wearing boxing gloves as he hurriedly checked and double-checked the clip board he was holding. "Contestants, if you could all finish your reparations and follow me out to the arena, we shall be determining lot numbers for the main bracket. For those who don't already know, we shall resort the final four to determine the order of the finals bouts and the championship match." His statement given, he hurried away again, making checkmarks with a pen that had been nearly used up in the last several hours alone.

"Alright, let's get going." Goku stood up and led the way, the others wordlessly closing their lockers and following suit. They were at the head of the group of contestants when they exited the building and entered the wide open courtyard that held the arena, square stones still pristine and intact. The crowd started to cheer, and though it was a far cry from the roar that would have greeted them before, it was still a thrilling moment.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"

Every set of eyes went to the blonde man standing in the middle of the arena, one hand holding his microphone and the other pointing straight up into the sky. Though many things had changed and numerous threats to the world had come and gone, it was always going to be him here, announcing the Tournament with the same gusto and fervor.

"Welcome one and all to the twenty-fifth World Martial Arts Tournament, where the greatest of warriors compete to determine who among them is worthy of being dubbed 'The World's Strongest'!" This got a rise out of the audience, a cheer that went on for a few seconds and was added to by a score of noisemakers and stamping feet. "We shall now commence with the lot numbers to establish the order of the first round!" Even that statement of fact was given the enthusiasm of declaring a finishing blow.

"Hey, Chioutzou, would you mind if..."

"Already on it," the psychic nodded, having anticipated Goku's request. If there were enough of the regular contestants to pad it out, none of their group would be facing each other in round one of the tournament at least – anything after that was set in stone.

"Let's show everybody what we're made of!" Yamcha crowed, thumping his chest and grinning. Gohan cracked his knuckles in silent agreement just as Piccolo rolled his neck to work out some cricks.

The boys were back in town.