A/N: Haven't had this much fun with a chapter, in ages. Hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I loved writing it! 😁

Chapter 52: The tournament begins:

Papaya Island, May 2nd. It was early morning and the motley crew of warriors, were gathered together, along with many of their friends and companions, a mere 10 days before the arrival of the deadly pair of Androids.

"So, everybody signed up?" Goku grinned feverishly.

"Yep, we're all in." Krillin nodded, in affirmation.

"Not all." The Z-warriors turned their attention to Bulma, spruced up in a pair of black, polyester stretch pants, edging just below her knees, white joggers and a matching sports bra. She jauntily moseyed over to the rest of the crew, chest puffed up, her figure trim and athletic and her hair fastened, in a simple ponytail, with bangs on the front. "I've decided to enter as well."

"So have I." Chi-Chi followed closely behind, accoutring a cap-sleeved, light lavender qipao that hemmed mid-shin, with uniform slits, cleaving from either side, around upper-thigh level. The dress was ornamented with a number of orchid imprints and below were a gleaming pair of violet brogues. The only thing about her that hadn't changed, was her hairstyle.

"Uh- Chi-Chi, you do know that this is martial-arts tournament and not a fashion parade, right?" Yamcha remarked dryly.

"Oh, hush up." The Ox Princess rolled her eyes, though inwardly pleased that she'd already made quite the impression, having primped herself for nearly three hours.

"Hey, Bulma, where's Trunks?" Gohan eagerly inquired. He'd been unduly fond of the lavender-haired baby ever since his birth, mostly because he'd only ever associated with those older than himself.

"Oh, we decided to leave him back home, with my parents." The heiress replied.

Not long afterwards, the group entered the hall, where the preliminary matches would take place. As each participant drew their numbers, Piccolo made sure to rig the results using his psychokinesis, so as to ensure that none of the Z-Fighters faced off against one-other, just yet.

"Okay, will contestant Yamu please make his way over to the stand?" The blond-haired announcer requested. A moment or so later, a big, bald, brutish figure ambled towards the counter. Bulma inadvertently sucked in a breath, as she caught sight of him. Recognition hit her smack in the face. It was him, the son-of-a-bitch who'd nearly raped her (A/N: Refer to Chapter 47/48). A horrifying tremor kindled within her pounding heart, but she quickly doused it. No! She was stronger than that now! She refused to convey even the slightest inkling of fear, at the sight of that filthy savage!

"Bulma, who is that?" Chi-Chi asked, taking note of the eerie manner, in which she was eyeing the unfamiliar fighter. "You know him from somewhere?"

Vegeta frowned and followed Bulma's line of sight. The very next instant, he was overcome with an unbridled rush of red-hot fury. That motherfucker! How was he still breathing?! Barely able to contain his spiking rage, Vegeta's legs carried him forward, as if of their own volition.

"Hey don't." Bulma shook her head, grabbing his hand, before he could do something drastic. "Just forget about it, alright? Do anything stupid and they'll disqualify you."

"What's the matter guys?" Goku asked confusedly, making his way over.

"Nothing!" Vegeta brusquely replied, snatching his hand back, as he continued glaring balefully at the ruffian.

After picking his number, Yamu frowned as he sensed the piercing looks, directed straight at him. He slowly shifted his head sideways and was rendered motionless, upon meeting the hellish, infernal eyes of that- that demon, the one who'd taken everything from him, the one who'd robbed him of his manhood (A/N: Refer to Chapter 48). He hadn't expected to see him here, of all places. And right beside him was that fucking whore! What could she possibly be doing here?! He let out a deep, grisly snarl, clenching his fists tight, as he strode ahead, ignited by a sudden, unquenchable thirst for revenge. All the misfortune, suffering and humiliation he'd endured over the last year or more, led right back to her!

Before he could reach Bulma, however, Vegeta stepped in between them and the bald man stopped in his tracks, growling in frustration. He knew firsthand, just how powerful this flame-haired midget was and so long as he was here, there wasn't a thing he could do. Regardless, he would figure out some way to wreak vengeance upon the both of them, no matter what it took. That in mind, his lips quirked up, in a malign smirk.

"Enjoy yourselves, while you still can." Yamu sneered, before stomping off.

Vegeta didn't say a word, and just stood there, seething to himself in silence, bristling tail unwound and thrashing about, behind him. Bulma placed a hand on his shoulder, in a bid to calm him.

"Care to tell me what that was all about?" Goku asked, raising a keen brow.

"No." Vegeta scoffed, before sauntering away.

"Bulma?" Chi-Chi creased her eyes. "What's going on?"

"I- It's nothing." She shook her head, not wanting to rehash those dreadful events. "I really don't want to talk about it."

Yamu, meanwhile, was secretly hatching a sinister scheme alongside a recent acquaintance of his, named Spopovitch, who also happened to be a tournament contestant. They decided to wait for the right opportunity to present itself, before abducting the 'blue-haired slut' and defiling her, every which way. Despite his severed member, the malicious street-thug had a few twisted ideas, in mind. He would bring ruin upon her. He would violate her irreversibly and then, only then, would she learn the true extent of his misery.

Once the tournament proceeded into the preliminary stage, a few familiar faces revealed themselves. For the third time in a row, Goku went up against King Chappa, in the very first bout. The ex-champion boasted that over the years since his embarrassing defeat, he'd been training arduously and crafted a flawless new technique, called the 'gatling-gun', a relentless onslaught of kicks and punches from every direction, which apparently left no room for a counterattack. Unfortunately for him, each movement was as slow and predictable as the next and within seconds, Earth's hero had him out of bounds.

"Why?" The King cursed his own bad luck, wanting nothing more to eviscerate the fatheaded buffoon, who came up with the line: 'Third time's the charm'.

Vegeta faced former quarter-finalist, Giran, in his first bout. The Prince recognized him from the twenty-first tournament, where he'd suffered defeat, at the hands of Kakarot. After toying around with Giran for a few minutes, just for the heck of it, the sapient beast discharged a strange, congealed substance at the flame-haired warrior, which wrapped around his upper-body and simultaneously coagulated, assuming the shape of twin toroids. It was just as Vegeta had anticipated.

"Hahaha, You may be stronger than me, but there's no way you can escape from my merry-go-round-"

CRACK!

Giran watched in dreadful dismay, as his opponent shattered the rubbery, purple confines, with one swift move, as though they were frail glass tubes. How?!

"My turn." The Prince smirked and promptly enclosed a ring of yellow Ki, around the beast's midsection, rendering him immobile.

"Argh, let me out!" Giran cried out, vainly struggling to free himself. "I give up okay?!"

"Giran surrenders, which means Vegeta's the winner by forfeit." The referee declared.

"Hmph." Vegeta whirled around, just about ready, to take off.

"Hey, get this thing off me!" Giran demanded, with a mean scowl. The Saiyan gave him an icy glare and the very next moment the anthropomorphic dinosaur gulped and changed his tune. "I- I m-mean, p-please free me if you w-would, s-s-sire."

"That's more like it." The Prince extinguished the Ki and made his way back towards the others, whereby the liberated beast let out a huge sigh of relief.

"You know, that was just plain cruel." Bulma frowned askance, folding her arms. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's karma." Vegeta shrugged dismissively.

The preliminaries proceeded. Tien was set to encounter a familiar adversary: Nam. Upon seeing the monk, the three-eyed warrior's face fell, embedded with guilt and shame.

"I recognize you, Tien Shinhan." The Indian frowned. "After our last fight, many years ago, they told me I was unconscious for a week and barely clinging to life."

A short moment of silence passed, before Tien mustered up the courage to look Nam, in the eye.

"I- I'm really sorry." He muttered grimly. "I won't lie to you. What I did to you and many others, was deliberate. I was completely aware of my actions, but I'm not proud of who I was back then. I know there's nothing I can do, to take it back. All I can do is humbly ask for your forgiveness." He bowed his head low.

Taken aback by Tien's penitence and humility, Nam walked towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"There's nothing to forgive." The monk smiled. Tien raised his head back up. "It was a long time ago and it's clear to me that you've changed much since then, not just as a person, but as a warrior."

"Thank you." Tien smiled back.

"All I ask is that you give it your all."

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but I think you're asking a little too much there." The three-eyed fighter chuckled. "You remember Tambourine, right?"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Nam cringed, at the ghastly memory of his own demise.

"Well, over the years, I've fought and defeated enemies, far stronger than both him and King Piccolo." Tien stated, completely dumbfounding his foe.

"I- I see." Nam stammered, in awe.

The fight was practically over before it even began, with Tien advancing forward. Nonetheless, the two combatants shook hands in mutual respect, thereafter.

"Hey, I remember you." Bulma raised her brows, at her adversary. "You're the one who stripped in the middle of battle, back when you fought Nam, but you were still beaten."

"Shut up!" Ranfan yelled, blushing profusely. Despite the gaudy layers of makeup, she'd noticeably aged, since the twenty-first tournament, but was nonetheless, attractive.

"Hey, I'm not judging." The heiress laughed. "I probably would've done the same. It's not all that difficult to befuddle anything, with a third leg."

"Heh, glad we see eye-to-eye."

"Yeah, well, just so you know, that's not gonna work on me." Bulma maintained confidently, assuming her fighting stance. "I'm afraid I don't swing that way haha."

"Oh believe me, I wasn't planning on it." Ranfan lunged at her foe, firing a range of attacks, that were easily blocked or evaded. Bulma slipped beneath a right hand and swiftly locked the purple-haired woman, in a standing arm triangle choke. Ranfan tapped out within seconds and Bulma was declared the winner.

"Wow, nice move Bulma!" Chi-Chi exclaimed, with a grin.

"Thanks."

Once the prelims were over, the remaining combatants moved over to the new open arena, far more spacious than it's predecessor. The eight matches of the first round were determined, by draw:

1. Bulma vs. Yamu

2. Goku vs. Yamcha

3. Tien vs. Pintar

4. Krillin vs. Gohan

5. Jewel vs. Chi-Chi

6. Piccolo vs. Mighty Mask

7. Hercule vs. Spopovitch

8. Killer vs. Vegeta

Yamu's lips tore into the ugliest smirk, upon learning that he was to face Bulma. The big gangster took off his shirt and entered the ring, looking forward to shredding this bitch to pieces. This would be an easy win, of that he was certain. The heiress took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists, before engaging herself, in a few warm-up stretches and exercises. There's no way she was going to lose this fight. She'd been trained by the very best. Her technique, mobility and dexterity was at it's peak.

"Let the first match begin!"

The bald brute was instantly on the offensive, hurling a spate of punches at the heiress, only to miss, on every occasion. Just as Bulma expected, all his attacks were telegraphed, not to mention snail-paced, at least by her current standards. She could see them coming, a hundred miles away.

"Keep still, you fucking bitch!" He simmered, in frustration. This wasn't how it was meant to go down! She wasn't anywhere near this level, during their last encounter. What could possibly have changed between now and then?

"Sure I will, after you grow a new dick." The heiress scorned, fomenting her opponent's ire. Vegeta couldn't help but chuckle at the slight. Yamu was blinded by rage and frustration, which only made his performance that much poorer. After a few minutes of failed attacks, the exhaustion was quickly beginning to creep in. He was taking heavy breaths and despite the utter futility of his one-dimensional approach, Yamu futilely continued to fire wild, sloppy haymakers that repeatedly fell short of their petite, agile target. Eventually, he was so debilitated that he clumsily staggered forward, inside Bulma's attack radius. The heiress exploited the moment by smashing her elbow against his nasal bone, with an audible crunch that had those in attendance cringing. Yamu fell to the ground, involuntary tears gushing from his eyes and blood spurting out of his nose, blinded and howling in agony. Try as he might, he was unable to beat the ten-count and Bulma was pronounced the winner.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what a sensational upset!" The announcer declared. "With a single-blow, Bulma ends the battle, by way of knockout and makes her way to the quarter finals! Let's give her a huge round of applause, folks!"

The crowd erupted, instantly on it's feet, cheering for the female underdog. No one had the slightest clue that Bulma Brief, vice-president of Capsule Corporation, possessed such startling athleticism. Was there anything this woman couldn't do?

"You're the bomb!"

"You're the sexiest woman alive!"

"Marry me, Bulma!"

"No, marry me!"

"Oh please, stop it teeheehee." The heiress blushed, smiling shyly to herself, before winking and giving them the peace sign, whereby they roared even louder. Bulma heartily soaked up all the praise, indulging her already inflated ego. Just then, however, Yamu managed to get to his feet and was about to sucker punch her, from behind.

"Hey, stop, the fight's over!" The announcer warned out loud, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Bulma immediately sensed the attack coming and shot her leg up, heel landing flush against the throbbing zone, where her elbow had been, not one minute ago. The hooligan fell to the ground, crying out in pain, as he held his disfigured nose.

"Cocksucker!" Bulma spat, repeatedly kicking the amputee, in the stump, where his member once thrived. "Motherfucker!"

Yamu screamed, as pain raced from his groin, up to his chest. It percolated through his entire figure, multiplying with each incoming blow. He couldn't help it, as he fell in a loud fit of pitiful sobs. The spectators were on their toes, gasping in frenzied anticipation.

"That's enough, Bulma!" The blond-haired announcer seethed. "It's over, okay?! Anymore and you'll be disqualified!"

At that, the audience began booing, seeming to enjoy the gruesome spectacle, before them.

Bulma stormed out of the ring, while her friends strode over to congratulate her on the win. Meanwhile, two staff members rushed in with a gurney, in order to transport Yamu over to the hospital.

"Bulma, that was awesome!" Krillin exclaimed. "You totally nailed that guy!"

"Yeah, well, I knew he'd try and pull something dirty." She grit her teeth. "Fucking sleaze-bag!"

"Still, don't you think that was a little overkill?" Yamcha sweat-dropped.

"Believe me, he deserved it." The heiress replied, without a single shred of remorse. "You don't know that guy. But anyway, enough about that. You've got a fight with Goku to worry about."

"Gee, thanks for reminding me." He rolled his eyes.

"Sucks to be you, huh?" Bulma chuckled. "Never get to make it past round one."

"Yeah, well you're lucky you didn't have to face Goku, in the first round."

"True, but I'll definitely be facing him in the second."

"Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence." Yamcha sighed in despair, as he ambled towards the ring.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you the three-time quarter-finalist, from the turtle school of martial-arts, Yamcha!"

The ex-banded shyly waved at the crowd, earning a few mild cheers.

"And his opponent, also hailing from the turtle school, is a man who needs no introduction." He went on. "He is our reigning champion and my personal favourite to go home the winner, none other than Goku!"

At the very mention of Goku's name, the audience tore into a thunderous furore.

'Look at all of them fools, lauding that good-for-nothing phoney.' A jealous Hercule seethed to himself, from the sidelines. 'Just wait until they see me rip that title from him, with my bare hands. Then they'll know who the real champion is.'

"You know Goku, this may seem a little arrogant, but I'm not gonna make this an easy fight, I promise you that." Yamcha vowed, readying his stance. "I haven't exactly been resting on my laurels and I may have a few of surprises, up my sleeve."

"By all means, I'd love to see them."

The two fighters powered up, before charging at one-another and exchanging resounding blows that rung from one end of the arena, to the next.

"Wow, you weren't kidding." Goku smirked, wiping a trickle of blood, off his lip. "You're much stronger than before and if I'm not mistaken, those were some of Tien's techniques you used, am I right?"

"Right." The scar-faced warrior nodded. "Like I said, this won't be easy Goku, no way. I'm only getting started." Yamcha promptly began powering up further and a fiery red flame, burst around his stalwart body. "Kaio-Ken times ten!"

"Whoa, holy mother of-"

POW!

Yamcha's fist slammed across Goku's face, cutting him off mid-sentence. He continued his onslaught for a moment or two, till Goku finally gathered himself.

"Kaio-Ken times two!" The Saiyan roared, getting Yamcha on the defensive, in that very instant.

"Wow, what an extraordinary battle, folks!" The announcer exclaimed, in thrill and wonder. "It's obvious that both fighters have improved tremendously, since the last tournament, but it seems that Goku's got a slight edge over Yamcha."

He made haste towards the Z-Fighters, inquiring about the strange new maneuver, employed by the two warriors.

"Listen up, everyone." He garnered the audience's attention. "I've just learned that both Goku and Yamcha are using a special technique called the Kaio-Ken, a move that temporarily multiplies the user's power, speed and reflexes."

"No way."

"Unbelievable."

The thunderstruck audience members muttered amongst themselves, in disbelief. For several more minutes, the battle raged on.

"Didn't think you'd be this strong Goku." Yamcha clutched his pounding heart, as he struggled for breath, face littered with cuts and bruises. "I really thought I'd put up a better fight than that. Seems that no matter how much I try, I'll never be able to bridge the gap between us."

"Maybe so, but that's just it Yamcha." The Saiyan replied, his features bright and gleaming with veneration. He'd barely broken a sweat. "What really matters is that you do try. That's what makes you a true warrior, as far as I'm concerned. You fought a great battle, my friend. You've earned my respect and I mean that."

"Thanks Goku." Yamcha smiled beatifically, before his eyes fluttered shut, completely overtaken by fatigue. Just as he was about to collapse, face-first, the Saiyan caught him, in his chiseled arms.

"It seems that Yamcha's lost consciousness, which means that Goku's the winner by knockout." The announcer grinned. "Let's give both fighters a huge round of applause, for this spectacular performance."

In the ensuing battle, Tien knocked the breath straight out of Pintar's lungs, with a simple elbow to the solar-plexus and thus, moved on to the quarter-finals. On the sidelines, Hercule's mouth fell open, as he was swamped with fright and alarm. However, he quickly convinced himself that Pintar just let his guard down, which could happen to anyone- other than himself, of course.

Gohan fought a tough battle against Krillin. On one occasion, the demi-Saiyan was on the verge of defeat, after Krillin unexpectedly pulled a times twenty, Kaio-Ken. Unfortunately, his body was unable to retain such tremendous power and at the most critical moment, the dazzling red flames were doused, muscle-tearing agony supplanting strength. After that, the match was pretty much decided.

"Gosh, Krillin, that was amazing." Gohan panted, on all fours. "I didn't think I'd ever have that much fun, in a battle. For a second, you almost had me. You're super-strong!"

"Not strong enough, apparently." The aggrieved warrior sighed. Just when he was sitting on the edge of victory, it'd been stolen from his grasp. If he were able to hold on for a second longer, the match would've been his. Afterwards, the rest of the warriors, at large, commiserated Krillin, assuring him that he fought a wonderful battle and exceeded their expectations, by far.

"Greetings, my darling." Jewel carolled, in a sing-song voice, sifting a hand along his blond tresses. "What's a fair lady, like yourself doing in such a coarse domain?"

Chi-Chi looked at her pretentious opponent in disgust, barely resisting the urge to gag her lungs out. Was this moron seriously trying to woo her, right before battle?

"I insist that someone so beautiful as yourself, not be involved in such mindless brutality." He continued smooth-talking. "How about this? If you concede the match, I'll take you out on a romantic evening dinner, just the two of us."

"First of all, I'm happily married." Chi-Chi replied, rather indignantly. "Second of all, even I wasn't, I'd rather walk barefoot through a hundred miles of broken glass than have to look at your obnoxious face, for more than five seconds."

"Why, I never-" Jewel garbled in shock, before seething at her furiously. "How dare you, refer to my face as anything short of gorgeous?! Do you know, who I am?! I assure you that you will regret this!" Married or not, no woman had ever denied him before and she certainly wasn't going to be the first!

"Let the match begin!"

Jewel furiously leapt forward, only to miss by an extensively wide margin. Within one minute, the raven-haired mother roughed him up good, before hurling him out of the ring. She specifically targeted that prided face of his, till it look like a freshly-baked pizza. Though most viewers howled in laughter at the blond-haired man's ignominy, there were quite a number of devout female fans, who hooted a creative range of slurs at Chi-Chi, outraged at the 'cruel' treatment of their 'precious Jewel'.

Piccolo knocked out the unknown Mighty-Mask, with a single blow.

"So, Mr. Satan, what do you think of the contestants, so far?" The announcer asked the wrestling champion.

"Pft, they're nothing but a joke." Hercule asserted, with a smug smile. "They'll need a lot more than some light-shows and disappearing tricks, to square up against a man of my calibre."

"Well there you have it folks-"

"And I know you're betting heavily on that Goku chump." Satan interjected, brusquely plucking the microphone from the announcer. He looked towards the audience, with a giant, stupid grin. "But I'll tell everybody right here, right now that I am the champion. I am the man! Anyone who has the guts to step inside that ring with me shall fall, starting with you Spopovitch!" He boldly pointed a finger at his upcoming adversary.

Hercule easily dominated the larger, stouter fighter in the following match, with his superior technique, landing him out of bounds within two minutes, greedily absorbing the heartfelt praise of the crowd, thereafter.

'Tch, what a fucking joke!' Vegeta thought to himself, in revulsion. 'I can't believe these morons are actually impressed by that despicable performance!'

'Hmm, so it seems that I'll be facing either Killer or this Vegeta guy, in the quarter-finals.' The moustached fighter mused, observing the two warriors, as they faced off against one-another.

"I ain't never seen you in the ring before, man." The two-time Muay Thai champion raised a brow. His voice was extremely slurry. "How you make it, this far?"

"Hmph, you'll see." Vegeta replied, as laconic as ever, staring impassively at his opponent, until the bell sounded.

On the sidelines, Hercule watched aghast, as Killer was defeated in less than a second. He'd watched the kick-boxer's fight-tapes from time-to-time and merited him as a top-notch contestant. So how could he have lost so easily?! Who on Earth was this new guy?! All of a sudden, he began to dread the idea of having to face him in the next round. He shook his head, mentally cursing himself, for such unwarranted self-doubt. It didn't matter how strong that little wretch was, there's no way he could stand up to him! He would grind him to pieces, with his super megaton-punch!

And so, the four matches for the quarter finals were:

1. Goku vs. Bulma

2. Gohan vs. Tien

3. Chi-Chi vs. Piccolo

4. Hercule vs. Vegeta

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed this. Although this is a super-fun arc and a pivotal one at that, I don't want to make it too repetitive, so I'll have to wrap it up, within one or two chapters. Then comes the Androids saga and the return of Trunks. But before that, how will things go down? Who will emerge champion of this tournament? Be sure to voice your thoughts and hit the review button. :D