"Hmph! Why are you trying to be so mysterious? I don't care who you are. Since you're here to compete in the World Martial Arts Tournament, then listen up! If you run into Goku or me in the ring..."
He paused, then continued more emphatically, "We absolutely won't go easy on you! So don't blame me when you're crying after we beat you!"
He tried to cover up his nervousness with a menacing tone.
Vitelli looked at the little bald guy in front of him, trying to stand tall despite being all bark and no bite, and barely managed to keep from laughing out loud.
Holding back his laughter, he nodded solemnly, his tone so perfunctory it sounded like he was humoring a child.
"Mm-hmm, sure, sure. Got it, got it. Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to... watch out."
But the drawn-out words were full of mockery.
Just then, a clear, pleasant female voice cut through the din and reached the three of them.
"Vitelli! How'd you end up over here in the blink of an eye? I've been looking all over for you!"
Bulma pushed her way through the crowd, wallet in hand, and hurried over. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her pretty forehead.
She was wearing a bright, casual outfit, and her short blue hair made her look even more vibrant.
As soon as she saw Vitelli, she naturally slipped her arm through his and leaned against him affectionately.
"Huh? Goku?"
Only then did Bulma notice the two little guys beside Vitelli. Her face immediately lit up with delight.
"You came to compete in the Martial Arts Tournament too?"
"Bulma!"
Goku was happy to see someone he knew and immediately forgot about his aching face.
"Krillin and I came with Master Roshi! But the old man said he was going to look at the scenery, and then he disappeared."
"Master Roshi, that old pervert, came too?" Bulma's expression turned grave. Her eyes narrowed, and a cold look settled over her face.
But when she looked at the two little guys in front of her, her usual bright expression returned at once. "Perfect! I've booked the best hotel on the island. It's almost lunchtime, so come on, let's go eat together! My treat!"
She patted her bulging wallet with a flourish.
"Really? Awesome!"
At the mention of good food, Goku's eyes lit up, and he nearly started drooling.
Krillin watched Bulma cling to Vitelli's arm like a little cat. The two of them looked like they were made for each other. Then he glanced at Vitelli's calm, carefree expression, and a sour feeling suddenly stirred in his chest.
He pursed his lips and muttered under his breath, in a voice he thought only he could hear, "Hmph... We martial artists should put our training first. Getting caught up in women... will only slow down my punches..."
Even he could hear how ridiculous he sounded as he went on. And though he was muttering quietly, to Vitelli's super-sensitive ears, it was as loud as someone shouting through a megaphone.
Vitelli raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes.
Heh. Little bald guy, pretending to be above it all? Fine, I'll remember that. One day, I'll make sure you get what you're asking for right now.
At noon, an unforgettable scene unfolded for every waiter and chef at the luxurious restaurant Bulma had booked.
Vitelli demonstrated exactly what a Saiyan's appetite meant.
He ate at lightning speed. His movements weren't frantic, but his efficiency was astounding.
The food on his plates seemed less like it was being eaten and more like it was being devoured by some invisible force!
Heaps of steak, whole roasted chickens, mountains of fried rice, and a steady stream of soups and desserts... all vanished into the mouth that seemed connected to a black hole.
The chefs in the kitchen were working their ladles so hard they were practically smoking. The waiters ran themselves ragged, yet the plates in front of Vitelli continued to stack up at a terrifying rate.
Krillin stared in utter disbelief, his chopsticks slipping from his hand and clattering onto the table.
Goku could eat a lot too, but compared to the man in front of him, he was nothing!
Bulma looked like she'd known this was coming. She daintily nibbled her salad while occasionally wiping Vitelli's mouth with fond care and directing the waiters.
"Bring out two more roast suckling pigs! Yes, whole ones! And five more orders of seafood risotto!"
After a lunch that could only be called a feast, the four of them—mostly Vitelli and Goku—returned to the tournament grounds, thoroughly satisfied.
The preliminary-round draw was about to begin.
Numbers scrolled across the giant electronic screen.
Vitelli casually drew a number and glanced at it: seven.
He slipped the slip into his pocket and scanned the competitors, some of whom were rolling their shoulders and others standing steady and composed. A faint smile played on his lips.
These nobodies couldn't interest him in the slightest.
He had two reasons for coming: first, to see what Kid Goku, Krillin, and the other future Z Fighters had been like when they were young; second... simply to show off.
That was right. Showing off was just a bonus, a tiny little pleasure.
That afternoon, the preliminary matches got underway across several rings.
Vitelli was assigned to Ring C.
Bored, he leaned against a pillar at the edge of the ring, arms crossed and eyes half-closed. The thunderous cheers and fierce exchanges of blows all around him seemed to have nothing to do with him. He dozed off as if he were somewhere else entirely.
Only when a burly man whom the audience excitedly called "Eight-Hand Fist" King Chappa stepped into the ring did he lazily crack one eye open.
King Chappa was powerfully built, with bulging muscles. Once he stepped into the ring, he let out a strange cry and began flailing both arms wildly. He was... not exactly slow. In fact, he really did manage to create a blur of fists in front of him. It was a little intimidating, at least.
"Heh..."
Vitelli let out an almost inaudible snort and closed his eyes again.
To him, fists that fast looked no different from a slow-motion replay. They were riddled with openings and painfully boring.
Time passed.
At last, the referee's booming voice rang out.
"Ring C, match seven! Number seven, Vitelli, versus number eleven, XX!"
Vitelli finally opened his eyes, then sauntered onto the ring as Bulma watched with eager anticipation and Goku and Krillin looked on curiously.
His opponent was a lean, sharp-eyed man who looked like he had plenty of real combat experience.
He adopted a tight defensive stance and focused intently on Vitelli.
The referee made the routine announcement. "Begin!"
XX let out a low growl and pushed off the ground, lunging forward like a leopard. His right fist shot toward Vitelli's face with a sharp whistle.
The punch carried all his strength. It was fast and fierce, as if it could transcend time and space—or so he thought!
But just as his fist was about to touch the tip of Vitelli's nose, Vitelli moved.
He didn't even shift his feet. He merely raised his right hand with casual ease, as if shooing away an annoying fly, and gave Toripo a light flick of his hand as he charged in.
Whoosh—!!!
There was no violent collision! Only an invisible yet irresistible blast of terrifying force that erupted without warning!
The air seemed to compress and tear apart in an instant! The fierceness on XX's face gave way to shock. He felt as if he'd run headfirst into a speeding train! An irresistible force slammed into his chest!
"Ugh—!"
With a brief cry of pain, he was swept up like a kite with its string cut. He spun rapidly through the air in a high arc, then landed with a precise thud in the sandy area more than ten meters from the ring, kicking up a cloud of dust. He was knocked unconscious on the spot.
The entire Ring C area fell silent!
The cheers and chatter seemed to be cut off by an invisible hand. The spectators gaped, their eyes wide as saucers, staring in disbelief at the black-haired young man in the ring. He hadn't even so much as moved the hem of his clothes.
What had happened? He'd just waved his hand, and the other guy had flown away? Was this... some kind of magic?!
The referee was dumbfounded too. After freezing for a long moment, he finally raised his hand and stammered, "Uh... number seven... Vitelli... wins!"
"Whoa—!!!"
After a brief silence came an even more deafening roar of astonishment and disbelief!
"My god! What was that just now?"
"He... he just waved his hand?"
"XX made it to the quarterfinals last year! And now he's just... out?"
"Monster! That guy's definitely a monster!"
Goku and Krillin stood in the crowd with their jaws nearly on the ground.
Goku grabbed Krillin's arm and shook it excitedly. "Krillin! Did you see that? That was... that was incredible! Just like a year ago! No, he seems even stronger now!"
Krillin stood there, stunned, muttering to himself, "What... What a joke... He just waved his hand and... how are we supposed to fight someone like that?" The bold words he'd said earlier now seemed painfully ridiculous.
Among the competitors, Master Roshi—disguised as a contestant—had taken off his sunglasses. His old eyes were filled with unprecedented gravity and shock.
He'd seen it more clearly than everyone else! That hadn't been a simple blast of wind! It was a shock wave, condensed almost to a physical form through the use of ki!
And he'd controlled it with such exquisite precision that it had only knocked his opponent out of the ring without inflicting a fatal injury!
That control... that power... it was simply unfathomable! Who exactly was this young man named Vitelli? When had the martial arts world produced such a major figure?
Master Roshi felt as if his entire worldview had been shaken like never before.
After Vitelli's astonishing palm strike, the other competitors' matches—including the ones where Goku and Krillin easily defeated their opponents—seemed dull and unremarkable.
Vitelli couldn't be bothered to watch any more. He simply took Bulma, still buzzing with excitement, and left early to enjoy some time alone with her.
The night air and sea breeze on Papaya Island were clearly more interesting than watching a bunch of weaklings fight.
A night of passion, a night of dancing~~
The next morning, sunlight once again bathed the bustling Papaya Island.
After a night of excitement had died down, the air was filled with even more tension and anticipation.
The main event of the World Martial Arts Tournament—the official matches—was about to begin in front of a massive crowd!
The huge main ring was surrounded by packed stands, and the roar of the crowd kept rising.
The eight fighters who had made it through the preliminaries were already in the competitors' rest area.
Goku and Krillin nervously and excitedly limbered up, cheering each other on.
The other competitors were making their final preparations too, their eyes sharp and their fighting spirit high.
Only Vitelli still looked as lazy as ever, as if he were just a tourist on the beach, and he surveyed the excited crowd with interest.
Bulma sat in the front row, excitedly waving at Vitelli and shouting with all her might, "Vitelli! Good luck! Make sure you win! Show them what you can do!"
Vitelli turned at the sound of her voice and gave Bulma a reassuring smile brimming with confidence.
You silly girl. I really wish someone would give me the chance to lose for once.
Just then, the tournament host's booming, excited voice rang through the loudspeakers and set off the final spark.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Martial arts fans from all over the world! Sorry to keep you waiting! At last, the moment we've all been waiting for has arrived!"
"The twenty-first World Martial Arts Tournament!!!"
"And now—it officially begins!!!"
A sharp clang from the gong rang out, and the entire island seemed to tremble!
Everyone's eyes instantly turned toward the enormous ring, a symbol of strength and glory!
A breathtaking martial arts tournament was about to begin, with a Saiyan from beyond the distant stars personally kicking things off!
Chapter 11: The World's Strongest?
The morning sun shone on the smooth ring, its light reflecting in a dazzling glare. The packed stands had already been swallowed by a wave of frenzied cheering, and the air was thick with tension.
After two days of fierce competition, the final four had been decided!
"Ladies and gentlemen! Martial artists! Thanks for waiting!"
The host's impassioned voice boomed across the venue through the loudspeakers. "The World Martial Arts Tournament's ultimate showdown—begins now!!"
"First match! Our first competitor is the fighter who dominated his opponents with overwhelming power in the preliminaries—Vitelli!!!"
Amid modest applause and curious chatter, Vitelli strode calmly into the ring. He was still wearing his black Battle Suit, and his expression was so relaxed that he might as well have been out for a morning jog.
He stopped in place and calmly looked toward the entrance.
"And his opponent is the fighter who made it to the final four with his superb boxing skills and extensive experience—'Eight-Hand Fist' King Chappa!!!"