One month later. Papaya Island.
The whole island was like a boiling pot. Colorful flags snapped in the streets, and spectators and competitors from all over the world packed the little island until it was bursting at the seams. The air was thick with the salty smell of sweat, the aroma of grilled meat, and something else, something hard to describe—that was fighting spirit.
Hundreds of martial artists had gathered, each carrying the pride of years of hard training. Their combined presence formed an invisible net hanging over Papaya Island.
Son Goku stood at the entrance to the competitors' waiting area, sensing the overwhelming auras around him. Some were as faint as candle flames; those belonged to ordinary competitors who had come to experience the tournament atmosphere. Others were steady and restrained, clearly belonging to people with considerable strength. Farther away, he sensed several powerful auras that made him take a second look. One of them was old and deep, like magma buried beneath the earth, calm on the surface but blazing within.
Son Goku knew who it was without even turning around.
The corners of his mouth lifted without him meaning to.
"This feeling is amazing."
"Hey, Goku!"
A hand landed heavily on his shoulder from behind.
Son Goku turned and saw Yamcha's confident face. Eight months of desert training had tanned his skin another shade darker, and the scar on his face gave him a fiercer look. He wore his trademark desert cloak, with his inseparable little blue cat, Puar, at his side.
"Long time no see! Don't think you'll beat me so easily this time!" Yamcha grinned, showing off his trademark canine teeth. "I haven't been slacking off these past eight months—my Wolf Fang Fist is three times faster than before! Puar and I practiced against sandstorms every day in the desert. We've been buried in sand tens of thousands of times. I'm a completely different person now! I'm not the same guy you tricked by telling me, 'There's a scorpion behind you!'"
"Yeah! I'll give it everything I've got!" Son Goku nodded earnestly.
Yamcha: "...I'm saying I'll beat you. Shouldn't you at least look a little scared? Like, 'Wow, you're amazing, Big Brother Yamcha!' or something..."
"But I'll win," Son Goku said, tilting his head. "If I give it everything."
He said it so calmly, as if stating a simple fact. Yamcha's mouth twitched, and it was as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over him. Behind him, Puar snickered.
"...You could at least try to be a little modest."
Yamcha sighed helplessly, then smiled again. He reached out and ruffled Son Goku's spiky hair. "Forget it, I won't hold it against you. But I'm warning you—even if you win, I won't make it easy."
"That's for the best." Son Goku smiled too.
"Ahem."
A deliberately subdued cough came from nearby. All three of them turned their heads at once—and promptly lost control of their expressions at the sight before them.
A "gentleman" with a hunched back was approaching them with a shaky, faltering gait.
The old man wore a ridiculous sunhat and sunglasses, along with a garish bright-orange suit. A pair of obviously fake mustaches sat above his lip.
Best of all, he was bald on top. His shiny scalp reflected the blazing sun over Papaya Island, while the ring of white hair around it had been combed into a hairstyle that looked completely unfamiliar.
Yamcha frowned as he studied him. "And who might you be..."
"My name is Jackie Chun," the old man replied, deliberately lowering his voice to a deep, raspy growl. Every word came with an overdone "old man" drawl. "I'm a competitor in this tournament as well. Young men, the World Martial Arts Tournament is no child's play. When the time comes, you'll learn what it means to face true..."
As he spoke, one end of his fake mustache had already curled up, wobbling as though it might fall off at any moment.
Son Goku's composure completely collapsed on the inside.
"Master Mutten, could you try a little harder with that disguise?! Take off the fake mustache, wear some normal clothes, stop using that ridiculous old-man voice—if you did even one of those things, nobody would recognize you! But you haven't done a single one! And somehow, nobody except me has recognized you! How does that even work?!"
He remembered how, in the original story, the disguise had lasted all the way until the final match before being exposed. It was a collective disgrace to humanity's ability to recognize people.
Then again, across the entire World Martial Arts Tournament, only a few of them—his "own people"—knew Master Mutten's true strength. To everyone else, Jackie Chun was just a strange old man. Who would guess that a ridiculous, shuffling old man like him had a volcano hidden inside?
After silently finishing his complaints, he took a deep breath and forced down his smile. Playing along, he lowered his head and did his best to imitate the respectful humility of a junior being lectured by an elder. "Yes, Senior Jackie Chun. You're right to admonish us. I'll remember your advice."
"Hmph, good. See that you do." Jackie Chun—Master Roshi—proudly stroked his fake mustache, which was about to fall off, then turned around with a wobble and shuffled away, leaning on his cane. As he passed Bulma, his pace noticeably slowed for half a beat—but he quickly resumed his shuffling old-man gait, his silhouette exuding an indescribable air of ridiculousness.
Only after the old man had gone some distance did Yamcha turn around and mutter, "Who's that old geezer? What a big mouth. He looks like a total filler competitor—"
"Ahem." Son Goku coughed. "Yamcha, the preliminaries are about to start. Let's go warm up."
"Oh, right! I almost forgot!" Yamcha slapped his forehead and jogged off with Puar to warm up.
Son Goku stayed where he was, glanced at the figure in the garish suit disappearing at the end of the corridor, and shook his head with a smile.
The preliminaries ended quickly.
Just like in the original story, Son Goku, Krillin, Yamcha, and Jackie Chun made it into the quarterfinals without a hint of suspense. Their opponents in the preliminaries were no pushovers, but against them—especially against Son Goku, after eight whole months of training—the gap was more than a single level.
In the quarterfinals, all four of them defeated their opponents.
Son Goku faced a burly man who wielded a meteor hammer. The man swung the hundred-pound iron ball with a fearsome whoosh. His first blow smashed a huge crater into the ring, making the spectators in the front row recoil as one. But Son Goku didn't even let him touch a afterimage—he sidestepped, swept his leg, and finished him with one punch. The whole thing took less than three seconds.
Krillin faced a monk from Orin Temple, a senior disciple who stood a full two heads taller than him. The moment the match began, the senior called out, "Krillin, you bald little truant! I'm going to teach you a lesson on behalf of the abbot today!" Krillin rushed in with a sweep, and the senior flew out of the ring before he could finish speaking.
After landing, Krillin pressed his palms together and bowed to the senior, who was sprawled upside down on the ground. "Senior, the abbot said that once we leave, we each go our own way to train. We don't have to keep observing seniority."
The senior got up from the ground and stared at him for a long moment before bursting into laughter.
Yamcha's opponent was a fat man who called himself the "Southland Wrestling King." He immediately tried to crush Yamcha with his weight. Yamcha didn't move from where he stood. He used just one move—the third form of the Wolf Fang Fist—and his whole body turned into a streak of white light as he darted past the fat man. The man looked down and realized his belt had somehow come undone. His pants were slowly sliding down.
Jackie Chun's match was even simpler. His opponent was a young street brawler who charged in with a flurry of punches. The old man sidestepped, deflected a hand, and gave him a gentle push. The young man landed on his rear, and by the time he came to his senses, he was outside the ring.
After all four matches ended, the audience still hadn't processed what had happened. The host stood with his mouth open at the microphone for a long time before remembering to announce the next matchups.
Then the semifinal draw was announced.
"First semifinal—Son Goku versus Krillin!"
"Second semifinal—Jackie Chun versus Yamcha!"
Before you continue