The Cell Games

Above the clouds, the outline of Korin Tower had already come into view.

Son Gohan had hastily bundled more than a dozen live fish in his tattered Battle Suit. Holding them in one hand, he landed steadily on the platform atop the tower.

Korin was dozing on a cushion, his tail dangling over the edge and swaying lazily. His ears twitched now and then.

Son Gohan suppressed his aura and walked over, greeting him politely.

"Hello, Korin. Sorry to bother you."

Korin's ears turned. He opened one eye and twitched his whiskers. Just woken up, he sounded a little drowsy. "Oh, Gohan. What is it?"

Son Gohan explained that he needed some Senzu Beans, then handed over the bundle of fish.

The fish, wrapped in his ragged clothes, still had water droplets on them, and their scales gleamed in the sunlight.

Korin's eyes lit up at once. He rubbed his paws together without thinking, then turned and searched the shelves, moving quickly to fetch the Senzu Beans. His tail swished back and forth behind him.

"Here you go."

Korin handed him a small cloth pouch.

Son Gohan took it and opened it. There were only eight or nine beans inside—not much of a supply.

They had probably used up a lot while fighting Cell in his second and Perfect Forms.

With a thought, he stored the Senzu Beans in his Internal Space. Adding them to what he had left after using up the previous batch, he now had more than thirty. That would be enough for the battles ahead.

"Thanks, Korin."

He leaped into the air and flew toward Kami's Lookout.

The Lookout was still quiet.

The sea of clouds churned below, and the entire temple floated high in the sky, solemn and majestic.

Mr. Popo stood at the edge of the Lookout, his dark silhouette standing out clearly.

When he saw Son Gohan land, he wasn't surprised. He merely nodded slightly.

"Gohan."

Son Gohan got straight to the point and asked him how to train his control over his ki.

Mr. Popo kept nothing to himself, patiently explaining his insights.

He didn't say much, but every word hit the mark: ki wasn't about being fierce, but steady.

It wasn't about releasing it, but drawing it in. True strength wasn't making others sense your ki, but making it impossible for them to sense it.

As he spoke, he raised a hand to demonstrate. A mass of energy gathered in his palm. It was right there before them, yet not the slightest ripple could be sensed.

"Mr. Popo really is extraordinary."

Son Gohan then sat cross-legged at the edge of the Lookout and closed his eyes, contemplating carefully.

Two days passed in the blink of an eye.

He sat cross-legged at the edge of the Lookout, feeling his ki flow in and out of his body as freely as water.

Mr. Popo had been alone for far too long. Ever since Kami and Piccolo had fused, he had been the only one at the Lookout. Having someone keep him company while training made him talk a little more than usual.

Son Gohan's control over his power had improved another step.

But after two days without food, he was hungry too.

He took the food Bulma had prepared from his Internal Space—hamburgers, roast meat, sushi, and fried chicken wings—and spread it out on the floor of the Lookout. Steam rose from the hot food.

He turned and asked Mr. Popo,

"Want something to eat?"

Mr. Popo looked at the food, fell silent for a moment, then nodded. "All right. I'll have a few bites with you."

"That's great. It's nice to have someone to eat with."

Son Gohan smiled.

As a divine attendant, Mr. Popo didn't need to eat to sustain himself, but there was no harm in occasionally having a few bites.

The two sat at the edge of the Lookout, their legs dangling over the sea of clouds as they wolfed down hamburgers.

Mr. Popo ate slowly, chewing each bite carefully, as if it had been a long time since he'd tasted food.

Son Gohan, on the other hand, ate like a hungry wolf, his cheeks stuffed full.

Before long, they had polished off every last bit of food.

"I'll be off, Mr. Popo."

Son Gohan stood and brushed the bread crumbs from his pants.

He walked to the edge of the Lookout and leaped off. A white aura burst from his body, turning him into a streak of light as he sped toward Mount Paozu.

The morning wind roared past his ears, while mountains and lakes raced by below.

At Mount Paozu, by the stream,

Son Goku and Gohan of this timeline sat side by side, fishing.

Both of them remained in their Super Saiyan forms, their golden hair standing on end. Not a trace of their auras leaked out, making them look no different from their normal selves.

The floats on the water remained perfectly still as a few fish drifted lazily past the lines.

Gohan of this timeline held his fishing rod, feeling quite content. His father had agreed to go fishing with him, and now his wish had finally come true.

The two lay on the grass, basking in the sun. They didn't care whether they caught anything; they had completely relaxed.

Krillin crouched on a nearby rock, bored out of his mind. He picked up a pebble, aimed at Son Goku's head, and threw it.

The pebble traced a perfect arc and struck Son Goku squarely on the head, making a sharp, hollow thump.

"Ow, ow, ow—!"

Son Goku clutched his head and grimaced in pain. He immediately sat up.

"That really hurt!"

"Even Super Saiyans feel pain? Hahaha!"

Krillin laughed so hard he doubled over, loudly teasing him.

"Krillin, you rascal—"

Son Goku rubbed the back of his head, looking thoroughly aggrieved.

Just then, a streak of white light flew in from the horizon and landed steadily on the grass by the stream.

Son Gohan came to a stop. He glanced at the father and son fishing and Krillin laughing, then broke their brief moment of leisure.

"Let's go. We're heading to Cell."

Everyone agreed.

Son Goku wanted to call Piccolo along. He raised two fingers to his forehead and activated Instant Transmission, vanishing on the spot.

The next moment, he appeared atop a barren mountain. Piccolo was sitting cross-legged on a rock, meditating with his eyes closed, his white cape snapping in the mountain wind.

Son Goku landed in front of him and called out loudly,

"Hey, Piccolo! Come on, let's go to Cell!"

Piccolo opened one eye and looked at Son Goku for a moment. He didn't say much, only nodding before he stood up.

They both powered up at once. Their white auras burst forth and overlapped as they sped toward the wasteland where Cell was waiting.

On the wasteland,

the arena for the Cell Games had been built several days ago, an exact replica of the original square platform, with its stone bricks laid in neat rows.

The area around it was empty. There were no cheers or shouts, only the rustling of wind through the rubble and dead grass.

The entire wasteland was oppressively quiet, like the calm before a storm.

Cell stood in the middle of the arena, arms crossed and eyes closed as he rested.

His aura was completely suppressed. He was as still as a statue.

The Cell Games—he had waited far too long for this day.

All he needed was the strongest opponent to stand on that arena and fight him to the death.

Beyond the warning line on the other side of the arena, the fearless Mr. Satan had already set up his equipment.

Three cameras pointed at the arena from different angles. A reporter stood nearby with a microphone, his voice trembling as the wind fluttered his script.

The cameraman crouched with his equipment, adjusting the focus. He had to twist the lens cap twice before getting it right, and cold sweat covered his forehead.

Mr. Satan stood before the cameras, his cape snapping in the wind. He planted his hands on his hips, puffed out his chest, and wore his trademark champion's smile.

The camera zoomed in. He took a deep breath, his tone righteous and his voice deep and powerful.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Today, the World Champion, Mr. Satan, will utterly destroy the evil monster Cell right here in this arena!"

"Stay tuned—the power of humanity must never be underestimated!"

The cameraman gave the signal, and the live broadcast began.

Mr. Satan raised both arms toward the camera and struck a victory pose, his cape pulled taut behind him.

A streak of white light crossed the gray sky, and Son Gohan landed at the edge of the arena.

He glanced at Cell, resting with his eyes closed in the arena, then looked toward Mr. Satan in the distance, who was spitting and gesticulating as he spoke passionately to the cameras. Son Gohan shook his head with a smile.

Vegeta was still on his way. He'd probably arrive soon...