"Correct~!"
Tights giggled. "Looks like you're quite smart yourself, sir."
She was responding to Yamiru's earlier compliment about her intelligence. Yamiru playfully raised an eyebrow in mock pride. Taking the Moonlight Rod from Tights, he examined it for a moment. It was a classic Bulma-style invention — powerful yet simple to use. Pressing the red button, the tip of the rod emitted a glow resembling the light of a full moon.
Tights explained that after returning to Dr. Omori's lab and contacting Jaco, they learned he was planning a visit to Earth anyway. Jaco had shared detailed information about Saiyan transformations into Great Apes, which allowed Bulma to quickly design the Moonlight Rod. This device could replicate the unique light waves of a full moon, exceeding 17 million lux. Jaco also mentioned that top Saiyan warriors could create artificial moonlight themselves, which was conceptually similar to Bulma's invention.
"So, have you tested it with Goku? Can he maintain his mind while transformed into a Great Ape?"
Yamiru handed the rod back to Tights while asking. "With Jaco here, even if Goku can't remain rational, the situation should still be manageable, right?"
Tights shook her head. "We haven't tried. Didn't Shenron say it's best for Goku to transform only once a month? Overdoing it could harm his body. Since we didn't know your thoughts on Goku's Great Ape form, we didn't want to waste this month's transformation while you were away."
Yamiru nodded in understanding and smiled. "Let's test it together after the tournament, then. Actually, I don't mind telling you in advance — I have an idea…"
He leaned close to Tights and whispered in her ear, showing her something he retrieved from his pocket.
Tights examined the item while listening, nodding in amazement. "Your ideas are so wild. This might actually work!"
Yamiru winked, and just then, the group arrived at the entrance to the preliminary arena, where Jaco and Dr. Omori were already waiting.
"Hold onto this along with the Moonlight Rod," Yamiru said to Tights. "Goku, let's head in with Jaco. The matches are about to start."
"Okay!" Goku was already brimming with excitement.
Jaco, however, continued to complain, frustrated about being dragged into this low-level competition. "This is so beneath me! Just declare me the champion already!"
Watching the three enter the arena, Dr. Omori sighed, exasperated. "Jaco's personality can be so awful sometimes."
"Isn't that because he's actually really strong?" Tights remarked. "He's always going on about being an elite, after all. What do you think, Master Roshi?"
Everyone turned to the silent Master Roshi, who hesitated before breaking into a cold sweat. "Perhaps this Jaco fellow is right. If he's competing, the tournament's champion might not be much of a surprise…"
Dr. Omori, Tights, and Bulma — being ordinary people — found themselves agreeing with the God of Martial Arts.
Bulma: "Yamiru and Goku are going to be crushed if they lose, aren't they?"
Tights tapped her chin in thought. "Looks like I'll need to come up with a way to comfort him."
Master Roshi added, "Winning and losing are just outcomes. For Yamiru and Goku, even losing to Jaco will be a valuable learning experience."
While the spectators waited outside, Yamiru, Goku, and Jaco entered the arena.
Inside, the vast competition hall looked just as it had five years ago. Four large platforms were set up, and the eight finalists would be determined in matches held on these stages. Only those who advanced would have the chance to compete in front of the audience outside.
Five years ago, Yamiru had fallen at the top sixteen, easily defeated by King Chappa's eight-armed punches without much of a fight.
"So many people," Goku remarked, amazed.
The hall was bustling with noise. Around a hundred contestants were scattered around the four platforms, with some even warming up by lifting dumbbells. The air was thick with the stench of sweat.
"Yamiru!"
Suddenly, someone called out loudly.
Yamiru was surprised. Turning toward the voice, he saw a familiar face he hadn't seen in a long time!
"Monk, Delat?" he greeted happily. "You two are here for the tournament as well?"
It turned out that the ones calling his name were the monk from the Orin Temple and the special forces soldier, Delat.
The monk, a ma with a kindly expression, smiled cheerfully. "I thought, if you've successfully become Mr. Son Gohan's disciple, you wouldn't miss this tournament. So I came to try my luck and meet a young friend."
Delat's style was as tough as ever. Hearing this, he laughed heartily. "That's right! The monk and I thought the same thing. We decided to come see what this tournament is about. Sure enough, we ran into you, kid! Ha ha, it's been years, and you've grown so tall!"
He reached out with a large hand to squeeze Yamiru's shoulder, but Yamiru grinned and raised his hand to clasp it.
"Hm?" Delat, unwilling to back down, exerted more force, secretly testing his strength. However, he was stunned to find that Yamiru, still smiling, remained unmoved. Delat could tell that what he was holding wasn't a human hand at all — it felt like steel!
The two laughed and released their grip. Delat marveled, "Looks like your pursuit of martial arts really pays off."
The monk sighed. "It's been years, and it seems your skills have surpassed mine, Yamiru. Who are these two?"
"This is Son Goku, my master Son Gohan's adopted grandson, and this is Jaco, an odd friend of mine," Yamiru introduced the four of them. "This is the monk from Orin Temple, and this is Delat, a special forces soldier. They've both helped me a lot in the past…"
"Oh."
Jaco crossed his arms, uninterested, as he thought this little interaction was insignificant.
Soon, the gong rang, and the drawing for the preliminary matches began.
"Hopefully, we won't meet each other in the preliminaries," Delat said as he strode forward to draw his number. "32, haha, looks like I'm on Platform 1."
The monk drew 14, also on Platform 1, but his number was far from Delat's, so they were likely in different groups and wouldn't face each other.
Jaco drew 98, placing him on Platform 3.
Yamiru drew 53, which put him on Platform 2.
Goku drew 151, placing him on Platform 4.
"Not bad," Yamiru said as he compared the numbers with the competition flow chart on the wall. "Looks like the five of us won't face each other until the top eight."
Jaco smiled. "Yeah, without me, the champion, you guys can make it to the top eight."
Yamiru laughed. "Weren't you reluctant to join? Why do you care about being champion now?"
"Hey, since I'm here, I'll just stretch my muscles a bit," Jaco replied, casually resting his hands behind his head.
Delat grumbled, "Such a show-off, you salted egg kid…"
"Salted egg kid?" Jaco, confused by the cultural reference, didn't understand the meaning.
Yamiru clapped his hands and called out, "Alright, everyone, go prepare for your matches at your assigned platforms. Hope to see you in the top eight!"
"Hey, was that a compliment?" Jaco leaned over to ask Goku. The Saiyan scratched his head and thought... maybe? He nodded in agreement. Jaco, pleased, said, "So you were praising me, huh? You're not so bad yourself, big guy." He turned and made his way to Platform 1, while Jaco happily skipped off to Platform 3.
"This Galactic Patrolman is actually pretty simple-minded," Yamiru thought with a smile as Goku made his way to the furthest Platform 4. Yamiru, holding his number, walked toward Platform 2 to wait for his turn.
"Hmm?"
Suddenly, Yamiru saw a familiar face at Platform 2. A large, muscular Black man dressed in yellow robes, barefoot with curly hair, a red mark on his forehead, and an intimidating aura that kept people at a distance. It was none other than King Chappa, the one who eliminated Yamiru five years ago!
"Hmm?" King Chappa, meditating with his eyes closed, felt someone staring at him. He opened his eyes and, seeing Yamiru, seemed not to recognize him. It was likely he had already forgotten about the insignificant young man he had once been interested in. "Boring," he muttered, thinking Yamiru was just another fan and dismissing him with a huff before closing his eyes again.
The one-on-one matches began on the platforms. Winners advanced, and losers were eliminated...
"Boom!" King Chappa struck with a single palm, sending a massive opponent flying off the stage.
"King Chappa wins!"
"Whoosh—" Yamiru easily flicked his opponent out of the arena. The opponent, still dazed, couldn't believe he had lost so suddenly.
"53rd contestant wins!"
The defeated fighters marveled at King Chappa's skill, acknowledging him as the martial arts master known for his eight-armed fighting style! Meanwhile, Yamiru, the other young contestant, was just as impressive. Like King Chappa, he hadn't needed more than one move to secure victory. Now, the two would face off against each other!
"Next match, King Chappa vs. 53rd contestant, Sato Yamiru! Please step onto the stage!" the monk referee called.
Yamiru cracked his knuckles and muttered to himself, "Ah, it's fate…"
With a light jump, he landed on the stage.
King Chappa followed, his entrance far more imposing than Yamiru's. His dark, muscular frame alone gave off a powerful presence that made the onlookers feel a bit intimidated.
"What a shame, young man," King Chappa smiled at Yamiru. "If you hadn't run into me here, maybe you could've made it into the top eight. I really feel bad for you."
The crowd shared King Chappa's sentiment. They all thought Yamiru was unlucky, facing such a formidable opponent before reaching the top eight.
"This reminds me of the last tournament," King Chappa slowly assumed his fighting stance, grinning. "There was another young guy I had high hopes for. Such a shame, he ran into me too!"
Yamiru simply smiled, not bothering to remind King Chappa that he was the "unlucky guy" he was talking about. After all, it was just this match.
He took up the standard Turtle School stance.
This stance, more symbolic than functional, helped a martial artist mentally prepare and enter a calm, focused state for battle.
"Now, the match... begins!" The monk referee shouted, and in an instant, King Chappa lunged at Yamiru with a loud shout.
"Ah!!"
---
On the Platform 1, Delat knelt, glaring at his opponent, while the emotionless three-eyed boy slowly walked toward him, ignoring Delat's fierce expression. The boy raised his foot and stamped it on Delat's face, sending him flying off the stage.
On Platform 3, Jaco, arms still crossed, lazily side-kicked his opponent out of the arena. As he stepped off the stage, he heard the referee announce the next contestant.
"Chiaotzu? Ugh, what's with Earthlings and their strange naming?" he muttered.
---
Jaco: 985
Son Goku: 77
Sato Yamiru: 111
Fourteenth Monk: 69
Delat: 21
King Chappa: 49
Tien Shinhan: 42
Chiaotzu: 16