Round of 16 (1)

Age 750, May 7, Tournament Grounds

Son Goku

Goku woke up with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He blinked, disoriented, taking in the dim light filtering through the unfamiliar room. It took him a moment to remember where he was— the quarters prepared for the tournament contestants.

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm his racing heart.

He stared at his hand, flexing his fingers absently.

The dream had returned; the same one that had been haunting him for months at this point.

“Kakarot.” He said slowly. “Saiyan.”

Why did those words feel so significant? It always left him feeling uneasy, as if he was missing something crucial about his own identity. He had been brushing it off all this time, until he met with Ten again.

And so he had, yesterday, but he hadn’t had the chance to broach the topic. Between all of the fighting and the reunions, as well as the food, there hadn’t been much opportunity to bring it up.

Goku swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat up, running a hand through his hair. He’d do it when the tournament was all over. Maybe his friend could help him make sense of it all.

But first… breakfast! Goku’s stomach growled loudly, reminding him of his priorities. He exited his room and walked down the hall to Krillin’s door. He knocked firmly, and almost immediately, Krillin’s voice called out from inside.

“I’m getting ready, Goku! Just a minute!”

Goku grinned. “Hurry up, Krillin! I’m starving!”

The door opened, revealing Krillin still adjusting his gi. He looked at Goku with a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“Only you would be thinking about food at a time like this.” He said, shaking his head. “Aren’t you nervous about the tournament?”

Goku shrugged, a carefree smile on his face. “Not really. But I can’t fight on an empty stomach. Come on, let’s get some breakfast!”

Krillin sighed but couldn’t help but smile back. “Alright, alright. Let’s go eat. But I can’t believe you’re this relaxed.”

As they walked towards the dining area, Krillin kept casting nervous glances around, clearly feeling the weight of the upcoming matches. “I can’t believe you’re not nervous at all, Goku. We’re up against some really tough fighters this time.”

Goku patted his friend’s back reassuringly. “We’ll be fine. Besides, it’s more fun to think about food right now. We need our energy, right?”

Krillin chuckled despite his nerves. “I suppose you have a point. I just hope I can keep mine down.”

“It’ll be fine!”

They reached the dining hall, the aroma of various dishes wafting through the air. Goku’s eyes lit up at the sight of the buffet, and he eagerly grabbed a plate, piling it high with food.

Krillin picked at his food, still too anxious to eat much.

Goku, on the other hand, dug into his food with gusto, while Krillin watched in amazement. Despite the upcoming battles, Goku’s appetite was as insatiable as ever.

Before long, however, they had to leave, or they would miss the tournament. Goku longingly stared at his food and, with great regret, followed his friend out.

As they approached the arena, both friends slowed their pace, their jaws dropping in awe. The massive complex loomed before them, its high walls and ornate gate unlike anything they’d seen before.

“Whoa…” Goku breathed, craning his neck to take in the full height of the structure. “It’s huge!”

Krillin gulped audibly. “Yeah, and look at all those people!”

The buzz of the crowd reached their ears, a sound so loud and energetic it made them both pause for a moment.

“There must be hundreds of them…” Krillin said, his voice a mix of excitement and slight apprehension.

Goku didn’t answer, prompting Krillin to tug at his gi nervously. “Do you think we’re ready for this, Goku?”

“Of course we are!” Goku said immediately. “We’ve trained hard. This is gonna be fun!”

As they were greeted by the tournament aides, Krillin whispered. “I hope you’re right.”

The aides led them towards the contestant area, and as they walked, they caught glimpses of the main arena. The white-tiled fighting platform gleamed in the sunlight, surrounded by lush grass and those towering pillars.

“Look at that platform, Krillin!” Goku pointed excitedly. “That’s where we’ll be fighting!”

Krillin nodded, his nervousness still there, though some of his excitement still shone through. “Yeah.”

Goku and Krillin entered the contestants’ area quietly, taking in the atmosphere of nervous excitement. They spotted Yamcha near one of the walls, his eyes closed in concentration as he psyched himself up for the day ahead. They gave him a respectful nod, not wanting to disrupt his focus.

Across the room, they saw Chichi going through a series of stretches, her face set in determination. She caught their eye briefly and gave a quick, tense smile before returning to her warm-up routine.

As they made their way further into the area, they noticed Ten standing calmly near the schedule board. Unlike most of the other contestants, he seemed remarkably relaxed. When he saw Goku and Krillin, his face lit up with a warm smile.

“Hey guys.” Ten greeted them casually. “Ready for the big day?”

Krillin, still feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement, couldn’t help but ask. “Ten, how come you’re so calm? Aren’t any of you nervous or excited at all? Your match is up first, right?”

Ten chuckled softly. “Well, I’ve participated in the Central Games before. This tournament isn’t too different from that, to be honest. Bigger crowd, but that’s it.”

Krillin shook his head in amazement. “Wow, that’s pretty cool. I wish I could be that calm.”

Goku, ever the optimist, grinned widely. “Hey, maybe after this tournament, we can all go to these Central Games together! Sounds like fun!”

Ten laughed at Goku’s enthusiasm.

“Maybe someday; it won’t happen for quite some time.” He said with a small smile. “For now, let’s focus on the matches ahead. Good luck to both of you!”

Ten turned to prepare for his upcoming match.

Goku and Krillin exchanged glances, nodding to each other. Despite his nervousness, Ten’s calm demeanor had helped settle Krillin’s nerves a bit, and Goku was happy for that.

The announcer’s booming voice filled the arena as he stepped onto the tournament platform, microphone in hand. The crowd’s excited chatter died down as he began to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the World Martial Arts Tournament! Thank you all for being here today!” The announcer’s voice rang out, met with thunderous applause and cheers from the audience.

“We’re about to begin our round of 16, featuring some of the most incredible fighters from around the world!” The announcer then turned his attention to introducing the fighters. “Returning from our previous tournament, we have the mysterious Mighty Mask! Last time, he gave our former champion King Chappa a run for his money in the quarterfinals. Let’s hear it for Mighty Mask!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as Mighty Mask stepped forward, his masked face revealing nothing of his thoughts or emotions.

“And now, making his Tenkaichi Budokai debut, we have a rising star in the martial arts world. The winner of the prestigious Central Games, please welcome… Ten of South City!”

As Ten’s name was called, he seemed taken aback by the reaction. People in the sidelines began shouting his name, clearly familiar with his victory at the Central Games. Ten blinked in surprise, a slight blush creeping across his face as he acknowledged the cheers with a modest wave.

Back in the contestants’ area, Krillin watched this unfold with a mix of awe and slight envy. He turned to Goku, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Man, would you look at that?” Krillin said, gesturing towards Ten. “He’s got the skills, the calm nerves, and now he’s got fans too. Ten just seems to have it all, doesn’t he?”

Goku, ever optimistic, grinned at his friend. “Yeah, Ten’s pretty amazing! But hey, that just means we get to fight alongside some really strong people. Isn’t that exciting?”

Krillin couldn’t help but smile at Goku’s enthusiasm as the two fighters took their positions at the announcer’s behest. “I guess you’re right. Still, I hope we can make as good an impression out there.”

“Ready?” The announcer called out

The two fighters nodded, and so the signal was given to the aide, who wound his arms back, swinging his hammer into the gong.

As it rang out, signaling the start of the match, Mighty Mask wasted no time. He launched himself towards Ten with explosive speed, his masked face betraying no emotion as he unleashed a flurry of attacks.

Mighty Mask led with a powerful right hook aimed at Ten’s jaw. Ten leaned back slightly, the fist whistling past his chin by mere centimeters. Not missing a beat, Mask followed up with a left uppercut. Ten shifted his weight to his right foot, pivoting his body to let the strike pass harmlessly by his torso.

Frustrated, the masked man attempted a quick jab to Ten’s solar plexus. Ten’s abdomen contracted as he sucked in his stomach, the punch grazing his gi but finding no purchase.

Mighty Mask spun, attempting a backhand strike. Ten ducked smoothly under the attack, Mighty Mask’s hand sweeping through the air where Ten’s head had been a split second before.

Seizing the momentum of his spin, Mighty Mask transitioned into a high roundhouse kick aimed at Ten’s temple. Ten bent backwards at the waist, the kick sailing over him as he performed a masterful limbo. As Ten straightened, Mighty Mask dropped low, attempting a sweeping leg kick. Ten hopped lightly, both feet leaving the ground just long enough for the kick to pass beneath him.

Mighty Mask, now visibly frustrated, launched a rapid palm strike towards Ten’s face. Ten tilted his head to the side, letting the palm brush past his ear, as well as the following left cross.

The announcer’s voice rose in pitch as the intensity of the battle increased.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve never seen anything like this! Mighty Mask is throwing everything he’s got— a backhand, a high kick, a sweep— but Ten is moving like water, flowing around every strike! It’s as if he can predict Mighty Mask’s moves before he makes them! What incredible reflexes!”

Growing desperate, Mighty Mask attempted a jumping knee strike. Ten sidestepped gracefully, spinning on his heel as Mighty Mask sailed past him.

Mighty Mask whirled around with a powerful elbow strike aimed at Ten’s ribs, but his foe arched his back, the elbow passing through the space where his torso had been.

It was as if Ten was performing an intricate dance, always just out of reach of Mighty Mask’s increasingly frantic attacks. The crowd’s cheers swelled with each successful evasion, their excitement palpable in the arena.

As the flurry of attacks concluded, a hush fell over the arena. The announcer, slightly out of breath from his rapid-fire commentary, summed up what everyone was thinking. “In all my years of announcing, I’ve never seen a display of defensive skill quite like this. What will Ten do next? The anticipation is killing me!”

Krillin’s voice was filled with awe as he watched the match unfold. “Ten is incredible! He’s dodging all those hits like they’re nothing!”

But Goku remained quiet, his dark eyes fixed intently on the fight. He noticed something the others didn’t— a subtle change in Ten’s expression. Ten’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a look of focus that lasted for just a fraction of a second.

In that instant, the tide of the battle turned dramatically. Mighty Mask, growing increasingly desperate, launched an overhand swipe at Ten. But Ten was ready. With lightning-fast reflexes, he ducked under the wild swing, his movement so smooth it seemed almost predetermined.

Then, in a blur of motion that even Goku’s trained eyes could barely follow, Ten drove his elbow directly into Mighty Mask’s solar plexus. The impact was devastating in its precision and power.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. The crowd fell silent, their collective breath held in disbelief. Ten calmly backed away from his opponent, his face impassive as he watched Mighty Mask’s reaction.

Mighty Mask stood frozen for a split second, then slowly, almost gracefully, he keeled over. He hit the tournament floor with a thud, completely unconscious.

The silence in the arena was deafening.

Then, as if a dam had burst, the crowd erupted into a thunderous roar. Cheers, gasps, and exclamations of disbelief filled the air as the spectators tried to process what they had just witnessed.

Goku’s eyes widened, a mix of excitement and respect filling his expression.

“Did you see that, Goku?” Krillin asked, his voice barely audible over the crowd’s reaction. “Ten ended it with a single strike.”

Goku nodded. Yamcha stepped up beside them to speak.

“I saw it too.” He said, shaking his head. “I thought he was a monster eight months ago, but it seems he’s become even more powerful— no, more than that. He seemed controlled.”

Krillin nodded, his jaw slack with amazement.

“Yeah… remind me not to get on his bad side.” He managed to joke weakly, still in shock from the sudden and decisive end to the match.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I can hardly believe my eyes! With a single, perfectly timed strike, Ten has knocked Mighty Mask unconscious! The winner of this match, in an absolutely stunning display of skill and power, is Ten!”

As the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers, declaring Ten’s victory, Goku’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. He couldn’t wait to fight his friend.

The crowd’s cheers swelled even louder at the official declaration. The announcer, caught up in the excitement, continued his commentary.

“Folks, we had heard rumors about this young prodigy’s abilities, but let me tell you, they didn’t even come close to describing what we’ve just witnessed! Ten’s defensive skills are out of this world, and that final strike… simply devastating! It seems the Central Games champion is more than living up to his reputation. What an incredible start to our tournament!”

Ten calmly walked off the arena floor, acknowledging the crowd’s cheers with a modest wave before entering the contestants’ box.

He was immediately greeted by his friends, patting him on the back for a job well done. The announcer’s voice could be heard in the background, declaring a five-minute interim before the next match.

Yamcha smiled as he patted the boy on the shoulder.

“Ten, that was incredible!” He exclaimed. “Congratulations on the win. You know, you were already impressive when we met nearly a year ago, but now…”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve reached a whole new level. What kind of training did you do to get this good?”

Ten gave a rueful smile, his modesty evident despite the praise.

“Thanks, Yamcha.” He replied. “But honestly, I mostly focused on the basics.”

Yamcha looked at him incredulously, and Ten’s expression turned slightly more serious. “It’s true. Where I trained, I could barely even breathe, so I had to really focus on how to do the most basic things again.”

“And that’s the result?”

“You can say that.” Ten nodded with a mysterious smile. He was hiding something else— was he even stronger than he’d already shown?

Goku was even more fired up at the thought.

Before anyone could respond, Ten glanced over his shoulder.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He said, stepping past the group. “I need to wish Hercule good luck. He’s up against King Chappa next.”

The others watched as Ten approached Hercule, who was preparing near the arena entrance. Ten spoke briefly to Hercule, likely offering words of encouragement. However, Hercule’s response was terse— a tight nod before he walked past Ten without another word.

As Ten returned to the group, his expression was clouded, clearly unhappy with the exchange. Goku, noticing Ten’s discomfort, shook his head slightly and redirected everyone’s attention.

“Look.” Goku said, his gaze fixed on the arena. “The announcer’s getting ready to start the next match.”

Indeed, the announcer’s voice was rising in excitement, hyping up the crowd for the upcoming bout between Hercule and King Chappa. The atmosphere in the arena was electric with anticipation.

After the previous bout, it was only natural.

The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena, filled with enthusiasm as he introduced the two fighters.

“Ladies and gentlemen, prepare yourselves for an exciting bout! In this corner, we have the returning Champion, the indomitable King Chappa!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as King Chappa stepped onto the arena, his presence commanding respect.

“King Chappa isn’t just our previous tournament winner, folks. He’s been making waves outside the ring too! Over the past year, he’s been a vocal opponent of the notorious Red Ribbon Army, taking the fight to them on multiple occasions. There’s no doubt that these battles have only made him stronger!”

The cheers grew louder as King Chappa raised his fists, acknowledging the crowd.

“And in this corner.” The announcer continued, his voice rising with intrigue. “We have another newcomer to our tournament, but certainly not to the world of martial arts. Let’s give a warm welcome to Hercule of Central City!”

As Hercule stepped onto the arena, the crowd’s reaction was mixed— curious murmurs interspersed with polite applause.

“While Hercule may be unknown to us, he comes with quite the pedigree. He’s been registered under the famous Crane School, one of the two legendary schools of martial arts in recent history! This promises to be a clash to remember, folks!”

The announcer paused for effect, letting the anticipation build.

“Will King Chappa’s battle-hardened skills prevail? Or will the Crane School’s teachings prove superior? One thing’s for sure— we’re in for a treat! Let the match begin!”

The gong sounded, signaling the start of the match.

Despite the introduction, the crowd didn’t seem too impressed with Hercule’s introduction, yet they still leaned forward in their seats.

In the contestants’ area, Goku, Krillin, and the others watched intently, eager to see how this battle would unfold.

Ten knows this guy. Goku thought. So he’s got to be pretty strong.

King Chappa, confident in his abilities, called out to Hercule, taking a light stance which told everyone that he wasn’t taking this seriously. 

“This won’t take long, boy.”

If his statement was meant to elicit anger, then Chappa would be disappointed. Hercule remained silent, his face a mask of concentration as he assumed his fighting stance.

Suddenly, King Chappa sprung into action.

“King Chappa’s on the move! He’s rushing in, looking to end this quickly!”

The former champion’s fist shot out, aiming for a decisive blow, but Hercule’s reaction was lightning-fast, deflecting the strike with ease.

“Incredible! It seems that—” The announcer called out, shutting his mouth for a moment as the exchange continued.

In a fluid motion, Hercule parried the hook to his chin and countered, his fist driving towards Chappa’s exposed side.

Chappa managed to get his arm up just in time to block, but the force behind Hercule’s punch was evident by the harsh sound of flesh and bone colliding. “What power! King Chappa barely blocked that in time, and it nearly knocked him off balance!”

The crowd gasped as they saw the shock register on King Chappa’s face.

The former champion took a step back, reassessing his opponent with newfound respect as he rolled his shoulder.

“Oh, he felt that.” Yamcha said, rubbing the same spot on his arm. “I didn’t even get hit and I felt that.”

“I hear you.” Krillin said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, King Chappa looks surprised! It seems he’s realized this won’t be the easy fight he anticipated.” The announcer paused, taking a moment to gather himself. “Both fighters are resetting their stances now. This match has only just begun, and already it’s exceeding expectations!”

“He’s pretty strong— you were right, Ten.”

Ten only hummed, not offering any answer.

Krillin nodded at Goku’s words, equally impressed. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“What’s the Crane School?” Goku asked, scratching the back of his head as he looked towards Ten.

“I’m not sure.” Ten said with a shrug. “Did your master ever talk about them?”

“Ah, the Crane School.” Jackie Chun said, his voice gathering everyone’s attention. “It’s one of the two legendary schools of martial arts, alongside the Turtle School.”

Goku and Krillin listened intently, eyes wide as Jackie Chun continued his explanation.

“Both schools were founded by students of the great Master Mutaito. The Crane School’s master and the Turtle School’s master were once fellow disciples, training under Mutaito in their youth. Over time, their philosophies and techniques diverged, leading to the creation of two distinct schools.”

Goku nodded, absorbing the information with keen interest. Krillin’s eyes widened with realization.

“Oh!” Krillin exclaimed. “That’s right, we’re from the Turtle School. Master Roshi trained us in the Turtle School techniques. Goku and I— and Chichi, too?— we’re all students of the Turtle School.”

Jackie’s eyes twinkled with an unreadable expression. “Indeed? It will be exciting to see how you perform in the next battle. For now, you’ll be witnessing firsthand the power of the Crane School through Hercule’s performance.”

Goku, his gaze returning to the ongoing match, could scarcely contain his excitement.

The announcer’s voice rose again, drawing everyone’s focus back to the arena. “Folks, it looks like our fighters are ready to continue. What other surprises does this match have in store for us?”

Even as he spoke, King Chappa lunged forward, his fist connecting with Hercule’s jaw in a vicious uppercut. The impact echoed through the arena, but Hercule barely flinched.

“And they’re back at it folks! An incredible uppercut from King Chappa, but Hercule’s taking it like it’s nothing!”

Hercule retaliated immediately, driving his knee into Chappa’s midsection with crushing force. Chappa doubled over, gasping for air, but managed to grab Hercule’s gi and yank him off balance.

“Oh! A devastating knee from Hercule, but Chappa’s not going down easy!”

As Hercule stumbled, Chappa seized the opportunity, launching a flurry of rapid-fire punches to Hercule’s torso. Each blow landed with a sickening thud, but Hercule’s defense held.

“This match has turned into a no-holds-barred slugfest!”

Suddenly, Hercule’s arm shot out, catching Chappa’s wrist mid-punch. With a swift twist, he pulled Chappa forward and drove his elbow into the man’s face.

Blood sprayed from Chappa’s nose, but he responded by headbutting Hercule, causing both fighters to stagger back.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is turning into a war of attrition! Neither fighter is willing to give an inch!”

The two men circled each other, both breathing heavily, their faces marked with bruises and blood. Then, as if by some unspoken signal, they charged at each other again, fists raised.

In the contestants’ area, the group watched in stunned silence. Krillin’s eyes were wide with a mix of excitement and concern.

“They’re really going all out.” He murmured.

Yamcha nodded, his eyes never leaving the fight, even as Hercule began to show his sheer endurance to the world, taking Chappa’s strikes and powering right on through.

“This is what happens when two skilled fighters refuse to back down.” Yamcha said quietly, his eyes moving towards Ten. “It’s not just about technique anymore. It’s about will. But to think that this Hercule guy is matching King Chappa blow for blow— just how many insane fighters do you know?”

“… A few.”

As the exchanges reached its climax, King Chappa seemed to have gained the upper hand.

“The Eight-Arm Fist.” Yamcha said as the man’s punches began to overwhelm Hercule. To his credit, Hercule did his best, but it didn’t seem to matter.

King Chappa’s arms had become a blur of motion, seeming to multiply before everyone’s eyes. It appeared as if he had eight arms instead of two, each striking with lightning speed and precision.

Hercule’s eyes widened in surprise as the first flurry of attacks came his way. He managed to block a punch aimed at his face, but a simultaneous strike slipped through his guard, connecting with his ribs. Hercule winced, stumbling back a step.

“A solid body shot lands on Hercule! King Chappa’s not giving him any room to breathe!”

Undeterred, King Chappa pressed forward. Two quick jabs struck Hercule’s shoulders, momentarily numbing his arms. As Hercule’s guard lowered involuntarily, a third strike found its mark on his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs.

Gasping for air, Hercule attempted a counterattack, throwing a desperate right hook. But King Chappa’s Eight-Arm Fist was relentless. He seemed to block Hercule’s punch with one hand while simultaneously landing a left hook to Hercule’s jaw with another.

“Incredible! King Chappa is both attacking and defending at the same time, appearing to have eight arms!”

The impact spun Hercule halfway around. Before he could regain his bearings, King Chappa’s knee drove into his back, propelling him forward and closer to the edge of the ring.

“Hercule is being pushed back! He’s dangerously close to the edge now!”

With his opponent reeling, King Chappa unleashed a barrage of strikes to Hercule’s torso. Left, right, left again— each punch landed with precision, targeting Hercule’s ribs, kidneys, and liver.

Hercule’s face contorted in pain as he desperately tried to protect himself. He managed to deflect a few strikes, but for every one he blocked, two more seemed to find their mark.

“King Chappa is picking Hercule apart! The power of our previous Champion is on full display here, folks!”

A final uppercut snapped Hercule’s head back, causing him to stagger. His heels teetered on the very edge of the ring, his balance precarious.

“This could be it! Hercule is on the edge of the ring! One more push from King Chappa could end this match!”

The crowd watched in awe as King Chappa drew back his fist, preparing for what looked to be the finishing blow. In the contestants’ area, the fighters held their breath. It seemed that King Chappa had finally gained the decisive upper hand, and Hercule was moments away from defeat.

In the contestants’ area, Ten spoke quietly but confidently. “Bad idea, Chappa.”

His statement drew confused looks from those around him, save for Jackie Chun, who merely raised an eyebrow. Ten simply nodded towards the ring, urging them to watch closely.

Back in the ring, as Chappa’s fist was about to connect, Hercule’s serious expression morphed into a smirk. In a display of incredible agility, he sidestepped the punch at the last possible moment.

Chappa, caught off balance by his missed strike, stumbled forward. Hercule seized the opportunity, launching into a devastating counterattack.

First, a lightning-fast jab to Chappa’s solar plexus, doubling the former champion over. As Chappa gasped for air, Hercule followed up with a brutal elbow strike to the back of Chappa’s head, sending him crumpling to the floor. Chappa quickly got back up, but Hercule, showing no mercy, spun into a roundhouse kick that connected squarely with Chappa’s temple. The impact sent Chappa once again crashing to the arena floor.

“An incredible roundhouse! King Chappa is going down!”

The crowd held its breath as the announcer began the count.

“One! Two! Three!” 

Chappa stirred, trying to push himself up.

“Four! Five! Six!”

He managed to get to his hands and knees, shaking his head to clear it.

“Seven! Eight!”

Chappa attempted to stand, but his legs gave out beneath him.

“Nine!”

In a last desperate effort, Chappa tried to rise, but his eyes rolled back and he collapsed, unconscious.

“Ten! It’s over! Hercule has done the impossible! He’s defeated the former champion King Chappa!”

The arena erupted in cheers as Hercule stood victorious, his face impassive despite the monumental upset he had just achieved. In the contestants’ area, the fighters looked on in amazement, while Ten nodded silently, as if he had expected nothing less.

As the crowd’s cheers continued to echo through the arena, Krillin shook his head in disbelief. “Man, what a powerhouse! Hercule was holding back the entire time. Did you see how quickly he turned that around?”

Goku nodded enthusiastically, his eyes shining with excitement. Then, remembering Ten’s earlier prediction, he turned to his friend. “Hey Ten, how did you know Hercule was going to win? You called it before anyone else could see it coming!”

Ten smiled mysteriously at Goku’s question.

“It’s a technique I’ve developed.” He explained. “It allows me to read the flow of a fight and predict its outcome based on subtle cues most people miss. Hercule was holding back the entire time— the Eight-Arm Fist tripped him up a bit, but then he decided to put on a show.”

“You mean he took those hits on purpose?” Krillin said in shock, shaking his head. “Is he insane?”

Goku, instead, displayed only interest in Ten’s perception technique. “Wow, that’s incredible! Can you teach me how to be able to do that?”

“Take a beating?” Yamcha asked, not following.

“No, the way you knew he was going to win.”

Ten chuckled at Goku’s enthusiasm. “I’d be happy to teach you sometime, Goku. It’s a useful skill to have in battle. In fact, we’ll meet up after and I can teach you.”

Then, glancing at the tournament bracket, he added. “But for now, it looks like it’s going to be your turn next.”

Goku nodded. “All right.”

The announcement of the next match began to echo through the arena, confirming Ten’s words. The group’s attention shifted as they realized Goku would be up in five.

“I’m ready.” He said, nodding to himself.

Dreams, concerns, memories— it didn’t matter. He would approach his problems the way he always had. Head on.