Three years had passed since Goku departed from the group, vanishing into the horizon with that infectious grin of his. In his absence, Yamcha and Krillin had thrown themselves into rigorous training under Master Roshi's guidance, preparing for the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai. The gap between them and Goku felt impossibly wide, but they refused to give up hope of closing it.
The familiar sounds of training echoed around Kame House as Launch swept the floors nearby, while Puar floated lazily in the afternoon sun. Bulma had become a regular visitor over the past few months, her blue hair now cut into a stylish shorter bob that framed her face perfectly.
"It's almost time for the Budokai to begin," Launch said, pausing in her cleaning to gaze toward the horizon. Her blue hair caught the light as a gentle breeze swept across the island.
"That means we'll finally see Goku again," she continued, a wistful smile playing on her lips.
Bulma crossed her arms and turned away with a theatrical huff. "Hmph! Who wants to see that little runt anyway?"
Behind them, completely unnoticed, Master Roshi was crawling across the floor with predatory stealth, his sunglasses glinting in the sunlight.
"I don't know about you," Launch said softly, her voice taking on a nostalgic tone, "but I really miss having him around. When Goku's here, everything just feels... right. Like nothing bad could ever happen. He's like the sweetest little brother who always wants to cuddle."
Bulma's expression softened slightly. "Yeah... I guess I—"
*CRUNCH*
She took a step backward and felt something give way beneath her foot. Looking down, she discovered Master Roshi sprawled on the ground beneath her, his perverted grin unmistakable even with his now-cracked sunglasses.
"KYAAAAAAHHHHH!" Bulma's shriek could probably be heard on the mainland.
*STOMP STOMP STOMP*
"You disgusting old turtle hermit!" she screamed, grinding her heel repeatedly into his face. His glasses shattered completely, scattering across the floor in pieces.
The door burst open as Yamcha and Krillin came rushing in, sweat still glistening from their training session.
"What's happening?! Is everyone okay?!" Yamcha shouted, then immediately spotted the scene before him.
"Master Roshi!" Yamcha's face flushed red with embarrassment and anger. "You can't just... you can't perv on my girlfriend like that!"
Bulma whirled around, her eyes blazing. "Oh, NOW I'm your girlfriend?! If I hadn't been coming here to visit you these past three years, I would never have seen you at all!"
She grabbed his ear and twisted it mercilessly, making him yelp.
"Ow, ow, ow! But Bulma, I had to focus on my training! I need to be ready for the tournament... to face Goku again!"
"That's no excuse for ignoring me!" she snapped back.
From the floor, Master Roshi groaned weakly, "Worth... it..."
Krillin just shook his head and sighed. "Some things never change around here."
Launch giggled softly as she continued sweeping around the chaos, completely unfazed by the familiar domestic drama. "Just like old times," she murmured to herself, already looking forward to when their little family would be complete again.
The 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai was only days away, and soon, everything would change once more.
A few weeks later, the team found themselves aboard a plane bound for Papaya Island, where the 22nd Tenkaichi Budokai would finally take place. The aircraft's engines hummed steadily as they descended through the clouds, revealing the tournament grounds sprawling across the tropical island below.
As they disembarked, the group quickly hailed a taxi to take them to the tournament venue. The closer they got, the more the excitement in the air became palpable—crowds of spectators and fighters alike filled the streets, all converging on the same destination.
Yamcha and Krillin stood before the massive entrance, taking in the sea of people streaming through the gates. Banners fluttered in the ocean breeze, and the buzz of anticipation was almost electric.
"Maaaan, this is so nostalgic!" Krillin exclaimed, his eyes shining with excitement. "This day has finally come!"
Both fighters were practically vibrating with energy as they made their way to the registration booth. The tournament staff was busy processing the final wave of contestants.
"Excuse me," Master Roshi inquired politely, adjusting his sunglasses, "is a fighter named Son Goku registered yet?"
The official checked his list and shook his head. "Sorry, no one by that name."
Yamcha glanced at his watch nervously. "Only five minutes left before registration closes."
Bulma crossed her arms confidently, though there was a hint of worry in her eyes. "It's Goku—he'll come. He always does."
"Kame Sen'nin!"
The familiar voice made them all turn around. Approaching them were three men dressed in matching outfits—crisp green uniforms with distinctive markings. The leader was an elderly, gaunt man. Beside him stood a small, pale, doll-like boy. The third was an imposing man whose most striking feature was the literal third eye embedded in his forehead, giving him an unsettling, omniscient appearance.
Master Roshi adjusted his glasses with deliberate slowness. "Hmph! Oh, Tsuru Sennin? So you're still alive, huh?"
The Crane Hermit's lips curled into a mocking sneer. "Hihihihi. Your tongue and your face are both as nasty as ever, I see."
He stroked his wispy beard with theatrical condescension. "Boy, I heard the most amusing story. Something about your pathetic disciples running the show at the last Tenkaichi Budokai. This tournament must have become quite the joke." His voice dripped with disdain. "I figured this time I'd give everyone the chance to witness some *real* martial arts, so I'm having my disciples enter as well."
The Crane Hermit's eyes glittered with malice. "But make no mistake—my disciples will be claiming the championship. You'd best leave now while your dignity is still intact, don't you think?"
Master Roshi bristled, his own competitive fire igniting. "Hahahaha. Is that supposed to be a joke? You've still got no sense of humor after all these years."
The two old masters locked eyes, decades of rivalry crackling between them like lightning. The tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife.
"What!? Well, you're as bald as a crane!" Tsuru Sennin roared, his composure finally cracking.
"Shut up! You're halfway bald yourself!" Roshi spat back with equal venom.
The Crane Hermit turned sharply, his robes whipping around him. "Hmph, let's go. I refuse to waste any more time talking with these idiots!" He paused, casting one final venomous glance over his shoulder. "But I'll be eagerly looking forward to the matches."
As the three mysterious fighters departed, Yamcha's face was flushed with irritation. "Who the hell was that geezer anyway?"
"That was Tsuru Sen'nin—the Crane Hermit. My oldest rival" Roshi said.
"It doesn't matter—there's only one minute left!" Oolong squealed, wringing his hands anxiously.
Launch suddenly squinted up at the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Wait! What's that?"
Something was streaking through the clouds like a cannonball, growing larger and larger as it approached. The mysterious projectile was heading straight for the tournament grounds—and more specifically, straight for where Bulma was standing.
"AHHHHH! HELP ME!" Bulma screamed, frozen in terror as the object hurtled toward her at incredible speed.
Just before impact, there was a tremendous gust of wind that sent everyone's hair and clothes whipping wildly. The figure landed with impossible grace, touching down one foot after the other, using the wind itself to break his fall with perfect control.
Unfortunately, the powerful downdraft also caught Bulma's skirt, lifting it up right in front of the mysterious arrival.
Bulma immediately noticed and yanked her skirt down with both hands, her face burning red. "WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, SON—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her angry words dying in her throat. Standing before her, with that unmistakable spiky black hair and that smirk, was Goku.
Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't expected such an intense reaction from herself, or realized just how much she'd truly missed him.
"Long time no see, Bulma," Goku said with that characteristic grin.
The others erupted in excitement at seeing their friend again. Launch immediately rushed forward and threw her arms around him in a tight hug.
"Goku!" she cried happily.
He was noticeably taller now—still shorter than Yamcha, but definitely more filled out and mature-looking.
Master Roshi, meanwhile, had sprinted toward the registration booth as fast as his old legs could carry him. "One more contestant!" he wheezed to the official, frantically scribbling Goku's name on the entry form.
"Hey, you got taller," Yamcha observed, looking impressed despite himself.
"I got taller too," Krillin muttered under his breath, though the difference was barely noticeable. He couldn't help but grin as he stepped forward to embrace his old training partner.
Goku affectionately rubbed the top of Krillin's bald head, just like old times. "You've gotten stronger, Krillin. I can sense it."
Krillin's face lit up with pride and happiness. "D-damn right I have!"
Master Roshi returned from the booth, still catching his breath. "You really made us wait until the last possible second. Where's Kinto'un?"
"Well, I'm not exactly a model student, but I do listen sometimes," Goku replied with a sheepish laugh. "I didn't use Kinto'un for the trip."
Oolong's eyes went wide with horror. "Wait... you didn't *swim* here, did you?"
"What? Hell no!" Goku exclaimed, looking genuinely offended by the suggestion.
Everyone finally exhaled in relief.
"The salt water could have ruined my brand clothing!" he continued. "So I jumped instead."
The relief was short-lived. "What do you mean you *jumped*?" Yamcha asked slowly, dreading the answer.
"Well, to get to this island, you have to cross the ocean, right?" Goku explained casually.
Oolong's knees buckled, and he nearly fainted on the spot.
"That's... that's our Goku," Krillin laughed weakly, still trying to wrap his head around his friend's incredible growth in power.
After a few minutes, the three participants—Yamcha, Krillin, and Goku—had changed into the traditional orange gi bearing the turtle kanji. The familiar uniforms brought back memories of their training days together.
"I thought you didn't like this style," Krillin asked, adjusting his belt.
"Yeah, it's ugly as hell," Goku replied with a casual shrug, "but I can't afford to ruin my other clothes again. They're expensive."
Yamcha leaned closer to Krillin, lowering his voice. "Do you think Goku really became that much stronger during those three years?"
Krillin studied their friend carefully. "Well... he doesn't seem to have changed that much on the surface, but..."
"I bet you'll all win easily in the preliminaries!" Bulma called out, having climbed the wall with the others to get a better view.
"Use everything you've learned," Master Roshi advised solemnly.
"And Goku—"
"Huh? No! No blindfold this time!" Goku protested immediately, his expression darkening with annoyance.
"No, it's not a blindfold," Roshi clarified quickly.
"Phew," Goku exhaled in relief. "Anything but that blindfold—it's so damn annoying. I'll take anything else."
Master Roshi lifted his finger with a grave expression. "You have to fight without touching your opponent."
Everyone twitched in shock.
"What do you mean, not touching?!" Bulma exclaimed.
"How's he supposed to beat anyone like that—oh, I know! Using his energy attacks!" Launch suggested hopefully.
"No!" Roshi shook his head firmly. "You're forbidden from using ki techniques as well!"
"This is completely unfair! How's he supposed to win?" Krillin protested.
"What do you think, Goku? Tell him it's impossible—" Krillin stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Goku staring intently at his own hand, as if seeing it for the first time.
"Okay, old man..." Goku said slowly, a calculating look in his eyes. "I get it. I think I can do it."
Inside the tournament building, fighters packed the corridors in greater numbers than the previous tournament. The three turtle students were drawing attention, with spectators recognizing them as the ones who had advanced far in the last competition.
Suddenly, everyone gasped in unison. "It's him! It's the winner of the last tournament—Jackie Chun!"
When Goku heard the name, he turned and studied the disguised master with sharp, analytical eyes. "So you're Jackie Chun? I didn't get to see your face last time."
"Long time no see, kid!" Jackie replied with forced cheerfulness, though he felt unsettled by Goku's penetrating stare.
After the ceremonial presentation and rule changes, they drew numbers for the brackets. All three got placed in different blocks except for Goku and Yamcha, though they realized they'd never actually face each other due to the tournament structure.
The preliminaries began with Yamcha taking the first match. His fight was brutally efficient—he dashed toward his opponent's face and finished him with a devastating backhand that sent the man crumpling to the ground.
"Not bad," Goku commented with the tone of an experienced critic rather than an encouraging friend.
Krillin was next, facing a giant of a man who towered over him. Without breaking a sweat, Krillin grabbed the behemoth and hurled him out of the ring like he was tossing a bag of trash.
"I need to see more from you, Krillin," Goku said with the authority of an old master evaluating a student.
"Tehehe," Krillin rubbed the back of his head.
"Kukukuku... So you really think that was impressive? You're all so naive."
The voice came from behind them, dripping with condescension.
Yamcha bristled, clenching his fists. "What was that?"
Krillin flinched. "Wha—!"
"Eh? Who's that?" Goku turned to see the speaker, his eyes immediately widening. "Holy shit! He's got three eyes!"
"He's the pupil of that Tsuru Sennin," Krillin answered firmly. "Master Roshi's rival."
The three-eyed fighter's smirk deepened, his gaze cold and calculating. "You're lucky you don't have to fight me in the preliminaries. Either way, I'll still be beating you all to bloody pulps in the main tournament. Make no mistake about that. Assuming those pathetic 'martial arts' of yours are enough to get you into the top eight, of course."
"Why isn't anyone talking about his third eye?!" Goku muttered, genuinely perplexed.
Yamcha snapped, raising his middle finger directly in the stranger's face. "Get lost before I send you flying."
The three-eyed fighter only grinned wider, completely unshaken. "Hoh. At least you've got first-rate spunk."
"You sure do love the sound of your own voice," Goku said with casual disdain, hands shoved in his pockets.
Just then, the three-eyed fighter's number was called. "Well, I'm up. Do your best to keep up!" he said mockingly before climbing onto the stage.
His opponent was a massive sumo wrestler, but the fight lasted mere seconds. In an instant, the sumo was unconscious but somehow still standing upright. The crowd was mesmerized—they hadn't even seen what happened. But Yamcha and Krillin's trained eyes caught it: four punches and two kicks, delivered with surgical precision.
Then came Goku's turn. He climbed into the ring with fluid confidence.
"Finally! I've been dying to see Goku fight!" Krillin exclaimed.
When Goku's opponent entered, the crowd erupted in excited chatter. It was King Chappa—the winner of the 20th Tenkaichi Budokai, a master who had never been touched in competition.
"Plus Goku can't even touch him," Yamcha observed worriedly. "I wonder how he's going to pull this off."
Jackie Chun appeared beside them, his expression tense. "King Chappa... that's a tough first opponent." *Maybe I shouldn't have given him such an impossible condition,* he thought to himself.
The fight began with Chappa rushing forward, unleashing a flurry of punches. But every strike hit only empty air as Goku flowed around them like water, bobbing and weaving with effortless grace.
Frustrated by his inability to land a hit, Chappa activated his signature technique—the Hasshoken, moving so fast that it appeared he had eight arms attacking simultaneously.
Still nothing. Not a single blow connected with Goku, who seemed to be in a completely different realm of speed and awareness.
Growing more desperate, Chappa overextended on a wild swing. Goku effortlessly dodged and found himself in the opposite corner of the ring.
"Incredible! Goku's dodging everything like it's nothing!" Krillin marveled.
"Yeah, but if he can't hit back, it doesn't matter," Yamcha pointed out grimly.
That's when Goku did something unexpected. He bent his middle finger back and gripped it with his thumb, building tension like a loaded spring. His entire arm began to shake with contained force, his forearm flexing as veins popped out along his muscles. He aimed carefully at King Chappa, who was charging toward him once again.
"What the hell is he doing?!" Jackie gasped.
Goku released his middle finger like a snapped rubber band. The flick created a concentrated gust of wind that shot forward like a bullet, striking King Chappa with devastating force. The wind blast not only stripped the champion completely naked but launched him clear out of the ring at incredible speed.
The entire arena fell silent, mouths hanging open in disbelief. Even Jackie Chun was stunned speechless.
Goku had won using nothing but a finger flick.
He jumped out of the ring casually, greeted only by an awestruck Krillin. "You're absolutely incredible, Goku!"
Jackie Chun's match followed, and he made quick work of his opponent, though his mind was still reeling from what he'd witnessed.
After all the remaining matches concluded, the entire Turtle School team had successfully advanced to the top eight. But the real question on everyone's mind was just how powerful Goku had truly become during his three years away.
The backstage area buzzed with nervous energy as the eight finalists gathered for the bracket selection ceremony. Tournament officials had set up a small podium with a wooden box containing numbered balls that would determine the matchups for the main tournament.
"Ladies and gentlemen, fighters," the announcer called out, "please gather around for the official bracket lottery!"
The finalists formed a semi-circle: Goku, Yamcha, and Krillin representing the Turtle School; the mysterious three-eyed fighter and his pale companion from the Crane School; Jackie Chun; and two other fighters who had impressed during the preliminaries—a large, wolf-like man who kept glaring at Jackie Chun, and a skilled martial artist named Panput.
"Man, I can't believe we all made it this far," Krillin whispered excitedly to his teammates.
"Yeah, that was pretty easy but" Goku replied quietly, his eyes scanning the other competitors. "The real fights haven't even started yet."
"Kukukuku," the three-eyed fighter chuckled, overhearing their conversation. "At least one of you has some sense. Though it won't matter in the end."
His pale companion—who looked almost doll-like with his white skin and red cheeks—giggled innocently. "Tenshinhan is right! You turtle people don't stand a chance!"
Yamcha bristled. "We'll see about that, you freaky little—"
The announcer cleared his throat. "Now then, let's begin the lottery! Each fighter will draw a number, and the brackets will be arranged accordingly."
As they lined up to draw their numbers, Goku noticed something odd. The pale boy—Chaozu, he'd heard Tenshinhan call him—was staring intently at the wooden box, his eyes never wavering. More troubling was the slight movement he could detect in the boy's fingers, almost like he was... conducting something.
*Interesting,* Goku thought. *Telekinesis? Maybe ?*
But he said nothing, continuing to observe as each fighter drew their number. He watched as Yamcha got number 1, meaning he'd fight in the very first match. Krillin drew number 5. When it was Goku's turn, he reached into the box and felt the numbered ball practically jump into his hand.
Number 7.
"Well, that's convenient," he muttered under his breath, loud enough for himself to hear.
Tenshinhan drew number 2—meaning he would face Yamcha in the opening match. Chaozu got number 6, putting him against Krillin. The bracket was shaping up exactly as the Crane School wanted it.
Jackie Chun drew number 3 and would face the Boris, who had drawn number 4. That left Panput with number 8 to face Goku in the final first-round match.
"Excellent!" the announcer declared. "The brackets are set! First match: Yamcha versus Tenshinhan!"
Goku glanced at Yamcha, who was trying to look confident but was clearly nervous about facing the three-eyed prodigy right off the bat. Then he looked at Tenshinhan, who was smirking with satisfaction.
As they settled in to prepare for the matches, Jackie Chun approached Goku privately. "You noticed something during the lottery, didn't you?"
Goku studied the older fighter's face. There was something familiar about his eyes, but he pushed the thought aside. "Maybe. Does it matter? The fights will happen regardless of how the brackets were chosen."
"True,"
"Good," Goku replied with a slight smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I prefer opponents who think. Makes things more interesting."
"The first match will begin in ten minutes!" the announcer called out.
Yamcha stood up, stretching his arms and trying to shake off his nervousness. "Wish me luck, guys."
The real tournament was about to begin, and none of them could predict how it would end.