Prelims

The eye contact broke. 

Goku turned away, rejoining his group with a big grin. 

Mori sat still on the bench, his expression calm—but his mind stirred with confusion. 

"...That had to be Goku," he muttered under his breath, still watching the orange gi disappear into the crowd. His gaze trailed to where the boy's tail swayed behind him, confirming his suspicion. "Wow… he actually is a Saiyan. But he seems so gentle. That's odd." 

There was no bloodlust, no aggression, not even the faintest echo of what Mori had seen in dreams—visions of monstrous Great Apes and fiery destruction. Just a kid with wide eyes and a bright smile. 

Mori furrowed his brow. He wanted to think on it longer—unravel that strange, electric moment they shared—but a booming voice interrupted his thoughts. 

"Attention all tournament contestants! The preliminary rounds are about to begin! Please enter the main building now!" 

Snapping out of his thoughts, Mori stood up and followed the growing crowd of fighters entering the building. As he stepped inside, his eyes widened slightly at the sight—so many people. Some were stretching, others shadow-boxing or chatting excitedly with friends. Tall ones, short ones, old ones, scar-covered veterans, and fresh-faced hopefuls. All gathered in one place. 

"…A lot more than I expected," Mori muttered. 

The tournament announcer stood at the center of the room holding a mic, smiling brightly. 

"Currently, we have 138 contestants!" he said. "But only eight of you will make it through to compete in the main tournament for the title of Champion of the 21st World Martial Arts Tournament!" 

A wave of murmurs rippled through the room. 

"To determine the preliminary matchups," the announcer continued, "please come forward one at a time and draw a number from the ballot box. This will determine your match order. Let's keep it organized, people!" 

The process was slow. 

It took thirty minutes for everyone to draw, one by one. Mori, as usual, waited patiently near the back. He wasn't in a rush. 

When it was finally his turn, he stepped forward and placed his hand in the box, pulling out a small slip of paper. 

"Number 30," he read aloud. 

As he turned to walk back to his spot, two large men suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Both were tall, bulky, clearly in their late thirties. One had a crooked nose, the other a scar across his chin. 

"Well, well," the first one sneered. "What's a pale, weak-looking kid like you doin' here?" 

"Yeah," the second laughed. "Where's your mommy, boy?" 

Mori deadpanned at both of them—no emotion, no expression, just a blank stare. 

Then, without saying a word, he stepped forward—right between them. Purposefully brushing his shoulders into theirs. 

WHAM 

THUD 

Both men stumbled and fell flat on their backs with a groan. 

Mori kept walking, smirking to himself silently. 

Bulma's really affecting me, he thought, then muttered under his breath, "That was petty…" 

He shrugged and waited near his designated area, watching the early matches go by. 

Two hours passed. Contestants were called up, one by one. Some matches were brutal. Some hilarious. Most ended quickly. 

Then, finally— 

"Contestant Number 30—Mori! You're up! Versus Contestant Number 17—RanFan!" 

Mori walked up to the ring with a calm pace, his shoes making soft taps on the tile floor. His opponent was already standing across from him—a young woman with short purple hair, a confident smirk, and a bright red top paired with matching gloves. 

She cracked her knuckles. "This'll be over quick, sweetie." 

Mori tilted his head, watching her closely. He could sense no ill will… but no restraint either. She meant to win, however she could. 

"Keep your strength down," he whispered to himself. "Don't hurt her. Just push her out." 

The announcer's voice boomed. "BEGIN!" 

RanFan charged in instantly, going for a forceful push. 

Mori stepped aside. 

She spun, trying to swing at his head. 

He ducked, hands behind his back. 

She kicked—he leaned out of range. 

Frustrated, she tried to sweep his legs. He simply hopped up and landed behind her in one fluid motion. 

Then, softly, Mori reached out and tapped her back with the palm of his hand. 

The moment his hand made contact—boom. 

RanFan was sent flying off the stage with a surprised yelp, landing flat on her back ten feet away. 

Mori's eyes went wide. "I barely…!" 

He rushed forward, hopping off the platform and kneeling beside her. 

"Are you okay? I'm sorry—I didn't mean to—!" 

RanFan blinked up at him, more confused than hurt. "...How the heck did you do that with one hand?" 

Mori opened his mouth, then shut it. 

"…I don't know," he said honestly. 

From the crowd, four sets of eyes watched him closely. 

Goku, leaning on the fence, lit up with joy. "Whoa!! That kid's strong! Maybe even as strong as me!" 

Krillin sighed, folding his arms. "Great. Another kid to worry about…" 

Yamcha said nothing, eyes narrowed slightly. 

And Jackie Chun—disguised as a harmless old man—smiled quietly to himself. 

He doesn't even know what he's doing, Chun thought. That kind of power with no refinement… interesting. Very interesting. 

Back in the ring, the announcer stepped forward. 

"And with that stunning upset, Contestant Number 30 advances to the next round! To the remaining contestants—the official tournament begins shortly!" 

Mori helped RanFan up, gave a polite nod, and stepped off the ring, heading back toward his corner. 

Before he could sit down, a voice called to him. 

"Well done, young man." 

He turned to see Jackie Chun approaching. 

Mori gave a short bow. "Thank you." 

"I'm Jackie Chun," the old man said with a small smile. "You've got some talent." 

"I'm Mori." 

They shook hands. 

The moment their palms met, Mori's eyes widened slightly. 

So much energy… 

It didn't make sense. The man looked old—frail even—but the depth of his ki was endless. Calm. Ancient. Controlled. 

Mori looked up at him, confused. 

Jackie Chun just smiled wider. 

"Well then," he said, releasing Mori's hand, "I look forward to seeing what you can really do." 

And with that, he turned and walked away. 

Mori stood there, hand still hanging in the air. 

"…That wasn't normal," he whispered. 

But instead of fear, a smile tugged at the edge of his lips. 

For the first time in a long while… 

He felt challenged.