Let the matches BEGIN

The crowd buzzed. 

Cheers filled the stadium, vibrating through the arena like a wave of pure excitement. Mori stood off to the side, quietly fidgeting with his sleeves. His wide blue-white eyes scanned the roaring audience, the towering stone ring, the eight fighters beside him… and the clouds above. They looked soft today. 

He felt small. 

Not because he was intimidated—but because this was the most people he'd ever been around… willingly. 

The tournament had officially begun. 

The first match kicked off: Yamcha vs Jackie Chun. 

Mori leaned forward slightly, interested. Yamcha was fast, confident, even kind of cool in the way he moved. But Jackie Chun barely reacted. He slipped around Yamcha's flurry of attacks like water flowing around rocks. One clean counter—and the desert fighter was down. 

Mori blinked, his lips parting slightly. 

That old guy's serious... 

The next match was Krillin vs Bacterian, and Mori tilted his head the moment Bacterian stepped into the ring. 

"…Why does he look like he hasn't bathed since forever?" he muttered quietly, nose scrunching. 

No one responded. 

He forgot he was talking to himself. 

Still, he watched intently as Krillin fought through the stench—literally—and won with a clean kick. Mori made a small noise that could've been an impressed hum… or a held-back laugh. 

Then came the match-up that changed the energy in his chest: 

Mori vs Nam. 

He stepped onto the ring slowly, his hands in his pockets at first before he remembered that wasn't polite. Across from him stood Nam, poised and respectful, giving Mori a calm, dignified bow. 

Mori blinked, then quickly returned the bow—not because he'd planned to, but because… it felt right. His shoulders straightened slightly. 

The announcer lifted a card and grinned. 

"And now! On one side, we have Nam, a warrior from a desert village seeking to bring honor and hope to his people! And on the other…" 

The man blinked as he pulled a note from his pocket. 

"…Fighting also is Mori, the adoptive son of the ever-so-famous Brief family. Not particularly a fighter… but he will certainly surprise you." 

There was a beat of quiet before a loud voice pierced the stadium. 

"**WOOOOOO!! KICK HIS BUTT, LITTLE BRO!!**" 

Mori's soul left his body. 

He slowly turned to the stands. Bulma was standing up, waving her arms like she was at a concert, grinning from ear to ear. 

He stared for a full five seconds. Then sighed. 

"…She's worse than the announcer," he whispered, his face blank but ears burning pink. 

The announcer laughed. 

"A spirited family! BEGIN!" 

Nam rushed forward in a flash. 

Mori jolted out of his thoughts just in time to backpedal, barely ducking under a high kick. Then another. And another. Nam's movements were sharp and calculated, but Mori's body just moved instinctively. 

He skipped back on light feet, whispering to himself, "Woah, woah—he's not playing." 

Nam closed the distance again, now with rapid punches. Mori weaved between them awkwardly, almost losing his balance once. He didn't want to hit back too soon—it didn't feel right. Nam wasn't mean. He was serious. 

Then Nam leapt. 

Arms crossed over his head, descending like a hammer. 

"…He can jump high," Mori murmured, raising his arms instinctively to block. The impact was loud—but Mori didn't budge. He caught Nam's strike clean, holding him there a moment before gently grabbing his arm. 

"I'm sorry." 

He spun and tossed Nam out of the ring like a gust of wind tossing a leaf. 

Nam hit the grass, blinking in shock. The match was over before he realized it had truly started. 

The crowd erupted. 

The announcer stepped in with a stunned smile. 

"AND THE WINNER IS… MORI!!" 

Before Mori could step off the ring— 

"**YEAHHHH!! THAT'S MY LITTLE BROTHER! HE'D NEVER LOSE TO SOMEONE LIKE THAT!!**" 

"…Please stop," Mori whispered to no one, his face red and expression flat. He speed-walked off the ring, rubbing his neck with both hands. 

As he passed Nam, he gave him an apologetic glance. 

"You fight good," Mori said quietly. 

Nam looked at him for a moment, then smiled. "So do you, young one. But you hold back." 

Mori shrugged. "Sometimes… it's better." 

Then he returned to the waiting area, hiding behind a column to avoid Bulma's wild wave from the stands. 

The final match of the first round was next—Goku vs Giran. 

Mori stood up straighter, his interest peaked. 

Giran came in loud and heavy, brute force wrapped in intimidation. But Goku… Goku just grinned. His movements were wild but playful, unpredictable but clean. When he broke free from Giran's sticky ring with a burst of ki, Mori's breath caught in his throat. 

"…His power…" he whispered, eyes wide. "It jumped." 

Goku's win was quick and decisive. 

Mori smiled faintly. Not just because Goku was strong—but because he looked like he was having fun. 

Next was Jackie Chun vs Krillin. Krillin came in hot, determined not to lose. But Jackie Chun? He kept pace effortlessly. Mori watched closely. Every movement was deliberate. The way Chun shifted his weight… the angle of his strikes… 

"He's hiding something," Mori said under his breath. "Like me." 

The match ended with Krillin unconscious and Jackie Chun walking away like he'd just stretched. 

The announcer jogged back into the center. 

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, our semifinal match begins! Would Goku and Mori please come to the arena!" 

Mori's head lifted. 

His heart fluttered. 

This was it. 

He stepped out from behind the column, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeves. As he walked toward the ring, he saw Goku approaching from the other side. 

The younger boy grinned ear to ear. 

"Hey! You're really strong! I'm excited!" 

Mori tilted his head. 

"…You're not mad I threw that guy earlier?" 

"Nah," Goku said with a giggle. "He landed okay. You looked super cool! Think you can beat me too?" 

Mori scratched his cheek. 

"I don't know. I've never really fought someone… like me." 

Goku's eyes gleamed. "Then let's see what happens!" 

They both stepped into the ring. 

And somewhere deep in Mori's chest, that childlike wonder he barely remembered… stirred again. 

This wasn't a fight. 

It was something he didn't know he needed.