Dragon Ball Roshi

The next day, there were supposed to be two matches, but due to Tienshinhan's forfeit, Krillin was declared the winner by default and took third place.

"He actually just forfeited like that?"

"No way… judging from how he performed yesterday, he might not have lost!"

"Yeah, I think Tienshinhan's even stronger than the little bald guy!"

"Tch, giving up without even fighting…"

"So cool! He must only care about the championship—everything else doesn't matter to him!"

"Totally that kind of 'if it's not first, it's nothing' real man type! Ughhh… so annoying… makes him even more irresistible…"

Tien's absence stirred a heated discussion among the audience… On the internet, at the venue, in front of TVs, and in public squares with outdoor screens—everyone was talking about it. In the entire hundred-year history of the World Martial Arts Tournament, no one had ever forfeited the finals before.

Krillin curled his lip. After receiving third place, he left the ring under the gaze of the crowd and muttered under his breath, "What a troublesome guy…" Even though he got third place for free, it was still bound to cause controversy.

But… very quickly, everyone's attention shifted.

"Well then, due to Tienshinhan's forfeit, the third-place match ends early… Next up, let's head straight into the final match of today, and of the 21st World Martial Arts Tournament! The showdown between the young fighter from the Muten School—Son Goku—and the mysterious contestant—Piccolo! What kind of sparks will fly between these two? And who will be the ultimate champion?"

"Let's welcome them to the ring!!"

The announcer roared into his microphone at the top of his lungs, his passionate voice booming through every corner of the arena.

"WOOOOAAAAHHHH!!" The audience erupted in cheers and applause, the whole place practically boiling over with excitement.

That fever pitch rose even higher when Piccolo, clad in a flowing white cloak, descended from the sky. Say what you will… though usually unintentional, Piccolo's dramatic flair had undeniable style—the second-generation Demon King radiated presence.

"Go get him, Goku! Don't lose to that smug-looking jerk!" Krillin called out to Goku as he came out from the back. He wasn't thinking about his lame third place anymore—he just wanted to cheer for his best friend. If Goku could win the championship on his first try, it would blow everyone's minds!

"Haha, this one's gonna be tough! But I won't lose!" Goku laughed, giving Krillin a high-five.

As Goku stepped onto the broken-mountain stage, the crowd exploded into even louder cheers—wave after wave of roars threatening to drown the entire venue.

Among them sat a young man with short, dark, curly hair—none other than Mr. Satan—who muttered in awe, "That popularity's insane… this Son Goku guy…"

A martial arts friend from the association sitting beside him clapped and laughed, "Well, he is the Muten Roshi's disciple! We missed the days when Grandpa Gohan made a name for himself, but seeing this Son Goku's rise is pretty amazing too!"

Others from the martial arts circle nodded in agreement.

The Muten Roshi's disciple… destined to become one of the top martial artists in the world. It was practically set in stone! Not to mention, this Goku was also Gohan's grandson—becoming a top-tier fighter seemed almost inevitable.

Sure, there were other standout fighters this tournament—like Krillin, Tienshinhan, and Piccolo—but none of them could match Goku's popularity. Even putting those other factors aside, Goku was already a well-known "veteran" from the last tournament. Naturally, the rookies couldn't compete with his fame.

Remembering Bulma's reminder, Goku gave a friendly wave to the audience around him. His innocent, carefree smile was captured by the cameras, sending the crowd into an even more frenzied uproar.

"So noisy…" he muttered, leaping up onto the ring.

As Goku strode across the broken-mountain platform, Piccolo, on the other side, finally unfolded his long-crossed arms. His sharp-clawed fingers twitched slightly, and he sneered wickedly, "At last… I can finally defeat you with my own hands, Son Goku…"

"That's not a sure thing… I'm not gonna go down easy!" Goku chuckled, planting his feet and facing off with Piccolo.

"Just looking at your face makes me wanna punch you…" Piccolo snarled, his aura flaring outward, surging toward Goku.

"You're just mad at… that guy, Kakarot, huh? Well, I'm not letting him out… 'cause I wanna fight you too!" Goku said with a wide grin. He rolled his neck, stretched his arms, cracked his fingers, did side lunges, and bounced on his ankles—relaxed and cheerful, yet releasing a rising pressure that clashed invisibly with Piccolo's own.

"You've gotten a lot stronger," Goku said, his eyes glowing with fighting spirit as he assumed his usual stance.

"Hmph…" Piccolo took his stance too, a wicked smirk curling at his lips.

Krillin's matches were over, so he used his senses to track down Bulma, Hathaway, Grandpa Gohan, Taro, Tsuru, and Tienshinhan. He found them all sitting together in the spectator stands. Strangely enough, no one around them seemed to notice… probably Master Taro's magic at work.

"Give it your all, Goku!" Bulma cheered from beside Hathaway. "Don't lose to that Green-faced creep!"

Greeb-faced creep? That's just how Namekians look by default… Krillin sweatdropped. He nodded at Tien, Gohan, and Hathaway, then sat beside Gohan, next to Bulma.

Come to think of it…

Krillin's eyes flicked to Tsuru, who was sitting beside Master Taro. That guy… did he look a little younger today? He and Master Taro should be the same age. Yesterday he definitely looked like an old man with gray hair… Not that Tsuru suddenly became young overnight, but the aura and vitality he exuded today were noticeably different.

Even Krillin noticed… Gohan glanced sideways at him, scratched his white beard, and thought: ever since that night long ago, when Master Taro used the Dragon Balls to link his life to Lady Taro's, he's shown more human warmth.

It's like… that night, Master Taro made up his mind to preserve what he saw as the most beautiful part of his humanity.

---

"Well then… the final match of the 21st World Martial Arts Tournament—starts now!!"

GONG!! The sound of the gong echoed across the stadium, and the surrounding crowd erupted once more, like a tsunami crashing down!