Disclaimer: the idea and characters of Dragon Ball are owned by Akira Toriyama. This is a simple non-profit fan parody.

Chapter 21 - The hunt for Red Commander

"Found him."

Another of the organizational improvements to the Tournament that Capsule Corporation had paid for was a small closed-circuit security camera system throughout the bleachers and other areas frequented by the public. Of the many reasons why Bulma had thought it a good idea, the possibility of needing to identify a major military figure amidst the public was not one of them.

"Well, I'll be damned." said Bulma, her eyes switching between the camera image and the photo they had grabbed from the internet, referring to one of the few public appearances of the man. "That really is him."

She and Brother Wei, together with the Ox King, a couple more monks, and the island's two cops who had just arrived, were gathered right in the middle of an ancient hall with finely carved rock walls, all around the desk on which, rather incongruously, stood the computers receiving the cameras' stream. A face recognition software had run quickly through all the spectators the cameras had managed to film, and sure enough, there he was, Commander Red himself, in a ridiculously gaudy flowery shirt, munching on popcorn, without a care in the world. While he was not considered an outright criminal, the legal status of the Red Ribbon being somewhat in a grey area, it was still very unusual to see the leader of such a shady mercenary organisation participating in a public event with such abandon.

And considering what had just happened, it was out of the question that he was only there to have a good time.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Bulma.

"We have them arrested, obviously!" blurted out Wei, purple in his face with outrage. "These... desecrators! If these were the old times, they'd get a public lashing in front of the crowd."

The cops shifted on their feet uncomfortably. "Now, now." said one of them. "They haven't done anything bad per se yet."

"What more do they need to do!" shouted the monk. "Their goon has tried to kill one of the contestants!"

"No, I agree, we can't prove it's them." mumbled Bulma, shaking her head. "I'm sure they've taken their precautions. They wouldn't do something like this without having plausible deniability."

The man threw his hands into the air, exasperated. "Then would you let them roam free?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Bulma tapped a few keys, running more searches on all the faces of the spectators near to the man. A pinging sound announced the success of one of them. Next to the Commander Red was seating the second highest ranking officer of all the Red Ribbon, Staff Officer Black. He was harder to pinpoint because he'd been photographed only once - by sheer luck, as he quickly ushered his boss into a limousine with tinted windows. "These guys must be up to something, that much is for sure. But they're also going to want to keep their hands clean. They won't risk doing anything to us."

The cops nodded along vigorously, patently relieved.

"So how do we find out what is it that they're doing here?" pressed on Wei.

The girl smiled. "Maybe I should go ask them in person."

"And now, for the final! The last fight! The moment that will decide who truly is the Best Under The Heavens! It all led to this moment, and what a clash! A mature, experienced fighter versus a rising young prodigy, the youngest fighter in this tournament! Both achieved nearly effortless wins in their quarter finals, and had to sweat for their victory in the semifinals! Both have abilities and powers that frankly defy all we thought was even possible! We can't expect anything but the most epic, mind-bending fight from two such geniuses clashing on the ring - no pressure guys! Let me hear your enthusiasm for GOKU vs. INARI-SAN!"

Brother Max exhausted the last remaining strength of his vocal cords in that one single scream, that blended together with the crowd chanting enthusiastically and cheering. Goku and Inari-san walked up to the ring quietly. The sun was close to setting by now, and the red light and long shadows set the mood perfectly for what promised to be a duel of legends. The whole scene would have been far more solemn, though, had Goku not been scratching his butt again.

"Well, good luck, boy."

Goku did a double take, turning around at that sentence, but the old man was already going to his starting position. Had he even heard right? That voice had sounded like something old, something familiar.

"And now that our contestants are in place it is time! No holding back anything now! Use all the strength you've got left to claim the title everyone craves! BEGIN!"

They jumped simultaneously - Inari-san forwards, and Goku sideways. Where he had been previously, a stream of his tiny ki blasts was now waiting, like a swarm of mosquitoes. They immediately focused on the opponent, attacking him from all sides. A few hit without doing much, but Inari-san was already stepping forward, used to ignoring them, when one which carried significantly more energy struck him right above his hip, forcing him to tap the ground with his leg, and disrupting his pace.

Goku used the time gained to dodge again and repeat the attack, but this time Inari-san didn't try to either dodge or tank the ki blasts. Rather, he deflected them, waving his hands deftly around his body in intricate patterns almost impossible to see with the naked eye. Not only they didn't hit, Goku had to make a few of those sharply turn around before they actually hit him back. The distraction and surprise were enough however to make him lose a fraction of a second in reacting to his opponent himself, who now was upon him, a hand raised for a vertical chop. No time to dodge it completely. Goku raised his own arm to meet the opponent's and parried, right above his head.

"You really have got a clever technique there, boy." said Inari-san. "You're a smart fighter. But smart isn't enough for me."

Goku tried to disengage again, but a kick to his side as he did so sent him down on the pavement.

"Stop trying to run. Fight me head-on, like you did that kid."

The boy raised his eyes to meet the enigmatic mask of the old man. He pondered it for a moment, whether he should do just that. It had been easy, before. He had managed to fight with more abandon, without hurting his opponent, without turning into a beast made of pure instinct out for blood. But Krillin had been an easier opponent, and even then, seeing him black out after a well placed punch had sent a cold shiver down Goku's spine. Now he could tell from what he'd seen already that this was not someone he could take lightly. In fact, it was someone who was probably stronger than him.

He pushed the thought back. He still had more to try, and he still did not want to win that badly. But one thing was true, and it was that ranged attacks, alone, would not do much. He needed to get close.

He didn't need to let his opponent know, though, so at first he waited for him to attack and made to jump sideways like he'd done twice already. But this time the step was a fake - and when his opponent reacted by turning sideways immediately, it was him who exposed his flank to Goku, who had effectively remained in place. He plunged himself against that opening, but was met by a well-placed kick.

"You thought I'd really fall for that?"

He had approximately one second before regaining a foothold and being able to counterattack. He frantically ran possible attack patterns. There had to be one where he would not see him coming, where he could just land even a single, clean hit.

"You know what your problem is, boy?"

He had just tapped the ground with one foot, had decided on what to do, was starting to shift his momentum, but again the conditions had changed, again the old man had caught up with him.

"You think too much."

The sweep kick struck his ankle, took the little stability he'd just gained away from him. Again he was in the air, again unable to control his momentum, at the mercy of inertia and his opponent's whims. A one-two series of punches struck him, face and chest, and he tumbled disastrously on the ground. Goku got up, short of breath, and feeling the smell of blood. He checked his nose to find that it was dripping.

"Don't get me wrong, thinking is good. Thinking is great, in fact." said Inari-san, standing with his arms tucked behind his back. He seemed amused. "But there's a time for thinking, and it's not in between one punch and the other. Your mind must do the thinking in advance and teach it to your body so that when it's time, it doesn't even need to ask. You get me?"

Still catching his breath, Goku nodded. He got him alright. He remembered receiving some very similar lessons, once.

"You're doing just great with inferior opponents. But with someone on your level, that little delay between I want and I do, that's all the difference between victory and defeat."

"So make use of it," said Goku, "and win."

The old man laughed. It was hearty, not mockery. Like he was having a genuine good time.

"My boy," he said, "and where would be the fun in that?"

Staff Officer Black noticed that something was wrong a couple of minutes in advance. First it had been Yamcha, that contestant who now was for some reason perched on top of the commentator's tower. Suspicious enough in its own right, but now he had clearly turned and looked at them for a moment, to then quickly avert his eyes when he realised they were looking back. As if someone had alerted him to their presence.

Then he saw the people heading their way. Bulma, obviously, recognizable by her bright blue hair that shone in the light and you could spot from a mile away, and with her a monk and two cops. They were marching up the stairs among the rows, and Black could tell there was a sense of urgency to their step. The girl wasn't even sparing the ring a look, and it was her champion that was fighting it out there. He quickly glanced around to see if they could make a discreet escape, but the only way to the main entrance was cut already. Besides, from a different stair was climbing another contestant, the massive bearded guy from the first round. Breaking such a blockade with force, in the middle of a crowd, decided Black, was just not possible.

He checked out his boss; Commander Red was still admiring the show, rooting for the masked man to beat up the kid, blissfully unaware. There wasn't much to gain from informing him at this point, he concluded. Whatever these people wanted, it was not likely to end in violence. And even with the cops in tow, he really doubted they had anything to arrest them for.

They indeed walked right up to their seats. Only then did Commander Red finally notice something, and turned to look at the new arrivals, with mild irritation.

"Mr. Black? Mr. Red?" asked the girl to the forefront of the group. "We need to talk."

"Up, up, now down! Stay on guard!"

Goku was furiously parrying and dodging as the old man pressed him on, unleashing a flurry of blows that would have been entirely impossible for him to avoid if he hadn't been calling them outright. Inari-san's technique was flawless, and despite his apparent age, his strength and stamina appeared unlimited. Forced to engage at close range, Goku had been slowly pushed on the defensive, yet whenever the edge of the ring would get too close, he would manage to get a break and regain some breathing space.

He was very much suspecting the old man was letting him.

"Next is one hit from the right! Better watch out!"

Inari-san's left leg flew in a spinning kick over Goku's head; he was ready to counter-attack when he realised that the right leg was following suit. In a desperate move, he tossed himself aside, rolling with the hit to absorb the blow. He hit the ground, and despite all the care taken, it wasn't painless. But at least he could get back up again.

"That wasn't one hit," he said, "it was two."

Inari-san chuckled. "Oops. Must have mixed it up there." He renewed his attack. There was no mistaking it: his attacks weren't just predictable, they were didactic. He would etch one pattern into Goku's defensive habits, then modify it in some way, or insert some randomness, or speed it up until he was barely able to keep up. It was both a lesson and a test, and Goku realised he wasn't doing all too good.

He knew how he could have done good.

Inari-san seemed to know too. He was pushing him towards that, in fact. Goku knew there always had been times in battle when he had completely surrendered himself to his instincts, abandoned all surface rational thinking, let his body and the most animal part of his brain do the thinking. He could be faster, more reactive, if he wanted. But he didn't want to. He looked at Inari-san's white mask, with three drawn whiskers per side of its cute muzzle.

The giant rabbit was lying on the ground, a hole punched straight through his head and brain. In horror, Goku snapped out of his bloodthirsty trance to see its only remaining eye staring at him, resentful. Yet the true horror was that even that wasn't true - for there was no mind any more behind it to resent anyone...

"Lost a beat there!" shouted Inari-san, exploiting the opening for a kick aimed straight at Goku's head. The kid dodged by tossing himself on the side, then cartwheeled on one hand to go back to a standing stance.

"Stop doing this!" he shouted. "I'll just surrender!"

"Too easy!" The old fighter jumped straight towards Goku, this time presenting an opening himself. He could get a blow in, if only he was faster...

He didn't take the chance - he retreated instead, tried a different angle, playing it safe. "Don't push me to that point!," shouted the kid, "I could kill you!"

"All you could do is try!" replied Inari-san, with a laugh. "So try away!"

His next fist came right towards Goku's face, and he dodged without thinking. His body and mind were both growing tired, and as they had less and less energy to expend, they were inevitably sliding towards their most natural, most efficient form. The pain was coursing through his whole body now, dull but ever present, both from the blows he had taken and from the continued exertion his muscles had been subject to. Patterns in movements and attacks were blurring one over the other in his mind. More than anything, he was feeling irritated at this old man, at his taunting, at his prodding and pushing him. He was tired, more than anything, of holding back. Even with Krillin he had not needed to go too far. It would have been so much easier to just give this opponent what he wanted.

For the first time in the fight, Inari-san had to seriously exert himself to dodge a punch. That had been a wink faster than he had gotten used to.

"Oh. You're getting in the mood?"

Goku silently nodded. "Can I trust you?" he asked.

Inari-san took a defensive stance. "With your own life."

"Good. I'll trust you with yours."

Goku darted forward, and this time he didn't speak any more. His eyes were focused on his opponent, and no movement was wasted. Inari-san went to parry a flurry of punches, but Goku's hands grabbed his wrists instead, and he pushed himself off them to strike with a kick at the opponent's face, forcing him to throw himself to the ground to avoid it, except now the kid jumped on top of him.

"Almost got me!" shouted Inari-san, as he struck the boy in his belly with a kick. He was tossed away, but didn't much flinch, and was almost immediately back on the offensive. This time he waved his arms around while running to his opponent and fired off a fan of small ki blasts to surround himself, like a shield.

"Your control of spiritual energy is remarkable," noted Inari-san, "but you lack power."

His fist plunged right through the front part of the sphere, swatting away the globelets of energy like mosquitoes, but the blasts made the direction of his attack all too obvious, and Goku deflected it. Now he engaged Inari-san in a close quarters brawl, punch after punch, with his ki blasts flying around and serving as if they were additional fists, not replacing his physical attack like usual, but enhancing and complementing them.

"Well, that-"

A blast struck Inari-san's mask. The wood cracked and chipped under the blow, and the mask itself shifted slightly, obstructing his vision. He was blinded to Goku's movements for one instant, as his hands instinctively went to his face, to put the mask back in place and prevent it from being blasted away altogether. But one instant was more than he could afford to concede. A series of punches from Goku connected with his solar plexus, taking the breath out of him, and then a straight kick sent him flying. The old man tumbled gracelessly on the stone pavement and was on his way to fall out of the ring. With a shout and a jerking motion, he suddenly jammed his fingers into the marble, punching five holes in it and gripping it fiercely. He came to a stop, one leg already dangling out of the edge.

With a pirouette, he got back on his feet. Goku stared at him, immobile, all the fight having seemingly left him.

"Well, what's gotten into you?" said the old man, amused. "Should have pressed on, my guard was down."

The wooden mask, shattered in two neat halves, lay on the ground, next to his feet.

"Oh, bugger." he mumbled.

Goku blinked, and his voice was trembling when he finally spoke.

"...grandpa?"

"And now contestant Goku seems to be running towards his opponent, and grabbing him with a deadly lock that looks... a lot... like a hug. Yes, he's hugging Inari-san! And crying! Well, I surely expected emotions to run strong through this final, but this was not what I had in mind!"

Bulma turned a moment to the ring upon hearing the strange comment by Max, and surely, she saw Goku bawling desperately while hugging his opponent, who had lost his mask and revealed the face of a serene old man with a massive white moustache. Having heard about how Baba could bring the dead back for a day earlier on, she was quick to connect the dots, so more than surprised, she felt happy for Goku. For the fraction of a second that her current interlocutor allowed her to, anyway.

"Hey, don't dare look away while we're talking!"

The angry little red haired man was snarling at her with contempt from all of his height, namely, approximately at the level of Bulma's chest. Man, was it hard to take him seriously.

"I paid for the bleachers you're sitting on, so if you don't mind, I'll dare what pleases me." snapped back Bulma. "Especially when you've still failed to explain your motives for being here."

"This is just a company trip! You tell her, Black."

The Staff Officer sighed. "This is just a company trip." he repeated, flatly.

Brother Wei scoffed. "Your deceptions are pathetic, like a child's. You would have more dignity just admitting to the truth!"

"I admit to nothing!" shouted back Red. "What do you even think you can accuse me of?"

"You tried to sabotage the tournament!" snapped back Bulma. "We know all too well what's happened right before the last quarter final, and the part you guys played in it!"

The man's face got flushed with indignation and rage. "For your information, that toilet was already clogged before I used it!" he shouted.

"Don't play dumb! You know what I'm talking about! Your soldier in the quarter finals-"

"Quarter finals? Our soldiers were all eliminated in the preliminary rounds!"

"Ah-ha! So you do admit you are up to something!"

"What? No! They were just taking the chance to exercise a bit, practice the noble art of fighting! Tell them, Black!"

The Staff Officer's stare was now lost into the distance, hopeless. A melancholic glance contemplating the full moon that had just risen in the dusky sky, and the futility of the human condition. "They were just taking the chance to exercise a bit." he confirmed, his voice as empty as his heart.

"Exercise, you say?"

Bulma pulled out her phone and tapped a few commands. She brought up a still frame of a video, magnifying it to show only one specific detail, the face of a woman with short black hair and red eyeliner.

"This is contestant Mai, the eighth finalist who did not show up." hissed the girl. "The photo has been taken at the preliminary rounds. She has already been known to associate with an organisation with... subversive objectives, with the aim to steal something from them. She also has assaulted and attempted to kill contestant Giran right after his match against Inari-san. And we know she has a past as a member of the Red Ribbon. Anything to say?"

Commander Red huffed dismissively. "I've never seen the woman!"

Bulma was preparing an appropriately snarky response when she felt her phone being snatched from her hand by much stronger fingers. "Hey!," she protested, but Staff Officer Black didn't hear her, as he was staring intently at the photo, back to his full concentration.

"Lieutenant Indigo. Still alive." he whispered. "How...?"

Bulma raised her eyebrows. "What now? You'll pretend she's acting on her own?"

But Black didn't answer, in fact he didn't concern himself with Bulma any more at all. Instead, he turned to his Commander.

"We need to go." he said. "This place is not safe any more."

"What are you talking about, Black? Who the Hell is Lieutenant-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. A mighty roar shook the stadium, drowning his words and all other noises, and drawing all eyes towards the ring again.

Inari-san, or rather, Son Gohan, had managed to dodge or parry almost all of Goku's attacks until then, but the jump with which he was upon him, hugging him dearly while screaming his name and crying was so quick and sudden he couldn't have avoided it even if he wanted it. Good thing, then, that he thought he owed it to the boy. Not very becoming of a final match of the Tenkaichi Tournament, but what the hell. If getting old teaches you to stop caring so much about what others think of you, being dead really seals the deal.

"Grandba!" managed to articulate Goku, finally, when his bawling had gotten at least under control enough for him to form normal words. "I misshed you sho much! I thought I... I killed..."

He couldn't bear to finish that sentence, the poor boy. Gohan shook his head. It broke his heart to have to explain.

"Goku," he started, "you must understand-"

"I know!" shouted back the kid. "I was dangerous, I hurt you, and you went away because-"

"No!" the old man pushed Goku a bit away from him, grabbing his shoulders. "Goku, no, don't think that. I wouldn't have done that, ever. Come on."

The boy sniffled a bit, nodding. He was still shaking, and Gohan thought well to hug him again in the hopes of calming him down. The next bit wouldn't be easy to explain.

The stadium had fallen into silence. No doubt, they couldn't really make out what was happening on the bleachers, and the microphones were turned off, so the scene must have been puzzling, but their gestures alone must have made the sense of what was going on clear enough.

"Goku," whispered the old man, "I'm sorry, really - but see me, watch me, I'm fine, yes? But that night, you, well."

How does one put something like that nicely?

"You did kill me," he blurted out.

Goku's eyes widened, horrified. He tried to wrestle himself out of Gohan's arms, but the grandpa wrapped him tighter.

"It's all right. It's all right." he said. "I've gone to Heaven, you know. It's a really nice place."

"How?" asked Goku, sobbing. "Did someone bring you back to life already? I swear, I was going to, I just was not sure if-"

"Goodness, no, Goku! I don't need that. And more chances on Earth for this old man to sin?" he chuckled. "No, the witch Baba can bring us back. It's just one day. Just one day, just now and here, but I needed to come. Of all days in all of eternity, Goku, I needed to be here today, you see. To tell you something. Will you listen?"

The boy agreed, silently, and he let him go. He was drying his tears now, and had retrieved his cool, standing compunct in front of him to listen. Gohan was sure he must still be stirring with emotions, but if that kid had always been good at something, it was controlling his own heart, maybe too much even.

The old man and the kid stood one in front of another. He needed to find it in himself now, the strength to say those words, those words he had crossed the boundary of death to be here to speak.

Say it, you old goat. Come on. Look him in the eyes and say it.

"Goku..." he started, but then he ended up chortling, "I'm sorry, I'm trying to be serious here, but it's hard with you scratching your butt that way! You've been doing that all day!"

The boy looked up with a slightly weirded out look. "It's just been... really... itching..." he said, but his voice was broken. Panting.

Gohan frowned. This didn't seem normal, and Goku himself appeared to be panicking now. Grasping for air, clasping his own chest, and scratching furiously at his backside, so furiously that his fingers came out red with blood and fragments of skin.

"Goku!" he shouted, running at his side. "What is going on?"

The boy didn't answer - he growled instead. Out of the back of his trousers, from the broken, bleeding skin that he had scratched so violently, slid out something. A monkey's tail.

"I thought someone had cut it," mumbled Gohan "It regrows, even?"

And then he turned back, to the sky, following Goku's stare. There it was, sure. The sun had not set fully yet, the sky was still purple with its last dying light, but a full moon had risen above the rim of the temple.

"Oh, damn. This is not good, not at all."

Having ripped off his own clothes, muscles swelling and rippling, Goku let out a fierce, animalistic roar that echoed through the entire stadium.

Goku's roar was so sudden and violent, it made Mai lose her steadiness for an instant. But then, she realised, here was an opportunity. All eyes in the stadium were turned to the ring, and to whatever was happening there. But she did not care. Her priority, now, was something else. As everyone was distracted, a few precious instants where reactions might be slower, and everyone might be caught by surprise, were created. Her rifle was trained on the target. Her finger gently begun squeezing the trigger. Her shoulder implant sent a message.

I'm about to fire. Everyone act on my signal.

"May I be damned!," shouted Commander Red, bolting from his seat, his forehead beading with cold sweat. "What in the flaming pits of Hell was that?"

Even without having such a theatrical reaction, those surrounding him were similarly shocked. Black's grip on the phone he'd been looking at loosened, and his hand instinctively went to his pistol, as all suspicions of treachery and intrigue were drowned by what it felt like a much more immediate danger. The cops squealed and took refuge behind the chairs of the row in front of them. The public, all around, was either gasping, paralysed, or panicking. And Bulma took all of two seconds before morphing from surprise, to horror, to urgency.

Her hand darted towards Black's, and with a quick movement, before he could realise, she had snatched back her phone. Black reacted almost instantly, though, grabbing her wrist and twisting it so that she was pulled towards him. Bulma let out a scream of pain, then suddenly jerked with speed and strength he would not have expected of such a young girl. But it was not enough to make him let go. The soldier pointed his gun at her.

"Now," he started saying, calmly, "you better explain us what exactly-"

He did not have time to finish, because a blue bolt plunged from the sky in front of him. He had seen him fight on the ring, but still, it was impossible to appreciate just how fast he was until you saw it right in front of your eyes. Standing between his gun and Bulma, in his blue gi, was Yamcha.

"You better put that weapon away." he said. "Before someone gets hurt."

"You're a couple of seconds late." commented Bulma dryly, massaging the wrist that Black had just let go.

"Hey, at least I'm early enough that he didn't shoot you," rebutted the boy. "Are you all right? Is Goku-"

Bulma put a finger in front of her lips, and Yamcha caught his tongue.

"We need to do something." she said. "Take me to the others."

"You're going nowhere," intervened Black, "until I get some answers."

Yamcha looked at him amused. "And how do you plan to stop us?"

With the gun I'm pointing straight at your chest, you idiot, Black thought of saying, but he did not form the words. Absurd as it was, in his mind, he doubted. He'd seen incredible things today, and he did not know the precise extent to which the powers of these fighters could go. If this was a bluff, it was really convincing.

"Don't act all cool," said Bulma. "At that distance, it would hurt quite a bit."

"Not as much as I'd hurt him afterwards," replied Yamcha with a grin.

"What are they blabbing about?" growled Commander Red, who had finally managed to unglue his eyes from Goku. "Black, Dr. Gero was right! This girl is producing some kind of - abomination! That boy on the ring, he is... he..."

He didn't find the words. Goku still looked like himself, but it was apparent that he was undergoing some kind of transformation, a painful one that it seemed to cause him great anguish. His opponent Inari-san had run to him and seemed to be whispering something in his ear, perhaps trying to calm or comfort him. The medical personnel on site were standing at the edge of the ring, puzzled and visibly frightened. The referee and the commentator didn't seem to have much to say or do about the situation either. The entire stadium was paralysed at the sight.

"We still have time," said Yamcha, "but we need to go now."

"No, you won't!" shrieked Red, in anger. "Black, shoot them! This is clearly an attempt on my life! We need to put an end to whatever it is they're doing!"

"And how would shooting us accomplish that, you imbecile?" replied Bulma. "Seriously, if this idiot is your leader, you guys are going bankrupt soon."

The Staff Officer's finger was on the trigger, but he did not fire. Both the girl and the boy in front of her seemed completely unconcerned by his weapon.

"Is whatever is happening to Goku dangerous?" he asked, slowly.

Bulma nodded. "Yes, to us all."

"Is it something you planned?"

"No."

"Do you know how to stop it?"

"Yes."

Black drew a deep breath, then lowered his gun. "Go," he said, finally. "We'll continue our conversation later."

"Black!" shrieked the Commander, out of his mind. "I gave you an order! Shoot them, or I swear, I'll shoot them myself!"

The adjutant spoke calmly. "Commander, my first duty is towards the success of the Red Ribbon, followed by your safety." he said. "If I can speak my mind, I would be glad if for once you didn't do your utmost to make it harder."

Red's eyes opened wide. His lips were trembling with rage.

"How dare you!" he shouted. "It is not your place to tell me what I should do! Now do as I say, or I swear I will put you to-"

Many times, for many years, in moments like this, Staff Officer Black had dreamed of hearing his Commander just shut up. What he had never imagined is in what twisted way his wishes would eventually come true - on the bleachers of a stadium, the sound of a gunshot still ringing in his ears, and the body of his boss falling down limply, a hole in his chest and a bloodstain spreading across some stupid, tacky hawaiaan shirt.

"Goku! Goku, focus on my voice. Try to calm down."

Goku growled, foaming at the mouth, but managed to nod. The transformation was slow - perhaps made more so by his attempts to desperately cling to his own consciousness through the beastly rage that was trying to overcome him. But ultimately, he knew, it was a lost battle. He had experienced this only a few times in his life, but each and every one of them, it had ended in the same way.

And now his adoptive grandfather was there, cradling him, trying to calm him down, to help him through it.

Goku shouted.

"Cut my tail," he said, with a raspy voice, "quickly. I can't transform without my tail."

Gohan looked at the kid, saw him try to reach on his own for his tail, rip it off, despite the spasms that were violently contracting his muscles. He stopped him.

"Just as a last resort." he said. "I have a better idea."

"Please," pleaded Goku, "there's no time-"

"Well, we need to find us some time then. Leave it to grandpa."

He patted the kid on the head and looked around. Took a breath in. He remembered this place, this island alright. Could even recall the scents, though now they were mixed to new ones, a lot of chemical stinks brought by Capsule Corporation's innovations to the place, mostly.

"Pack up! We're going to the Tournament's island."

The two pupils had been overjoyed to hear that. They had run into the house and back out again in record time, bringing out bundles and suitcases full of their stuff.

"Now, that might be a bit too much." said Muten. "You'll want to stay light for this trip."

"Why, master?" asked the young Gohan, weighing his own luggage, perplexed. "The ship doesn't allow us to carry even this much?"

And Muten, with the most natural tone of voice in the world and a genuinely surprised look had simply said, "Ship? What ship?"

"There should be an island in that direction." said Gohan, finally, pointing somewhere to the north east. "Five kilometres. Gotta hand it to the old man, if he hadn't made me swim here I'd never have known. And, hop!"

He grabbed Goku. The boy didn't say anything - the transformation was advancing to the next stage, and fur had begun to cover his body.

"Better if no one sees that."

With a powerful swing, Gohan tossed Goku into the air, like a bullet, in the north-east direction. Then, he flexed on his legs.

A gunshot echoed through the stadium. Someone screamed.

The old man shook his head. Whatever was happening, not much he could do, right now. He had a bigger responsibility to take care of. There should be enough capable fighters around to handle it anyway.

He crouched one last time, then with one powerful push of his legs he jumped, right on the same trajectory as Goku, and like him, he disappeared into the distance.

Chapter over! Sorry for the long delay, again. This end of arc has been a bit of a drag to me, growing way beyond my original intentions (just to give an idea, this is the first of THREE chapters that I originally designed as one, and the next one's something like 13,000 words long). It didn't help that I felt a lot of doubts and second thoughts about the specific details of what happened, because it lays the foundations for the next arc and I really didn't want to screw it up. Thanks a lot for the reviews, as usual!

oguh: wish granted, I believe; and Goku and Gohan still will have some time together. But the Ohzaru is appearing again. The way I see it it's a useful boost (especially for this version of Goku, that is not as powerful as the canon one in terms of raw strength), but it's counterbalanced by how massive it is, which makes it unable to fight at full efficiency against more skilled opponents. I think it's an interesting concept to try and exploit more than what was seen in the original.

Arcane Charmcaster: you're right, and it's a fine line to thread I guess. I don't like the idea of spending too much time on Bulma being traumatised or shocked - it isn't like her, anyway, in the canon she goes through some pretty scary experiences too but never really backs down. Doubling down is her way of coping. However I will try to consider this aspect too, especially as things get more serious.

Navarone: I tried having a beta for a while. I acknowledge it can improve my writing, but on the personal level, it was a bit of a strain; I already feel under pressure when I write slowly, and having another person to pass it through only increases my stress. Maybe, when the story is over, I'll get someone to help me edit it as a whole. About your other questions: I have plans for Z, though that will probably be a sequel story; Goku has improved, but mostly in terms of technical skill, as he's now much better at manipulating ki; and well, I'd say against Krillin he was just getting in the zone and enjoying himself, which he usually doesn't allow himself to do much, exactly because he fears his Saiyan side.