The afternoon sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the tournament grounds. The crowd's energy had reached a fever pitch after the explosive first-round battles, but now an anticipatory hush rippled through the arena. The semi-finals were about to begin.
Onigiri sat quietly on a stone bench near the entrance to the fighter's corridor. His eyes were closed, breathing steady, body relaxed but coiled like a spring. His thoughts were clear—focused. He had come far in a short time, and the next test would be his greatest yet. The subtle pulse of adrenaline in his veins was no longer something he resisted—it was fuel.
Nearby, Krillin paced in tight circles, throwing quick jabs into the air and muttering under his breath. "You got this… just like training… you're not gonna embarrass yourself…"
Goku, by contrast, was the picture of calm. He sat cross-legged on the floor with a half-eaten rice ball in one hand and a wide smile on his face. "These are so good," he mumbled, crumbs dotting his shirt.
"Hey, Onigiri!" Yamcha's voice cut through the low hum of background noise as he jogged up, rubbing the back of his neck. "Looks like you and Goku might end up stealing the whole show."
Onigiri opened his eyes and offered a faint smile. "That's not the goal. I just want to give it everything I've got."
Yamcha chuckled. "Yeah, well, make sure you leave something of the stage behind when you're done."
Bulma appeared moments later, arms folded as she walked up beside them. Her expression was stern, but her eyes betrayed concern. "Don't get cocky," she said, trying to keep her tone even. "But also… try not to lose, alright?"
He gave her a small nod, and that was enough to make her glance away, cheeks tinged faintly pink. "Tch… idiot," she muttered under her breath.
"Fighters! Report to the staging area!" the announcer's voice echoed across the arena, electrifying the atmosphere.
The four remaining warriors stepped forward, their footsteps deliberate, the weight of the crowd's expectations settling on their shoulders.
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Krillin stepped onto the arena stage, blinking against the sunlight and trying to keep his hands from shaking. Jackie Chun was already there, arms folded behind his back, his face a calm mask of experience.
The announcer's voice boomed across the coliseum. "And now, our first semi-final match—Jackie Chun versus Krillin!"
The gong rang.
And then—it was over in a blur.
A sudden burst of motion, a flash of limbs, and a loud WHACK! echoed across the stage. Krillin tumbled onto the grassy floor, stars spinning above his head.
"Jackie Chun wins?" the announcer blurted out in total confusion.
The crowd sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to comprehend what they just saw—or didn't see.
Bulma stood up, squinting. "Wait… what happened?"
Oolong shouted from the crowd, "Was that even a fight?! I blinked and it was over!"
Yamcha, who had been watching with sharp eyes, folded his arms and gave a light snort. "Damn, that was fast. Krillin really shouldn't have overcommitted like that."
Onigiri tilted his head slightly and muttered. "Strange… they all saw you and Jackie Chun move in the first match. And that wasn't any slower than this. Funny how quickly people forget."
The announcer, flustered, leaned into the mic again. "Uh… it appears the match has ended, but… for the benefit of the audience, would the fighters kindly reenact what just happened… in slow motion?"
Jackie Chun cleared his throat. "Very well."
Krillin picked himself up and the two returned to the center. What followed was a comically exaggerated and slow-motion reenactment, with Chun dramatically stepping to the side like he was dodging an invisible wall, Krillin over-committing to a flying kick with arms flailing like a cartoon character, and Chun casually tapping Krillin on the head with two fingers like he was booping a balloon.
Krillin spun in a ridiculous pirouette, arms flailing, and collapsed to the ground in the most theatrical groan he could muster.
The crowd burst into laughter.
Even the announcer chuckled. "And there you have it, folks—pure martial arts… and maybe a little drama club on the side!"
Goku clapped enthusiastically. "That was awesome! Do it again!"
Jackie Chun offered Krillin a hand and helped him to his feet. "You've got spirit, but remember—there's always someone faster."
Krillin chuckled sheepishly. "Yeah, yeah… next time, I'll make sure people actually see the fight."
As he limped back toward the others, he passed Goku and Onigiri and gave them both a thumbs-up.
"You two better put on a real show."
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The arena buzzed with anticipation as the next match was called. "And now, our second semi-final match—Goku versus Onigiri!"
Onigiri stepped forward, his inhibitor rings still firmly in place on his wrists, their weight a familiar drag that he no longer noticed. He rolled his shoulders slowly, eyes scanning the field. Goku bounded into place across from him, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"This is gonna be fun," Goku grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Onigiri gave a rare smile. "Yeah. Let's make it count."
The gong rang.
They exploded toward each other in an instant, fists clashing like thunder. Onigiri led with a sharp jab, Goku slipping just outside its arc to deliver a swift elbow toward his opponent's gut. Onigiri blocked it and spun into a backfist, forcing Goku to duck and counter with a rising uppercut. The hit grazed Onigiri's chin but did little more than make him flinch.
They separated only for a heartbeat before leaping back in.
Goku ducked low and swept at Onigiri's legs. Onigiri jumped, tucking his knees to his chest and flipping midair, landing cleanly just behind Goku and aiming a kick at his back. Goku twisted his torso, catching the heel on his forearm, and used the momentum to twist into a kick of his own that Onigiri narrowly blocked.
The crowd gasped and murmured, many unable to follow the rapid sequence.
Yamcha stood up from his seat, eyes narrowing. "They're reading each other. Like they've done this a dozen times already."
Punches turned into flurries, and footwork into blurs. Onigiri threw a powerful straight, only for Goku to grab his forearm and vault over it, landing a palm strike to Onigiri's shoulder. Onigiri skidded backward, boots scraping the tile, but held his ground.
With each exchange, their mutual respect grew. It wasn't just a test of strength—it was a test of growth, of how far they'd come.
They both paused, breathing evenly, eyes locked.
Goku chuckled, brushing dust from his shirt. "You're holding back."
Onigiri raised an eyebrow. "So are you."
Goku gave a toothy grin. "Alright then."
Onigiri took a slow breath. Then he reached down and gripped the metal bands on his wrists.
The crowd murmured in confusion as he twisted the clasps—click—and threw them toward Yamcha.
The inhibitor rings were caught by Yamcha, who nearly stumbled under their weight. Curious, he tried to slip one onto his wrist—only to immediately freeze, muscles locking up as if gravity itself had multiplied around him.
"W-What the heck... I can't even move my arm," he grunted, straining.
Krillin quickly stepped forward and helped him slide the ring off, both boys exhaling in relief.
Yamcha shook out his hand and stared down at the rings in awe. "These aren't just weights… They're anchors. He's been fighting like that this whole time?" He paused, then added, "Bulma told me he struggled with controlling his power, even after she made these rings. Maybe... maybe they made him stronger faster than he could adjust to it. Like his body was evolving ahead of his instincts."
Jackie Chun narrowed his eyes, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "He's been training with intent… and discipline. Those devices weren't just for control. They were forging his body the entire time—intensifying gravity, increasing resistance. Every step he took while wearing them was building him up, slowly but surely."
The camera panned back to the ring. Onigiri exhaled.
"Alright," he said with quiet finality. "No more holding back."
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The shift in atmosphere was immediate.
The moment Onigiri dropped his stance, his entire presence changed. He didn't glow, he didn't transform—there was no aura to mark the difference. But those who knew how to feel it, how to sense it, knew: his power had surged.
Even Goku blinked, his posture tightening instinctively. "Whoa… now that's different."
Onigiri vanished.
A crack of displaced air echoed across the ring as Goku threw up his arms just in time to block a lightning-fast jab. The impact launched him backward, skidding across the tiles in a blur before he flipped, landed, and dug in with his heels. The shockwave from the collision rippled across the arena, ruffling clothes and hair even in the stands.
Goku grinned wide. "Now we're talkin'!"
He launched forward, his movements now sharper, faster. The two met mid-ring with a force that sent tiles flying. Their fists blurred, each blow a miniature explosion. Onigiri's speed and power were now fully unleashed—and yet Goku met him strike for strike, his instincts razor-sharp.
They collided again, and this time, it was Goku who took the offensive—throwing rapid-fire punches that forced Onigiri to weave and block with increasing urgency. Onigiri pivoted, using Goku's momentum to flip him over his shoulder, but Goku landed on his hands and flipped back to his feet with feline grace.
The crowd could hardly keep up. Even the martial artists in the audience had gone quiet.
Goku ducked another strike and launched into a spinning midair kick. Onigiri caught it mid-spin, holding Goku by the ankle.
"You're smiling," Onigiri noted.
"So are you!" Goku replied gleefully.
Onigiri released him, and Goku landed, both bouncing lightly on their heels.
Then they clashed again—faster this time, even more fluid. It wasn't just a battle anymore—it was a conversation in motion, each strike a question, each dodge an answer.
Onigiri struck low, aiming a hook to Goku's ribs, only for Goku to twist and respond with a leaping knee. The two exchanged blows in midair, spinning past one another and landing in mirrored stances.
The floor beneath them was cracked from the sheer pressure of their movements. The tiles rippled with spiderweb fractures, and tiny clouds of dust danced in the air from their rapid displacements.
Onigiri surged forward again, feinting high before snapping a side kick toward Goku's hip. Goku parried it with his forearm, the shock traveling through both their frames.
"Your style's changed since the last match," Goku remarked, eyes alight.
"It's evolving—just like yours," Onigiri answered.
From the sidelines, Jackie Chun nodded slowly. "They're adapting to each other in real-time. Reading, countering, growing. This is what martial arts is all about."
Krillin leaned forward, eyes wide. "I don't even know how they're keeping up with each other. It's like they're thinking ten steps ahead."
"Yeah," Yamcha muttered, still holding the heavy rings. "And we're just watching the start."
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The battle waged on.
Each clash now shook the arena. The crowd could do little more than watch with bated breath as Onigiri and Goku fought with a precision and passion that transcended their age. Sweat flew from their brows, bruises began to bloom on skin—but neither showed signs of slowing down. Their bodies remained steady, not even winded, as if they could continue this pace for hours.
Onigiri's blows came with raw power—he moved like a force of nature. Goku, smaller but faster, met each strike with perfect timing and intuition. Every time Onigiri thought he had landed a decisive blow, Goku would slip just an inch too far or counter with a move so unorthodox it threw him off balance.
Their breathing remained steady. Their movements sharp.
"Not bad, Goku," Onigiri said between exchanges, smirking. "You're pushing me harder than I thought possible."
"You're amazing," Goku beamed. "I've never had this much fun fighting anyone who wasn't Grandpa."
The two launched at each other again in a final flurry. Fists met forearms. Kicks were dodged by a hair. Onigiri managed to land a powerful strike to Goku's midsection, sending him skidding back. Goku winced, but grinned, eyes burning with the fire of a true martial artist.
He rushed forward and leapt into the air.
Onigiri planted his feet and brought his guard up, but Goku twisted mid-air and vanished from sight—reappearing behind him with a flying kick that connected squarely with the side of Onigiri's head.
The world tilted. Onigiri staggered, caught off guard for the first time.
Goku didn't let up.
With a burst of speed, he slammed his shoulder into Onigiri's chest, pushing him across the stage. Onigiri tried to counter, but his footing slipped, and that was all Goku needed. He used the momentum, flipping behind Onigiri and pushing off his back—just enough force to send him teetering.
The crowd held its breath as Onigiri skidded across the tile—and one foot slipped just over the edge.
GONG!
The announcer shot up. "Onigiri has stepped out of bounds! Goku wins the match by ring-out!"
A roar of cheers erupted from the stands. Goku landed, his posture relaxed, still fresh and smiling wide.
Onigiri sat at the edge of the ring for a moment, eyes wide, then let out a small laugh.
"Well… I guess I still have a ways to go."
Goku approached and held out his hand.
"You were awesome," he said.
Onigiri took the hand and stood. "So were you."
As they made their way back to the others, the crowd continued to cheer—not for the winner, but for the incredible show of skill and spirit from both fighters.
And in that moment, win or lose, they were equals.
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