After thinking it over for most of the morning, I finally decided to go.
It wasn't like me to care about events like this… but Goku is my little brother, and supporting him feels like the right thing to do. After all the months I've spent helping him understand his Oozaru form—its instincts, its change in perspective and weight, the strange sense of scale—I guess this is another part of being a sibling.
The tournament stadium was overflowing with people. Their cheers were loud enough to shake the seats. I sat beside Bulma, who was practically vibrating with excitement seeing her friends—and her boyfriend—take center stage.
Watching the fighters step into the ring felt strange. Master Roshi is a martial artist in a league of his own; his ki control is on a level most people on Earth can't begin to understand. And yet… looking around, I could count on one hand how many people here even had a hint of ki awareness. I didn't expect someone as strong as Roshi, but I hoped for at least one fighter who might push Goku.
Instead, the only contenders who could challenge him were
Master Roshi in disguise—Jackie Chun—Yamcha, and Krillin.
Before long, it was obvious how the tournament would end. Roshi had the experience, the technique, and most importantly, the mindset. Krillin and Goku were gifted but inexperienced. Yamcha was confident, but dropped his guard too easily whenever he thought he had the advantage. Roshi, on the other hand, never relaxed. Even when he was joking, even when he was smiling, his body stayed ready—alert, aware, prepared for the unexpected. That's the difference between someone who's fought to survive… and someone who only trains to win.
My suspicion about who Jackie Chun really was only deepened when I sensed a large spike of ki last night and heard the news:
someone had destroyed the moon.
Knowing what moonlight does to Saiyans, it didn't take a genius to guess who would do something that drastic and why.
Just as I expected, Roshi—Jackie Chun—won the tournament. When he finally took off the disguise and joined us afterward, Goku was too excited to care about anything except food. So we all went to a restaurant nearby.
Goku ate like a starving animal.
Krillin and Yamcha stared.
Bulma looked horrified.
Roshi just nodded as if everything made perfect sense.
Humans forget that Saiyans aren't just big eaters—we evolved that way. Our bodies absorb energy at a ridiculous rate, digesting fast so we can fight again sooner. It's survival-born biology, shaped over thousands of years. Some old legends even claimed the Oozaru was our true form, and that our smaller appearance came later. Maybe that's true… maybe it isn't. Even so, the idea always made sense to me. The Super Saiyan legend was treated the same way—myth, rumor, impossible. Until it isn't.
The meal cost a lot, but I had more than enough saved from bounty hunting. Bulma offered to pay, but I refused. With the battle-robot project almost ready for mass production, money would never be a problem again—not after splitting the profits with Dr. Brief.
Goku wasn't strong yet. Not compared to the threats I knew existed out in space. But once I finish building stronger robots—ones that can push me and him to our limits—we might stand a chance.
Against Nappa.
Against Vegeta.
And maybe… even against Frieza.
Hopefully.