With crime and tensions on the rise in the world, yet no trace of the mysterious enemy that opened the gates of Hell, the Theta-senshi have settled into a routine.

Bulma and Chichi have gone into training, and the rest of the Theta-senshi are getting back into shape to prepare for the possible threat to come. Videl and Gohan are training Mister Satan to use his ki, and with the exception of a series of disturbing murders, life seems to have returned to normal.

Now, the Tenka-ichi Budokai begins in Ginger Town. All eyes are on the competition, anticipating the excitement to come...

Round One Start!!
Red Ribbon's Kaniba Saibou!!

"I fail to understand why you want to watch this pathetic tournament," Vegeta grumbled. The Son family, sans Gohan, had arrived at Capsule Corporation that morning and were now settling in to watch the Ginger Town Budokai on Bulma's big-screen television.

"Mou, Vegeta," Gokuu said as he arrayed a prodigious assortment of snacks about himself. "It's fun to watch a good fight."

The prince snorted. "A good fight? Wake up, Kakarotto. These are pathetic humans fighting to claim a title you know is a total lie."

Gokuu laughed. "That doesn't matter, Vegeta! It's not their fault there's people like us around." He glanced at the shorter Saiyajin. "Besides, we both know what it's like to want to be the best, right?" Vegeta snorted, turning away.

"It's about to start!" Goten shouted.

"Maybe there'll be a few good fights," Trunks grumbled.

The wives entered from the kitchen, pushing two carts loaded with miscellaneous foodstuffs. "You think this'll be enough?" Bulma asked.

Chichi shrugged. "It ought to be." She glanced at Gokuu. "For the first round, anyway..."

The blonde announcer, dressed for success in his black suit and ever-present sunglasses, watched the crowd in anticipation. This was the moment he lived for...this was when the magic happened.

Pity Son Gokuu and his friends wouldn't be showing up for this one.

As he ran through a microphone check, someone tapped his shoulder. Turning, he blinked at the young man standing behind him. "Great Saiyaman?"

The spiky-haired young man grinned. "Just call me Gohan. Thought I'd say hello, since you're sort of an acquaintance of my father."

The announcer blinked. "Your father wouldn't be...Son Gokuu, by any chance?"

Gohan nodded. "Un."

"Sou ka..." The announcer beamed. "Are you competing today?"

"Afraid not...just here as a spectator," Gohan said. At the blonde man's crestfallen expression, he smiled. "Don't worry, I think this'll be a good tournament even without people like me."

The announcer grinned. "If you say so, then I'm looking forward to it."

As Gohan headed back up into the stands, he paused. *There's something very weird here...* Looking around, he tried to pinpoint the unusual sensation, but it seemed to stay just outside of his perception.

Giving up, he returned to his seat. Videl leaned over and whispered, "You seem a little uneasy."

"Just a weird feeling is all."

The short-haired girl nodded. "Same here. Any idea what's going on?"

Gohan shook his head. "No, and that's what worries me." He looked around the arena. "I just hope nothing like what happened at the last Budokai happens here..."

Videl shuddered. "You and me both."

Far to the northwest, deep in the woods, a dark-haired man turned at the sharp crack of a twig on the trail leading to his cabin. Picking up his shotgun, he moved stealthily around the side of the log building, watching the surroundings carefully.

Two burly figures strode into view, paying little heed to their surroundings as they studied an odd device the shorter of the two carried. The man with the gun took a moment to study the trespassers, his ice-blue eyes flashing almost imperceptibly.

The shorter of the two men sported a wild mane of spiky black hair and dark eyes which were currently narrowed, blackened by the scowl which crossed his face. The simple clothes he wore were rather beaten and road-worn: a pair of heavy canvas jeans, boots of an unfamiliar design, and a dusty suede jacket. The taller man wore a cap on his otherwise bald head and was dressed in a similar manner to his companion. The cabin's owner narrowed his eyes as he caught sight of the familiar jacket and hat the large man wore—he knew the clothes belonged to a trucker whose route took him through the woods at least once a week.

"Alright you two, stop right there," the woodsman said, stepping forward and raising his gun.

The long-haired man raised his hands placatingly. "I assure you, my friend, there is no need for violence. We mean you no harm."

The man with the gun brushed a few strands of his shoulder-length hair out of his face. "You'll forgive me if I don't believe you. We don't exactly get many visitors out this way."

"Good, then nobody'll find your body if we kill you!" the larger man growled. He was elbowed sharply in the ribs by his companion.

"You'll have to forgive my friend," the spiky-maned intruder said. "He's a bit on the violent side, and not much for tact."

The woodsman chuckled. "So I see." Lowering his gun slightly, he asked, "So, what is it you want?"

"We're searching for something, and we believe you may have it in your possession."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

The larger of the two trespassers reached into his pocket and withdrew a softball-sized orange sphere. "Seen anything that looks like this?"

The cabin owner frowned. "A Dragonball."

"Ah, so you know about them," the long-haired man smirked. "I suppose you're going to make this more difficult than it needs to be, in that case."

The smaller man shrugged, leaning his shotgun against the wall. "That depends." Folding his arms, he inclined his head. "How much is it worth to you?"

The larger man snarled. "It's worth your life to you, punk!"

"Na—*ahem* Bakucho, calm yourself," the shorter man snapped. His companion glowered at him, but held his place. "If he wants to barter, we'll barter."

"First things first," the cabin owner said. "Did you kill the man you stole those clothes from?"

The man who had been identified as Bakucho chortled. "Nah, we didn't kill 'im. In fact, we paid 'im for 'em fair an' square."

"Of course, we had to convince him to part with them first." The man with the long mane of hair chuckled. "My friend here is a rather hard fit."

"That goes without saying." The woodsman made a show of thinking for a long moment. "Five hundred thousand zenni."

Bakucho's eyes widened. "Are you insane? That's highway robbery!"

"You're one to talk about highway robbery," the cabin owner pointed out.

"We can afford it," the spiky-haired man decided. "Pay the man, Bakucho."

"Show us the Dragonball first, you little snot," the huge man growled.

Shrugging, the smaller man extended a hand, palm outward, toward a pile of dirt in a corner of the clearing. A pulse of bluish-white energy burst from his palm, scattering dust and debris. When the cloud dissipated, the two intruders could see a shimmering crystalline sphere lying in a shallow pit.

The trespassers exchanged a wary glance at the gratuitous display of power, and Bakucho grumbled as he withdrew several heavy gold bars from his pockets. "Will this cover it?" he asked.

The woodsman grinned. "Yeah, that should be just about enough." He inclined his head toward the hole. "Take it and go." As the spiky-haired man retrieved the Dragonball and the woodsman collected his payment, he asked, "Incidentally, what are you planning to wish for?"

The two intruders glanced at each other. "It doesn't concern you," Bakucho rumbled.

"Hn...fair enough. Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." He closed the door of the cabin behind him.

As the two strange men left the clearing, the dark-haired woodsman adjusted his senses, increasing his hearing range. After filtering the nearby noises of birds twittering, he heard the voices of the two trespassers engaged in conversation.

//Think that guy's gonna be trouble?//

//If he was going to be trouble, we'd already both be dead. We're going to have to be more careful...you especially.//

//Kisama...! I don't recall you ever being my superior.//

//Look, you ignorant oaf...we've got to tread carefully, at least until we can make our wish. Do you realize what would happen if we slipped up, drew too much attention to ourselves, and were found out?//

//Well...uhh...//

//Idiot. What would happen if Lord Vegeta found out we're alive again? Or Kakarotto? We can't risk it...not until we're ready to face them.//

//This plan still stinks. Lord Vegeta'll just kill us again anyway.//

//Well, if we stick to the plan, we at least have a chance. That's more than we had before. But if you don't make an effort to do things my way, we're both going to end up dead again no matter what.//

Returning his senses to normal range, Juunanagou's brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Omoshiroi..."

//While we wait for the competition to get underway, we will take a few minutes to update you on a few news headlines.

//The mysterious gang has struck again in Satan City, this time taking hostages in an uptown high-rise office building. By the time the SWAT team arrived, the gang was gone, leaving behind the usual carnage and their bizarre dairy calling card.

//Turning to business news, Friji-Day Industrial Cold Storage became part of the expanding Gokkan Industries financial empire today, a result of another hostile corporate takeover. The former CEO of Friji-Day was not available for comment; the CEO of Gokkan Industries commented, quote, 'Refrigeration is a cold business, and when it comes to business, the Gokkan family is very cold.' Other companies are holding strategy meetings in fear that Gokkan will approach them in the near future.

//And now, let's return to Ginger Town, where the first round of the Tenka-ichi Budokai is about to get underway...//

The crowd cheered as the announcer stepped out onto the platform, raising his microphone and drawing a deep breath.

"YOOOOOSH!" he cried. "Let's start the first match! Our first two competitors are newcomers to the tournament, so let's have a big welcome for Sabatsu Kichigai-senshu and Orochi Sake-senshu!"

The first competitor bounced onto the platform, his rust-colored, waist-length pigtail bobbing around him. Wild, uneven bangs fell over his face, only partially obscuring his manic green eyes. The white T-shirt, navy blue jeans, and long black trenchcoat he wore were torn and stained, and his battered old sneakers were untied, frayed laces flailing as he moved. A manic, high-pitched giggle ripped from his throat as he threw his hands into the air. "Blood, blood, BLOOD!"

A moment later, a second man staggered into the ring. Middle-aged, with dark circles under his eyes and deep scratches across his face, he wore loose trousers, a wrinkled blue shirt, a sloppy necktie, and loafers. A satchel was slung across his back, and he held a tin flask in one hand. The announcer approached him warily. "Anou...Sake-senshu?"

"H-*hic*-hai?"

The blonde man adjusted his glasses. "Are...you sure you're in any shape to fight?"

The middle-aged competitor wobbled on his feet for a moment. "*hic*Ya-yah, 'm good..." He fell flat on his face, then slowly picked himself up, taking a long pull from his flask as he did so. The audience laughed, and the red-haired man across the platform doubled over giggling.

The announcer sweatdropped. "Anou...if you'd like to forfeit the match and sleep it off..."

Orochi Sake handed the announcer a card, and staggered across the platform, looking somewhere off to the left of his opponent.

"Oro?" The blonde man scratched his head as he glanced at the card. "Ah, so that's it..." Raising his microphone, he grimaced before announcing, "Ladies and gentlemen, Orochi Sake-senshu just handed me a card which explains the reason for his condition. It seems he's a master of the Hebereke-ryuu style, or 'Drunk-Fu' as it's more commonly known."

In the stands, Gohan stared, and Videl smacked her forehead, groaning.

"What the hell kind of stupid fighting style is that?" Vegeta scowled, glaring at the television.

Gokuu shrugged. "You got me. Let's watch and see how good he is."

Trunks glanced at Goten. "Fifty zenni says that guy pukes all over his opponent before the fight's over."

"You're on," Goten said, munching a handful of chips.

Sabatsu Kichigai giggled as he eyed his adversary. "Damn you're wasted! I bet you're so drunk you bleed beer!"

Orochi Sake belched loudly.

"Remember, the rules are as follows," the announcer called out. "You lose if you fall off the platform, are knocked down for a ten count, are knocked unconscious, or surrender the match. Killing your opponent is immediate disqualification." Raising his hands, he cried, "Begin!"

Kichigai leapt across the platform, raking at the older man with claw-like swipes and lashing out with kicks. The drunkard wobbled around under the onslaught, somehow managing not to be hit a single time. His free arm swung around and tagged the red-haired fighter in the shoulder; he planted his foot squarely on Kichigai's foot as the younger man attempted a roundhouse, causing both fighters to lose their balance and fall. Sake narrowly missed having his head dented by the kick, while Kichigai smacked his head hard on the platform.

The drunk fighter raised his flask to his lips, then frowned, tossing it aside as he realized it was empty. Reaching into his satchel, he withdrew a small bottle of rum.

Kichigai rubbed the back of his skull as he stood up, and glanced at his palm. Finding blood there, he threw back his head and let loose a chilling, high-pitched laugh. He raised his hand, showing the red smear for all to see. "BLOOD! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!"

"That guy's a little unstable," Gohan said.

"Unstable? He's nuts!" Videl replied.

The red-haired fighter licked the red smear from his palm, unsettling many of the spectators. The announcer stared for a moment, before commenting, "Ah...well, that was an amazing first attack! Both competitors have taken a fall, and now they're back up and this match will continue!"

Kichigai bounced toward his opponent, his blood-slicked pigtail flailing wildly. "You bled me, old man! Now I'm gonna bleed you!"

Orochi Sake opened his bottle, chugging the contents, and pulled a cigarette lighter from his pocket. As the younger man drew near, he flicked the lighter in front of his face and let out a roaring belch which carried throughout the arena. A cloud of alcohol-fueled flames poured forth from his mouth, engulfing the red-haired man, who began to scream wildly. "EEK! FIREFIREFIRE!" he yelped as he flailed around, rolling on the ground in an attempt to extinguish himself.

Vegeta stared, one eye twitching. "What the HELL...!?"

Gokuu blinked. "That was a funny thing to do."

"Funny? That was downright disgusting," Chichi commented.

"No way, that ruled!" Trunks said, laughing hysterically.

Sabatsu Kichigai stood, smoke curling from his hair and clothes as he glared at the older man, growling. "Yer gonna PAY FOR THAT, asshole!"

The drunken fighter's only response was to shatter the empty bottle over the younger man's head, then flail away at him with a series of wild, disjointed attacks. Kichigai staggered under the assault, reeling as the tanked old man pounded on him. Sake grabbed his pigtail, wrapped it around his neck, and bashed the younger man's skull against his own, sending both fighters reeling.

"Wow, that old guy's tougher than he looks," Gohan said, blinking.

"He must get in a lot of bar brawls," Videl added.

As Sake staggered backward, he reached into his satchel for another bottle of booze. The red-haired young man roared as he regained his bearings, launching himself across the ring in a flying kick. The older man staggered to the side, his random drunken defense prepared for the attack, but Kichigai was expecting this and suddenly twisted in midair, slamming the heel of his other foot into the drunkard's temple. As the pigtailed fighter landed unsteadily on all fours, the older man's head snapped around from the impact. The audience gave a collective "Eeeeeeeew" as Orochi Sake unleashed a mighty Technicolor yawn which carried to the edge of the platform. As soon as the last of his grand spew hit the ground the middle-aged drunk keeled over, pulling off a perfect faceplant into his own vomit. The red-haired fighter lost his composure and pounded the ground with his fists, laughing uproariously at the sight.

"Ah...I'm going to take this as meaning Orochi Sake-senshu is unable to continue the match," the announcer said, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. "The winner by...umm...pass-out...Sabatsu Kichigai-senshu!" Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, he added, "Could we get the janitor out here before the next match, please?"

Goten laughed. "Pay up, Trunks-kun!"

Trunks scowled. "Me? You lost the bet! He hurled!"

"Yeah, but you said he was gonna hurl all over the other guy! He didn't, so you lost!"

Grumbling, Trunks dug some change out of his pocket and handed it to the dark-haired boy.

Gokuu stared at the television, chuckling nervously. "Ehehehehehe...well, that was an interesting fight! Ne, Vegeta?"

Vegeta snorted. "Watching a dog piss is more interesting than that."

//The next match will commence as soon as the janitorial staff has cleaned the arena. We'll return to our live coverage of the Tenka-ichi Budokai after these messages.//

"Alright, let's have the next two competitors, Shimeru Henshin-senshu and...ummm..." The announcer adjusted his glasses, frowning. "Uhh...Big Pink Thing-senshu."

An androgynous purple-haired kendoist approached, bokuto slung over one shoulder. "Rules do say non-lethal weapons are allowed, right?" the competitor asked.

"Hai, this year we're allowing it for the first time," the blonde announcer said.

The young kendoist grinned and strode out toward the platform.

"I'll assume that was Henshin-senshu..." Glancing around, the announcer idly wondered, "Where's the other fighter for the next round?"

"Koko de koko de koko de!" A pink rubber...thing flounced out of the vending kiosk, bouncing toward the entryway. "Fight time, fight time?"

The blonde man blinked. "Aren't you...wait, no..." He shook his head. "I assume you're Big Pink Thing-senshu?"

The weird pink costume bobbed up and down. "Sou yo sou yo, watashi watashi!"

"Then it's your turn to fight."

As the fighter hopped out into the arena, the spectators—not to mention the other competitor for the match—stared in disbelief. A poorly tailored, mismatched pink rubber-and-vinyl rabbit suit, pudgy with stubby arms, floppy ears, and oversized feet concealed whatever sort of fighter may have been lurking within. A purple rhinestone "P" graced its forehead, and a disgustingly happy expression was painted on its face. "Puu, puu, PUU!" it declared as it faced its opponent.

In the VIP boxes, another broad pink face contorted in disgust. "That's insulting," Buu muttered.

In the competitors' area, Kaniba Saibou leaned against the wall, arms folded, chortling at the most recent fighter's exit. "How ridiculous."

"Excuse me, friend, but I'd like to talk to you."

Saibou opened his eyes, sizing up the man approaching him. Roughly half a head shorter than himself and quite muscular, the other man wore blue, full-body tights, yellow boots and gloves, white trunks, and a yellow and white cape which fluttered in the gentle breeze. A red rising sun was emblazoned across his chest. His dark hair was slicked neatly back, and dark eyes peered out of a lantern-jawed face. Everything about his image said strength, bravery, and righteousness.

"And who might you be?" the green-haired fighter asked.

"They call me Aoi Choujin," the blue-costumed man said. "Since we're fighting in the next match, I thought I'd come over and introduce myself." He extended his hand.

Saibou chuckled, and shook the offered hand. "How sportsmanlike of you." *Trying to intimidate me, are you?* he thought as he felt the dark-haired fighter's grip tighten. *Let's see how you like this!*

Aoi Choujin had to grit his teeth to keep the surprise and pain off his face as the green-haired man nearly crushed his hand. "Well, I think this should be an interesting fight," he ground out.

"Indeed," Saibou grinned, letting go of the blue-clad man's hand. *Pitiful weakling.*

*Who is this guy? Something's very wrong about him,* Aoi Choujin thought as he walked away.

"Well, that was...interesting," the announcer commented as tournament helpers carted the unconscious form of "Big Pink Thing" out of the arena, bits and pieces of his costume trailing behind him. "Moving right along, let's have the next two competitors! First, a local champion of justice, please welcome Ginger Town's favorite hero, Aoi Choujin-senshu!"

A huge cheer went up from the crowd. The man in the blue tights sprinted from backstage and somersaulted onto the platform, waving to his fans.

"And his opponent, a newcomer to the Tenka-ichi Budokai, Kaniba Saibou-senshu!"

The tall, green-haired man strolled casually into the arena, glancing around at the spectators with cold amusement. He smirked evilly as he caught sight of Mister Satan in the VIP box...then frowned as he saw the spiky-haired young man sitting several seats down. As he mounted the platform, he crossed his arms and gazed calmly at his opponent.

Across the platform, Aoi Choujin struck a series of heroic poses. "The goddess Amaterasu smiles upon me! Victory shall be my favor from the heavens!" The crowd cheered wildly.

Saibou rolled his eyes. "Why are all you hero types so pathetic?"

"There's something really disturbing about that guy," Videl said.

Gohan nodded. "Yeah, he's giving me the creeps and I don't know why..." As the green-haired competitor crossed his arms and exchanged words with the local favorite, Gohan got a clear view of the back of his jacket, and his eyes widened.

"Masaka...Red..."

"...Ribbon..."

"Huh? I don't see a red ribbon. Where'd you see a red ribbon?" Goten asked, blinking.

Vegeta and Trunks had left to spar in the gravity room, becoming bored during the second match. Bulma, Chichi, Gokuu, and Goten had remained behind to watch the rest of the tournament. Presently, Gokuu was staring intently at the camouflage-wearing fighter on the screen...in particular, at the distinctive pattern on the back of his jacket.

Bulma shrugged. "Maybe he's just wearing it because he thinks it looks cool? Just because someone's wearing the sign of the Red Ribbon..."

Gokuu shook his head. "I have a bad feeling, Bulma. A real bad feeling." *Like a wind just blew over my grave...*

"You both know the rules? Then fight!"

The two competitors sized each other up for a long moment. Aoi Choujin was the first to break the tableau, charging across the ring and driving a fist into the taller man's abdomen. *I'll take him down fast with a sucker punch,* the crimefighter decided.

Unfortunately for him, Saibou had other plans. Aoi Choujin's eyes widened as the green-haired man took the full-force punch without flinching. Grinning down at his opponent, Saibou quietly intoned, "Impressive form, cheap tactic...bad move." With an almost casual rising knee, he sent the blue-clad fighter flying across the platform.

Catching himself and launching into a handspring, Aoi Choujin landed with his heels touching the edge of the platform. "I'm impressed," he said. He began to circle warily, moving in closer without entering what he assumed to be the tall man's attack range. Saibou merely followed the blue-clad man with his eyes.

Flinging himself into the air, Aoi Choujin somersaulted twice before suddenly angling his body downward and rocketing toward his opponent, one booted foot extended. "SUMMER HEEL PRESS!"

His attack plowed through empty air as Saibou blurred, appearing to stand beside himself for a moment. Reaching up, he snagged the other man's leg and yanked hard, slamming him painfully into the platform.

"An amazing counterattack by Saibou-senshu!" the announcer cried. "That one had to hurt!"

"Just surrender. You don't have a chance."

Aoi Choujin picked himself up, gritting his teeth. "Never."

Saibou shrugged. "Very well. I wasn't tired of playing with you yet anyway."

Growling, the blue-clad crimefighter launched into a flurry of kicks and punches, all of which were easily evaded by his opponent. Aoi Choujin ended his assault with a hard roundhouse kick aimed at his opponent's head. The green-haired man blocked the kick with a forearm, grunting as the force of the blow caused him to shift his weight. "That almost stung," he commented.

The town hero's eyes widened. "There's no way..."

"Don't leave your guard open," Saibou chided. A fist slammed into Aoi Choujin's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. It was quickly followed by a snap kick to the side, a cross chop to the chest, a rising knee which lifted the blue-clad man off his feet, and finally a straight punch to the face which sent him flying. The crowd gasped in shock.

"That guy's pretty good," Videl said.

"Yeah...he is strong," Gohan said. *But how strong is he? I can't feel him out at all...*

"Amazing!" the announcer cried into his microphone. "There's no way Aoi Choujin-senshu could withstand an attack like that and still be able to fight! I'm going to begin the count now!"

The crowd murmured in awe as the blue-clad fighter slowly began to stir, pulling himself shakily to his knees. He spent a few moment gasping for air, then stood upright.

Saibou raised an eyebrow. "Now I'm truly impressed. Surely you don't have anything left to give."

"Just...one...thing..." Aoi Choujin wheezed. Closing his eyes, he drew a deep breath. "Amaterasu-sama, forgive me...I must beseech your favor." Cupping his hands before him, he began to glow, the light of the sun seeming to coalesce around his body. His eyes snapped open, burning like twin suns as a fiery white ball of fire formed between his hands. The crowd shielded their eyes from the intense glare as Aoi Choujin thrust his arms forward. "SOLAR BEAM!"

The announcer scrambled for cover as a blinding ray of pure white light erupted from the blue-clad fighter, streaking toward Kaniba Saibou. For his part, the green-haired man seemed more amused than worried. Only a handful of those present were able to see the soft red corona which began burning around him as he raised his own hands.

"Bakana..." Videl gasped, eyes wide. "He's going to counter that!"

Gohan nodded. "Un."

Wordlessly, Saibou unleashed a sparking red blast which engulfed the other fighter's attack, slowly pushing it back, creating a pinkish-white strobe which momentarily blinded the audience. Only Gohan, Videl, Buu, and the announcer (who was suddenly thankful for his choice of eyewear) were able to watch as the tall green-haired man strode across the platform, hand extended and blazing with malevolent red energy, parting the intense white heat of his opponent's blast as though it were nothing. An evil grin crossed his face as a sudden burst of ki erupted from his palm, completely overtaking the blue-clad fighter's attack with a concussive blast.

Aoi Choujin sailed off the platform, crashing into the concrete retainer wall at the bottom of the stands.

As the spectators recovered their eyesight, they stared in mute shock. Two medics rushed onto the field with a stretcher, loading up the unconscious Aoi Choujin. One of them flashed the announcer a thumbs-up before carrying the fighter away.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer shouted enthusiastically into his microphone, "The winner by knockout and by ringout, Kaniba Saibou-senshu!" *My Budokai...this is how I like my Budokai to be...*

The crowd wasn't quite as enthusiastic about seeing their favorite hero beaten, but the man in the Red Ribbon jacket could care less as he left the platform, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

"Sugee..." Goten cheered. "Trunks-kun's gonna be mad when he finds out he missed a good fight like that!"

"Yeah, that guy was really strong," Gokuu agreed softly.

"Gokuu-sa? What's wrong?" Chichi peered at her husband intently.

Gokuu was silent for a long moment, before shaking his head. "It's nothing. Just a weird feeling." Tossing a whole nikuman into his mouth, he asked, "Ne, isn't Gohan at the Budokai with Videl?"

Chichi nodded. "Hai, they're on a date today."

The tall Saiyajin frowned, chewing thoughtfully. *I'll ask him if he felt anything from that guy later.*

"I couldn't...feel anything at all." Gohan frowned, pacing up and down the aisle in the VIP box. "He used a fairly strong ki attack, but I couldn't feel it at all."

Videl moved to stand behind him, rubbing his shoulders. "Ne, Gohan-kun...it'll be alright, won't it? You don't think that guy's really dangerous, do you?"

"I...I just don't know," Gohan replied, sighing. "I have a bad feeling..." His eyes widened. "Red Ribbon...masaka...he couldn't be..."

"Couldn't be...what?" Videl asked.

Gohan leaned against the railing, surveying the damage the last match had done to the arena. "Kaniba Saibou...whose ki I couldn't sense...it's impossible, but could he be...a Jinzouningen?"

Ossu! Ora Gokuu!
The first round of the Tenka-ichi Budokai was really surprising! The tournament's not over yet, but already it's pretty clear who's gonna win!
But who is that guy? Gohan thinks he's one of Doctor Gero's Jinzouningen, but that's impossible, isn't it?

Next Dragonball Theta: "Another Jinzouningen!? Investigating The Challenger!!" Mata ne!

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