Standing alone, but standing tall.

Crystal-blue eyes stared ahead at the board in obvious disinterest; the formulas and equations etched in white chalk were things she'd already mastered by the age of nine.

However Bulma held back her sigh of aggravation by reminding herself that, in just a few more weeks, she'd finally graduate and be finished with such boring lectures.

'And on my way to watch the World Tournament.' She thought with a grin, before turning another page in her textbook.

Her thoughts had wandered though, from numbers and decimals, to images of her friend holding up the championship belt with that self-assured smirk the girl knew he'd wear.

Because Bulma had no doubt in her mind, Goku would most definitely dominate everyone he was up against; even Yamcha.

That bit of thought had the beautiful genius recalling the handful of dates she'd been on with the former desert bandit. True to her word Bulma had given actual thought to what it could be like to be taken out by Yamcha, and upon his arrival to her home simply shrugged her shoulders in agreeance since the boy had honestly cleaned up before coming.

Apparently, the shaggy teen had stored quite a bit of money away during his stint as a thief. And while Bulma certainly didn't condone stealing, she allowed Yamcha to pay for their outings with his stolen money on the concession that he give up being a bandit.

Even now, it made Bulma roll her bright eyes at how eagerly the boy was to comply.

The pair hadn't seen much of each other in the last few weeks however, because Bulma knew her final exams were approaching and she had no intention of risking a single grade point for Yamcha or his over zealous interest in her lips.

Sighing again, she let her hand come up to cup her soft cheek and think back to that single kiss she'd given the nervous boy after their third outing. While it had in no way been her first kiss, Bulma was pretty sure it would be the last one she would share with Yamcha. The boy had showed a clear lack of practice, and while that could be put aside and even admired, the fact that Bulma felt no warmth could not.

It had been just as plain, and uninspiring as all the other kisses she'd given to boys who attempted to catch her eye.

'At least, with me here at class, and him off training for the tournament I don't have to worry about it too much. Besides, I can always just cut him loose when I see him again, so I guess it's no big deal.'

With that thought, and another sigh of boredom, Bulma finally turned her mind back to the notebook in front of her that she was using to copy questions in, and worked on the multitude of math problems set before her.

While this was going on, out in the wilderness of the Asian continent Yamcha was indeed training for the upcoming tournament.

The teen's long, unkempt hair had swiftly lost whatever sheen it held during his dates with Bulma, and since returned to the gnarled, unruly mess it had been during his bandit days. His once clean skin was once again coated in a fine layer of dirt and grime, one that streaked from the sweat trickling out of his pores as Yamcha punched and kicked his way through the jungles.

Long gone were the crisp collard shirt and khaki slacks he'd dressed in to take Bulma out with, and in their place stood Yamcha's tried-and-true orange-and-green uniform of old.

Yes, gone was the nervous wreck that was infatuated with Bulma Briefs. In his place Yamcha of the Diablo Desert moved in his place, sword drawn and swinging at everything that his mind conjured to look like Kakarot.

Teeth grit and a sneer twisted at Yamcha's lips he twisted and leaped through the trees; his muscles ached terribly and hid breathing came in labored gasps, and yet the teen still didn't quite.

Instead Yamcha pushed his body to move faster, to swing harder as he cut down an endless number of thick branches from their tree. His fury blinded him to where Yamcha's boot slipped during his next landing, however this did nothing to stop the teen's momentum as he crashed to the forest floor and worked into a roll that planted the former bandit back on his feet so he could twist into a powerful spin-kick.

That kick was followed by a vicious stab with Yamcha's sword, the blade burying itself up to the hilt as it pierced the thick hide of an age-old tree.

The dense wood made it difficult for Yamcha to retrieve his sword then, so with a growl the young teen decided he would give it a rest for a moment and plopped down into a cross-legged position with a huff. Light from the sun filtered through gaps in the canopy of trees, speckling the forest with rays like a spotlight, while the heat layered on like a blanket. Winter had come and gone, the snow long since melted, and now spring was in full effect.

'And yet I still spent Valentine's Day alone,' Yamcha thought with a grumble.

Sure, he'd started training around that time, but the young teen still thought he and Bulma would each take time off from their respective personal affairs to share in the holiday of love.

Unfortunately for the shaggy-haired youth, when he voiced the idea he was immediately shot down, Bulma siting her refusal to the fact she had an important test the following day and would prefer to spend her time studying for it. And, if he were being truly honest with himself, it wasn't this that encored Yamcha's bad mood.

No, that title was given to his date's short, freaky friend.

'Kakarot!,' The former bandit hissed mentally.

Bulma may never have brought the monkey-tailed boy up during their dates but Yamcha could see from the distracted look in her eyes that she often thought about him, and while he knew it was ridiculous to be jealous of someone so much younger Yamcha found he was powerless to stamp it out.

It just irked him, knowing that a beautiful girl like Bulma found more interest and fun in a boy rather than a man like him.

'I mean sure, I don't exactly live in the best apartment, all my money I've stolen from others, and I quite school to become a professional thief, but that doesn't mean I can't change.' Yamcha sniffed indignantly.

Anger swelling in his chest, the former bandit worked himself into another series of kicks and punches as he continued to stew about his failing romantic pursuit.

'I'll show her,' Yamcha swore internally as he began his signature technique. 'I'll win the World Tournament, get that prize money, and show Bulma that I'm more than enough man for her. So you better watch out Kakarot; because I'm coming for you!'

What neither Bulma, nor Yamcha knew was that the object of their thoughts wasn't even remotely thinking about either of them.

In fact, Goku wasn't thinking about anything at that current moment. Instead the young alien was settled atop the roof of Roshi's pink house, in the lotus position, and meditating in an effort to unlock the mysteries of his own mind.

It had been months since he'd arrived there and began learning under the Turtle Hermit; months since his frightening experience of 'battle lust', as he'd come to call it.

Against his wishes, memories of that day began to filter in and litter his mind. Goku remembered the uneasy feeling he'd had after Roshi'd pulled him away from Krillin, the knot that had formed in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the blood that oozed from the other boys nose, as well as the desire he had to see more. Then there was his trip with the Nimbus.

It had taken some time, but Goku finally arrived at where he'd left his ship behind and dismounted the fluffy yellow cloud with a graceful leap.

The meditating youth recalled the nervous energy that coursed through his body that day, and how it made his very skin itch. He could see, in his mind's eye, the smooth, round pod that he'd arrived on Earth in.

It was caked in dirt, and the once pristine white coloring had faded to a dull sort of yellow-gray with age, but it was intact. Goku's memory brought that same trepidation he'd felt then to the forefront of his mind for the umpteenth time, and just like that day, Goku felt a shiver run down his spine and shoot to the end of his tail.

Now that the memory was playing it wouldn't stop, and the young alien boy watched much the same as with his transformation recall, as his body took tentative steps toward the space-pod.

The normally confident martial artist had been filled with anxious energy as his thoughts scattered in an uneven mess. Goku recalled the flickering embers of hope that filled his chest, and grew into a small flame with every inch closer that he drew to the ship.

The hatch was left open which had allowed Goku to peer inside, and he took in the tattered, molded remains of a cushioned seat. Moving closer, the young alien could clearly make out the robotic tune of that same message he'd heard when he came to the ship with Bulma.

"Wake up Kakarot; destroy all lifeforms."

It was a continuous recording, and young Goku had to do his best to block it out so as not to risk falling into the same dangerous trance as before. His feet shuffled inch by inch until finally, the monkey-tailed martial artist stood directly in front of his space-pod.

There was a stench that wafted through the air as a light breeze swept the area, and it made Goku wrinkle his nose as his superior senses easily picked up on the odor. Although, the boy wasn't totally surprised considering just how long the spacecraft's hatch had been open for, and his quest for answers was far more important than his burning nostrils.

Back in the present mind Goku opened his eyes, canceling out his meditative state and shattering the memory like glass as he remembered just what it was he'd found inside the pod.

Nothing.

There was no message, no recording, only the eerie monotone of the woman telling him that his job was to destroy every last living thing on planet Earth.

Letting a sigh pass through his lips, Goku stood from his seated position and let his onyx orbs sweep over the vast ocean laid out before him. The salty sea air replaced the reminiscent scent of moist mildew, and the warmth from the sun bathed Goku in a wash of fresh energy as its rays lapped away at his skin.

These things helped balm the wound that pricked at the boy's heart, the sharp sting echoing with the pain of truth.

He was alone.

There was no one coming to find him, no one out there who probably even knew his name. And, that knowledge...hurt.

Because it meant that there was no one to explain away any of the confusion, the questions that seemed to just keep piling up with every day that went by. There was no one who was going to help him learn to control his full-moon transformation, or the battle-lust that seemed to be growing stronger with every spar he had with Krillin.

There was no one, only Goku...

'Only Kakarot', he thought to himself with a shake of his head. And he would have to do everything himself.

'Like a true warrior,' the young alien thought with a firm set to his brow.

Then, the sound of Roshi's door opening drew his attention and Goku looked down to find the elderly man walking out alongside Krillin; the young monk having long ago changed from his robes to a sleeveless white shirt, and yellow pants for spars.

Realizing what was coming, the wild-haired youth leaped from the roof and with an aerial flip landed perfectly in front of both of them.

"I assume it's time for our spar?" Goku questioned with a raised brow.

"Actually, no." Roshi answered with a tone. He had remained wary of the boy before him ever since the 'incident'.

"There isn't much time left before the tournament and I want to see how each of you does against me. Many of the fighters that you'll be up against will be veterans of the Tenkaichi Budokai, which means that they've been practicing for years rather than months. To make sure you're both ready I want to see if each of you can land a hit on me; just one, and that'll prove you're both capable of handling the competition to come. What do you say?"

Goku's answer was to scoff. "If you even feel the need to ask me, then you haven't been paying attention to who you're dealing with old man."

Krillin's answer was much more respectful, and while he glared at Kakarot, he bowed as he spoke. "I thank you for this opportunity Master, and I'll do my best to not disappoint you."

From there it was decided that the bald little monk would test first. Goku scoffed at the obvious favoritism being shown, but relented none the less and stepped back to sit on the steps to watch.

The young martial arts student then let his eyes narrow in focus, so as to better keep track of the match. Krillin had gotten considerably faster during their months of training, and Goku now had to make an effort to follow the other boy when he moved.

The match wasn't quick, but neither did it take long for Krillin to score his single hit on Roshi. The bald youth surprised the elderly hermit with a fairly advanced combination of grappling and flips that ended with a knee spiking straight into the martial arts master's stomach.

However, throughout the duration of the spar Goku couldn't help but be impressed with just how far along his fellow student had come while using Roshi's odd training methods.

Memories of delivering milk crates on foot, swimming to escape the jaws of a giant fish, and dodging bees while tied to a tree trunk flashed through Goku's mind as he watched Krillin duck a dodge the swift strikes being thrown his way.

It truly astounded the young alien to see just how far the little bald monk had come from simply repeating such ridiculous tasks. But then, that begged the question, just how strong had Goku himself gotten, since he had decided to include a solo regimen to go along with Roshi's own teachings?

It's true, when the first day of 'training' was over and Goku had been left wanting more, the young boy with the monkey tail decided later that night that some personal practice time was needed if he was going to hope to stand a chance in the World Tournament.

From there, the wild-haired youth spent the next few nights constructing his own routine before finally taking Nimbus and rocketing off to begin his real training.

With it Goku took Roshi's weighted turtle shell method and enhanced upon it; tying small boulders to his wrists and ankles as he went through kata.

He also decided to play around with the very style Gohan had been teaching him, and since the old man never got around to teaching Goku the entire set of forms, he worked to create his own in order to fill in those gaps.

Then he battled against nature itself, struggling to climb steep cliff sides and even roaring waterfalls while weighing himself down with both the turtle shell as well as the makeshift weights. There were more than enough failed attempts that, once he'd finally completed both exercises, Goku was certain he had to have gotten much stronger than when he started.

But Goku didn't just train his body, no the young boy also took it upon himself to embrace the practice of meditation on a level that far surpassed what he'd been taught. The lack of a message left behind in his space-pod fueled the boy's desire to better harness the power he so obviously had lying dormant within himself.

So when he wasn't training, the boy with the monkey tail used whatever time he wasn't eating to sit atop Kame house and delve into the depths of his mind. It was a difficult task, diving to such unknowns wells of the mind, but after two months of heavy meditation practice Goku finally managed to dip his fingers into the murky waters of his latent potential.

However, that first taste of power was almost overwhelming, and Goku was forced to fight off the incoming loss of control that came with interacting with what he guessed to be his inner animal; the Oozaru.

Since then Goku had backed off from that level of concentration, and steered his meditating towards growing the flame that already burned in his chest.

Focusing on his current power, and stoking it through both physical and mental exercise, proved to be exceptionally effective and now with only a few short weeks to go before the tournament Goku found that his campfire had grown into an inferno matching that of Fire Mountain.

Deep in thought though, Goku didn't realize that his name was being called until a shadow cast over him and blocked out the sun. Blinking, but in a way that didn't give off that he'd been caught off-guard, the young boy peered up to see Roshi standing over him. "So I guess this means that it's my turn?"

"That's right, and I'll be giving you the same restrictions as Krillin; no energy beams. Other than that, all I have to say is for you to get into position Kakarot, so that we can begin." Roshi explained.

Goku simply nodded his head and, after hauling himself to his feet, walked over to his side of the beach before settling into his opening stance. His sharp, coal-like eyes watched diligently as Roshi did the same, although a spur of annoyance stuck in his side at seeing the elderly man do no more than lift his staff in a feeble defense.

'Arrogant old lecher, he has no idea what he's up against, I'm nothing like the boy he fought when we first met.' Goku scoffed internally.

Without his weighted gear the boy felt lighter than air, and moving without giving away his speed was a difficult task, but young Goku managed to do it as he tensed his muscles in preparation for an attack. However, instead of sprinting forward to make the first move Goku was forced to doge away from an incoming jab made by Roshi's staff.

From there he ducked a spin-kick to the head, and managed to retaliate with a firm, rising palm to the old man's knee.

Roshi managed to snap his leg back just fast enough to avoid the blow however, so Goku was left to block his counter-attack with his forearm. It was here that the monkey-tailed martial artist got another surprise—the attack barely even phased him.

Sure, there was the initial pain of impact as Roshi's knuckles smacked against his muscles, but after that it was as if Goku had just gotten a slap on the wrist! This shock cost the boy though, because it left him open and his elderly opponent took full advantage of this to land a sweep-kick, and follow it up by spinning and driving his knee into Goku's stomach.

With his mind focus snapped back to the spar Goku managed to catch himself as his feet left the ground, and tense his body. Landing only a few feet back instead of halfway across the small island, Goku was ready for his opponent's attempt to regain his advantage; this only made the boy smile.

With his blood starting to heat up, and the possibility that he may actually be closing the gap between himself and the old man, Goku's eyes sharpened and he found it a little easier to dodge Roshi's next strike. Ducking and weaving around a flurry of punches and staff strikes Goku's smirk stretched across his whole face to become a full-blown smile of excitement.

As he jumped over Roshi's second try at a sweep-kick the younger fighter flipped over the elderly hermit's deceptively thin frame, and used his tail to actually snatch Roshi's staff from his hand.

Landing deftly on his feet, the monkey-tailed boy whipped the furry appendage around behind him...and managed to whack the surprised Roshi with his own weapon in the back of the head.

Reigning in his heated desire to continue fighting Goku unwound his tail from around the wooden instrument he'd used to achieve victory, and curled the furry psudo-limb back around his waist. Turning, the boy stared at his downed foe, and watched as Roshi stood silently to his feet.

There was a weight in Goku's stomach at this point, as he eagerly awaited the announcement that he was indeed ready for the World Tournament. He was not disappointed.

"That was very good Kakarot; you managed to strike me faster than Krillin, and he did exceptionally in his own right. However, as I'm sure you know, I wasn't using my full power so I don't want this going to your head; do you understand?"

Goku simply gave a firm nod as he answered. "I do, and I thank you for your training...Master. I hope I can put your teachings to good use, and be successful when the time comes for the tournament."

Roshi's eyes widened under his sunglasses, but he managed to keep the surprise off his face as he reached down to pick up his fallen staff. In all the time he'd known the young boy known as Kakarot, the kid had never once called him by his proper title.

So to hear it now, so suddenly after these many long months, almost caused the Turtle Hermit to stumble. But it also made him more certain about his decision to keep the truth from the monkey-tailed martial artist.

Kakarot hadn't just done well, he'd landed a hit faster than any other student Roshi had ever had, and even faster than he himself had landed one on his own master; Mutaito.

Watching the two boys agree to spar, and then looking on as they traded blows, Roshi couldn't help but marvel at the raw potential he could see coming off Kakarot in waves. Yes, the mountain boy with the monkey tail would surely become a great warrior one day, and all the elderly master could hope was that Kakarot didn't give in to whatever that frightening inner beast had reared its head the first day of training.

He didn't want to think about what would happen if he had to use that technique on Kakarot.

The last few weeks before the tournament passed in a quick whirlwind for Goku, and before he knew it, it was the big day. The last twenty days had been spent with rigorous, last minute training before using the final night to eat a hefty meal and get the first real good nights sleep since he'd arrived.

Upon waking the spiky-haired alien felt rejuvenated on a whole new level, his body feeling almost brand new, as if it had readied itself in the night to take on the challenge ahead.

Whatever the case though, Goku was sure of one thing: this tournament was only the beginning. He would come away from it, champion or not, and continue to push his limits to the brink and break pat them. It was an internal drive, one he'd had for as far back as he could remember, and one that he didn't dare ignore.

Which is why, at noon when the sun was centered in the sky, Goku stood beside Krillin as Roshi activated a capsule. When the colorful smoke finally dissipated the boys were left staring at the elderly man's personal airplane.

"We'll take this over to West City, and meet up with Bulma before heading to Papaya Island. She called the night before while you two were sleeping to set it up; we'll be traveling in style she says. Apparently she's got you each a new suit to wear when we go to get you signed up, says she doesn't want to show up standing next to a bunch of 'meatheads'."

"You mean Bulma Briefs?" Krillin goggled with awe. "H-How do you know her, Master?"

"I don't," Roshi sighed in defeat. "Kakarot does; they're friends. I'm sure this is her way of supporting him for the tournament to come. So you better be grateful you punk, it's not every day you get a beautiful girl to shell out the red carpet for you." He finished with a stern, but obviously jealous, look in said monkey boy's direction.

However Goku wasn't paying attention to any of that. Instead he was left thinking about his only friend, and how after so long he'd get to see her again. Without realizing, a small smile played at the corner of Goku's lip as he went to get on Roshi's little plane.

What none of them knew though, was that deep in bowls of his secondary headquarters, Pilaf was seated on a poorly replicated throne with a thick, leather-bound book in his lap.

Kneeling before him were his last two remaining followers; the others having either been killed or deserted him. Mai and Shu each had their faces angled toward the tiled floor, sweat building on their foreheads while the hair on the back of their necks stood on edge.

For Shu, it was much more noticeable though, what with him being an anthro-dog.

In fact, the anxiety became so bad that the talking animal had to say something to break the heavy silence. "E-Excuse me Sire, b-but are you sure this is a good idea? I just mean, you don't know how the demon will react once awakened, s-so should you really be trying to release him?"

Pilaf only peered up from the tome in his lap enough to look his subordinate in the eye, but the fury burning in his beady eyes was more than easy to see, and it caused poor Shu to tuck his tail in between his legs.

Mai took note of this and attempted to rectify her fellow soldier's unknown mistake.

"What I think Shu means Sire, is that this so-called Demon King may be a bit...rambunctious, and without your men we are simply curious to know how your eminence intends to keep the thing in line."

The former commander attempted to stoke the little imp's ego, knowing it was one of the creatures biggest weaknesses. Sometimes though, Pilaf caught on and punished her for it; thankfully this was not one of them.

"Well that's really quiet simple Mai," Pilaf scoffed as if to make it seem like the answer was obvious. "I'll simply use the threat of having him sealed away again to keep this old goblin in line; surely anyone who allows themselves to be trapped inside a rice cooker for hundreds of years couldn't possibly be that dangerous."

Yet while Pilaf chuckled in mocking humor, staring down at the page displaying that very rice cooker, his two followers looked to each other with great worry.

Something told them that the stories they'd heard about the great Demon King Piccolo were every bit at true as the legends say, and Pilaf would find himself in over his head with attempting to control the ferocious scourge.

xXx