Little Bulma, with her hair in twin pigtails and a simple dress, clutched a toy blaster. Her wide, intelligent blue eyes tracked Rhode's every move but offered no greeting.
Seeing the future genius in such an adorable, pint-sized package, Rhode's smile widened. He walked over, crouched to her level, and couldn't resist gently pinching one of her round cheeks.
"Hey! Stop that!" Little Bulma immediately squawked, batting his hand away with surprising force for a toddler. She brandished her toy gun, baring her tiny teeth in a fierce grimace. "Do that again and I'll shoot you!"
"Haha!" Rhode laughed, genuinely amused. He pointed at the plastic toy. "That's a fake. It can't hurt anyone."
Ignoring her rising indignation, he reached out again, not only pinching her other cheek but also ruffling her hair into a messy puff. Just as her face was scrunching up into a full-blown tantrum, he pointed skyward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Bulma, do you want to fly?"
"Fly?" Her anger vanished, replaced by instant, sparkling wonder. She flapped her arms experimentally. "Like a bird?"
"Exactly!"
Scooping her up, he said, "Hold on tight! Ready for takeoff!"
With that, he shot into the air, performing gentle loops and dives. The little girl's squeals of delight and joyful laughter echoed across the Capsule Corp grounds.
The commotion drew Aira's attention. She watched from below, her brow furrowed in utter bewilderment. Rhode was zooming around with an Earthling child whose power level was barely a blip. What possible joy or purpose could there be in that? Yet, given that his strength consistently outpaced hers, she suspected there might be some hidden, tactical reason behind his actions. She filed the observation away.
Once Rhode landed, deposited a giggling but wobbly-legged Bulma, and flew off on his own business, Aira approached. The little girl's eyes widened in surprise. "Sis-ter Aira! You're here!"
Seeing the child's innocent, open expression, the usual sternness on Aira's face softened almost imperceptibly. Mimicking Rhode, she crouched and reached out, her touch hesitant as she brushed Bulma's cheek.
Hmm. Smooth. Pleasant.
"Eh? Sister Aira, what are you doing?" Bulma asked, frozen, looking up at her as if she'd grown a second head.
"Ah?" Aira was taken aback. "Didn't Rhode do the same?"
"That's different!" Bulma puffed out her cheeks, a scowl forming. "That Rhode guy pinches me 'cause he treats me like a baby!" Then her expression shifted to a shy smile. "But… when you touched my face, Sister Aira, it felt nice."
Hm? Aira frowned. Was my technique incorrect?
Driven by a sudden need to understand, she reached out again, this time pinching Bulma's cheek with a Saiyan's unconscious strength.
"OW! Owie, owie, owie! Sister Aira, that hurts!"
Aira instantly released her grip, but her hand, almost of its own accord, moved to gently rub the spot she'd pinched, a clumsy attempt at soothing.
As she rubbed the little girl's soft cheek, a strange, unfamiliar sensation bloomed in Aira's chest—a flicker of something warm, protective, and utterly foreign to the Saiyan warrior's heart. If Rhode had been there, he would have recognized it instantly: the first, fragile stirrings of care, an emotion most of their race had systematically bred out of themselves.
Of course, had Rhode witnessed the entire exchange, his shock would have been twofold: first, at Aira's uncharacteristic, almost gentle interaction, and second, at the sheer, terrifying precocity of a four-year-old Bulma, whose mind was already a labyrinth of clever thoughts and budding mischief.
Seeing Bulma's sniffles subside, Aira abruptly stopped rubbing her cheek. She looked at the child for a silent moment, then stood and turned to leave.
She'd only taken a few steps when a small voice piped up behind her, brimming with hopeful excitement. "Sister Aira! Can you play with me? The flying game?"
"This…" Aira paused, her brow furrowing. Training awaited. It was her priority, her purpose.
Yet, as she looked down at the impossibly cute, expectant face, something shifted. Against all reason, her head gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
The moment she did, her warrior's mind rebelled. A mistake. Training is paramount. Her expression hardened into its usual stern mask, and she turned to stride away.
But then, a small weight latched onto her leg. Little Bulma had scampered over and wrapped herself around Aira's calf, looking up with wide, pleading eyes. "Sister Aira~" she whined, her voice a masterclass in manipulation.
Fine. Just for a moment. A very short moment.
The cold, proud Saiyan warrior capitulated to a toddler's cling. In truth, had Aira truly wished to leave, Bulma wouldn't have had a hope of holding on. Her body had betrayed her intent.
Is this why Rhode's power grows so swiftly? The bizarre thought surfaced as she watched the little girl play. Does interacting with these weak creatures… matter?
Seeing that "playing" was a vague and time-consuming concept, and feeling trapped by her own reluctant agreement, Aira's eyes suddenly gleamed with a solution. A win-win.
"Bulma," she said, her voice firm. "How about I teach you martial arts instead?"
If she had to spend time here, she would make it productive. Teaching was a form of training in itself.
"Mar-tial arts?" Bulma tilted her head, the words unfamiliar.
"Yes. Martial arts. So you can learn to fly like a bird. By yourself."
The moment flying was mentioned, Bulma's excitement reignited. "I want to learn! Teach me, teach me!"
And so, an intense, if highly unorthodox, training session began on the Capsule Corp lawn. Whether this would steer Earth's future genius scientist onto a completely different path, robbing the world of its technological savant, remained to be seen.
When Rhode returned later and saw the scene—Aira barking sharp commands at a determined, sweat-beaded Bulma practicing basic stances—he raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. He didn't interrupt. A part of him was wildly amused by the idea. What if Bulma actually becomes a martial arts prodigy? The image of a future where she could physically overpower Prince Vegeta was so absurdly delightful he almost laughed aloud. The hit to the Saiyan prince's monumental pride would be cataclysmic. For a moment, Rhode felt a flicker of perverse anticipation.
Time, as it does, moved on. Several days passed. Dr. Brief completed the modifications to their spacecraft, integrating a compact but fully functional Gravity Chamber. The ship was ready.
The time for departure had come. The blue planet of Namek, with its ancient dragon and potential for untold power, awaited.
Patreon Seasay