"Yes, it's me."
Rhode's smile was calm, acknowledging the unspoken question in her gaze. Their paths on Yardrat had diverged—he in the deep waters of advanced technique with Elder Pybara, she in the rigorous foundational forge with Hasky. They had sensed each other's presence like distant stars, confirming existence but little else.
Seeing his confirmation, Aira's surprise shifted into sharp calculation. A year was not enough. Then her eyes cleared with understanding. "The Time Chamber."
Rhode gave a single, slight nod.
The novelty of his new form—taller, older, radiating a settled potency—was quickly overshadowed by a cold splash of realization in Aira's gut. He's grown stronger. Her own senses, honed by months of brutal focus, could not penetrate the serene stillness he now projected. The gap hadn't closed; it had become an abyss she couldn't even measure.
A fierce, familiar heat bloomed in her chest—not jealousy, but the raw fuel of her pride. She had to accelerate. In every way. The Time Chamber was no longer just his advantage; it was a necessity.
Her thoughts must have been plain on her face, for when she looked back at him, Rhode spoke first. "Aira, my training here is complete. I'm leaving."
The words landed, but they didn't surprise her. "I see," she said, her voice flat, controlled. "Where?"
"Earth. I'll reside there for a time, to research. After that, I'll seek out challenges. To hone what I've learned, and to grow stronger." He offered the truth freely, a gesture of the bond that remained between them—two survivors adrift in a cosmos that had tried to erase them.
"Fine. Go," Aira replied, her tone conceding nothing. "My own foundation isn't finished. I'll find you when it is."
Rhode observed her composure, the iron will beneath it. "Patience will serve you," he advised. "A sharp axe cuts the fastest. Lay your foundation true, and your ascent will come." He paused, then added, "If you need me, use Super Instant Transmission. I'll be there."
With a final nod, his figure shivered and was gone, leaving only a faint disturbance in the air.
Aira stood alone amidst the forest of needle-points, the silence pressing in. The evidence of his progress was undeniable—his transformed body, his imperceptible power. The slow, steady grind of her current path suddenly felt like a sentence to permanent obsolescence.
The Time Chamber.
The thought solidified from a possibility into a decision, cold and hard. She could not, would not, be left behind in his dust. Not again. Not ever.
Without another moment's hesitation, her mind focused, picturing the unique, silent coordinates of her destination. In a silent burst of displaced air, Aira vanished from the training grounds of Yardrat, her determination as palpable as the void she left behind. The race was on, and she had just decided to change the track.
The universe twisted and settled. The pink hues and spiritual serenity of Yardrat were gone, replaced by the moist, vibrant air and the towering, mushroom-like architecture of Namek. Aira stood once more before the Grand Elder's residence, her expression set with a purpose as hard as granite. The path was clear: if equal time couldn't bridge the gap, she would create more time. The Dragon Balls would grant her a forge of years, a private dimension where she could compress a lifetime of effort into days. The thought of eventually surpassing Rhode was no longer a distant hope, but a calculated goal.
Meanwhile, after his final farewells to Hasky and a deeply respectful bow to Elder Pybara, Rhode focused his mind. He sought a familiar, brilliantly chaotic ki signature—a small, fierce sun of genius and untamed energy.
Swish.
The Capsule Corporation backyard in West City replaced the starry void. Before him stood a tiny figure, her blue hair in high pigtails, her small hands gripping a chunky, decidedly non-toy energy pistol aimed squarely at his chest.
"Who are you?" The demand was fierce, but the wide blue eyes behind it held a flicker of confused recognition. This was Bulma, years before she would become the matriarch of a technological empire, now a fiercely independent child convinced she ruled her backyard domain.
Rhode's lips quirked into a smile. "Oh? Upgraded from a toy blaster to the real deal, I see?" He reached out, effortlessly ruffling her meticulously styled hair.
"Hey! You horrible—!" She squawked, ducking away and scrambling back a few paces. The protest died on her lips as the familiar teasing tone registered. Her head tilted, suspicion warring with dawning certainty. "Rhode? Is that you? How are you... so big? It's only been a year!"
With a theatrical flourish, Rhode gestured at himself. "It's a Saiyan thing. One day you're a kid, the next—poof—all grown up!"
Bulma's eyes narrowed into slits of pure skepticism. "Is that so?" she drawled, her voice dripping with disbelief. Then she huffed, planting a small fist on her hip. "I don't believe you! You're lying!"
"Would I lie to you?" Rhode countered, his smile unwavering. His gaze dropped to the serious-looking energy weapon in her grasp. "Aren't you a little young for hardware like that?"
At this, Bulma's indignation shifted to pure, unadulterated pride. She hoisted the gun, a marvel of miniaturized circuitry and polished casing. "Danger? Pfft. I built it myself!" She looked him up and down, her nose in the air with the absolute confidence of a prodigy dismissing a simpleton. The effect, given her diminutive size and adorable pigtails, was less intimidating and more endearingly comical.
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