Fasha digested this, her tail lashing thoughtfully. "So," she stated, cutting through the cosmic niceties, "you're stuck babysitting a horny mistake until he stops being useless?" She glanced at Kyoto, her expression unreadable. "Fine. What's the schedule? Food? Training? How long?" She shifted her weight, the obsidian cool under her bare feet. "And where do we fit?" She gestured vaguely towards Gine's still-sleeping form. "We didn't sign up for divine daycare."
Whis's expression remained serene, but a flicker of approval might have crossed his features. "Practical," he observed. "The schedule begins now. Sustenance is synthesized energy—efficient, flavorless." He ignored Kyoto's immediate grimace. "Training focuses on foundational Ki manipulation. Kyoto must learn to ignite and sustain a spark before contemplating combustion." He tapped his staff again. "Duration depends entirely on application. Decades? Centuries? Irrelevant. Time bends here." He gestured towards the capsule. "You fit as observers... or participants. Saiyan resilience is noted. Your presence may provide... motivational contrast." His gaze settled back on Kyoto, ancient and assessing. "Begin by feeling the energy within. Not the ambition. Not the hunger. The current. Trace its flow. Contain its spillage. Your first lesson: Control the spark before you burn down the cosmos trying to impress potential mates.
Kyoto bristled. "I already know martial arts! Earth stuff! Karate, boxing—" He threw a clumsy jab-kick combo at the air, his movements stiff, lacking fluidity. "See? Footwork! Defense!"
Whis didn't blink. "Earthly brawling is irrelevant. Here, combat is energy. Flight. Projection." He gestured dismissively. "Your first practical task: Achieve sustained flight and discharge a coherent Ki blast." He turned gracefully towards Fasha, who stood arms crossed, skepticism radiating like heat haze. "Fasha. You possess rudimentary Ki control. Instruct him." Before Kyoto could protest the indignity of being taught by the volatile pink Saiyan, Whis added, "I desire... sustenance. A particular planet produces exquisite jaggheries—crystalline honeycomb infused with neutron star dust. Delightfully crunchy." He shimmered, already fading. "Do not destroy the platform. Or each other. Excessively." With a soft pop, he vanished, leaving only the scent of cosmic ozone and the profound silence of abandonment.
Kyoto stared at the empty space. "He ditched us? For candy?" He spun towards Fasha, frustration warring with Saiyan competitiveness. "Fine. Show me this flying thing. How hard can it be? Just... jump and stay up, right?"
Fasha snorted, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Idiot." She stalked closer, her bare feet silent on the obsidian. Her tail lashed once, sharply. "It's not jumping. It's pushing. Down." She planted her feet wide, knees slightly bent. Her eyes narrowed, focusing inward. Kyoto felt a sudden shift—not heat, but pressure, like dense air condensing around her. "Feel your center," she growled, low and intense. "Below the ribs. That knot of heat? That's your furnace. Your Ki core. Don't jump." She inhaled sharply. Her body tensed, muscles coiling like springs. "Push down from there. Hard. Like you're shoving the planet away." With a grunt of effort, violet light flared faintly around her boots. She lifted a few inches off the ground, hovering unsteadily for three seconds before dropping back down with a soft thud. Sweat beaded her brow. "See? Push. Not jump. Your core does the work, not your legs. Your legs are just... landing gear."
Kyoto frowned, mimicking her stance. He closed his eyes, searching for the "knot of heat." He felt... Saiyan metabolism. Adrenaline. Horniness. Frustration. A vague warmth in his gut? Maybe? He pushed mentally downwards, straining muscles he didn't know he had. Nothing happened. He grunted, pushing harder. Still nothing but trembling thighs. "This is bullshit," he muttered.
A soft groan came from the capsule hatch. Gine stirred, blinking blearily as she pushed herself upright against the frame. Her dark hair was mussed, her simple tunic rumpled. She rubbed her eyes, taking in the scene: Kyoto straining uselessly, Fasha radiating impatient fury, the vast cosmic void beyond. "Wh-what's happening?" she whispered, her voice thick with sleep and confusion. "Are we... training?"
Fasha shot her a withering look. "The idiot Earth-monkey can't find his own Ki furnace. Trying to teach him to fly is like teaching a rock to sing." She jabbed a finger at Kyoto. "Focus, damn it! Push down! Imagine the platform hates you!"
Kyoto gritted his teeth, glaring at the obsidian beneath his boots. Push down. Hard. He pictured Beerus smirking, Seraphina giggling, Whis judging. Anger flared—hot, bright, Saiyan. That vague warmth in his gut suddenly ignited. It surged downwards, a molten wire coiling through his core and exploding out through the soles of his feet. There was no grace. No control. With a startled yelp, he shot upwards like a cork from a bottle, limbs flailing wildly, tumbling head over heels ten feet above the platform before gravity reasserted its cruel dominance. He plummeted, hitting the obsidian with a bone-jarring thud that echoed in the silence. He lay sprawled, groaning, the breath knocked out of him.
Fasha stared down at him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, a fierce, predatory grin spread across her face. "Took you long enough to leave the ground," she snorted. "Too bad you forgot how to land."
Kyoto groaned, pushing himself up onto his elbows. Every bone ached. He knew this look—the sharp amusement, the barely-contained violence simmering beneath the surface. Bianca had worn it constantly. Crazy bitch radar pinged loud and clear. He didn't try to stand. Instead, he flashed her a lopsided grin, wincing slightly. "Landing's optional when the view's this good," he rasped, gesturing vaguely upwards with a shaky hand. "Besides, figured if I splattered, you'd get first dibs on my capsule." He met her dark, assessing eyes head-on. "Bet it smells better than your armor."
Fasha blinked. The insult was clumsy, delivered with zero venom, wrapped in a weird kind of acknowledgement. Most Saiyans either cowered or challenged her outright. This idiot offered her his hypothetical corpse's bunker. Her grin didn't fade, but the predatory edge softened a fraction into genuine curiosity. "You're weird," she stated flatly.
"Used to it," Kyoto shrugged, finally dragging himself fully upright. He brushed obsidian dust off his gi, ignoring the bruises forming. "Human life, remember? Masters of weird. Had a girlfriend who tried to stab me because I used her favorite coffee mug. Twice." He leaned in conspiratorially, lowering his voice. "Know what worked? Telling her she looked hot as fuck when she was pissed. Offered her a new mug. With kittens on it." He paused, letting the sheer absurdity hang. "She kept the kittens. Stopped stabbing. Mostly."
Fasha stared. Then, unexpectedly, a sharp bark of laughter escaped her—genuine, startled amusement. "Kittens?" she choked out, shaking her head. "You Earth-monkeys are insane."
"Pot, kettle," Kyoto shot back, grinning despite the ache in his tailbone. He gestured at Fasha's lashing tail. "You're literally a monkey. Hairier, louder, probably smells worse after a fight." He sniffed the air pointedly. "Definitely more monkey."
Fasha's grin vanished. Her tail snapped rigid behind her like a whip. "Watch it, Earth-scum," she snarled, stepping closer, fists clenched. The air crackled with sudden, dangerous heat—not Ki, pure Saiyan aggression. "Call me a monkey again. See what happens."
Kyoto didn't flinch. He leaned in, meeting her glare head-on. "Or what? You'll bite me? already been bit...many times actually" He chuckled, low and deliberately irritating. "Bet you fight dirty too. Like pulling hair—"
A soft pop cut through the tension like snipped wire. Whis materialized between them, holding a translucent hexagonal prism filled with swirling crystalline honeycomb that pulsed with captured starlight. "Ah," he murmured, plucking a shard with impossible delicacy. The crunch echoed unnaturally loud. "Neutron star dust adds such... piquancy." He swallowed, then turned his lavender gaze on them. Fasha froze mid-snarl, Kyoto's taunt dying on his lips. The air thickened, charged with divine disapproval.