The day passed slower than it should have.
And yet, somehow, too fast.
By afternoon, Capsule Corp felt almost normal again — if "normal" meant pretending the laws of biology hadn't just rewritten themselves.
Bulma had tried to keep busy: running scans, taking notes, muttering formulas under her breath while occasionally yelling at Mai for standing too still.
But no amount of science could disguise the truth.
She and Mai weren't human anymore.
Not entirely.
Bulma's POV
She stared at her reflection in the lab mirror — skin flawless, eyes brighter, pupils faintly outlined with pink when the light hit just right.
It was subtle, beautiful even, but she hated how much she liked it.
"Majin, huh?" she muttered, tilting her head. "Could've been worse. At least I didn't grow tentacles."
Behind her, Buu's reflection appeared in the glass — silent, calm as ever.
"You're adjusting faster than expected," he said.
Bulma spun around. "You really just sneak up on people like that?"
"Habit," he said with a faint smile. "You'll develop it too."
Bulma frowned. "Don't make it sound contagious."
He stepped closer, not threatening — but close enough that she could feel the faint hum of his energy against her skin.
"It isn't," he said softly. "It's instinct. You feel the world differently now — not through fear or logic, but through will."
Bulma tried to scoff, but the warmth spreading from her chest said otherwise.
"Will," she repeated. "That's just your poetic way of saying I'm a pink science experiment?"
He smiled. "Well, surely a beautiful one."
Her face flushed, more from irritation than embarrassment — at least that's what she told herself.
Mai's POV
Down in the courtyard, Mai sat cross-legged on the grass, watching her own energy trail faintly from her fingertips.Every heartbeat sent ripples of light through the air, soft and alive.
She didn't like it.It felt like wearing someone else's heartbeat — too raw, too powerful, too him.
Buu appeared near her a moment later, his shadow falling across her lap.
"Still resisting?" he asked.
She didn't look up. "Just thinking."
"About what?"
Mai's tone was flat. "Whether this makes me more dangerous… or less human."
Buu crouched in front of her, eyes level with hers."Those aren't opposites."
For a long moment, she held his gaze. Then she stood, brushing past him with a quiet exhale."You talk like that's supposed to make me feel better."
"It's not," he said, smiling faintly. "It's supposed to make you think."
Down in the garden, the air was warm and sweet with the scent of lilies.
Mrs. Brief moved gracefully between her flowerbeds, watering can in hand, humming a tune that somehow never got old.
From behind the magnolias, a voice drifted — smooth, low, faintly amused.
"You tend the garden even at sunset," Buu said. "You must love watching things grow."
She turned, smiling the way only she could — all sunshine and effortless charm. "Oh! You startled me, dear. You move so quietly."
Buu stepped into view, his human form catching the last gold of daylight — sharp, striking, every motion deliberate.
"Old habits," he replied, eyes wandering briefly to the petals in her hand. "You take care of this place like it's alive."
Mrs. Brief giggled softly. "Well, of course it's alive. Everything worth having needs attention."
He smiled at that — slow, knowing. "That sounds almost philosophical."
"Oh, I'm not much of a philosopher," she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I do enjoy good company."
Buu's gaze lingered a heartbeat longer than polite. "Then I hope I qualify."
Her cheeks colored faintly, though the smile never wavered. "Flatterer."
"Observer," he corrected gently, stepping closer to admire one of the flowers. "You've got a certain serenity about you. Makes this place feel… untouched by the chaos outside."
Mrs. Brief tilted her head, amused. "You talk like someone who's seen quite a bit of chaos."
"Enough," he said quietly, his tone softening. "But peace is a better view."
She chuckled, pretending not to notice how his words carried something heavier beneath them. "You should stay here more often, then. My husband's usually the one tinkering in the lab, but I haven't seen him in days."
That caught his attention. He looked up. "You haven't?"
Mrs. Brief shook her head lightly. "He gets lost in his inventions sometimes — I've learned not to worry too much. Though it's strange, even for him."
Buu hummed, thoughtful. "Strange indeed."
He turned his gaze toward the upper floors of the Capsule Corp dome, where faint lights flickered through the lab windows. For a moment, something unreadable crossed his face — part curiosity, part calculation.
Then the expression vanished, replaced by that same disarming calm.
"I'm sure he'll turn up," Buu said, voice a shade too smooth. "Men like him always do when they're needed most."
Mrs. Brief smiled again, oblivious to the tension beneath the words. "You sound like you know him already."
"In a way," Buu murmured, eyes still fixed on the horizon. "People like him are predictable. Dreamers usually are."
The cat on her shoulder meowed, and she laughed, turning back toward the house. "You must be starving. Come in — I'll fix you something before bed."
Buu followed, hands in his pockets, his steps quiet on the stone path.
Author here: How is this chapter? I had little problems with the pov hahah