"Today," Buu said, his voice carrying easily through the courtyard, "you will fight."
Bulma frowned. "Then who—?"
"Each other."He folded his arms, the faintest grin forming. "You'll never master what's inside you until you face what's holding you back."
Mai blinked, startled. "You mean—"
"No restraint, no hesitation."
Bulma exchanged a glance with her, jaw tightening. "You want us to—"
"To learn yourselves," Buu cut in, tone calm but sharp enough to command silence. "You two share the same flaw. You think before you feel."
He stepped back, hands clasped behind his head as if watching a play. "Show me something real."
Mai moved first — fast, her aura flaring violet, heat distorting the air. Bulma countered, pink lightning coiling around her like serpents.Their first collision sent a ripple through the earth — light, energy, the hum of something both terrifying and exhilarating.
They fought not to win, but to feel: to sense the pulse beneath their skin, the liquid power of their new Majin essence, unstable yet alive. Mai's strikes grew wilder; Bulma's eyes glowed faintly crimson at the edges.
Buu watched with something between amusement and fascination. "Better," he murmured. "Now you're starting to understand."
Then, without warning, he raised a hand — and a perfect duplicate of himself stepped out of the shimmering air beside him. The clone grinned at him with identical arrogance.
Bulma froze mid-attack. "What are you doing?"
"Training my limits, you two aren't the only ones who need training," Buu replied simply.
The two Buus blurred into motion, their clash so violent the air cracked. Shockwaves tore across the courtyard — their strikes faster, sharper, each blow landing harder than the last. And then—one of them impaled the other clean through the chest. A burst of pink mist dissolved into the air, only for the remaining Buu to inhale deeply — his wounds knitting, aura surging brighter.
Mai's eyes widened. "He's hurting himself?"
Bulma's voice was low, almost to herself. "No... is he killing himself?"
For a moment, the only sound was the electric hum of his power.Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Buu looked over his shoulder, calm again, as though the act of self-destruction had been nothing. "Zenkai," he said. "A little trick. Pain becomes strength." He tilted his head, smiling faintly. "Useful, don't you think?"
Bulma stared at him — not the smile, not the words, but the way he said them. There was something beautiful and terrifying in that ease with which he treated death, as though it were a habit instead of a boundary.
Mai swallowed hard. She'd been ready to fear him… yet the longer she looked, the less she could. Her heart raced for a reason she didn't want to admit — not fear, but fascination.
Bulma, standing beside her, said nothing. Her gaze lingered, unbidden, on the faint scorch mark across his chest — right where her memory of the previous night began to blur.
Every thrust, every movement, and every moan, he could see again. And little by little, she began to warm up.
And when Buu turned toward them again, his smile was small, secret, and knowing. He was already thinking about his next move.
"Come on, keep practicing. I know I'm charming, but this isn't the time for daydreaming." Buu scolded them both.
Bulma opened her mouth to reply—
—and the familiar sound of a hovercraft whirred through the air.
"Bulma! What on earth happened here!?"
Dr. Brief stepped out, still in his lab coat, clutching a capsule case and looking entirely out of place among the wreckage. His cheerful face froze as he took in the shattered ground, the faint traces of power still sparking in the air… and the tall stranger standing in the middle of it all.
Buu smiled politely. "Ah. The famous inventor."
Bulma winced. "Dad—this isn't—uh—what it looks like."
Dr. Brief adjusted his glasses, peering at the faint steam rising from the ground. "Sweetheart, it looks like you blew up half the courtyard. Again."
Mai folded her arms, muttering under her breath, "Could be worse."
Buu chuckled. "Oh, it will be. Eventually."
Dr. Brief blinked, uncertain whether to laugh or run. "...I see you've made new friends."
Bulma sighed. "You have no idea."