Afternoon sunlight spilled through the Capsule Corp windows, warm and blinding.
The place felt too quiet now — no clashing energy waves, no laughter from Mrs. Brief, not even the faint hum of Buu's presence in the courtyard.
Bulma sat alone in her lab, fingers idle on the keyboard. The holographic screen in front of her flickered with data, unread.
Her reflection stared back — tired, confused, and, worst of all, curious.
Her thoughts drifted back to the night before — that glimpse through the door.
She blushed, then shook her head sharply. "Don't be stupid," she muttered.
But her chest still tightened. Not from jealousy — she told herself that
The door slid open softly.Mai leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "You've been in here for hours."
Bulma didn't look up. "Just thinking."
"About him?"
That hit too close. "About the situation," Bulma corrected, too fast.
Mai stepped closer, eyes narrowing. "You know something?"
Bulma hesitated. "I don't know."
Mai's tone dropped lower. "That's the problem, isn't it?"
Bulma's gaze flicked to her. "What do you mean?"
Mai didn't answer, but her silence was enough.
For a moment, the air between them hummed — faint, uneasy.
Before long, a loud crash echoed from the hall.
Both women rushed out — only to find Mrs. Brief shouting in the dining room, voice shrill with frustration.
Dr. Brief stood across from her, suitcase in hand, his expression weary.
"You're leaving again?" she demanded. "After all this? You walk in, eat, argue, and vanish!"
"It's not like that," he said quietly. "The lab in Central City needs me—"
"The lab always needs you!"
He sighed, glancing toward Bulma — as if for help — but she stayed silent.
Mrs. Brief's voice cracked. "You don't even look at me anymore, let alone—" She stopped herself, face flushing, then turned away sharply.
Dr. Brief's reply was calm but hollow. "I'll be back in a few days."
"Don't bother," she whispered.
The door shut behind him a moment later.
The silence that followed felt heavy — too real, even for Capsule Corp's polished walls.
Bulma exhaled shakily, rubbing her temple. "Great. Another perfect day."
Mai didn't answer. Her eyes shifted to Mrs. Brief, who was already in Buu's arms.
Something in that made her chest tighten.
What are you really after? she wondered.
The next morning broke hot and still.
Buu stood at the center, arms crossed, half-smiling. His presence alone seemed to bend the silence.
"Up already?" he said lazily. "Thought you two might sleep in after all that drama."
Bulma shot him a glare, tying her hair back. "We don't sleep in when there's work to do." Mai just gave a small shrug, eyes unreadable.
Buu's smirk deepened. "Good. Then today, no clones. No distractions. Just the two of you — show me if you've actually learned something."
He stepped back, folding his arms as the air pulsed faintly pink between them.
Bulma and Mai took their stances.
The first exchange was fast, precise — Mai's movements sharper, Bulma's more calculated. Energy cracked through the air, bright and unstable.
But beneath the fight, something else simmered: glances held too long, breaths cut too short.
Buu watched them with quiet amusement.
Bulma's ki flared, missing Mai by inches. "You're holding back," she hissed.
Mai's tone was calm. "Maybe I'm thinking."
"About what?"
Her eyes flicked toward Buu — just for a second. "You wouldn't like the answer."
That hit harder than a punch. Bulma's heart spiked, anger mixing with something she refused to name.She lunged again, harder this time — and the courtyard erupted in pink-white light.
When the dust cleared, Buu's laughter broke the tension."Well," he said softly, "looks like we're finally getting somewhere."
He didn't move to stop them — he just watched and behind the clash of energy, neither girl noticed how his expression shifted — from playful to something almost tender.