He gasped, sucking in air that tasted strangely sweet and thin. His eyes snapped open. Above him stretched an impossible sky – a swirling canvas of deep violet and shimmering nebulas, punctuated by unfamiliar constellations that pulsed with soft, internal light. No sun. No moon. Just… cosmic beauty. He was lying on something firm yet yielding, like cool, polished stone. He pushed himself up onto his elbows.
His body felt… different. Lighter. Stronger. Electric energy hummed just beneath his skin. He looked down at his hands. They were familiar – the same calluses from Bianca's roughhousing, the same faint scar from a broken bottle fight in college – but wrapped in thicker, denser muscle. His forearms were corded, his biceps straining the sleeves of a simple, dark gi-like tunic he hadn't been wearing moments ago. He touched his face. The jawline felt sharper, the stubble coarser. Then he touched his hair. Instead of the familiar messy brown locks, his fingers encountered thick, coarse strands sticking out at wild, gravity-defying angles. He pulled a lock forward. Jet black. Spiky. Undeniably Saiyan.
Okay, he thought, the numbness battling a rising tide of adrenaline. Saiyan. Beerus' Planet. Where the hell is Whis? He scanned his surroundings. He sat on a vast, perfectly circular platform of smooth, obsidian-like stone, floating amidst the swirling cosmos. Beyond its edge was only the star-strewn void. The air was silent, unnervingly still. No wind. No distant roars of training. No clink of teacups. Just profound, isolating quiet. Panic prickled his spine. Had Seraphina screwed up the timeline? Was Beerus still asleep? Was Whis off running some millennia-long errand?
He pushed himself fully upright, the movement effortless, powerful. His senses felt heightened. He could smell ozone and something faintly floral. Hear the faint thrum of his own Saiyan blood. He paced the edge of the platform, peering into the cosmic abyss. Nothing. Just endless stars. Great. Stranded on God's front porch with no doorbell. He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power coiled inside him. Was this the "Oh-Pee" Seraphina promised? Potential? Or just Saiyan baseline? He needed a test. Focusing inward, he tried to summon the legendary Ki – the energy that fueled flight, blasts, transformation. He grunted, straining. Nothing happened except a faint warmth in his gut. Frustration flared. Potential? Feels more like a dud firecracker.
He spun, intending to yell into the void – Whis! Beerus! Anyone! – but the words died in his throat. One moment, the obsidian platform stretched empty before him. The next, impossibly fast, Whis stood there. Tall, serene, clad in pristine blue and white. His pale lavender skin seemed to glow faintly in the cosmic light. His expression was unreadable, calm as a frozen lake, but his eyes held an unnerving, ancient sharpness.
Kyoto didn't even see him move. There was no blur, no displacement of air. One instant he was facing empty space, the next, Whis was right there, impossibly close. Kyoto instinctively tried to recoil, to raise his fists – but his body wouldn't obey. It was like being encased in seamless, invisible stone. Not painful, just absolute. His muscles strained uselessly against an immovable force holding him utterly rigid. He could blink. He could breathe shallowly. That was all. Panic, cold and sharp, sliced through the Saiyan adrenaline.
Whis tilted his head slightly, his staff held loosely at his side. His voice, when it came, was melodious, utterly calm, yet carried the weight of cosmic judgment. "Curious," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over Kyoto's spiky hair, his Saiyan physique, the bewildered terror in his eyes. "A Saiyan adolescent . Barely fledged. Untrained. Uninvited." He leaned in fractionally, his ancient eyes boring into Kyoto's. "How," Whis asked, the word precise and chillingly soft, "did a silly little monkey find his way to this outer realm?"
Kyoto struggled against the invisible bonds, his Saiyan blood roaring with primal instinct. "Listen, you tall blue bastard—" he snarled, the words ripped from him in pure defiance. He wanted to demand training, to brag about Seraphina's promise, to scream about reclaiming Bianca's chaos and Jenny's sunshine and even Elara's icy fury tenfold. He wanted to declare he'd have more power, more women, more everything than Goku ever dreamed of. But Whis merely raised a slender finger. Not a gesture of silencing, but of effortless dismissal.
"Ah," Whis breathed, his expression shifting infinitesimally – a flicker of cosmic amusement touching his serene features. "No need for crude vocalizations. How terribly inefficient." His pale lavender eyes glowed faintly, a soft, pearlescent light emanating from them. Kyoto felt a sudden, dizzying pressure behind his own eyes, like a gentle but unstoppable tide washing through his skull. Images flashed: Bianca pinning him down, Jenny's blushing adoration, Elara's furious rants, the blinding headlights, Seraphina's sparkling idiocy, the sheer, stupid desperation for more. Every raw, messy, chaotic, horny, bitter moment of Kyoto's life spilled out in a torrential flood of sensation and memory. It lasted only seconds, yet felt like lifetimes laid bare.
The glow faded from Whis's eyes. He blinked once, slowly. His usual serene composure returned, but Kyoto saw it – the faintest arch of one elegant eyebrow. A cosmic being truly surprised. "Oh, dear," Whis murmured, his voice holding a new, almost musical note of incredulity. "A mortal reincarnated… here? By a goddess who mistakes 'overpowered' for 'omnipotent potential'?" He tilted his head again, studying Kyoto as if he were a particularly baffling cosmic anomaly. "And your driving ambition…" Whis paused, a delicate shudder rippling through him, "is to… reclaim your 'bitches'?" He pronounced the word with exquisite, alien distaste. "Through… training?"
Kyoto felt the invisible bonds release abruptly. He stumbled forward, gasping, the humiliation burning hotter than any Ki blast. "Yeah!" he spat, defiance roaring back. "So? Train me! Make me unstoppable! I deserve—"
"Why?" Whis interrupted, his voice soft as starlight, yet sharper than any blade. He gestured vaguely towards the swirling cosmos beyond the platform. "The universe teems with warriors who seek strength for noble purpose. To protect. To explore. To transcend." He looked Kyoto up and down, his gaze lingering on the Saiyan's clenched fists, his desperate eyes. "You seek it… to gather mates? Like trinkets?" A faint, chilling smile touched Whis's lips. "Why should I invest millennia of divine tutelage… in a horny monkey?"