The other landed in a low, instinctive crouch. pink armor hugged powerful curves, her short spiky black hair framing a face set in a scowl of profound annoyance. Fasha. She scanned the impossible surroundings – the floating platform, the nebula, Whis's serene, towering form – with narrowed eyes. Confusion warred with ingrained Saiyan aggression. "The hell?" she growled, her voice rough-edged. She straightened slowly, fists clenched at her sides, radiating wary hostility. She didn't flinch from the void, but her gaze snapped to Kyoto, sizing him up with undisguised suspicion. "Where's Bardock? Where's the fuck am I?"
Kyoto stared, dumbstruck. Fasha's fierce, impatient glare pinned him. Gine's terrified whimper echoed in the cosmic silence. Whis merely inclined his head fractionally towards Kyoto. "Explain," he stated, his tone utterly flat. "Your training commences in twenty-four Earth hours." With another soft pop, Whis vanished, leaving Kyoto alone with two bewildered Saiyan women under the indifferent stars.
Fasha surged forward, her armored boot scraping the obsidian. "You!" she barked, pointing a gloved finger at Kyoto's spiky hair. "Saiyan. Low-class grunt smell. Where the fuck is this? Where's Bardock's unit? Answer me!" Her dark eyes blazed with suspicion, scanning his unfamiliar gi. Behind her, Gine crumpled to her knees, clutching her armored skirt. "B-Bardock?" she gasped, tears welling. "K-Kakarot? My baby! Where is he? What happened?" Her voice cracked, pure maternal terror shredding the cosmic quiet.
Kyoto's mind raced faster than Whis's teleportation. Why them? Out of millions of Saiyans facing extinction, Whis plucked these two? Fasha, Bardock's volatile teammate, all snarling aggression and battle-hardened curves – Bianca dialed up to eleven. And Gine? Soft, gentle, radiating terrified devotion – Jenny amplified by Saiyan biology. It was a cosmic joke. Whis hadn't just seen his chaotic desires; he'd manifested them. Two perfect extremes of Saiyan femininity, ripped from the brink of annihilation. Kyoto felt a surge of Saiyan adrenaline – predatory, possessive. Mine.
Fasha stalked closer, invading his space. "I said answer, runt!" Her fist clenched, knuckles cracking audibly. Gine's sobs intensified. "Please! My son!"
Kyoto forced a smirk, channeling his Earthling bravado. "Relax, ladies," he drawled, stepping back slightly. Fasha's aura prickled like broken glass. "Welcome to Whis's Pad. Think… godly waiting room." He gestured vaguely at the nebula. "Planet Vegeta's still out there. For now." Fasha's scowl deepened. "Whis? Gods? You talking crazy?" Gine whimpered, "Kakarot…"
"Listen," Kyoto snapped, cutting through the panic. He locked eyes with Fasha, then Gine. "Your planet's toast. Frieza's gonna blow it sky-high. Soon." He saw the dawning horror in Gine's eyes, the furious disbelief in Fasha's. "Whis – tall blue guy – brought you here. Safe." He paused, letting the impossible truth sink in. "He dumped you with me. Training starts tomorrow." He flashed a sharp, Saiyan grin. "Means you're stuck with me. So… introductions?" He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Kyoto. Your new… instructor." The lie felt dangerous, exhilarating. Fasha's eyes narrowed to slits. "Train us? You?" Her disbelief dripped venom. Kyoto shrugged, radiating false confidence. "Blame the blue guy. Now," he pointed at the silver capsule Whis had left. "Quarters. One bed. Figure it out." He turned towards the capsule, leaving them stunned. Fasha's furious growl followed him. "One bed? You think you're sleeping anywhere near us, runt?" Gine's quiet sob echoed, "Bardock…" Kyoto grinned wider. Chaos, delivered by divine courier. Training hadn't even started, and he already had his hands full.
Kyoto knew the script. Bardock, Fasha's reckless teammate, charging Frieza's Death Ball like a doomed meteor. Kakarot, Gine's infant son, rocketing towards Earth, destined to become Goku. The urge to spill it all – Bardock's futile bravery, Kakarot's future glory – clawed at him. Telling Gine might ease her terror… or shatter her completely. He watched her huddle near the capsule, trembling, eyes fixed on the distant nebula where Vegeta spun towards oblivion. No. The future was brutal, messy, beautiful. Let her find out when Whis inevitably showed her. Knowledge was power, and Kyoto needed leverage. He'd keep his secrets, sharp as knives.
Fasha, however, was a different beast. Kyoto's blunt declaration about Planet Vegeta's imminent demise landed like a meteor strike. Gine crumpled further, a choked sob escaping her lips. Fasha? She just… froze. The simmering aggression bled out of her posture. Her clenched fists uncurled slowly. Her dark, narrowed eyes, fixed on Kyoto, didn't widen in shock or disbelief. They hardened. Became chips of obsidian glinting under the nebula's cold light.
"Destroyed?" Fasha's voice was low, rough, utterly devoid of surprise. It was confirmation, not revelation. She spat onto the pristine obsidian. The glob sizzled faintly. "Figures." Her gaze drifted past Kyoto, staring into the swirling cosmic void where their homeworld spun. "Frieza's been circling like a vulture over a dying thresher-beast for months. His lizards treat us like vermin. Worse." Her lip curled in a feral snarl, revealing sharp canines. "Disposable shock troops. Cannon fodder for his little empire." She turned her obsidian-chip eyes back to Kyoto. Planet Vegeta wasn't home; it was a cage run by a tyrant who saw Saiyans as glorified attack dogs. Oblivion? Almost a mercy. "Anywhere else," Fasha stated flatly, her voice devoid of tremor, "is better."
Kyoto absorbed her chilling pragmatism. Saiyan warrior to the bone. No tears for a doomed planet, only cold assessment. Gine, however, whimpered, clutching her armored skirt tighter, her knuckles white. "K-Kakarot?" she choked out, the name a desperate prayer. "He... he was sent away... Bardock said..."
Kyoto ignored the infant question. Leverage was key. He gestured vaguely upwards, towards the unseen bulk of the temple complex floating somewhere above the nebula. "Safe? Depends. You know Beerus?" Kyoto asked abruptly, locking eyes with Fasha, then glancing at Gine.
Fasha snorted. "Beerus? The Cat God? Fairy tales grannies tell whelps." She crossed her arms, armored plates clicking. "King Vegeta supposedly pissed him off decades ago. Story goes the King groveled like a whipped cur, offered half the royal treasury, and the 'Destroyer' just yawned and vanished. Propaganda. Scare tactic for the nobles." She dismissed it with a flick of her wrist.
Gine nodded faintly, wiping her eyes. "Old rumors... scary stories..."
Kyoto's grin was sharp, edged with cosmic dread. "Not rumors." He tapped the obsidian beneath his boot. "Solid fact. We're standing on his planet right now. Whis? The blue guy? He's Beerus's attendant. His butler." He let that sink in, watching Fasha's dismissive scowl falter, replaced by wary disbelief. Gine's eyes widened in fresh terror. "Beerus sleeps," Kyoto continued, his voice dropping. "Deep. For decades at a stretch. When he wakes... planets die. Like clockwork. Like Vegeta was supposed to." He paused, letting the terrifying proximity resonate. "Whis brought us here. To train. Right under the sleeping god's nose. Safe? Only as long as he doesn't wake up."
Fasha stared at the glowing marble beneath her boots, then slowly raised her gaze to the impossible cosmic vista. The casual reality of gods existing, sleeping above them, was a different kind of shock than planetary destruction. Her jaw tightened. Gine trembled violently, whispering Bardock's name like a shield against divine nightmares. Kyoto watched them absorb the impossible scale of their new reality. Training wasn't just about power; it was survival in the shadow of a cosmic catnap. The capsule beside them pulsed softly, its silver surface reflecting the nebula's indifferent light – their fragile sanctuary in a universe ruled by whim and destruction.
Kyoto finally turned his focus inward, truly assessing the vessel Whis had dumped him into. He flexed his hands – broad, calloused palms, fingers thick with corded muscle beneath the grey fabric of his gi sleeves. The material felt surprisingly durable, cool against his skin, the deep blue accents stark against the sterile white surroundings. He ran a hand over his chest, feeling the dense pectoral muscles beneath the gi jacket, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Saiyan physiology was dense. Power thrummed beneath the surface, a coiled spring he couldn't yet release. He twisted slightly, catching the thick, russet-brown tail flicking unconsciously behind him. It felt alien, yet instinctively part of him, a new limb humming with latent energy.
His gaze drifted lower. The loose-fitting gi pants couldn't hide the significant bulge straining against the fabric. Kyoto smirked faintly. Earth-him had been generously blessed with a pretty big cock but this? This was Saiyan endowment. Thick, heavy, and currently semi-hard just from the adrenaline of near-death and the primal presence of two terrified Saiyan women. He subtly adjusted himself, the unfamiliar weight both exhilarating and slightly intimidating. Definitely a perk, he thought, the Saiyan blood humming with possessive satisfaction. His eyes flicked involuntarily to Fasha, still radiating wary hostility nearby. Her pink battle armor was molded tight, emphasizing the powerful swell of her hips and the frankly outrageous curve of her ass – round, firm, and straining the material like sculpted marble. It was a weapon all its own. Yeah, Kyoto mused, definitely perks.