The sterile white light of the capsule interior felt harsh against Kyoto's eyelids when he woke. His head throbbed faintly – Saiyan metabolism burning through whatever cosmic hangover came with godly relocation. Beside him, Fasha remained deeply asleep, sprawled on her stomach now, one arm flung over the edge of the bed. Her breathing was slow and even, utterly oblivious. The pink tank top had ridden up her back during the night, exposing the strong, smooth curve of her spine and the tantalizing dip just above the swell of her ass. Kyoto's gaze lingered. Earth-him had admired Bianca's wild curves, but this was different. Raw. Primal. Possessive heat stirred low in his gut again. *Just a peek,* he reasoned. Saiyans weren't exactly shy. What harm?
Moving with deliberate slowness, careful not to jostle the mattress, Kyoto leaned over her. His fingers brushed the hem of her tank top, the fabric soft and worn. He lifted it slowly, inch by inch. The smooth expanse of her lower back gave way to the defined ridges of her lat muscles, then… the magnificent swell of her breasts, pressed sideways against the foam mattress. They were heavy, full, tipped with dusky pink nipples that looked startlingly soft against her warrior's physique. *Damn.* Even relaxed, they were impressive. He stared, committing the sight to memory – a trophy waiting to be claimed. He let the tank top fall back into place, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
Stepping quietly over Fasha's discarded armor , Kyoto palmed open the capsule hatch. The cool, sweet air of Beerus's planet washed over him, carrying the faint ozone tang. Outside, bathed in the perpetual twilight glow of the nebula, lay Gine. She hadn't moved far. Curled into a tight ball on the polished obsidian, knees drawn to her chest, she looked impossibly small and vulnerable. Her face was tear-streaked even in sleep, one hand clutching a scrap of dark fabric – probably Bardock's. Kyoto felt a flicker of annoyance. *Still crying?* Saiyans grieved fast and moved faster. This lingering weakness was… inconvenient.
He was about to nudge her awake with his boot – gently, maybe – when a shimmer caught his eye near the platform's edge. Light coalesced, swirling like captured starlight, resolving into a figure. Female. Tall and slender, draped in flowing robes of iridescent blue silk that seemed woven from twilight itself. Long, silvery-white hair cascaded down her back like a frozen waterfall. Her skin was a pale, luminous cerulean, and her eyes… large, expressive, and a startling, deep amethyst purple. Kyoto froze. The shape was vaguely familiar, but the colors… wrong. Ethereal. Then she smiled – a bright, bubbly, utterly misplaced grin that shattered the serene facade.
"Surprise!" chirped the figure, her voice a melodious echo of Seraphina's, yet somehow… softer. She twirled, making her silvery hair and shimmering robes flare. "Do you like it?" she asked, beaming, gesturing at her new angelic form. "I thought, since Whis is all blue and floaty and *important*-looking, I should manifest something… *pretty*! For our little chat!" She clasped her hands together, her purple eyes sparkling with earnest idiocy. "Much nicer than that boring old palace glow, right?"
Kyoto stared, dumbfounded. Seraphina. Dumbass Goddess of Reincarnation. Manifesting on his doorstep looking like an angel because she thought it was "pretty."
"Kyoto!" she squealed, floating closer on unseen currents, her cerulean cheeks flushed with unnatural delight. "Look at you! All spiky and... *muscular*!" Her amethyst eyes flickered appreciatively over his Saiyan frame. "The Saiyan form suits you! Very... primal." She giggled, a sound like tinkling bells that grated on Kyoto's nerves. "Whis hasn't squished you yet? Excellent!"
Before Kyoto could muster a retort – something about her catastrophic misunderstanding of "OP" – Seraphina shimmered. Light flowed over her angelic form like liquid mercury. In a blink, the blue skin and silver hair vanished. Standing before him was a voluptuous blonde bombshell in a ridiculously tight pink cocktail dress, spilling out the top and wobbling on stiletto heels. Kyoto blinked. It was Seraphina's face plastered onto a Playboy model's body. "Ta-da!" she chirped, striking a pose. "Human form! Earthly beauty standard achieved! Notice the... *enhancements*?" She jiggled slightly.
Kyoto opened his mouth, but she shimmered again. The blonde dissolved. Now, a Saiyan warrior stood there – tall, powerfully built, clad in battle-scarred armor. Jet-black spiky hair, fierce dark eyes, thick tail lashing behind her. Yet the face, the smirk... unmistakably Seraphina. She flexed a bicep. "Rawr!" she growled unconvincingly. "Saiyan fury! And look!" She gestured vaguely downwards. "The armor accommodates Saiyan... *proportions*!"
Another shimmer. The Saiyan warrior melted away, replaced by sleek, gleaming chrome. A feminine android form, curves sculpted from polished metal, glowing purple eyes identical to her angelic ones. Her voice echoed with a synthetic buzz. "Bio-Android! Maximum combat efficiency! And aesthetically pleasing contours!" She ran a metallic hand over her hip joint. "See? Always me! Always beautiful!"
With a final flash, the chrome vanished, and the iridescent blue angel reappeared, beaming triumphantly. "See? Any form! But why change perfection?" She fluffed her silvery hair. "I'll be popping in now and then! Checking on my favorite reincarnate! Offering... guidance!" Her amethyst eyes locked onto Kyoto's, sparkling with blatant, embarrassing adoration. She floated closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Maybe... help you impress that fierce pink one?" She winked outrageously. "Just say the word, handsome!"
Kyoto groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. Her crush was painfully obvious, thick as cosmic dust. "Seraphina..."
"Shhh!" She pressed a cool, shimmering finger to his lips. "No need to thank me! Just doing my divine duty!" Her gaze drifted past him towards the capsule. "Now... about training..." Her expression shifted to mock seriousness. "Whis is... particular. Don't mention me! He thinks I'm a cosmic nuisance." She leaned in, whispering, "He's right, of course! But *our* little secret!" She giggled again, then shimmered violently. "Must dash! Places to be! Planets to... not destroy! Probably! Bye, Kyoto!" With a final dazzling flash and a puff of ozone-scented sparkles, she vanished, leaving behind only the faint echo of her giggle and the profound awkwardness of her visit.
Kyoto stood frozen, staring at the empty space where the idiot goddess had been. A cosmic nuisance with a crush. Just what he needed. He turned slowly towards the capsule hatch, dreading the inevitable chaos brewing inside. Fasha would be waking up soon. And she wouldn't be happy. He took a step—
The air thickened. Sweetness vanished, replaced by sterile coldness. Time seemed to hiccup, stutter, then freeze solid. Kyoto couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't twitch a single muscle fiber. The familiar, crushing pressure returned, seamless and absolute. Panic flared—had Seraphina popped back?—but then he saw it. A ripple in the cosmos directly before him. Not light coalescing, but reality itself folding. Space bent, creased like crumpled velvet, and Whis unfolded from the distortion. No flash, no sound. Just… presence. Impossibly close. His lavender eyes, ancient and sharp as shattered ice, locked onto Kyoto's.