LESSON 1: Flight Stabilization.
Kyoto hovered, trembling like a leaf in a cyclone. "Stop fighting gravity," Fasha snarled from below, arms crossed. "Surrender to it!" Kyoto glared down—bad idea. His Ki flickered violently, dumping him onto the obsidian. Hard. Gine watched, wide-eyed, from beside the capsule. "Imagine... floating?" she offered timidly. Kyoto spat dust. "Float my ass." Fasha smirked. "Exactly."
LESSON 7: Ki Beam Focus.
Fasha's golden blast screamed towards the central ring—and exploded ten feet short, annihilating a pillar. Obsidian shrapnel hissed past Kyoto's ear. "Too much sauce, not enough aim!" Kyoto yelled, ducking. Fasha bared her teeth. "Shut it, runt!" Whis appeared mid-air, plucking neutron dust. "Destruction requires elegance, Fasha. Narrow the aperture. Think scalpel, not sledgehammer." He vanished. Fasha growled, but her next blast was tighter, hotter, piercing the ring's edge. Kyoto whistled. "Nice shot, Pinky." Fasha ignored him, already charging again.
LESSON 15: Speed Burst.
Kyoto blurred across the platform—and slammed face-first into a newly-formed obsidian spire. Stars exploded behind his eyelids. "Spatial awareness," Whis sighed, reappearing beside him. "Velocity without perception is merely... enthusiastic suicide." Kyoto groaned, rubbing his nose. "Noted." Gine practiced nearby, her movements fluid, almost dancing as she flowed around low pillars, her Ki a barely-there shimmer. Kyoto watched her dodge a sudden spike rise with eerie calm. "How?" he grunted. Gine blushed. "I just... don't think about hitting things."
LESSON 30: Integration.
.Kyoto hovered effortlessly now, a low thrum of controlled Ki beneath him. Below, Fasha unleashed a pencil-thin violet beam that punched cleanly through the highest ring, leaving the surrounding pillars untouched. She grinned, savage satisfaction in her eyes. Kyoto nodded. "Clean." Fasha snorted, but didn't argue. Gine stood centered, eyes closed, her Ki radiating a soft, steady warmth. A shimmering ring drifted towards her. Without opening her eyes, she sidestepped—not away, but with its path—her hand brushing its edge in perfect, silent harmony. Kyoto landed softly beside Whis. "They're getting good." Whis nibbled his jaggery. "Potential realized is merely disciplined chaos. You?" Kyoto flexed his hand, a sphere of crackling blue Ki forming instantly, stable and dense. "I learn fast when motivated." He grinned, eyeing Fasha's retreating back. "Real fast."
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Two months of hard-ass training changed Kyoto. No more flailing around like a dumbass—his Ki control was solid now, humming under his skin like a live wire. He moved like a predator, sharp and deadly, thanks to Whis's brutal drills. Flying? Easy. Just hover or zip forward without smashing into shit. His Ki blasts? Tight and mean, hitting exactly where he wanted or blowing shit up real good. He felt strong. Stronger than he'd ever been back on Earth. This power? Fucking real. And it felt goddamn earned.
The sparring ring was just a circle scratched into black rock. Fasha stood across from him, radiating heat like a furnace. She'd ditched that bulky pink armor. Now? Sleek black gear that hugged every fucking curve—shoulders, back, that insane ass. Black wristbands, Saiyan boots. Functional but sexy as hell. Her tail whipped behind her, eyes locked on Kyoto, hungry. "No holding back, Earth-scum," she snarled. "Show me what Whis's little project can actually do."
Kyoto didn't waste time. He shot forward, fast and controlled. Fasha met him fist-first, power that could crack bone. He blocked it, the shock rattling his arm, but he held, driving the force down into the rock. They traded blows—Fasha's raw strength against Kyoto's slick moves. He ducked under a kick that would've popped his skull like a grape, the wind ruffling his hair. He jabbed her ribs, but she twisted, taking it on her guard with a grunt. She was faster now, sharper. Fuck. His blood roared—not just to win, but to own her.
He faked a stumble after blocking a kick. Bait. Fasha lunged, fist aimed at his gut. Perfect. As she committed, he blasted up and over her, using a tiny Ki burst to flip. Landed behind her, spinning, Ki blazing in his palms. Not a beam—a full-power blast straight down at the rock between her feet. Whis's lesson: wreck the ground, not the fighter.
BOOM. The blast tore a crater under Fasha. Shrapnel flew, the shockwave rocked the platform. She stumbled, balance gone, blinded by debris. Kyoto didn't stop. He was on her like lightning, slamming into her with grappling speed, not brute force. Drove her down hard onto the rock.
They hit. Kyoto pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, forearm across her collarbone, knee digging into her hip. Her eyes burned fury, tail thrashing. "Cheap fucking trick, runt!" she spat, struggling uselessly. The air still crackled with his raw power.
Kyoto leaned in, breath hot on her face, grinning like a shark. "Not cheap. Smart," he growled, voice rough from the fight. That rush—the move, the blast, the pin—it all fucking clicked. "Whis said I had potential. Guess I found some." He pressed down, feeling her muscles tense under him. "Still think I'm just his pet project?" His tail coiled tight around her thigh.
Fasha bucked violently, her hips twisting with explosive force. "Get OFF me, you cheating little—!" Her knee slammed upwards, aiming for his groin. Kyoto anticipated it, shifting his weight just enough to deflect the blow with his own thigh. The impact still stung. "Cheating?" He laughed, low and dark. "You call tactics cheating now, monkey? Thought Saiyans respected strength. Any kind." He tightened his grip on her wrists, feeling the raw power thrumming beneath her skin. "Face it. I out-thought you. Out-maneuvered you. That blast wasn't just power; it was placement. You saw an opening and charged like a rabid lizard-dog. Predictable." He saw the flicker in her furious eyes – not just anger, but a grudging acknowledgment of the truth. His Ki flared unconsciously, a visible corona of blue light crackling around his pinned form, amplifying the pressure holding her down. The sheer, focused energy radiating from him was undeniable.
A resonant tap echoed across the platform. Both Saiyans froze. Whis materialized beside the newly formed crater, surveying the damage with mild disapproval. "Crude," he stated, his voice cutting through the tension like ice. "But effective." His lavender gaze swept over Kyoto, still pinning the struggling Fasha. "Your application of Lesson Thirty shows... integration. Power channeled with intent. A significant leap." He turned his attention to Fasha. "Your strength remains formidable, Fasha. But rage blinds. Precision requires a calm core, even amidst fury. You possess the destructive potential of Hakai, yet you wield it like a club." He gestured towards the crater. "Observe Kyoto's method. Controlled destabilization. Strategic chaos. Learn from it." He vanished, leaving only the faint scent of neutron dust honeycomb and the heavy silence of the sparring ring. Kyoto slowly released his grip, rolling off Fasha and landing lightly on his feet. He offered her a hand up, his expression unreadable. "Told you I learn fast."