Cade froze. The weary resignation vanished. Her eyes snapped wide, the amber irises sharpening into lethal focus. She didn't flinch under his grip; she became stone. "Zarbon?" The name dropped from her lips like ice. Her gaze drilled into his, searching for lies, finding only raw terror. The tremor in Kaiyo's hands, the frantic dilation of his pupils – this wasn't another reckless boast. This was death breathing down their necks.
Her own power flickered instinctively, a brief spike to 4,200 before she ruthlessly clamped it down. Drawing attention now was suicide. "Here?" she hissed, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "To the Low-Class Sector? For your mother?" Disbelief warred with dawning horror. Zarbon didn't dirty his claws with low-level executions... unless the insult was profound. Unless Frieza demanded spectacle.
Cade's eyes narrowed, calculating, scanning Kaiyo's face. Her gaze flickered past Kaiyo's shoulder towards the distant, looming silhouette of Frieza's orbital command spire. "They won't send Zarbon himself... not yet. They'll send hunters. Scourers. Low-level elites. Efficient. Quiet."
Her voice was cold, detached – survival logic overriding panic. "They'll triangulate her scouter signature. Sweep the sector dome by dome. Question neighbors. Check System logs." Her eyes locked back onto Kaiyo's. "Hours. Maybe less."
Kaiyo's mind raced. Scourers. Frieza Force troopers – not the elites like Dodoria or Zarbon, but hardened killers nonetheless. Power levels typically ranged from 3,000 to 10,000. Manageable? Maybe. His Gravity Sphere could disrupt, cripple… if he had the Ki. His Spatial Compression tree mocked him: Micro-Singularity (Locked: Requires Ki Control Lvl 5). His Ki Pool pulsed weakly at 42/1200. He'd burn through it in seconds against even one trooper. Against a coordinated squad? He'd be vaporized before he could layer a second sphere. He needed numbers. Big numbers. Fast. The Time Chamber wasn't a luxury; it was their only lifeline.
Cade's grip tightened on his forearm, her nails digging in painfully. "Kaiyo," she hissed, her voice sharp as shattered glass. "What's your play? Training? Some suicidal System hack? What?" Her amber eyes burned into his, demanding answers. "Spit it out! We don't have time for your cryptic bullshit!"
Kaiyo leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. "Planetoid Kappa-7," he whispered, the name charged with desperation. "A Hyperbolic Time Chamber. A year inside... one day out." He saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes—folktales whispered among warriors about elite training grounds. "I know the coordinates. We go now. Train. Grow strong enough to survive."
Cade's grip didn't loosen. Her eyes narrowed, suspicion warring with the lethal pragmatism that defined her. "A year?" she hissed. "With you? Teaching me?" A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her. "Kaiyo, you can barely layer gravity without blowing your own fist off. And me?" She shook her head sharply, her loose hair whipping across her shoulders. "I'm a blunt instrument. All I know is how to hit harder, faster. We'd stagnate. Kill each other out of frustration long before Zarbon's hunters find us." Her gaze locked onto his, sharp and unflinching. "We need a master. Someone who can forge raw power into technique. Someone who's walked the path beyond pathetic low-class limits."
Kaiyo's mind raced. Master. The word echoed, colliding with fragmented memories of the anime – stern faces, impossible techniques. King Kai? Impossible. Korin? Whis? Light-years away and utterly unreachable. Planet Vegeta… His thoughts screeched to a halt.
There were no legends here. No mentors waiting in the shadows. Only Frieza's boot on their throats and Saiyans clawing for scraps of power. The realization hit him like a gravity wave: they were alone.
"No masters," Kaiyo rasped, the words scraping his throat raw. "Just us. We steal a shuttle. Kappa-7's coordinates are buried in Frieza's archives, but my System's brute-forcing them." He gripped Cade's shoulders tighter, forcing her to meet his burning gaze. "One year inside. one day out here. We get strong enough to crush those hunters before they even touch my mother."
Cade's eyes narrowed, suspicion hardening into ice. "Why?" The word cracked like a whip. "Why risk everything? For her?" Her gaze drilled into him, stripping away his desperation. "You talk like you know things. Planet Vegeta's doom whispers… Frieza's boot… this 'System' cheat. If you see the future, Kaiyo Nakamura," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "why aren't you changing it? Why aren't you screaming warnings from the highest spire? Rallying warriors? Not just scrambling to save one Saiyan?"
Kaiyo flinched. The truth was a jagged shard lodged in his throat – he wasn't a hero. He was a scared kid playing god with a cheat code he barely understood. Saving his mother wasn't nobility; it was selfish terror. Planet Vegeta's fate? A monstrous tidal wave he couldn't hope to stop. He met her piercing stare, the raw accusation stripping him bare. There was no grand design, only survival.
"Later," he choked out, the word thick with shame and urgency. He shoved past her into the dimly lit interior of her dome, scanning the utilitarian space. "Cade. Later. Right now, armor. Get it on." His gaze swept over her, lingering deliberately on her hips despite the terror clawing at his gut. A desperate, crude reflex surfaced, a flicker of the reckless Saiyan he pretended to be. "Preferably something that… makes your ass look big. Helps morale." It was hollow bravado, tasteless and stupid, but it broke the suffocating weight of her question. He couldn't afford introspection now. Only action.
Cade's eyes flashed pure fury, a brief, incandescent spike of power crackling around her fists. For a heartbeat, Kaiyo braced for impact. Then, with a sound of utter disgust – a sharp hiss through clenched teeth – she spun and stalked towards a reinforced locker in the corner. "Idiot," she spat, the word dripping venom. "If we survive this, I'm breaking both your arms." The locker hissed open. She grabbed sleek, dark combat armor plates, her movements efficient, furious. She didn't look back.
Kaiyo slumped against the cold stone wall beside the open doorway, the rough texture biting into his back. He slid down to sit on the floor, knees drawn up. Outside, the distant hum of a patrol ship echoed – a sound that now screamed hunter. His System interface flickered uselessly in his mind's eye: Ki Pool: 43/1200. Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. Super Saiyan? The thought was a desperate prayer. Goku achieved it through unimaginable grief, pure rage born from loss. Kaiyo squeezed his eyes shut. Would his rage be enough? Watching Zarbon snap Kira's neck? Seeing Cade vaporized? The images were horrifyingly vivid, fueling a cold dread that coiled tighter than any fury. Could he even reach that legendary threshold? Or was he doomed to die a low-class speck?
He remembered the anime fragments: Goku training under crushing gravity, pushing his body beyond breaking point, sparring relentlessly. That he could do. The Hyperbolic Time Chamber was crushing gravity. Sparring with Cade? That was relentless. A grim smile touched his lips. He'd push her harder than she'd ever been pushed. She'd push him back tenfold. Pain would be their constant companion.
Maybe that's the key, he thought desperately. Break the body enough times, bleed enough rage... maybe the gold will come. He pictured his mother's terrified eyes again, felt the phantom heat of Zarbon's death beam. The cold dread in his gut ignited, flickering into a spark of something hotter, deeper. Yes. Make it hurt.