Bulma's eyes flicked nervously between her father and Haruko.
Dr. Brief rubbed his temples. "Bulma, they're saying you took something from his house. Is that true?"
Bulma huffed. "I… borrowed it. For a good reason."
Haruko stepped forward, his tone sharp. "You broke into someone's home. That's stealing. Is that how your father raised you?"
Bulma's cheeks burned. "Tsk... I didn't mean—"
"And you smashed your car into me," Haruko cut in coldly. "If I was anyone else, you'd be talking about a killing, not an accident."
Dr. Brief sighed heavily. "Bulma, return the Four-Star Ball now."
She reluctantly opened her satchel and handed it to Goku.
"Thanks!" Goku grinned, holding it up to the light. "Grandpa's Ball!"
Haruko glanced at Goku. "We're done here." He turned and walked out of the Capsule Corp gates, Goku hurrying to follow with the Ball held close.
The city outskirts were quieter. Dust swirled over the dry road as they made their way out.
Then a voice rang out sharply:
"Hold it right there!"
A figure leapt down from a rock ledge — lean frame, long wild hair, sword at his side. Yamcha.
"You're on my turf now," Yamcha grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Hand over anything valuable — and I won't rough you up."
Goku stepped forward, tail flicking. "Why would we give anything to you?"
"I guess you need a lesson," Yamcha said, getting into stance.
The fight started fast. Yamcha lunged forward with a sweeping punch — Haruko tilted his head, letting it pass harmlessly by. Another flurry of strikes came in, but Haruko stepped aside each time, calm as if he knew exactly where every attack would land.
A kick whipped toward his ribs — Haruko caught it with one hand and pushed Yamcha back.
"You'll need more than that," Haruko said evenly.
Yamcha rushed in again. This time, Haruko's pupils contracted, the deep circular rings in his eyes beginning to rotate.
A strange pressure filled the air. Yamcha froze mid-step, his stance faltering. His jaw tightened as if invisible weight had dropped on his shoulders.
"Absolute Soul Control," Haruko said quietly.
Yamcha's breathing quickened, sweat breaking across his brow… then both knees hit the dirt. His head dropped, unable to move under the crushing mental grip.
"You're a good fighter for a human," Haruko said, stepping closer. "From now on, you're our servant. Be grateful — not everyone gets to serve a Saiyan."
Goku tilted his head at Haruko's words. "Servant? What's that?"
Haruko looked at him. "From now on, he'll cook food for us… and find strong people for us to fight."
Goku's eyes lit up. "Oh! That's great! I'm always hungry."
Haruko looked back down at Yamcha, releasing the control. "Get up. You work for us now. Follow, or I'll put you right back on the ground."
Yamcha clenched his fists, but something in Haruko's crimson-and-gold gaze told him not to test it. "…Fine."
The three of them started walking into the open desert road, Yamcha trailing behind with a scowl.
Goku hummed happily. "I like having a servant."
Haruko didn't smile, but he looked ahead — already thinking about how this "recruitment" might help with his mission in this world.
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