The courtyard trembled under the weight of raw ki. Dust kicked up around Buu's feet as he stood firmly in the center, a calm, unshakable pillar against the storm of power building around him. Bulma, Mai, and Fasha circled him, all three breathing hard yet burning with determination.
Buu grinned. "Good. Again."
Fasha lunged first. Her movements were sharper now. She spun into a rapid kick aimed at his head, but Buu caught her heel effortlessly. Before she could recover, Bulma fired a compact energy round from a device mounted on her wrist. It buzzed with a golden rhythm, tracing a path like a guided missile.
Mai appeared behind Buu, blade flashing with ki. She didn't even need to think anymore—the Saiyan instincts intertwined with her assassin training like they'd always belonged together.
Buu's smile widened.
He shoved Fasha backward, spun, deflected Mai's blade with a single finger, then slapped the energy shot aside like it was nothing.
"Better, but still not enough," he said.
Bulma grit her teeth, sparks flaring around her. "You know, it's a little unfair that you're built like a final boss."
Mai's aura flickered again—golden sparks dancing at the edges before fading. She gasped in frustration, gripping her chest. "It's so close… I can almost touch it."
"That's how it starts," Buu said. "The spark comes first. Then you either control it… or lose yourself to it."
Fasha wiped a line of sweat from her cheek. "Then let's push harder."
She powered up, shouting, her voice raw with tension. Her aura exploded outward—wild, fiery, and unstable. It crackled with golden hints, brighter than Mai's.
Bulma watched, wide-eyed. "Fasha…"
But after a moment, the glow sputtered and died. Fasha fell forward, catching herself on her hands, panting.
"Damn… it slips away every time."
Buu crouched beside her, placing a hand on her back. His energy flowed gently into her, cooling the burning ache in her muscles.
"C'mon you can do it," he said. "You're climbing. And the peak is close."
Bulma approached next, adjusting her combat gloves. She wasn't a fighter by nature, but the Saiyan genes pulsing in her veins had awakened something fierce—something proud.
"Alright," she said, voice firm. "Let me try something."
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The courtyard fell silent as a thin stream of wind spiraled around her. Bulma focused.
Her aura slowly grew, steady and controlled, like a flame warming rather than burning.
Mai turned toward her, confused. "Bulma? What are you—?"
Bulma opened her eyes. They flashed, just for an instant—bright teal with a flicker of gold.
Buu straightened, surprised. "Interesting…"
Bulma stepped forward and threw a punch.
It wasn't fast. It wasn't explosive.
But it was perfectly controlled.
Buu blocked it with a palm, yet the force made him slide back half a step.
Mai's jaw dropped. "Hold on… you hit him. You actually made him move!"
Bulma blinked, startled. "I—did?"
Fasha grinned through her exhaustion. "Heck yeah she did!"
Buu nodded. "Control before power. If you keep that up, you may be the first to break through."
Bulma blushed, trying to hide her sudden pride. "Don't say it like that. I'll get cocky."
"You already are," Mai muttered.
Panchy laughed from her seat under the shade. "And she deserves to be."
Buu rose to full height again. "All of you listen." His voice grew serious. "Super Saiyan isn't just raging or forcing power. It's breaking yourself—your limits, your emotions."
He pointed to his forehead.
"You are majin too. This means you don't have to be careful about injuries, so go wild."
Fasha's eyes sharpened.
Mai nodded. Bulma took a deep breath, steadying herself.
Buu raised his hands.
"Round three."
The ground split beneath them as they powered up once more, each aura brighter than before—Bulma's calm, Mai's crackling, Fasha's burning.