Main World – North Galaxy, Earth – Korin Tower
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sacred tower's platform. Korin lounged on his cushion, lazily munching on dried fish, his tail flicking with contentment. The quiet peace was broken by the soft displacement of air.
"Old cat. I brought fish."
Korin's ears perked up. A familiar figure materialized before him—Aira, her expression as composed as ever, a bucket of fresh fish dangling from her hand. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips.
"Aira! You're here!" Korin's eyes lit up with undisguised joy. He practically bounded over, peering eagerly into the bucket at the swimming prizes. "Hehehe... wonderful, wonderful..."
He waved his staff, and with a flicker of magic, the fish transferred to his personal pond. As he admired his growing collection, he made casual conversation. "You've been so good to me all these years, bringing fish every month. Say... has Rhode still not returned?"
The question hung in the air. Aira's faint smile flickered, a momentary shadow passing through her eyes before she smoothed it away. "It should be soon."
Korin squinted, his whiskers twitching. "Pfft. You said that last month. And the month before that. And the month before—"
"Enough. I'm leaving." Aira's voice was clipped. Before Korin could protest, she vanished.
The old cat blinked, bewildered. "What's her problem? I was just asking!"
But his confusion was short-lived. Within moments, his attention was consumed by the fish pond and the pleasant dilemma of which one to eat next.
Above a desolate wasteland, Aira hovered, staring down at the barren landscape below. Her mind drifted.
Five years.
This place held memories—Rhode's relentless training, his calm voice correcting her form, the fierce pride in his eyes when she finally mastered Great Ape Power. Everywhere she went, every place he had taken her, the echoes of his presence lingered.
She didn't understand why she kept going to all the places he used to visit. Korin Tower. Master Roshi's island. Mount Paozu, to check on the young Goku and offer training pointers. The Ox-King's castle, to guide Chi-Chi. It had become a ritual, a quiet pilgrimage she performed every month without conscious thought.
When will you come back, Rhode?
The West City Martial Arts Hall buzzed with activity. Students trained in the courtyards, their shouts and the thud of practice weapons filling the air. It was a far cry from the quiet sanctuary it had been when Rhode first built it.
Under Bruce's leadership—and with Aira's occasional, terrifyingly effective guidance—the Hall had flourished. Bruce had not only refined his skills but had tapped into the flow of ki, becoming a true martial artist in his own right. His victory in the World Martial Arts Tournament five years ago had cemented the Hall's reputation.
Naturally, success attracted challengers. Martial artists from across the globe came to test themselves against the champion. Those Bruce couldn't handle were dealt with by an even more formidable presence. None who faced that hidden master ever spoke of it, but their haunted expressions and immediate, lifelong respect for the Hall told a clear story: the rumors of a terrifying guardian were very, very real.
Aira walked through the grounds, unseen by the students. Her eyes swept over the familiar buildings, the training grounds, the private quarters in the rear. Empty. Still empty.
Five years. And she was still waiting. Still hoping. Still keeping the rituals alive, as if by maintaining the routine, she could will him back into existence.
Soon, she told herself, the same lie she had been telling for years. He'll be back soon.
West City Martial Arts Hall – Gravity Chamber
The door slid open with a soft hiss. Aira stepped out, her body still humming with the residual strain of high-gravity training. She looked down at the small figure waiting impatiently before her.
"Bulma." Aira's eyebrow arched. "You rarely come here on your own. Did something happen?"
For all her genius, Bulma still had the attention span of a gnat when it came to martial arts. Her visits were usually scheduled, mandatory sessions that she endured with theatrical suffering. Seeing her here, unannounced and with a distinctly anxious expression, was unusual.
"Sister Aira!" Bulma grabbed her hand, her words tumbling out in a rush. "The Namekians sent a distress signal! They're under attack!"
Aira's eyes sharpened. "Zarbon again?"
"Yes!"
"Hmph." A cold smile curved Aira's lips. "That useless fool. I've let him live long enough."
Years ago, when Rhode had first vanished, Aira had tracked Zarbon across the galaxy. She had found him terrorizing Namek, building a small empire of fear. Her first instinct had been to obliterate him. But then... a thought had stayed her hand. A potential trigger for Super Saiyan. Rage, desperation, a true crisis—these were the catalysts. She had let him live, watching from afar, waiting for the moment his actions would spark the transformation within her.
It hadn't worked. For five years, Zarbon had been a useful tool, a constant source of controlled anger. But the fire never caught. The rage never deepened into the necessary inferno.
Now he was back on Namek, causing trouble again. And Aira's patience had finally, completely, run dry.
"Get rid of him?" Bulma's eyes widened. "You mean... like, permanently?"
"Yes." Aira's voice was flat, final. "He's outlived his usefulness."