The shift in Aira's demeanor was subtle but profound. Rhode, reading the complex emotions flickering through her mind—gratitude, wonder at her own journey, a strange sense of survivor's guilt—understood completely. The old Aira, the one who had left Planet Vegeta with nothing but rage and pride, would never have connected Vegeta's weakness to anything but his own failings. She would have mocked, not reflected.
Earth had changed her. Softened her edges without dulling her blade.
"Let's not dwell on that," Rhode murmured against her hair, his arms still wrapped around her. "Between us, those conversations only create distance."
"Mmm."
Her response was soft, content. Rhode marveled at the transformation. The fierce, tsundere warrior who had once challenged him at every turn now nestled against him like this was the most natural thing in the world. It was new, strange, and utterly wonderful.
Time lost meaning on that dead world. They stood embraced under the alien stars, two souls finally recognizing what they had become to each other.
When they finally parted, their eyes held new warmth—an understanding that needed no words.
"So." Aira's voice, when she spoke, had regained some of its usual sharpness, but it was tempered now. "That technique. King Cold and Zarbon merging into one. What was that?"
"Fusion. From Planet Metamor." Rhode's expression darkened. "Though if those two learned it... I worry about the planet's fate."
"You want to check?"
Rhode considered. The Fusion Technique was invaluable—a trump card that could turn hopeless battles. And watching King Cold and Zarbon's power multiply nearly fortyfold... if that technique was applied to Goku and Vegeta, or to himself and Aira...
His gaze drifted to her, measuring. Similar height, complementary personalities, male and female—the compatibility factors were strong. But her power still lagged his significantly. Fusion required balance.
Not yet, he decided. But as a trump card, worth learning.
"What are you thinking?" Aira's eyes narrowed, suspicion coloring her voice.
"Nothing."
"Hmph. If it involves me making those ridiculous poses, forget it."
Rhode bit back a laugh. The old fire's still there. "Relax. Just thinking."
"Self-Evolution Technique?" Rhode's eyebrow arched, genuine surprise coloring his tone. The name was fitting—a technique that grew with the user's fighting spirit, pushing power higher with every surge of battle lust. But as he considered it, a flicker of deeper recognition stirred.
This... this feels like the seed of something greater. Something like Ultra Instinct.
The thought was startling. If Aira continued developing this path, if she refined the Self-Evolution Technique into something that responded not just to fighting spirit but to instinct itself... she might actually surpass him.
"I'll teach you, if you want." Aira's smile was almost smug, generously offering her hard-won creation.
Rhode blinked, then laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "You'd just hand over your trump card like that?"
"Why not? You've never hidden anything from me." She shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Super Saiyan conditions, training methods, techniques from Yardrat... you shared everything. It's only fair."
Warmth bloomed in his chest. This was trust. Real, unshakeable trust.
"Then I'll gladly learn," he said. "And I'll teach you the path beyond Super Saiyan. Forms that make this transformation look like a warm-up."
Aira's eyes lit up, the competitive fire blazing anew. "Beyond Super Saiyan? Now you're talking!"
"But first—" Rhode gestured upward. "Planet Metamor. Then Earth. Then we trade secrets."
"Deal."
Two hands clasped, and in the void above a shattered world, a new partnership was forged—not of rivalry, but of equals walking the same path, together.