Bulma introduced Lazuli in a quiet voice. When Yamcha learned they were supposedly just students, he barely paid attention. Still, he forced a polite smile and greeted Chiga.
When his eyes shifted to Lazuli, however, she turned her head away sharply, refusing to acknowledge him at all. From what she had overheard earlier, she had already judged Yamcha as a womanizing scoundrel. With that in mind, she saw no reason to be courteous.
What she didn't realize was that Chiga, standing beside her, had far more complicated experiences with won than Yamcha ever dread of—though he never saw himself as a scoundrel. To him, carrying himself like a king, having more than one partner was hardly unusual.
Yamcha, oblivious to her thoughts, had originally hoped to charm the icy blonde. Instead, he was t with cold rejection and could only rub his nose awkwardly while Bulma gave a faint, mocking laugh from the side.
The air grew tense and awkward, even Mrs. Brief—usually so cheerful—quieted down.
Chiga stepped forward then, wearing a calm smile. "I heard you've competed in the World Martial Arts Tournant more than once, Yamcha. You must be an impressive fighter."
He hadn't ant to embarrass him, only to give him a topic that might ease the tension.
Yamcha's posture straightened imdiately, pride swelling in his chest. "Haha! You've heard of ? That's right. I've entered the tournant several tis. Well, I never managed first place, but I did reach the quarterfinals!"
His voice carried obvious self-satisfaction, his chin lifting slightly as though expecting admiration. In truth, reaching the quarterfinals was no small feat. For years now, humans had struggled to keep up with fighters like Goku and others of inhuman strength.
Bulma, however, had heard it all before. Yamcha's words ant little to her, especially when she thought of Goku's limitless drive.
Lazuli gave a sharp little snort, unimpressed. "That's hardly special. If Chiga entered, he'd probably make it to the semifinals."
Her bluntness froze the room. Everyone turned to look at her strangely, except Chiga himself. Even Bulma, disappointed though she was in Yamcha, knew how rare his skills were compared to ordinary people. He could fly, launch Ki blasts, and wield techniques no human soldier could dream of.
Yamcha, however, took her words as a joke. He chuckled and gave a mocking thumbs-up. "Maybe so. Who knows? Maybe this young Chiga would even take first place."
His tone dripped with sarcasm, but Lazuli didn't flinch. Instead, she lifted her chin, turned her gaze toward Chiga, and softened her expression in an almost playful way.
"Chiga… can't you show him a little of your strength?"
The usually composed woman pulled off a surprisingly effective display of charm. Her voice carried a teasing lilt, her eyes shining with expectation. Yamcha nearly forgot to breathe—her sudden cuteness stunned him.
Chiga's lips twitched. He had only wanted to lighten the mood for Yamcha, yet sohow the attention had swung back onto himself.
To the others, though, it looked like he was hesitating. After all, who would expect a young student to stand against a martial artist who had reached the quarterfinals of the world's greatest tournant?
Bulma quickly tried to intervene. "Lazuli, don't be ridiculous. Fighting here could get soone hurt. Let show you more of Capsule Corp instead." She shot a sharp look at Yamcha.
Catching her cue, Yamcha added hastily, "That's right. Students should stick to their studies. There's no need to fight."
Reluctantly, Lazuli sighed and dropped it. She had gotten carried away, after all. Yamcha was Bulma's problem, not hers. Still, the thought of seeing Chiga wipe the smirk off his face had been tempting, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret.
Her soft sigh reached Chiga's ears. For a mont he considered leaving it, but then he caught the way she had looked at him earlier—playful, almost pleading. As a man, could he really let her down?
With a quiet breath, he straightened, eting Yamcha's eyes. "Actually, a friendly spar sounds like a good idea. I've always been curious to see the style of a martial artist firsthand."
Bulma's face twisted in disbelief. Idiot. I just gave you an escape, and even Lazuli backed off—why throw yourself in again?
But Mrs. Brief clapped her hands with delight. "That's the spirit! Youth is all about energy and courage. I'm cheering for you, Chiga!"
Lazuli blinked, caught off guard. She hadn't expected him to agree, and now a flicker of concern crossed her normally calm face. She still believed in his strength, but Yamcha was a trained fighter. Injuries were always possible.
She stepped forward quickly. "Chiga, forget it. I was being childish. Let's just go."
Chiga reached out and tapped the tip of her nose, leaning closer so only she could hear. "You wanted to shut that scumbag up, didn't you? Don't worry—it'll be easy. Just watch."
Before she could protest, he brushed his lips lightly against her forehead. The gesture left her frozen, her cheeks flushing pink as though her usual cool mask had cracked.
Smiling faintly at her stunned look, Chiga turned and walked toward Yamcha. With each step, he slipped the glasses from his face. A faint golden gleam flickered in his eyes before vanishing.
In that instant, Yamcha's chest tightened. A suffocating weight pressed down on him. It was like being trapped in a tiny boat, drifting on a vast, stormy ocean, the waves threatening to swallow him whole.
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