The quiet hum of machinery filled the Capsule Corp training room as the early morning sun filtered through the large glass panels, casting golden beams across the polished white floor. Mori stood in the center of the room, shirtless, wearing black Capsule Corp training shorts, a towel slung around his neck, and a determined fire in his glowing blue-white eyes.
Ten days of unconsciousness. Three years until the next tournament.
He couldn't waste a single second.
Mori took a deep breath, his chest rising as he centered himself. His body still bore faint bruises from the battle with Goku—small but vivid reminders of the most intense moment of his life. That fight had awakened something deep within. Something powerful. Something he didn't fully understand yet.
He dropped into a low stance and began his solo drills. Punch. Elbow. Step back. Kick. Duck. Counter. Each movement was fast and sharp—his young frame slicing through the air with fierce precision. He trained in silence, save for the sound of his feet gliding across the slick floor and the rhythmic exhale from his lungs.
Hours passed like minutes.
Eventually, the door slid open with a soft hiss. Dr. Briefs, wearing his signature lab coat and round glasses, stepped into the room with a mug of coffee in one hand and a digital tablet in the other. On his shoulder, Scratch the cat blinked slowly and let out a tired meow.
"Well, I figured I'd find you here," Dr. Briefs said with a casual grin. "Didn't even stop for breakfast?"
Mori paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Not hungry yet."
Dr. Briefs chuckled, walking over. "Dedicated. Good. But don't forget to refuel."
He tapped the tablet and waved Mori over. "Come on, I've been working on something you might like."
They crossed to the far side of the room where a massive panel slowly slid open, revealing a new section packed with futuristic training gear: resistance bands made from reinforced fibers, ki-sensitive shockpads, floating drone projectors, and a circular ring of hovering discs with blinking lights and energy pulses.
"You made all of this?" Mori asked, blinking.
"Well, me and Bulma," Dr. Briefs said, pride in his voice. "We've been keeping an eye on your vitals, battle patterns, and ki instability. These machines should help you train smarter."
Mori smiled softly. "Thank you."
Dr. Briefs waved a hand. "Go on. Let's break 'em in."
Mori moved through the upgraded training room like a blur.
The resistance bands stretched tight as he punched and kicked against them, building speed and power. The shockpads glowed, sensing the output of each strike. A soft ding played after each combo, ranking his efficiency, precision, and force.
Then came the drones.
They hovered overhead, small and fast, each one programmed to shoot soft energy blasts that Mori had to dodge or deflect. He moved like a dancer—fluid, aware, calculating. Sweat poured from his brow, but he didn't falter.
Each hit he blocked made the drones speed up.
Each dodge sharpened his instincts.
"Tracking systems are reading faster reaction times," Dr. Briefs said over the speaker. "Keep pushing!"
The simulation escalated. Drones shifted formations, mimicking multiple fighters. Some cloaked. Others mimicked ki signatures. Mori closed his eyes and focused—feeling the energy around him.
He clapped his hands together, creating a short-range pulse that knocked several drones offline.
"Nicely done!" Dr. Briefs exclaimed.
But Mori's aura flickered—unstable.
A ripple of pink energy cracked out from his body for a split second before he caught it, slowing his breath and focusing hard.
He dropped to one knee, panting, hands trembling.
"I still lose control sometimes," he said aloud.
"You're improving," Dr. Briefs replied. "More than you realize. Stabilization isn't about suppressing—it's about harmonizing."
Mori stood and nodded. "Then let's keep going."
By mid-afternoon, he was outside.
Dr. Briefs had installed a series of remote training modules across the Capsule Corp property. One machine launched weighted balls. Another created energy barriers. One floated slowly through the air, projecting randomized enemy silhouettes for mental combat drills.
Mori pushed himself through every one.
Fighting holograms, deflecting blasts, sprinting across the yard while under fire from rubber-tipped shock pellets.
He wasn't trying to be the strongest.
He was trying to master himself.
Later that evening, Mori sat on the Capsule Corp rooftop, legs crossed, a towel over his shoulders. His hair was damp. His arms and legs ached. But he felt good.
He stared at the night sky, his aura gently flickering around him.
"Whistler," he whispered to himself, remembering the name he'd given Earth.
Despite the chaos inside him… here, he felt calm.
"You're getting stronger," came a voice.
Mori turned slightly to see Bulma climbing up the ladder with a bottle of soda in her hand.
"You say that like it's a surprise," he replied, smirking.
Bulma rolled her eyes. "I meant, you're getting weirdly strong. Like, how are you ten and punching through my training droids like they're balloons?"
"Hard work," Mori said with a shrug.
"Uh-huh. Totally. Has nothing to do with that freaky alien power hidden inside you," she teased, flopping down beside him.
"I'm working on controlling it," he said seriously.
Bulma turned her head, studying him. "Yeah. I know. You're doing a lot better than when we first met."
He gave her a grateful look.
"Also," she added, "I may or may not be working on a small energy meter that tracks your aura spikes. Y'know, so you don't explode my house again."
He laughed softly.
They sat in silence for a while, watching the stars.
"You really think Goku's gonna be that much stronger in three years?" Mori asked eventually.
Bulma took a sip of her drink. "Oh yeah. That boy's gonna be a monster by then. But you? I think you're gonna surprise everyone."
Mori looked down at his hands. "I hope so."
The next day brought something new.
Dr. Briefs called Mori into the lab and handed him a small, circular device. It resembled a sleek wristwatch, its center pulsing gently with a faint blue glow.
"This is a ki regulator," the old scientist explained. "It won't restrict you, but it will alert you when your ki starts to shift in dangerous ways."
Mori slid it onto his wrist. The cool metal pulsed against his skin.
"It'll help you feel it before it happens," Dr. Briefs said. "Over time, your body and mind will adapt. Eventually, you won't need it."
Mori nodded slowly. "Thank you."
"You're family now, kid. Of course."
Weeks passed.
The Capsule Corp property became Mori's training ground. Every tool, every piece of tech, was used. He ran through fields. Fought holograms. Meditated in the forest. He even helped Dr. Briefs test new inventions by stress-testing them with bursts of ki.
His control improved.
His power deepened.
His instincts sharpened.
But more importantly—he was learning who he was.
Not a weapon. Not a monster. Not a tool of destruction.
He was Mori.
A boy who smiled at the stars. A fighter chasing the thrill of strength. A kid who had something—someone—to come home to now.
One quiet night, as he sat on the hill behind Capsule Corp, watching the fireflies flicker in the grass, he whispered to the stars:
"I'll be ready next time, Goku."