"Chiga! Let's go to physical education class together later!"
"Heh, sure."
In the hallway, Chiga adjusted his black-rimmed glasses, smiling as he walked downstairs, classmates surrounding him in cheerful chatter.
His current identity was that of a third-year high school student, at the very same school Gohan would one day attend. It was something of a whim—an experiment. Before Raditz's arrival, he wanted to experience ordinary school life.
Enrollment had been simple. For someone like Chiga, nudging the thoughts of a few ordinary humans was effortless. The school principal now firmly believed Chiga was his nephew.
Two months had passed since then. For someone with his intellect, the curriculum was child's play. Before long, he had surpassed every student, earning the title of the "genius model student."
It wasn't just his academic brilliance. Chiga's sharp features and calm demeanor drew attention from every direction. When he had first arrived, his looks and mysterious aura had caused quite a stir. Admiration for strength and excellence was ingrained in this country's culture, and without trying, he had gained a crowd of admirers who followed him wherever he went.
Today's class was different. The school had organized a basketball match, and naturally, Chiga had been selected as his class's main player. His reputation in physical education was flawless, so it was no surprise.
As he stepped into the gymnasium in his sports uniform, the girls in the stands erupted with cheers.
Across the court, five players from the opposing class entered. At the front was a muscular blond student, his Western features giving him the air of a delinquent. His name was Lance, and before Chiga's arrival, he had been the undisputed star of the school.
Now, with his spotlight stolen, resentment burned in his eyes. He fixed a glare on Chiga, silently vowing to humiliate him before everyone.
Chiga barely noticed. Calmly, he removed his glasses. His golden eyes gleamed, though he carefully restrained the radiance of the Tenseigan. Even so, the intensity of his gaze made him stand out all the more.
In the stands, a blonde girl rested her chin in her palm, watching him. Her beauty was striking, her presence commanding. She was Lazuli, the school's renowned beauty, though her aloof nature had always kept boys at a distance. Beside her sat her twin brother, Lapis, a smirk tugging at his lips as he offered her a water bottle.
"You seem pretty interested in that Uchiha Chiga," he teased.
"Boring," Lazuli replied flatly, not shifting her gaze.
Lapis chuckled, unfazed. "Still, he's impressive. He's only been here a short time, yet he's already a school star. The girls in my class never stop talking about him. Makes it tough for me to hold onto my heartthrob status."
Lazuli didn't answer, though memories flickered in her mind. The first time she'd encountered Chiga, he had stared at her in surprise, murmuring something about "Android 18" before shaking his head. Since then, they hadn't spoken, but his reaction had left her curious.
That curiosity, paired with his growing reputation, was the only reason she had come to watch a basketball game she otherwise would have ignored.
Lance noticed her presence too, and his determination flared. He had been chasing Lazuli for months, though she dismissed him every time. Still, he convinced himself she simply hadn't recognized his worth. Basketball, his strongest field, would finally prove it.
Chiga, meanwhile, was considering something else entirely—how much to hold back. If he moved even a fraction too seriously, the outcome would look absurd.
The referee's whistle cut through the air. The game began.
The ball was tossed high. Lance leapt first, slapping it toward his teammate.
Chiga stayed put. The distance was too close. If he had moved seriously, he might have injured someone without meaning to.
As the game wore on, Chiga slacked deliberately. His shots, when he took them, were casual but precise enough to keep his team afloat. Still, with Lance's aggressive skill and his teammates' lack of defense, the score quickly tilted: 41 to 30, with Chiga's team behind.
In the stands, Lazuli's interest waned. Maybe Chiga wasn't so flawless after all. Perhaps basketball just wasn't his strength.
Lance, emboldened, grinned smugly. Each successful play fed his ego. He began to target Chiga directly, body-checking him at every opportunity. Chiga sidestepped without a word. Once or twice, it was easy to dismiss. But when Lance pushed a fourth time, Chiga's patience thinned.
The next time Lance charged, Chiga didn't move.
Gasps filled the gymnasium. Lance was a powerhouse; colliding with him head-on was reckless. Everyone expected Chiga to be knocked flat.
But when Lance rammed into him, the sound echoed like metal striking stone. Chiga didn't budge an inch. Lance, however, collapsed to the floor, clutching his side in pain, his face contorted.
The crowd was stunned into silence. They had seen the force of Lance's sprint. Yet Chiga stood as steady as a mountain, untouched.
The basketball bounced neatly into Chiga's hands. He stood well beyond the three-point line, but without hesitation, he flicked his wrist. The ball arced gracefully through the air, swishing through the hoop with perfect precision.
The crowd erupted.
Lowering his arm, Chiga glanced at the fallen Lance. His voice was calm, almost indifferent.
"You alright?"
Lance gritted his teeth, forcing himself upright. His neck stiff, he spat out, "I'm fine. Didn't expect you to be this strong. Looks like I'll just have to get serious."
Chiga's golden eyes narrowed faintly. "Oh."
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