It was dinner time. The dining room at the Briefs' estate was brightly lit, and the aroma of food and drink filled the air.
Whitley casually picked up a piece of roasted dinosaur meat and chewed it a few times, but he felt that something wasn't quite right.
It wasn't that the skill of the household chef robots had declined; it was that his mind was preoccupied.
First, there was Broly.
That kid had flown back to The Lookout this afternoon without even looking back, not even staying for dinner. This was a violation of the fundamental laws of Saiyans!
What Saiyan wasn't an enthusiastic eater? Especially one like Broly, whose appetite was even bigger than his.
Whitley scratched his head, muttering to himself:
'That kid... he seemed to have a lot on his mind... Forget it. I'll go to The Lookout in a couple of days to see him, and while I'm at it, I'll ask Kami what happened.'
And then there was the person in front of him, who was giving him an even bigger headache—Marcarita.
The Angel of Universe 11 was currently sitting across from him, eating her salad with exceptional elegance, but her eyes were locked onto him, not moving an inch.
Whitley felt completely ill at ease under her gaze. He forced the meat down his throat, feeling inexplicably guilty.
'Don't tell me... because I lost my head this afternoon and held her hand, she's now preparing to settle the score?'
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Angels, after all, tended to be pretty petty.
After agonizing in his seat for a long time, Whitley felt he had to take the initiative.
He cleared his throat and spoke awkwardly, his voice subconsciously lower than usual:
"Uh... um, Marcarita, about earlier... that was reckless of me. I'm sorry."
He had thought an apology would ease the low-pressure atmosphere coming from the Angel, but when Marcarita heard him, her beautiful pink eyes, far from softening, instantly lit up!
A flash of... eagerness?
She tilted her head slightly, a half-smile playing on her lips:
"Oh? A guy like you... is actually apologizing to me?"
This reaction left Whitley baffled.
This wasn't the attitude of someone accepting an apology. This was clearly: "Oh my, you actually know you were wrong? Well, now I'm really interested!"
He felt he must have had a screw loose this afternoon. Why on earth did he, as if possessed, hold her hand?
Great, now he was stuck...
In truth, when they had first entered the living room, Marcarita's gaze, while a bit "sticky," still held some hesitation and internal conflict, as if she were having an intense mental struggle.
That is, until Bulma and 18, fresh from their showers and smelling of fragrant soap, flew into Whitley's arms like two returning sparrows, one on each side, and planted kisses on his cheeks...
The hesitation in Marcarita's eyes "swooshed" away, replaced by a light that mixed annoyance with... determination.
It gave Whitley an illusory chill down his spine.
Dinner proceeded in a strange atmosphere. Bulma, seemingly ignoring Marcarita's scorching gaze, was focused entirely on her husband.
"Hubby, you must be tired after being away for several days, right?"
Bulma kept piling food onto Whitley's plate until it was a small mountain.
She saw the rare, almost imperceptible fatigue at the corners of his eyes, and her heart ached.
She knew that with Whitley's strength, handling a fugitive like Zamasu was nothing.
But thinking about it, from leading the team to the future to destroy Cell MAX, to returning to the main timeline, not even getting a chance to sit down before being summoned by Lord Zeno, and then immediately running off to the future again to handle the Zamasu mess...
This non-stop series of events was like running from one gig to another. Even someone made of iron would feel mentally drained.
So, even though she saw right through Marcarita's little intentions...
Today, seeing the fatigue in her husband's eyes, she rarely suppressed her own jealousy, just wanting him to relax.
18 sat quietly to the side, eating small bites, her gaze occasionally flicking to Marcarita with a hint of understanding and... a trace of resignation.
She and Bulma had secretly planned to "take good care" of the long-absent Whitley tonight. The two of them even had their "battle outfits" ready.
But now, it seemed the plan was ruined.
She could clearly read the "I will have him" determination in Marcarita's eyes.
Of everyone present, the most depressed was 21.
She was biting a handkerchief she'd gotten from somewhere, her eyes teary as she looked at Whitley, looking exactly like a kitten who'd had her fish stolen.
She had wanted to go up and perform her maid duties by serving Whitley, but the moment she got close, Bulma shot her a "you-dare-try-it" glare, forcing her to back down.
She tried to act cute, but Whitley just gently patted her head with a smile, motioning for her to just eat by herself.
It made her heart feel stuffed up, like she'd fallen out of favor.
She scooted next to Vados, who was calmly tasting her food, and whispered, trying to stir things up:
"Vados-san, aren't you Whitley-san's 'official' wife? Personally wed by Lord Zeno! Are you really just going to sit and watch? That newcomer is about to walk all over us!"
Vados elegantly lifted a piece of exquisite dessert with her fork, savoring it slowly, her face holding that eternal, gentle smile.
She acted as if she hadn't heard 21.
Official wife? Of course she was. That was beyond doubt!
But right now, she, Vados, just wanted to be a quiet spectator and watch a good show.
So, she ignored 21's instigation and said gently:
"Go back to your room and rest after dinner. Be a good girl and sleep tonight. Later, I will create an opportunity for you."
Only then did 21 sit down obediently, stuffing her cheeks with food as if to vent her frustration.
...
After dinner, Whitley got up to take a walk with Bulma in the backyard.
The estate was quiet under the night sky, with only the chirping of insects and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze.
They walked side-by-side. Bulma naturally linked her arm with his, and he, in turn, held her soft little hand.
Even though they'd been together for several years and were already planning for a child, Whitley still felt a newlywed-like freshness with Bulma. Occasional small gestures like this still made his heart flutter.
They were leaning against each other, whispering sweet nothings. Whitley's hand mischievously tickled Bulma, making her giggle and pretend to hit him.
Just then, a cool, stubborn voice broke the warm atmosphere:
"Whitley."
They both froze at the sound and quickly separated.
Whitley coughed awkwardly, looking at Marcarita, who had appeared in front of them at some point. She stood with her arms crossed, wearing an expression that said "I've been waiting for you."
"Ahem! Um... Marcarita, is there something you need?"
Whitley tried to make his voice sound natural.
Marcarita nodded, a smile on her face that was elegant but held a hidden edge. She completely ignored Bulma, who had instantly entered "battle mode" beside him.
Her gaze was fixed on Whitley as she said seriously:
"Come and fight me."
"Hey! What's that supposed to mean, you woman?!"
Bulma was instantly unhappy.
"Whitley just got back, and he's been tired for days, and you want to fight him? Have you no sense at all!"
Whitley also looked at Marcarita, surprised. Seeing her serious expression, he mulled it over.
He wasn't afraid of a fight. And he could vaguely sense that Marcarita's request held a certain resolve, that it wasn't just a simple spar.
"If you insist..."
Whitley nodded. "Alright."
"Whitley!"
Bulma stomped her foot, furious that they had ignored her and settled the matter themselves.
Her long-awaited private time with just the two of them was about to be ruined by this tactless Angel!
Whitley knew his wife's temper all too well. He quickly pulled her into his arms to soothe her.
"Alright, don't be mad. Ms. Marcarita helped me a lot in the future timeline. Without her, cleaning up Zamasu's mess wouldn't have been so smooth. Since she wants to spar, it's only right that I oblige and help her stretch her muscles. Think of it as me returning a favor."
Bulma pouted, burying her face in his chest. "But..." she mumbled, "we just agreed, tonight..."
Whitley smiled and leaned down to give her pouting lips a gentle kiss.
"Be good. Go find 18, or go watch some TV. I'll be back very soon, okay?"
Only then did Bulma relent. She huffed, shot a glare at Marcarita, and reluctantly left.
Whitley watched her walk back to the house, looking back several times. He sighed in relief, then turned to the silently waiting Marcarita.
"Alright, how do you want to do this? Are we getting serious and going to the World of Void to cut loose, or just finding a random spot for a light spar, just to first-point?"
Marcarita looked at him, her pink eyes flashing with a sharp light. A... sickly? Or rather, extremely excited smile touched her lips as she said seriously:
"Seriously, of course. But... the World of Void? Hehe, that won't be necessary."
Before he could reply, she stepped forward and grabbed his wrist.
Swish!
The two of them vanished in a streak of light.
...
Almost at the same instant, in the front yard, Vados, who was leisurely sipping her tea, smiled as her gaze fell on her staff.
The crystal orb at the top clearly reflected a scene from the depths of space, and the just-arrived Whitley and Marcarita.
"Hoh..."
Vados took a comfortable sip of her tea, muttering to herself in a voice only she could hear:
"Marcarita, as expected of my sister. So proud, yet... you'd resort to such 'little tricks' in a fight, deliberately holding back? Hehe, it seems this time, you've truly fallen for him, haven't you~"
She watched the image on the staff as Marcarita's attacks went from a fierce offensive to a full, defensive posture. The "watching-a-show" smile on her face widened.
"It seems... tonight's the night."
Vados waved her hand, and a nearby estate robot immediately came forward to collect the tea set.
She stood, elegantly straightened her skirt, and began to walk slowly toward her room.
As she reached her door, she paused, glancing toward Whitley and Bulma's bedroom.
She could clearly sense 18 was in that room as well. The two had probably already changed into their "nightlife battle outfits," just waiting for Whitley to return.
Vados smiled meaningfully, pushed open her own door, and went in.
As the door slowly closed, leaving only a sliver of light, a faint wisp of words floated out:
"Hehe~ This time, I'll help you out, my dear sister."
Through the crack, one could just make out the orb of Vados's staff flashing faintly, a soft light glowing at its tip.
And the next second, the door was firmly shut.
...
In the depths of space, in a desolate, dead, and starless void.
This was known as a cosmic void, a place where matter itself was scarce.
Whitley looked at the endless darkness, feeling the absolute emptiness, and his confusion grew.
He looked at Marcarita, who was glowing faintly with a divine aura, and couldn't help but ask:
"This... is a cosmic void, right? What's the meaning of this? It's just a spar. Was it necessary to come all the way out here?"
Marcarita didn't answer him directly.
Her staff tapped the void again, and an invisible ripple expanded. Whitley could clearly feel the space around them instantly become exceptionally stable, as if a powerful seal had been applied.
"Father has praised you many times,"
Marcarita finally spoke, her voice echoing clearly in Whitley's ears in the vacuum.
"He said your talent rivals our Angel clan, and even surpasses it in some ways. Today, I will test for myself if the 'genius' my father has such high hopes for is truly worthy of the name~"
Her expression became incredibly focused and serious. Her entire aura changed.
The spoiled, haughty, and casual "young lady" vanished, replaced by the dignity and holiness of an Angel.
The glow around Marcarita brightened. She stood in an elegant, formal stance, her staff held down in one hand, the other behind her back, her sharp eyes locked on Whitley.
Whitley had only ever seen Whis take such a stance.
That was years ago, when he first met Vados on Universe 7's God of Destruction planet. The siblings had nearly "sparred" over the distribution of the Earth food he'd brought. Whis had taken a similar stance then.
"Huuu..."
Whitley slowly exhaled, the ki in his body beginning to flow.
A silver-white aura flared around him like a flame. He took his own fighting stance, his expression hardening, his power quietly gathering.
"Make your move," Marcarita said coolly, her voice filled with confidence in her own strength.
Whitley didn't hold back. He knew that when facing an Angel, any reservation was foolish.
His figure flickered and vanished. The next instant, he was at Marcarita's side, a hand-chop carrying the power to tear space aimed mercilessly at her neck!
Swish!
Marcarita had already reacted the moment Whitley moved.
With an infinitesimal shift of her body, Whitley's incredibly fast hand-chop grazed past her hair, the wind from it rustling her silver locks.
'So fast!' Marcarita thought, her heart tightening. 'My body's instincts were half a beat slow to react... It seems Father was right. This guy's talent is astonishing.'
She dropped her last shred of underestimation, her eyes becoming incredibly wary. This guy was the real deal!
Facing Whitley's relentless storm of continuous attacks, Marcarita's eyes narrowed, and she finally began her counter-attack!
Her staff instantly became the most dangerous of weapons!
Her speed suddenly increased, her figure becoming a blur. The staff turned into countless afterimages, raining down on Whitley from impossible angles!
Each of her strikes held the power to easily shatter stars, yet it was perfectly contained within the staff, not a single bit leaking out!
Whitley didn't dare block. His silver-white aura instantly flared, pushing Ultra Instinct to its absolute limit.
His body twisted and evaded through the dense shadows of the staff, making all sorts of impossible movements, always managing to dodge the attacks at the last second.
"Oh?"
Marcarita, seeing Whitley's almost perfect evasion, felt the corner of her mouth lift in a tiny arc.
"It seems... this level of attack isn't enough to stop you, is it~"
Whitley, in the small gap between dodges, managed to shoot back a slightly provocative smile:
"Ms. Marcarita, isn't it time to end the warm-up?"
As he spoke, after an extreme dodge, his figure suddenly vanished from Marcarita's field of vision!
"What?!"
Marcarita was shocked. Her powerful senses flared out, but she still couldn't pinpoint Whitley's exact location!
'His speed... can actually reach such a level?! Even my senses can't track him?'
In that tiny instant of distraction, Whitley's figure appeared behind her, a powerful roundhouse kick aimed unsparingly at her slender waist!
If this kick landed, even an Angel's body would not come out unscathed.
However, just as the wind from Whitley's kick was about to touch Marcarita, her body once again exhibited that supernatural Angelic instinct.
Her waist arched at an angle that defied human anatomy, and at the same time, an extremely thin layer of energy instantly covered her back.
THUD!
Whitley's kick landed solidly on Marcarita's back, but it felt like kicking a piece of incredibly tough, yet elastic, metal!
The immense force made Marcarita stumble forward a step, but she instantly regained her balance, as if she had only been pushed lightly.
What shocked Whitley even more was that the moment she stabilized, she used the forward momentum to spin!
Her small, slender white hand was now clenched into a fist. A profound aura flashed on her knuckles, and she punched straight at Whitley's face with heart-stopping destructive power!
The speed of this punch was beyond Whitley's imagination, even faster than his own ambush!
The very space crackled as the fist flew!
Whitley's pupils contracted. A strong sense of crisis made his scalp tingle! Relying purely on Ultra Instinct, his body snapped backward!
FWOOSH!
The vicious punch grazed his nose, the pressure from it stinging his face like a physical blow. A few strands of his hair were quietly cut.
"That attack..."
Whitley quickly retreated, putting distance between them. He looked at Marcarita's retracting fist in disbelief.
The lingering energy fluctuations felt familiar, yet alien. "Your hand... contained powerful godly energy... and the way you delivered that... "
Marcarita, seeing Whitley's shocked expression, couldn't help but show a small, smug smile:
"Hmph, you noticed, didn't you? This is an advanced technique one can only access after mastering Ultra Instinct to a certain level. Want to learn?"
Her beautiful eyes twinkled, looking at Whitley with a hint of slyness.
"If you make me happy, maybe... I'll teach you?"
Whitley rolled his eyes.
Make her happy? Who knew what made this moody Angel happy.
Rather than trying to solve her riddle, he'd just ask the Grand Priest tomorrow when he turned in his mission.
Anyway, the Zamasu mission was successfully completed. It was time for the Grand Priest to deliver on his promised reward.
Seeing Whitley's "not interested" look, Marcarita pouted, a little bored.
"Hmph. You don't know what's good for you."
She muttered, then her gaze became focused once more.
"Then let's continue!"
She no longer relied on her staff, but instead raised her two, seemingly harmless, slender hands.
This time, her attack style changed.
Fists, palms, even the pressure from her strikes!
Every attack seemed simple and direct, yet contained a masterful application of energy and rules.
Her speed and power were constantly changing, as if she were performing her own unique art of combat.
Whitley didn't dare be careless. He immediately cleared his mind, pushing his Ultra Instinct to the absolute limit.
His body was like a thin sheet of paper, fluttering and weaving through Marcarita's endless attacks, constantly dodging, searching for the almost non-existent opening to counter-attack.
He had already realized it. Marcarita was still not using her full strength. It was more like... she was training him?
Or rather, she was using this high-intensity offense and defense to observe something.
'Whatever. If she's giving me this opportunity, I'm going to seize it!'
Whitley's eyes narrowed, and he sank his entire mind into this... peculiar spar.
...
Earth, Vados's room.
Vados was leaning comfortably on her soft sofa, her staff resting nearby, the crystal orb showing the scene with perfect clarity.
"Mm... just about time."
Vados watched as Marcarita's attacks in the image, while still fierce, had clearly lost their killing intent and had become more guiding and tolerant.
And Whitley, under her guidance, was showing a new level of smoothness in his use of Ultra Instinct.
Just then, Marcarita's staff in the image suddenly twitched.
That was Vados's doing. A small interference signal aimed specifically at Marcarita, just enough to distract her for a split second at a critical moment.
"I've given you the opening~ My dear sister, Marcarita."
Vados whispered, the smile on her lips deepening.
...
In the cosmic void, the battle had been raging for nearly half an hour.
Whitley felt his mind was at its peak focus. His understanding of Ultra Instinct seemed to have improved under Marcarita's pressure.
He watched her every move, mentally preparing his one chance to counter.
There aren't many opportunities. Only one! I have to find the right moment...
Whitley thought to himself.
And just then, Marcarita's staff, without any warning, flashed and twitched!
The flash was weak, but in this dark void, it was exceptionally noticeable.
This completely unexpected event caused an infinitesimal pause and distraction in Marcarita's movements.
Her gaze instinctively flickered to her staff!
OPPORTUNITY!!!
Whitley's senses were at their sharpest. He instantly seized the fleeting moment!
SWISH!
His figure closed the distance at a speed far greater than before. His right hand shot out like lightning, precisely locking onto Marcarita's slender, white neck!
Marcarita had realized her mistake the instant she was distracted, but she was half a step too late to retreat and defend.
Whitley's warm hand, carrying an irresistible force, was already locked on her throat!
The battle stopped, just like that.
Whitley looked at the girl he had captured. She showed no panic. Instead, her face held... a "plan-succeeded" smile?
His heart skipped a beat.
Something's wrong!
Given Marcarita's demonstrated power and Angelic instincts, how could a simple flash of her staff cause such a fatal error?
And that smile... It looked exactly like... her scheme had worked?
An unbelievable thought bubbled up from the bottom of Whitley's heart: Did... did she let me win on purpose?!
Whitley looked at her, so close, her pink eyes sparkling with a sly smile. He felt... he had walked right into a carefully woven trap.
But he did seize the opportunity with his own skill...
"You win."
Marcarita said calmly, her voice showing no distress at being captured.
That smile had been on her face from the moment he gained the upper hand, and it hadn't left. If anything, it was brighter.
Whitley let go and took a step back, his mind still reeling.
Marcarita raised a hand and gently touched her neck, where the warmth of his palm seemed to linger. She looked at the hesitant Whitley and suddenly asked:
"You know Instant Transmission, right?"
Whitley hesitated, then nodded. What is she up to now?
Marcarita smiled, and in the faint divine glow, it was a breathtaking sight.
She actively stepped forward, holding her small, slender white hand out to him. Her smile was gentle, but her tone was firm:
"Let's go. Use your Instant Transmission to take me back to Earth. After fighting for so long, I'm a little... tired. I'd like to rest."
Looking at this Angel, whose attitude had shifted so dramatically from battle-ready to... almost gentle... Whitley was completely baffled.
What is this act?
But he didn't overthink it. The spar was over. He held the small, cool hand. Space rippled, and in the next instant, the two of them returned from the cold void to the brightly lit Briefs' estate.
"If that's all, I'm gonna go..."
Whitley let go, ready to slip back to his room to find Bulma and 18. But before he could finish, Marcarita grabbed his wrist!
Her grip was strong, her fingers digging into his skin.
Whitley froze, looking at her in confusion.
Marcarita's chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, and she looked as if she had made some momentous decision.
She finally met his gaze, her voice deliberately calm but unable to hide a trace of nervousness:
"Vados needs us. Take me to her room."
"Huh? Vados?"
Whitley was even more confused.
It was normal for Vados to need Marcarita, but... why did the two sisters need him for their chat?
"Uh... okay."
Though his head was full of questions, he figured Marcarita was Vados's sister. Maybe it was some Angel business that required the "brother-in-law" to be present?
He obediently led the way, taking Marcarita toward Vados's room.
Marcarita followed behind him, watching his broad back, her grip on her staff tightening slightly.
When they reached Vados's door, Whitley raised his hand to knock.
"Here we..."
He was cut off again!
This time, by two people at once!
The door "creaked" open from the inside. Vados, who had clearly been waiting, stood in the doorway.
She wore that gentle smile Whitley knew so well.
Before Whitley could react, Vados and Marcarita moved at the same time!
Vados grabbed one of his arms, and Marcarita pushed him from behind!
"Hey! Wait! What are you—"
Whitley's startled cry was cut short as the two Angel sisters half-pulled, half-pushed him into the room!
SLAM!
The door was quickly shut behind him, and he faintly heard the click of a lock.
Whitley stumbled, and when he regained his balance, he looked at the beaming Vados and the blushing, yet intensely determined, Marcarita. He finally, finally, understood!
A conspiracy! This was definitely a conspiracy! These two... they had planned this!
"Wait... Vados, Marcarita, you two..."
Whitley was about to demand an explanation.
But as he opened his mouth, Vados pressed a gentle finger to his lips, silencing him.
She shook her head at him, giving him a "don't worry" look.
Then Vados turned to Marcarita, who was blushing furiously, her eyes darting around, though she was forcing herself to stand tall.
"Vados, I... I don't know how to do this," Marcarita's voice trembled.
Vados nodded, like an experienced mentor.
She first pulled the completely dumbfounded Whitley—whose face screamed "Who am I? Where am I? What are they doing?"—over to the bed and pushed him down to sit.
Then she leaned into Marcarita's ear, whispering quickly, as if imparting some secret technique.
Whitley strained his ears, but only caught a few muffled words:
"...be proactive..." "...don't be afraid..." "...follow your feelings..."
A moment later, Marcarita, as if greatly encouraged, nodded firmly. The hesitation and shyness on her face were replaced by a "point-of-no-return" resolve.
Then, as Whitley watched, his jaw on the floor... she swished her hands up and began to undo her Angel attire...
"W-Wait! Marcarita! What are you doing?! Vados! What the hell is going on?!"
Whitley couldn't take it anymore and shot up from the bed.
But Vados, once again, ignored his shock and protests.
She smiled, that "all-according-to-plan" smile, and gently pushed Marcarita—whose face was now so red it looked like it would bleed, but whose eyes were shining brightly—into Whitley's arms.
Caught off guard, Marcarita let out a small cry and stumbled into Whitley's solid chest.
Vados looked at the petrified Whitley, and at her shy yet bold sister in his arms. She announced tonight's "theme" in her uniquely gentle and alluring voice:
"Marcarita, tonight, I will... instruct you."
Marcarita, her head buried in Whitley's chest, moved slightly in response.
Then, she slowly looked up, her watery pink eyes gazing, up close, at Whitley's shocked face.
She stood on her toes, her unique, fragrant breath brushing his ear, and whispered, full of temptation and a trace of shyness:
"You... don't you just love... to bully me?"
"Come on."
...
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