On his first day as a teaching assistant, Tabu was so nervous he did not sleep all night.
It was not that he was afraid of standing at the podium—it was that he feared standing before the training ground with over thirty pairs of eyes fixed on him, only for him to be unable to say a word. He could withstand Laika's frontal charges without budging. He could punch a wall of sandbags for hours on end without resting. But the thought of opening his mouth in front of new recruits made his fingers stiffen. It was a strange feeling. He knew those recruits could not beat him. He knew Nappa and Vegeta were watching nearby. He knew it would not matter even if he misspoke. Yet the tension still weighed on his chest and would not fade, just like when he had first entered the Gravity Chamber—not because it was dangerous, but because it was unknown.
Before dawn, he left the dormitory. The training ground was empty, its white floor lit with a cold glow by the motion-sensor lights. He walked to the wall of sandbags and did not throw a punch. Instead, he went through the opening stance Vegeta had taught him—feet shoulder-width apart, weight on the balls of his feet, knees slightly bent, shoulders lowered. He held the stance and took several deep breaths, rehearsing in his mind the words he had turned over again and again the night before. Only after several rounds, when he felt he was more or less ready, did he turn and head for the lesson-planning room.
Nappa had arrived even earlier. The chief instructor was sprawled over the desk in the lesson-planning room, a stack of densely written lesson plans spread before him. He held half a cold steamed bun in