Tyrannical Instructor

It was late at night. The bustle of West City was completely shut out beyond the windows by Capsule Corporation's special glass.

The bedroom's main lights were off, with only a floor lamp casting a dim, warm glow.

The air gave a faint pop.

Son Goku appeared in the middle of the room out of thin air. He tore off the distinctive black robe patterned with red clouds, along with the custom mask concealing his face, and tossed them onto Bulma's spotless vanity.

"Pretending to be some reclusive master is seriously exhausting. Keeping up that act and saying all that mysteriously profound nonsense nearly made my facial muscles cramp." Son Goku rubbed his aching neck and flopped headfirst onto the soft leather sofa.

Still, Piccolo really was tough. After taking a beating for half a month straight, he still hadn't backed down, but he had finally caught on. All that effort hadn't been wasted; a crack had finally been pried open in that green kid's potential.

Click!

The doorknob turned, and the overpowering aroma of black pepper roast meat slipped into the room ahead of its owner.

"Finally decided to come back?" Bulma entered carrying a plate. Seeing Son Goku sprawled across the sofa, she shot him an annoyed look. "Go wash your hands. I made your favorite roast meat!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Son Goku grinned, sprang to his feet, and splashed some water over his face at the sink. Without even drying himself, he grabbed a sizzling, grease-dripping bone-in steak from the plate and tore into it.

Leaning against the counter, Bulma handed him a glass of juice with ice and casually switched on the surveillance panel mounted on the wall. "You've been running around outside every day lately. Krillin and the others are practically being tortured to death by your brother."

The screen lit up, displaying the newly built hemispherical gravity chamber in the backyard.

Son Goku glanced up, one brow lifting slightly. In the upper-right corner of the screen, a glaring red number was frozen in place: 30—thirty times Earth's gravity.

Those top Earth martial artists had struggled for half a month just to barely adapt to ten times gravity. But Raditz hadn't even given them a warning before tripling the intensity.

The current gravity chamber was a horrific sight.

Yamcha lay spread-eagled across the floor, desperately trying to push himself up with his arms. His hands trembled like sieves. The moment he let up even slightly, he was slammed back onto the alloy floor, sweat pooling beneath him.

Krillin was short, so he had less surface area bearing the force, but he hadn't collapsed. Instead, the terrifying gravity pinned him in a half-kneeling position. His knees struck the floor with dull thuds, his teeth grinding audibly as his entire body curled like a fully cooked shrimp. Even drawing a deep breath had become a luxury.

Tien Shinhan was in the best condition, but he too had reached his limit. His entire body was purplish-red, veins bulging, all three eyes blurred by sweat. He clawed at the ground, barely maintaining a half-crouched horse stance.

Meanwhile, Raditz strolled back and forth among them with his hands clasped behind his back, like a heartless overseer.

"Already gone soft?"

Raditz walked over and nudged Yamcha with the tip of his foot. "Quit playing dead and get up! How did you end up looking this pathetic?"

Hearing his broken-voice rasp echo through the gravity chamber, Raditz felt absolutely fantastic.

Who knew what he had endured at Son Goku's hands over the past few months?! After years of suffering, he had finally risen to the top. He couldn't beat his little brother, but now he could finally experience the joy of being a tyrannical drill instructor with these Earthlings.

"Big Brother Raditz..." Krillin knelt on the ground and struggled to raise his flushed face, forcing words through clenched teeth. "G-give us a warning first... My organs are about to burst from the pressure..."

Raditz stopped and looked down at Krillin, unable to rise from his knees, with a mocking sneer.

"A warning?"

He suddenly raised his foot and stomped heavily on the floor, making Krillin flinch.

"If you run into the Frieza Force in space, are they going to broadcast a warning before they fire?! If an enemy sees you fall, do you think they'll just let you live?" Raditz roared loud enough to shake the room.

"Life on Earth is too comfortable. You start whining over this little pressure? Keep your ki locked tightly inside your body! Endure it with your muscles, brace it with your bones!"

Outside the screen, Son Goku swallowed his final bite of meat, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and laughed.

This bargain-bin big brother of his had copied every single line Son Goku had once used to scold him.

On the screen, upon hearing that furious roar, Tien Shinhan bit through his lip and forcibly cut off the ki he had been releasing. The instant that cushioning force vanished, thirty times gravity crashed down on him. Tien Shinhan's knees slammed heavily into the floor. Yet he didn't make a sound. He merely gripped his thighs tightly and began resisting the crushing pressure with his raw physical body alone.

"Oh? Three-Eyes, you've got some backbone after all!" Raditz snorted coldly.

"If even one of you fails to run ten kilometers in here today, none of you gets dinner!"

After saying that, Raditz turned his back to the surveillance camera and revealed a satisfied smile. Watching these top Earth martial artists kneeling at his feet, that feeling of having everything under his control was more satisfying than soaking in high-grade recovery fluid.

"Interesting." Son Goku gave an amused assessment.

Under this kind of unreasonable high-pressure competition, their power levels would definitely soar exponentially. Throwing them into the meat grinder early to temper them had finally given Earth a few decent fighters.

"Finished eating, Goku?" Bulma walked over and reached for the empty plate, only for her wrist to be caught.

Son Goku gave a slight tug.

Bulma let out a cry and fell into his arms, landing securely on his sturdy thigh.

"Hey, you haven't even washed off all that sweat yet. Don't mess around..." A blush rose to Bulma's cheeks as she lightly thumped his pectoral with her fist, though she barely put any force into it.

Son Goku didn't let go. He wrapped both arms around her slender waist, buried his face in the hollow of her neck, and deeply inhaled the familiar scent of her body wash.

"Let me hold you for a while first. Need to recharge." His voice was slightly husky, his hot breath brushing over Bulma's earlobe and making the woman in his arms tremble faintly.

Bulma gave a soft huff, though her eyes had softened like water. Her arms naturally curled around his neck, her fingertips gently combing through his slightly prickly short hair.

The atmosphere grew thick and intimate.

Son Goku raised his head, his gaze falling on Bulma's moist lips as his Adam's apple bobbed. He lifted a hand, pinched her chin, and tipped it up slightly.

Before Bulma could speak, he lowered his head and kissed her.

With their lips and tongues entwined, carrying the natural dominance of a Saiyan deep in his bones, he decisively pried open her lips and greedily claimed her sweetness.

Bulma's mind went hazy. Her lashes trembled as a soft hum escaped her nose. Her body went completely limp, and her hands involuntarily clutched his broad back tighter.

The temperature in the room rose sharply.

Only when Bulma was nearly out of breath did Son Goku reluctantly pull back half an inch.

Looking at Bulma's glistening eyes and flushed lips, he gave a low chuckle, his chest vibrating faintly. He pulled her closer into his arms, resting his chin affectionately atop her head.

With her soft, fragrant body in his arms and Raditz's booming voice berating people on the monitor, Son Goku narrowed his eyes and contentedly began planning what to do next.