Hearing Aira's shout, Rhode looked over to see Goku dangling from her grip by the back of his gi, his little face scrunched in protest. Rhode couldn't help a fond chuckle. "That little guy is Kakarot. His Earth name is Son Goku."
Seems he still ended up taking that head trauma, Rhode mused, noting that while still energetic, Goku was noticeably less feral, more teachable than during their last visit.
"Kakarot..." Aira repeated the name softly, her expression shifting, a distant look entering her eyes as if the name triggered a memory from a life long gone.
But Rhode had already accepted the Four-Star Ball from Gohan with thanks. Their time was short. They bid farewell and left the peaceful mountain.
As they flew, Aira, clearly intrigued by the encounter, kept the topic alive. "Rhode, that Kakarot... he's incredibly weak."
Her refined senses had instantly gauged Goku's low power level. By Saiyan warrior standards, he wouldn't have made the cut for even a scout team.
"Goku isn't strong now, that's true," Rhode conceded. "But don't underestimate the future. He might even surpass you one day."
"Surpass me? That little runt?" Aira's disbelief was total. But then, a thought connected: the gentle, almost pacifistic nature she'd sensed in the child... the conditions for a Super Saiyan required a peaceful heart for S-Cell growth... "Did he... become a Super Saiyan in that future you saw?" Her question was laced with a dawning, grudging certainty.
"He did," Rhode confirmed simply. In many ways, Goku was the first to blaze that trail.
"Hmph! Even if he turns gold, he won't catch up to me!" Aira declared with a proud lift of her chin. Internally, however, a new layer of pressure settled. Not only do I have to outpace Rhode, but I also have to stay ahead of the next generation? The race, it seemed, had more competitors than she'd thought.
Their next stop was the familiar, turtle-shaped island of Master Roshi.
The old hermit was surprised to see them, especially Aira. "What brings you two lovebirds here?" he wheezed, his eyes twinkling behind his sunglasses.
"Master Roshi, we're here to borrow a Dragon Ball," Rhode stated plainly, ignoring the 'lovebirds' comment.
Roshi handed over the ball from around his neck without hesitation. "Hehehe, so that's it. I thought you were finally on a proper date!" he cackled.
Rhode blinked, then laughed. "Well, I suppose collecting these is a kind of trip."
Aira, however, just shot the old pervert a frosty glare.
Undeterred, Roshi shuffled closer to Rhode, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Kid, next time you're 'traveling,' remember to bring back some... local specialties for your old master, eh?" He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.
"Understood, understood," Rhode agreed with a resigned sigh and a mental shake of his head. Old man, with your heart, is this really wise?
After securing the ball and making vague promises of future "souvenirs," they departed for Fire Mountain and the domain of the Ox-King.
The jovial, giant of a man welcomed them with booming enthusiasm. Here, they met a very young Chi-Chi, a tiny, shy girl who peeked out from behind her father's massive leg, her large, curious eyes fixed on the visitors.
"This is my daughter, Chi-Chi!" Ox-King boomed, scooping her up. "Come in, come in! You must stay for a feast!"
Soon, a lavish feast was spread before them, and Rhode and the Ox-King dug in with gusto. The atmosphere was loud, warm, and filled with the clatter of dishes.
What surprised Rhode was Aira. She wasn't eating with her usual focused intensity. Instead, she was off to the side, sitting with the tiny Chi-Chi. The little girl, initially shy, was now chattering animatedly, showing Aira a doll. Aira, her stern features softened in a way Rhode rarely saw, was listening intently, even offering a rare, small smile. The contrast between the fierce Saiyan warrior and the gentle giantess interacting with a child was startling.
Leaving Fire Mountain, the dragon ball safely in hand, Rhode couldn't resist. "I didn't know you had that side to you."
Aira gave him a sideways glance, a flicker of pride in her eyes. "That's nothing. I get along very well with Bulma, too."
Get along well with Bulma? Rhode pictured Bulma's theatrics—the dramatic whining, the strategic pouting whenever Aira's training got too intense. He was skeptical. But then again, he'd never actually seen them on a shopping trip. Maybe there was a different dynamic there? He dismissed the thought with an internal shrug.
Following the radar's pings, they efficiently collected the remaining dragon balls, their final stop being Capsule Corp to retrieve the Two-Star Ball from Dr. Brief's collection.
With all seven orbs gathered in the rear courtyard of the Martial Arts Hall under the night sky, Rhode raised his hands.
"COME FORTH, SHENRON! AND GRANT MY WISH!"
Darkness fell. The dragon balls erupted, and the serpentine form of Earth's Eternal Dragon coiled into existence.
"SPEAK YOUR WISH. ANY ONE WISH, I CAN GRANT."
Rhode didn't hesitate. "Subtly transform Dr. Gero into a benevolent person, in the shortest time possible, without diminishing his intellect or drive." He wanted the genius, not the monster. A fundamental, ethical realignment.
"THIS WISH IS SIMPLE."
Shenron's eyes blazed crimson. A pulse of invisible energy radiated outward, targeting a specific mind in a hidden lab miles away. "YOUR WISH HAS BEEN GRANTED. FAREWELL!"
The dragon dissolved into light, which then encased the dragon balls and shot them skyward. Rhode moved in a blur, intercepting the borrowed orbs to return them later.
"Done," he said, satisfaction in his voice. "Now to recruit a reformed genius."
The recruitment was anticlimactic. Confronted by two beings whose power he could scarcely comprehend, and offered resources beyond the wildest dreams of the Red Ribbon Army (along with a gentle but firm dissolution of his ties to said army), a now morally-recalibrated Dr. Gero saw only opportunity for pure, untainted research. He agreed, packing his notes and his most trusted assistants. The Red Ribbon Army was a problem he now viewed with academic disdain; he left them to their fate, which Rhode suspected would involve a certain boy from Mount Paozu in a few years.
With Gero and his team installed in a state-of-the-art, heavily secured lab complex funded by Capsule Corp (and discreetly monitored), Rhode returned to his true work.
For six months, the rhythm held. Training, study, the slow unraveling of temporal secrets. Aira felt him always there, a steady, powerful presence at the edge of her senses as she pushed herself in the Gravity Chamber.
Then, one day, that presence vanished.
Not hidden, not suppressed. Gone. As if erased from the fabric of reality itself.
In the middle of a crushing set under 450x gravity, Aira's focus shattered. Her head snapped toward the direction of his private study. A yawning, terrifying emptiness opened in her chest, cold and immediate. The constant, competitive pressure that had defined her life for years was just... absent.
Her face, usually set in determined lines, paled. The weights crashed to the floor, ignored.
He's gone.
The thought was pure, undiluted alarm. Not the thrill of a challenge met, but the cold dread of a void. Rhode had disappeared from the world.