Unexpected Lessons

Pan blinked her eyes open, lying in the infirmary. She noticed immediately the absence of her bandana and the presence of Piccolo by her side. "How're you feeling?" he asked, his voice as gruff as ever but tinged with a hint of concern.

"I feel... actually, I feel awesome!" Pan exclaimed, surprised by her own vitality.

"That's the Senzu Bean for you; heals you right up," Piccolo informed her with a nod.

Memories of the tournament flooded back, dimming her bright mood. "So, Bulla took the win, huh?" Pan murmured, her spirit dampening.

"No, she didn't—" Piccolo began, only to be cut off by Pan's sudden realization. "What? You mean Grandpa Satan won?" she gasped, her eyes wide.

"Exactly. Bulla got disqualified for attacking you while you were unconscious. So, Mister Satan won by default," Piccolo corrected, setting the record straight.

A laugh escaped Pan. "Leave it to Grandpa to win, even when he's not fighting," she said, amusement lacing her voice.

Yet, the laughter faded as quickly as it came, leaving a residue of disappointment. "But I still lost," Pan sighed, the weight of her defeat pressing down on her.

Piccolo, ever the mentor, offered reassurance. "You fought well. Remember, the outcome of a battle isn't always in our control," he said, placing a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"It just feels like I'm the only one who can't go Super Saiyan," Pan lamented, fighting back tears of frustration.

"You've got plenty of time. Training and perseverance are key," Piccolo encouraged her, believing in her potential.

"But—"

"No 'buts." Look at Goku; he never gives up, no matter the odds. That's how you should be too," Piccolo insisted, his voice firm yet encouraging.

Maybe he's right... I don't know...

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a commotion outside the room. "Ma'am, you can't go in there," a worker protested, only to be met with Bulla's fiery retort, "Out of my way! Do you even know who I am? I'm a princess now get off me, peasant."

The door flew open, and Bulla barged in, a trail of hapless workers in her wake. "Mei— Oh! Pan? What are you doing here? Why are you skipping school?" she blurted out, surprised.

"You're one to talk! What, you shouldn't be here either," Pan shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Bulla quieted down, a mix of frustration and resignation in her voice. "You know, my dad cut off my allowance because he caught me with some boys he didn't approve of. Thought I'd make quick Zeni at the tournament, but then you had to go and mess it all up," she huffed.

Piccolo couldn't resist chiming in, "If you hadn't gone after Pan post-match, you would've actually taken the title."

Bulla's face tightened with annoyance, "Well she didn't sock me in the face!". 

"Idiot… Look in the mirror," Piccolo said

Bulla, her face red fetched the mirror in her pocket. She saw that her face had no injury. Bulla's face lit up. "Oh, Senzu bean… Thanks, Piccolo."

"You're welcome, you're just like your mother and father," Piccolo groaned his face filled with annoyance. Bulla beamed, seemingly taking Piccolo's words as a compliment.

After a moment, Bulla curiously inquired, "So, what's your deal? Why are you skipping school?"

Pan's response was immediate and filled with a hint of pride. " My Grandpas won their fair share of tournaments back in the day. Guess I wanted to see if I could too. It wasn't about the money for me."

Bulla perked up, "So, you could've just handed the prize over to me then!"

Pan laughed, shaking her head. "I'm already in debt, trading favors," she admitted.

"Favors? To who?" Bulla leaned in, intrigued.

"I had Oolong disguise himself as me today so I could skip school for the tournament. Promised him a cut of the prize for his trouble," Pan confessed, a mischievous glint in her eye.

That got a genuine laugh out of Bulla, her earlier anger momentarily forgotten. "No way! I pulled the same stunt with Puar," she shared, finding common ground in their scheming.

Pan shared a knowing look with Piccolo, "You're not gonna spill, right?"

"My lips are sealed," Piccolo assured with a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

But the day's surprises weren't over. Returning home, Pan was met with a less-than-pleased Videl and Chi-Chi. "Pan, care to explain why you ditched school for the World Martial Arts Tournament?" Videl asked, her arms crossed.

Pan, caught off guard, stammered, "How'd you even find out?"

Chichi walked away and came back with a beaten-up Oolong.

"Never doing you another favor again." Oolong managed.

"What? But How?" Pan was confused

Videl sighed, "The school cameras now have shapeshifter detection. Nice try, though."

Pan was grounded for a month and Piccolo was sentenced to do chores for Videl and Chichi. As the day came to a clothes an evil was brewing in the distance.

***

At night, a world away from the clamor of battle and the cheers of spectators, a teenage boy named Shoku and an older man named Pom found solace in a peculiar room split down the middle, embodying the duality of yin and yang. One side basked in light, vibrant and inviting, while the other wallowed in shadows, brooding and mysterious. They were engrossed in the televised spectacle of the World Martial Arts Tournament, where Mei Jueku and Maid Dragon's duel unfolded.

"Mon Seigneur, their powers pale in comparison to yours!" Pom exclaimed with a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he watched the battle unfold.

"Easy there, Pom. It ain't that simple," Shoku replied, his voice carrying a tone of restraint and thoughtfulness.

"Quoi! Are you suggesting you cannot defeat them?" Pom gasped his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

Just then, a voice pierced the tranquility of the room from beyond its confines. "Shoku, didn't I tell ya to hit the hay?"

"Yeah, Ma, I'm hittin' the hay now," Shoku responded a hint of resignation in his voice.

Shoku's gaze met Pom's, a silent reprimand conveyed in his furrowed brows. "Ya had to yell, didn't ya?" he murmured.

"Sorry, but truly, you doubt your capability against zem?" Pom pressed, unrelenting in his curiosity.

"Nah, takin' down those two would be a piece of cake. But if they're just small fries, think about how tough the big shots must be. You catch my drift?"

Pom gasped, the gravity of the situation dawning on him. "Sacré bleu!" he exclaimed, a rare flicker of doubt crossing his face. "What shall we do?"

Before Shoku could retort, the maternal voice grew louder, footsteps signaling an imminent intrusion. "Pom, hide!" Shoku hissed.

With a whoosh, Pom vanished towards the ceiling, while Shoku, in a swift motion, grabbed his blanket, feigning sleep beneath its cover.

The door creaked open, and Shoku could sense his mother's presence, her frustration palpable. "This room... it's a disaster! Shoku, I know you're playin' possum. Don't push me, or I'll come in there and you'll be sorry.."

Seriously, I'm sixteen. When's she gonna let me live my own life, huh? Shoku thought to himself, frustration simmering within.

A sudden sneeze from his mother broke the tension. "Ah-choo! Now, where was I... Oh yes, tomorrow is a big day. We're going to see a friend of mine, Shoku. Don't you forget now, honey," she reminded him, her voice softening to a tender note as she retreated, her humming fading into the distance.

Shoku exhaled in relief, and Pom gently alighted back onto the bed, ready for further instruction.

"Listen here, Pom. Tomorrow's a big deal," Shoku began, outlining his strategy. "Our big worry is Saiyaman X1 and X2, but I've got a plan cooked up. For now, round up some of the Frieza Force."

"Excellent! Mon Seigneur, consider it done," Pom assured, ready to spring into action.

Shoku's eyes glinted with determination. "Soon, Earth's gonna be under our control."

Their laughter, a sinister echo in the room, was abruptly cut short by another shout from Shoku's mother.

"SHOKU!" the call resonated, a harbinger of the coming storm.