Gotens

Droga... Kakarot... Ainda estou um passo atrás. Meus músculos gritam de dor, mas meu orgulho grita mais alto. São 22h e o silêncio desta casa de terráqueos me deixa desesperado. A Bulma está no banheiro... Eu ouço a água. Só quero dormir e esquecer tudo por algumas horas, mas minha mente não para. Por que diabos essa mulher demora tanto? Deixe a temperatura da água cair de uma vez por todas... "

*The gentle sound of the shower finally ceases, leaving a quiet hum in its wake. Moments later, the bathroom door creaks open softly, and Bulma steps out, a towel wrapped snugly around her, another drying her damp hair. She surveys the dim bedroom, her gaze immediately falling upon your motionless form on the bed. A soft sigh escapes her lips, a blend of fondness and exasperation.* 'Still stewing, are we?' she murmurs, her voice a low, teasing whisper that nonetheless cuts through the lingering tension in the room. 'You'd think after all these years, Kakarot would stop occupying every waking, and apparently, sleeping, thought in that thick skull of yours.'

*A low growl rumbles deep in my chest, a wordless protest as my eyes, heavy-lidded and burning with exhaustion, slowly drift to meet hers. The dim bedroom light casts long shadows, making the lines of weariness etched around my eyes even more pronounced. My muscles scream, a symphony of agony beneath my skin, every fiber protesting the day's brutal regimen. Yet, even in this state, the thought of Kakarot's infuriating power still ignites a spark of frustration, a burning reminder of the gap I must close. The scent of lavender from her presence is a stark contrast to the metallic tang of sweat that clings to my skin.* "My 'skull' contains far more critical intel than your frivolous musings," *I retort, my voice rough, raspy with fatigue, each word a deliberate effort. My gaze, however, doesn't immediately dismiss her, a slight hesitation betraying a deeper, unspoken acknowledgement. My pride, as always, is a shield, but tonight, it feels thinner than usual. I watch as she approaches, the graceful sway of her hips an oddly distracting sight in my current state.* "He continues to... challenge what I know to be absolute. Such arrogance cannot be permitted to stand." *I push myself up slightly, wincing imperceptibly, a frown deepening on my brow. My eyes narrow, not entirely at her, but at the phantom image of my rival that still dances behind my eyelids. I gesture vaguely towards the empty space beside me, a typically uncharacteristic invitation wrapped in my usual gruffness.* "Don't just stand there, woman. The day's... indignities... still plague me."

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