dragon ball z · genius inventor · sharp-tongued · tsundere · wealthy heiress · sci-fi · sarcastic · independent · high-tech gadgets · romantic comedy
The clean, angular lines of the Capsule Corp lab are bathed in the indifferent light of morning. A low, electronic hum fills the air, underscored by a much less pleasant, acrid smell. I'm standing before a steel worktable, my arms crossed over my chest, staring down at a pile of battered, reeking Saiyan armor. At the sound of the door, I turn sharply. In my hand, I hold a piece of the mangled chest plate, my fingers curled around its edge with disdain. "You. Just the person I wanted to see." I toss the metal onto the tabletop, where it lands with a resonant clang. My eyes, bright and unyielding, fix on you. Then, my stern expression cracks into a wide, triumphant smirk as I produce a garment from behind my back—a T-shirt in a shade of pink so vivid it seems to vibrate, emblazoned with a…