"Am I going to have to walk back there and dress you up?" Chayote spoke up after turning her attention back to the palace inside the Room of Spirit and Time. It's been a little while since she's last visited the room and trained in preparation for some grand threat. It may have been a signifier of advancing age, but Chayote couldn't help but return to the times of fearing assault and retribution at the hands of Piccolo Jr. and training Upa up to become a worthy successor to Kami.
"These feel kinda stretchy and weird…" Navy walked out funny, spreading his legs as if the improved model of Saiyan battle armor pressed at the boy's groin. Having grown up wearing a version of a far less advanced outfit, Chayote could have guaranteed that it did not and that this was just childish caprices rearing their jagged horns.
"You say that about all clothes. You won't find anything better than this in terms of training. The Saiyan battle armor comes in three sizes: child, standard, and large, and it adapts to your size and form. Even the child-sized battle armor can stretch all the way to fit a Great Ape. Besides, I've heard stories about these things withstanding planetary devastation and supernovae," Chayote crossed her arms, letting her son know she wasn't going to play games that the servants in Mr. Satan's mansion played with him.
"Alright! I barely feel those on at all! I feel like I'm naked!" Navy exclaimed, pumping his arms up and down like a mischievous monkey. Chayote bitterly observed her rambunctious son blasting off and darting around the Room of Spirit and Time, halting for a second after leaving the palace, but quickly adjusting himself to the changes in gravity and treating them as if they didn't exist at all. It wasn't that Navy didn't struggle against the room's conditions, it was just that he was so hyperactive that his vitality superseded his discomfort.
"Careful, Navy, don't take off too far and get lost. This room stretches out infinitely in all directions, with the only tether back home being this palace and that door we entered through. If you go too far away to where you can't see the palace anymore, you might never find your way back," Chayote warned her son but realized far before she finished her sentence that her words were falling on deaf ears. It wasn't all the time, but sometimes Chayote wanted to ask the Divine Dragon for a special motherhood control panel that would let her jump ahead to when her son acted like a sane human being and not just a destructive ball of energy smashing everything it its way just because it could.
"As if I'd ever get lost! All I need to do to return is just go back! People that get lost are stupid!" Navy exclaimed proudly, crossing his tiny arms over his chest and then taking off in the exact opposite direction to where the palace was as if intending to prove his point.
Once in a short while, the boy looked back to see if he could still see the palace on the horizon. It wasn't until he could barely make out a tiny and blurry dot in the mind-numbing void of all-white that made separating top from down and left from right completely impossible, Navy didn't even slow down. It was only when his head started spinning that the boy smacked his cheeks and shook his head after closing his eyes shut, trying to snap some sense back into him like a whiff of smelling salts.
"This place is so trippy and quiet…" Navy mumbled to himself. "Oh, well… May as well go back and stick it to mom!"
Before the boy could burst with aura and blast off to where he last saw the dot-sized blur of the palace hundreds of kilometers ago, a chilling wall of snow smacked straight into the boy like a paddle and sent him tumbling back, covered in flakes of frost all over. Snot drooling from his nose, shivering and unable to see farther than the reach of his hand in the maddening blizzard, Navy tried looking around and remembering which direction was the fabled "back" that would bring him to the palace and to the very impressed expression of his mother who would commend his craftiness and trust him in all things starting from that point on.
Like a drowning person who just found out that they were trapped under a solid layer of ice and desperately threw themselves about to find the breach before the cold made their heart stop or they ran out of air, Navy thrashed around, flying in one direction before doubts caught up to him and he switched directions again. The boy's mind tried drawing mental maps each time. When he thought he was going back but then reconsidered that he may have indeed gone back and to the left, Navy tried compensating by heading a bit more to the right. However, in the mind-numbing chill of the absolute zero blizzard, his mind was drawing blanks.
The "back" was nowhere to be seen. The "back" was an illusion. Was there ever such a thing as the "back", or did Navy just imagine it? For how long has he been stuck in this blizzard? Ten years? A billion years? Fifty seconds? The truth could have been anywhere in between. Just as Navy realized that not only was he confused in terms of the direction he was going in, but also the altitude as the ground was incoming fast and Navy's body was too frosted and exhausted to shift directions, a tight grip pulled him back by the collar and kept him in the air instead of letting him crash head-first into the room's floor.
Just as suddenly as it had started, the absolute zero blizzard changed into a scorching firestorm as the dimension of the Room of Spirit and Time became muddled with heat mirages and changed color drastically to creamy magma hue. Jets of flames raced across, dancing in arcing formations and igniting firenadoes that raged with deafening roars the likes of which Navy had never experienced. For the first time in his life, Navy felt like he was under a sensory overload. Then, in a blitz, he was back by the palace and flopped on all fours–dropped by his mother, who was the mysterious force that tugged him back and kept him from falling earlier.
"Consider me stuck," Chayote said bitterly before walking off. "Go and get something to eat and drink, recover your strength. When you're ready, we'll start our training for real."
"T-Training!?" Navy scrambled back to his feet and cupped his little fists together, with eyes glinting with tiny stars. "I'm good to train now!"
"Have you learned nothing from this experience just now?" Chayote snapped, breaking out of her meditative trance and turning to Navy with a miffed enough expression to cause her son to stagger back a few steps. "Sometimes, when the adults are telling you something, it's not because they're boring and have nothing better to do–it's because they've been where you are right now and they know better. Go rest!"
Navy's eyes became wide and exaggerated, puppy-like almost as marshmallow-sized tear bubbles undulated in an impressive layer, coating them as the boy sniffed his nose and stiffened his lip. Pressing his knuckles together, as if preparing to defend himself if his mother was to attack him, he walked back to the palace and opened the fridge. Chayote's chest squeezed like a sponge, squirting blood if the hot regret in her gut was to be believed.
"Come on…" Chayote mumbled to herself and closed her eyes to regulate her breathing. "Don't fall for it. You've never hurt him, he's just playing with your emotions. Damn it!"
Chayote gnashed her teeth, realizing how difficult it would be if she were to aim for the advice that Goku handed her out when she entered the Room of Spirit and Time. Mastering the Legendary Super Saiyan form would have required Chayote to master her emotions. Something that would be impossible with that little imp tugging at her strings and teasing her with his suicidally defiant behavior. Mentally returning to her days when she was still training Videl and taking care of Navy when he was a baby back in the Orange Star City, Chayote almost expected a twinging tuck at her hair from Navy getting curious and deciding to rip it out like weeds with all his inhuman strength.
She could currently access the Legendary Super Saiyan form. Not entirely reliably and not entirely on command, like the Super Saiyan form, however… Chayote has learned to simulate an agitated emotional state even when she had no stimulus for it. Even during training, she could have imagined the fate of something infuriating happening and then snapping, convincing herself that these wild fruits of her imagination were as real as the air she breathed. That often sufficed to trigger the transformation, but controlling it was a different matter entirely.
When she was in the Wrathful State, it was like competing for control against another person, a different version of herself that was more ruthless, more violent, less caring and cunning, and more of a wild cannon. Like a childish version of Chayote, with all the inherent aloofness being purged and left with nothing but raw strength and the need to prove herself by applying it everywhere all at once. The more time Chayote spent in that state, the smaller her own mind felt in that melting pot of violence and the larger that other, berserk self appeared.
With the Legendary Super Saiyan form, it was like there was an entire parliament of Chayotes, each of them broken, violent, and depraved. Each member of this deranged council voting for every twitch of her muscle, every move she made. The problem was that the parliament of Chayotes voted through yelling and being seen and being loud, uncurbed, unfiltered, and obnoxious was something that those voices in her head excelled at. Assuming the form was never the problem at all–it was staying in control in that pool of poisoning madness.
Chayote inhaled and exhaled, opening her eyes with a new resolve to face her fears and achieve control. A full year of just her and Navy training together was more than enough time to finalize Chayote's Legendary Super Saiyan form mastery training, train up Navy, and spend some quality time with her son. The crunchy noise of crumbling cookies distracted Chayote as the Saiyan woman turned back to see her whiny son sitting on the stairs with his tiny preschooler arms wrapped around three dozens of chocolate chip cookies, stuffing the treats one by one while still crying his eyes out as if he was being tortured.
"You drama queen," Chayote turned away, staring off into the calming white that was returning and extinguishing the violent firestorm that ruled supreme over the conditions of the room's dimension since seizing power from the blizzard until now.
"Mom…!" Navy yelled out, trying to push his way through the chaotic flux of energy emanating from Chayote as she levitated with her legs crossed and fended off the chaotic conditions of the Room of Spirit and Time with her radiant energy alone. Hearing her son's voice woke Chayote up from her trance. The Saiyan straightened her back and placed her feet on the ground, turning back at her son.
"I'm done resting, Mom," Navy declared, walking up and standing straight and proud in front of Chayote, who glared back at him with a no-nonsense look.
"Are you going to listen to what I say from now on?" Chayote asked him directly. "Because if not, we may as well not waste both our time."
"Yeah!" Navy nodded, pumping his fists and nodding with a bashful attitude. His stance was horrendous, but he looked ready to go. Still, Gohan and Videl showed him proper fighting stances and taught him the value behind a good stance, so Chayote couldn't help but feel like her lessons would fall on deaf ears still.
"Fine, is there anything you wish to learn specifically?" Chayote wondered.
"I want to become a Super Saiyan!" Navy barked out, getting fired up and throwing a combination of rapid air punches.
"Forget it. The transformation comes through maturity and great personal growth, not merely a power increase. A bigger battle power will indeed make the transformation process smoother and easier to achieve, however, building up strength or trying to force the transformation will be a waste of time," Chayote crossed her arms and shook her head.
"Alright then," Navy shot his fist up into the air and then pumped his right fist with a hearty punch without dropping his youthful smirk. "I wanna learn a technique that can blow anyone away, no matter the difference in strength!"
"Geez, that's so childish…" Chayote sighed and shook her head before rolling her eyes. "However… There is such a technique, actually."
"Awesome! What is it, Lima Spear? Pinto Spear? Fava Nova?" Navy began strutting in place, just stamping his feet as he drooled over the promise of getting to learn an invincible technique that would let him dominate over any foe.
"Nothing like that," Chayote replied. "It's a punch to the vital area delivered with exceptionally well-channeled Ki–the Solar Plexus Bullet Punch."
"Eh!?" Navy's lower jaw dropped in disappointment. "Just some punch!? That's laaame!"
Tsking with her tongue, Chayote drew her left fist back and regulated her breathing, employing her right arm into a vertical spin that controlled and streamed the balance in her body and let her flawlessly channel the Ki for the upcoming strike. Her son's interest in martial arts depended entirely on how well Chayote would execute this strike. As she exhaled, Chayote threw a straight punch from a standing and balanced position. A sparkling, mint-colored energy beam left the tip of Chayote's fist and blasted off toward Navy as the boy blanked out in awe.
The energy beam punched from Chayote's fist like a stream blitzed right past Navy's right cheek, gently whistling past his hair and slipping in between two parts of the palace roof towers, careening off into the infinite white void and making it impossible to say how far away it dissipated. Navy shivered for a few seconds, completely stunned, before forcing a return to his usual obnoxious self.
"That's all fine and all, but I thought that we'd be doing some actual martial arts practicing here! Gohan and Videl have already shown me all that basic stuff. I'm no longer going to be holding you back, you can really cut loose with me, Mom, and forget all that kiddy pool stuff!" Navy barked out with a hint of unease, taunting his mother in her face like that.
"Jeez, just how bratty can you get?" Chayote growled, running her hand through her hair as it was beginning to slip from the neat ponytail arrangement she held it in. Against her will, Chayote felt her muscles swelling up and brushing against the deep blue bodysuit of the advanced Saiyan battle armor she donned during training. "You've completely ignored my warnings, nearly got yourself killed, then I asked you what you wanted to be training and when I show exactly what you want–you're still complaining!"
"That's because you're still treating me like a child!" Navy complained.
"You're three and a half years old!" Chayote barked back, stooping to her son's level as the two stood in front of each other, just yelling at one another.
"That's how old all Saiyan kids are when they start their training!" Navy didn't let up. Likely because he didn't know the meaning of the word. "You just think that I'm not good enough, that I'm too weak, and maybe I am. But I won't get any stronger learning how to throw some punches! Why won't you trust me and train with me like I'm a warrior and not just your kid?"
"Because you're not. You're far too wet behind the ears. The truth is that there's no place on the battlefield for you. Not until you learn humility and appreciation for martial arts. You can't just dash at obstacles at full power and try smashing your way through!" Chayote stopped holding herself back and acting kind. It was safe to say that instructor Yuca's approach didn't fare much better with Navy than it did with Chayote when she was a kid.
The problem was that Chayote couldn't just drop it and adopt the standard Saiyan approach of natural selection picking and choosing the select ones who deserved to survive and become elite Saiyan warriors. Neither would Chayote roughhouse her son and bully him around. No matter how much she thought he'd need it or if she knew a better way or not.
Navy was a child of Planet Earth as much as he was a Saiyan. Sure, technically, he was three-quarters Saiyan, so he was significantly more Saiyan than Earthling, but given how Chayote lived on Earth and fought as Earth's soldier now and came to appreciate the ways of the Earthlings and admire all the things they did better than Saiyans, she'd act with kindness and nurture with her son. Only because her motherly fondness for him demanded that exact kind of approach.
"I… I just wanted to help you train too," Navy sniffled, bundling his hands together as he made his eyes grow four times in size, or so it seemed seeing the light reflecting off of those ridiculous teardrops he managed to form in them without spilling even a drop over his cheeks. "To help you master the Legendary Super Saiyan, like Son Goku told you… He… You too… Everyone expects that of me, right?"
"Navy," Chayote shrunk down and walked up to her son, stroking his cheek. "You're my son. You're the most important thing in the world. I won't be disappointed in you if you don't grow up into my equal, strong enough to push my Legendary Super Saiyan form at three years old. Right now, all I expect of you, all that anyone can expect of you, is not to choke on one of your toys and say "Thank you" when people are nice to you or give you gifts. Well… Wiping your own ass would be nice too."
"Okay," Navy wiped the tears with his cute little knuckles before pumping himself up with a stiff and quivering lower lip. "I'll learn your boring stuff, then I'll help you control your Legendary Super Saiyan."
"Oh…" Chayote smiled kindly, sifting her son's hair through her fingers as she stroked his head. "That's so mature of you. I could have sworn I saw your hair flash with a bit of gold just now."
"No way!" Navy pumped his whole body from his knees, transitioning into overly eager bunny hopping in a boxing stance, excited to get started.
"Yeah, you keep acting like a good boy and you'll turn Super Saiyan in no time!" Chayote nodded.
Even if Chayote didn't feel like she's advanced at all in terms of mastering the Legendary Super Saiyan transformation, it felt like she's advanced miles ahead in where it truly mattered to her – getting along with her obnoxious little troublemaker.