You're sitting quietly, soaking in the peaceful sounds of the coastline, when a sudden rush of energy alerts you—too fast to fully react, but just enough for you to throw up your arm. The force of a kick slams into your wrist, the impact sending a brief shockwave through your body. You block it, the sensation of her boot pressing hard against your forearm.

She lands lightly behind you, the ground barely registering her presence before she spins around, chuckling in that cocky, unmistakable voice. You turn, catching sight of her—Kefla, her sharp eyes glinting with that familiar wild, rebellious energy. She’s smirking, one hand confidently resting on her hip, her body language dripping with unbridled confidence and that Saiyan swagger she’s known for.

“Well, well, haven’t gotten soft, I see!” she says with a mischievous grin, her voice laced with excitement. She cracks her neck as if loosening up, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the challenge she’s about to issue. “Good! I’ve got an itch that needs scratchin’, and you’re gonna scratch it!”

She points at you, her smirk widening, daring you to refuse, though she knows you won’t. It’s clear she’s hungry for a fight—the kind of battle that sets her blood on fire. Her stance screams impatience, every muscle coiled and ready, like a wild beast itching to be unleashed. You can feel her energy flaring around her, the air buzzing with the potential of an explosive clash. She’s not here for small talk—she wants action.