T'Challa bent down, fingers searching the riverbank until they found a smooth, flat stone. He weighed it in his palm, testing its balance.
"Shuri, you should understand Father's concerns." He turned the stone over, examining its surface. "There's an old saying: 'A man is innocent, but guilty of possessing treasure.'"
He met his sister's eyes, his expression grave. "We possess something unique in all the world. Vibranium. If we opened Wakanda's borders, every nation that covets that resource would give us no peace." He paused, then added, "Look at Afghanistan. Oil breeds war. Death. Endless conflict."
Shuri's jaw set stubbornly. "We're not Afghanistan. We have technological weapons that make their militaries look like children with sticks."
T'Challa shook his head slowly. "I understand your frustration. But the outside world doesn't know our strength. They see only what we pretend to be—a third-world nation, struggling and poor."
"Then we show them," Shuri insisted.
"To make them take us seriously, we'd have to demonstrate our power. Openly. Perhaps through multiple conflicts." T'Challa's voice grew quieter. "Do you truly believe Father would plunge our people into war just to embrace the outside world?"
Shuri opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again.
"There are nations beyond Wakanda where you can conduct your research," T'Challa continued. "Countries where you can establish laboratories. Study their technology. You don't need to bring foreign devices into our homeland to learn from them."
He drew his arm back and sent the stone skipping across the water's surface. One bounce. Two. Three. Four. On the fifth skip, as the stone caught the afternoon light, something flashed beneath the river's surface.
Orange. Bright and distinct against the dark water.
Shuri pointed, her earlier frustration forgotten. "Brother, there's an orange light in the water. What is that?"
T'Challa followed her gesture, squinting at the shimmer below the current. "Probably ore. Gold deposits aren't uncommon in this section of the river."
"I want it," Shuri announced, her tone shifting to the playful demand of a younger sister. "Get it for me."
"I'll have the Dora Milaje retrieve it later," T'Challa replied, turning back toward the path.
Shuri's hands connected with his back before he could take another step.
The shove sent T'Challa stumbling forward. His enhanced reflexes could have caught him, could have turned the momentum into a graceful sidestep. Instead, he let himself fall, splashing into the Amas River with a tremendous spray of water.
He surfaced immediately, water streaming from his hair and clothes. "Shuri! That's going too far!"
His sister stood on the bank, arms crossed, completely unrepentant. "I don't care. I want that thing. You're already wet, so help me get it."
The prank was deliberate, T'Challa knew. Shuri's way of expressing her frustration with their nation's isolationist stance. If he'd truly resisted, his enhanced strength from the heart-shaped herb would have made him immovable. She might have fallen into the river herself trying to push him.
Sometimes being a good brother meant accepting a dunking.
T'Challa shook his head, water droplets flying, and dove beneath the surface. The Amas River ran deep here, the current strong but manageable. He swam toward where he'd seen the orange glow, the water cool against his skin.
The riverbed came into view through the murky water—silt and smooth stones, water plants swaying in the current. And there, partially buried in sediment, was a perfect sphere.
Orange with red stars embedded in its surface. Definitely not gold.
T'Challa reached for it, his fingers closing around the smooth surface.
The moment his skin made contact, the world exploded with information.
Dragon Ball. One of seven. Gather all seven. Summon Shenron. One wish granted. Any wish. Tournament begins in one week. Location to be provided. Tickets distributed to all holders.
The flood of knowledge hit like a physical blow. T'Challa gasped reflexively, river water rushing into his mouth and nose. He choked, lungs burning, and kicked hard for the surface.
He broke through coughing and sputtering, one hand clutching the orange sphere, the other flailing for balance.
On the riverbank, Shuri doubled over with laughter. "Oh, this is perfect! The mighty Black Panther, defeated by a river!"
T'Challa found his footing on the river bottom and waded toward shore, water streaming from his clothes. But he didn't return Shuri's mockery with his usual retort or obscene gesture. Instead, he looked at her with complete seriousness.
"Shuri," he said quietly, "thank you."
His sister's laughter died instantly. She stared at him, concern replacing amusement. "Brother, did you hit your head underwater? Should I be worried about brain damage?"
T'Challa climbed onto the bank, water pooling around his feet. He held up the Dragon Ball, letting sunlight play across its surface. The stars seemed to glow with inner fire.
"Return to the palace," he said. "Something big is about to happen."
In New York, Smith Doyle sat in his office at Fraternity headquarters when the notification arrived. His consciousness touched the Dragon Ball system, confirming what he already knew.
The seventh and final Dragon Ball had been found.
T'Challa. Black Panther. Prince of Wakanda.
Smith leaned back in his chair, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Of course it would be Wakanda. The universe had a sense of irony.
His thoughts on the hidden African nation were... complicated. It wasn't about race—that would be absurd. But Wakanda's approach to its resources frustrated him on a fundamental level. They possessed the most advanced technology on Earth, backed by essentially unlimited vibranium, and they used it to hide behind force fields and holographic projections.
An image flickered through his mind from his previous life's memories. A meme he'd seen online: a circuit board lashed to a wooden stick with rope. High technology married to primitive application. That was Wakanda in a nutshell.
They had Shuri, whose scientific genius rivaled Tony Stark's in some areas and exceeded it in others. She'd developed nanotechnology a decade ahead of anyone else. Medical advances that could revolutionize the world. And what did Wakanda do with all that potential?
Nothing.
He remembered scenes from Avengers: Infinity War. Wakandan soldiers charging into battle with nothing but vibranium spears. Vibranium shields. Vibranium cloaks. Not a single advanced energy weapon in sight. The Dragonfly fighters stayed hidden. The sonic cannons remained unused. All that technology gathering dust while their warriors fought like ancient tribal armies.
Such a waste.
Still, his frustration didn't mean he'd deny T'Challa the right to compete. Smith wasn't in the business of picking and choosing who deserved a chance at the Dragon Balls. And he certainly wasn't going to vaporize Wakanda with a full-power Kamehameha just because their policies annoyed him.
He wasn't that kind of person.
Smith pulled up his mental checklist of Dragon Ball holders:
Xu Wenwu
Tony Stark
Thor Odinson
Karl Mordo
Thena
T'Challa
He'd give them one week. If no Dragon Balls changed hands during that time, he'd issue the tournament tickets and begin the second Dragon Ball battle.
Let the games begin.
Shuri's laboratory occupied an entire level beneath the royal palace, a space that put most Western research facilities to shame. Holographic displays floated in mid-air, showing molecular structures and energy readings. Equipment hummed with barely audible power, vibranium-enhanced processors running calculations at speeds that would make conventional supercomputers weep.
T'Challa stood beside a scanning platform, still damp from the river, watching his sister work. The Dragon Ball sat in the center of a containment field, slowly rotating as beams of light played across its surface.
"Are you detecting anything?" T'Challa asked.
Shuri's fingers danced through holographic interfaces, calling up data streams and analysis reports. Her brow furrowed as she studied the results.
"The material composition is..." She paused, scrolling through chemical formulas. "Unknown. Completely unknown. The scanner can't even identify the basic elements. It's like nothing in our database."
She swiped away one display, calling up another. "Since we have no connection to the outside world's networks, I can't access any information about Dragon Balls that might exist in their databases." Her frustration bled through her professional tone. "But I can confirm one thing definitively—there's absolutely no record of Dragon Balls in Wakanda's historical archives. Nothing in our legends, our mythology, our scientific records. This is entirely foreign."
T'Challa nodded slowly. "Scan me as well. The moment I touched that sphere, information flooded my mind. I need to know if it had any other effects on my body."
Despite Smith's low opinion of Wakanda's military applications, Shuri's medical technology was genuinely world-class. Her nanotechnology research had produced advances that even Tony Stark hadn't achieved yet. If anyone could detect foreign influences or alterations, it would be his sister.
T'Challa lay down on the medical bed, and an array of sensors descended from the ceiling. Blue light washed over him from head to toe, penetrating tissue and bone, analyzing every cell.
Shuri studied the readouts as they appeared, comparing them against his baseline health metrics from the previous month's routine examination. After several minutes, she looked up.
"Your body is completely unchanged. Identical to last month's checkup down to the cellular level." She gestured at the Dragon Ball, still rotating in its field. "I have no idea how that information was transmitted into your mind, and I can't rule out the possibility of other effects that our scanners can't detect."
She crossed her arms, her expression troubled. "As for this dragon wish you mentioned, and the upcoming Dragon Ball tournament... I think we should proceed as if it's all real. Better to believe and be cautious than to dismiss it and be unprepared."
"Even if you decided to stay out of it entirely," she continued, "I suspect others would come looking for you. Unless you're willing to throw that Dragon Ball out of Wakanda right now, the tournament will find you."
T'Challa sat up, considering his options. A slow smile crossed his face as an idea formed.
"Didn't you say earlier that you wanted to study the Universal Capsule Company's products?" he asked.
Shuri's eyes widened, understanding dawning.
"This is an opportunity," T'Challa continued. "A legitimate reason to travel outside Wakanda. We can research their technology, purchase samples for analysis." He gestured toward a computer terminal. "More importantly, we can access the outside world's networks. Search for information about Dragon Balls and this tournament. Understand exactly what we're dealing with."
Shuri's expression transformed from troubled to excited in an instant. "When do we leave?"
T'Challa glanced at the Dragon Ball, still glowing softly in its containment field. "Soon. But first, we need to speak with Father."
He stood, water finally stopped dripping from his clothes, and headed for the laboratory door. Behind him, Shuri was already pulling up travel itineraries and research facility locations, her mind racing ahead to all the technology she'd finally get to examine.