Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Age 755, West City outskirts, a sunny afternoon.

Goku had spent the last two years training intensely under Kami, perfecting his techniques and pushing his body to new limits. His focus had been sharp, leaving little room for distractions. But now, with his training nearing completion, he found himself wandering near the outskirts of West City, where the familiar scent of adventure called him.

Walking down a forest path, Goku was lost in thought, thinking about his upcoming battle at the World Tournament in just 1 more year. It wasn’t until he heard the hum of an engine behind him that his senses snapped back to reality.

A sleek, hoverbike zoomed past him, kicking up a cloud of dust. Goku instinctively leaped out of the way, landing gracefully on a nearby rock. He squinted at the bike, wondering who it could be.

As the bike skidded to a stop, the rider removed her helmet, and a cascade of blue hair tumbled free. His eyes widened.

“Bulma?”

Bulma turned, her expression surprised but quickly turning into a smile as she recognized him. She hopped off the bike, still wearing her usual adventurous clothes—a fashionable yet practical jacket, boots, and goggles resting on her head.

“Goku? Is that really you?” Bulma called out, taking a few steps closer.

Goku grinned and ran toward her, stopping just a foot away. “Yeah, it’s me! Long time no see, Bulma!”

Bulma placed her hands on her hips, looking him up and down. “Wow, look at you! You’ve grown taller, haven’t you? And—” She trailed off, her eyes narrowing as she noticed something. “Wait a second... is that... your tail?”

Goku glanced back at the furry brown appendage that moved behind him, completely unaware of its significance. “Yeah! I guess it came back at some point. Pretty cool, huh?”

Bulma blinked, astonished. “Kami didn’t get rid of it for good? I thought you couldn’t risk transforming into that giant ape again!”

“Yeah, Kami removed it, but it grew back during my training,” Goku explained, scratching his head. “I haven’t transformed in a long time, though. I’m a lot stronger now, so it’s not a problem.”

Bulma’s surprise slowly gave way to curiosity. She reached out, gently touching the end of Goku’s tail, which twitched slightly at her touch. “You’ve changed, Goku,” she said quietly, her eyes meeting his. “It feels like just yesterday you were this wild kid I found in the mountains. Now... you’re a man.”

Goku laughed, not fully understanding her words but feeling a strange warmth spread through him. “Heh, thanks, Bulma. You’ve changed too! You look, uh... good!” he said awkwardly, trying to pay her a compliment.

Bulma chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Still as clueless as ever, I see.”

They stood there for a moment, the space between them filled with a comfortable silence. Goku’s innocent smile remained, but there was something more in the air now—something unspoken, as if the time apart had shifted the way they saw each other.

“So,” Bulma said, breaking the silence, “what brings you out here anyway? Training for the tournament?”

“Yeah! I was just passing through. I’ve been training hard, Bulma. I can’t wait to show everyone what I’ve learned,” Goku said excitedly, his energy infectious.

Bulma smiled, watching his enthusiasm. “You never change, do you? Always pushing yourself to be the best.”

Goku nodded, but then his expression softened, and he looked at her with a bit more seriousness than usual. “But... it’s good to see you again, Bulma. I missed you.”

Bulma’s heart skipped a beat. She had always thought of Goku as a little brother, but hearing him say those words, with that genuine sincerity, stirred something inside her. She hadn’t realized how much she missed him too—his innocence, his strength, and the way he made her feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

“I missed you too, Goku,” Bulma said quietly, her voice carrying more weight than she intended. She stepped closer, feeling a pull she hadn’t expected. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You should visit more often.”

Goku smiled again, the familiar warmth of their friendship rekindling, but with something more beneath it.

“Yeah, I will.”

Bulma pondered for a moment before deciding on a quick decision.

“You hungry, Goku?”

She giggled as Goku's ears perked up.

“You betcha, Bulma! I’m starving.” Goku said, as his stomach rumbled on cue.

Bulma chuckled, hearing his stomach growl with impeccable timing. She shook her head, amused but also a bit nostalgic, reminded of just how many meals she had seen him wolf down over the years.

“Well, hop on!” Bulma said, patting the seat behind her on the hoverbike. “I know a place nearby that serves a pretty mean meal. You’ve probably been living off who-knows-what in the wild!”

Goku’s face lit up, and without hesitation, he climbed onto the bike behind her, gripping her waist. Bulma felt a slight shiver run through her as his hands settled comfortably, and she realized how strong he had become. She cleared her throat and revved the engine, trying to ignore the little flutter in her chest.

As they zipped down the road, the scenery whizzed by, and Goku’s laughter rang out, his joy contagious. He hadn’t been around this part of the world in a while, and seeing it through his eyes made it feel new to Bulma as well.

They soon arrived at a cozy, open-air restaurant nestled at the edge of a hillside overlooking the city. The aroma of sizzling meat and freshly cooked noodles filled the air, making Goku’s mouth water instantly.

“Wow! Smells great!” Goku exclaimed.

Bulma smirked, leading him to a table. “I figured you’d like it. Let’s just hope they’re prepared for your kind of appetite,” she teased, rolling her eyes as they both sat down.

“Thanks, Bulma!” Goku said with a big grin. “I don’t get to eat food like this very often. It’s usually just whatever I can catch or find while training.”

Bulma watched him, amused and touched by his gratitude. As their food arrived, Goku dug in, devouring everything in sight with his usual gusto. But every now and then, he’d glance up, his eyes sparkling as he told her about his training with Kami, the challenges he’d faced, and his excitement for the upcoming tournament. Bulma listened intently, laughing and joking with him, feeling that familiar ease of their friendship—but now laced with new feelings.

After a while, as the plates cleared and the sun began to set, Goku leaned back, sighing contentedly. “Man, that hit the spot! Thanks a lot, Bulma.”

She smiled, resting her chin on her hand as she looked at him. “Anytime, Goku. I’m glad we bumped into each other today. It’s nice... catching up like this.”

“Yeah,” he said, giving her a soft smile. “It feels like old times. I missed hanging out with you, Bulma.”

They sat in companionable silence, watching the sun dip below the horizon. And in that moment, surrounded by the fading light, they both felt the rekindling of something familiar, yet subtly changed.

As they got up to leave, Bulma put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, don’t be a stranger, okay? You’re always welcome here, Goku.”

He nodded, his gaze warm. “I promise. I’ll visit more.”

On the ride back, Goku finds himself wondering why he feels so comfortable, yet strangely nervous, around her. He’s not used to caring so much about someone’s reaction to him outside of battle. It’s puzzling, and he silently asks himself why he suddenly has this urge to keep her close, to hear her laugh, and to share his experiences with her. He knows it’s not the same kind of bond he has with his friends like Krillin or Master Roshi; there’s something different here, something he can’t quite put a name to.

As they rode back toward the city, the quiet hum of the bike mixed with the rhythmic sounds of the wind and the distant murmur of nightlife began to stir. The city lights glimmered in the distance, casting a soft glow on the road ahead. Goku held on tightly, savoring the peaceful moment with Bulma, who seemed lost in thought.

When they reached the city limits, Bulma slowed down, pulling the bike to a stop by a small park. She turned off the engine, letting the silence settle around them. Goku looked at her curiously as she took off her helmet and took a deep breath.

“Hey, Goku… would you mind taking a walk with me?” she asked, her voice softer than usual.

“Of course! I like spending time with you, Bulma,” Goku replied, hopping off the bike with a smile.

They strolled along a path lined with blossomed trees, their petals glowing in the dim light. Bulma glanced at Goku from the corner of her eye, wondering how to express what she was feeling. She knew he wasn’t one for complex emotions, but the nostalgia and happiness from their time together were undeniable.

“It’s funny,” she began, breaking the silence. “It feels like just yesterday that you were this little kid who didn’t know anything about the world. I remember when you didn’t even know what a girl was!”

Goku scratched the back of his head, laughing. “Yeah, I guess I was pretty clueless! You taught me a lot, though, Bulma. I wouldn’t be who I am now without you.”

Bulma’s cheeks warmed, caught off guard by his sincerity. “Well, I guess I’ve done something right,” she said, nudging him playfully. “But you’ve changed too, you know. You’re not that wild kid anymore. You’re… strong, confident. It’s weird seeing you like this. It’s like I missed a part of you growing up.”

Goku tilted his head, processing her words. “I’m still me, though. Even if I’m stronger, I’m always gonna be the same Goku.”

Bulma smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I like about you. You stay true to yourself, no matter what.” She took a step closer, looking up at him. “It’s kind of rare, you know. People change all the time, but you… you’re just you.”

He chuckled softly, reaching up to scratch his head. “I’m glad you think that way, Bulma. I missed you a lot when I was training. I didn’t realize it until today, but… it feels really nice being with you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she looked away, hiding a small smile. She hadn’t expected him to say that, and somehow, it made her feel both warm and flustered.

They continued walking, the silence between them comfortable yet charged with something new. Bulma found herself reaching out and looping her arm through his, letting her head rest against his shoulder for a moment. Goku glanced down, a little surprised, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he smiled, accepting the simple gesture of closeness.

“You know, Goku,” Bulma said softly, “you’re gonna have so many adventures ahead of you. And there’s a part of me that wishes I could always be there with you like we used to be.”

He paused, turning to look at her with a gentle expression. “You’re always welcome, Bulma. You’ve always been part of my adventures.”

She looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a rare, lingering moment of connection. For the first time, she saw the maturity in his gaze—a mix of friendly affection, sincerity, and a bit of something unspoken.

“Thanks, Goku,” she murmured, giving his arm a playful squeeze.

As they walked back to the bike, the night sky stretching above them, Bulma felt a sense of peace, like something between them had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone. And Goku, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, felt an unfamiliar warmth blooming in his chest.

They reached the bike, and Bulma turned to face him one last time. “Well, this is my stop,” she said with a smile. “You better not make me wait two years to see you again, okay?”

Goku nodded, giving her a bright grin. “You got it! I’ll come back soon, I promise.”

“And I’ll be at the tournament too Goku. You better not lose.”

Don’t worry, Bulma! I’ve trained harder than ever. I won’t lose!”

Bulma gave him a playful nudge. “Good! I’d hate to see you go through all that training just to get your butt kicked in front of everyone. You’ve gotta make it to the finals, got it?”

Goku nodded, clenching his fists with excitement. “You can count on it! I’m gonna give it everything I’ve got. It’ll be the best fight ever!”

Bulma softened, watching his enthusiasm with a warm smile. “I believe in you, Goku. I’ll be there, cheering you on. Just… make sure to look my way every now and then, okay? You might need a bit of extra motivation.”

Goku looked at her with a puzzled expression but grinned anyway. “Heh, alright! I’ll make sure to look for you in the crowd. It always feels better when you’re there.”

For a moment, they stood there, neither wanting to break the silence, as if both were reluctant to let the moment end. Then Bulma took a small step forward and surprised herself by leaning up and giving Goku a quick peck on the cheek.

Goku’s eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks flushing red as he stared at her, speechless.

Bulma laughed, hiding her blush. “That’s just a little good luck charm. Don’t go getting all weird about it, alright?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, still grinning shyly. “Thanks, Bulma. I… I won’t forget it.”

“Good,” she replied, turning back to her bike. “Now, get going. You’ve got training to do, and I’ve got some things to take care of before the tournament.”

Goku nodded, giving her one last smile before stepping back. “See you soon, Bulma! And thanks again for everything.”

With a final wave, he turned and began jogging down the road, his silhouette growing smaller against the fading light. Bulma watched him go, her heart feeling unexpectedly light and her mind buzzing with a mixture of emotions she hadn’t felt in years. She touched her cheek where she’d felt the warmth of his presence just moments ago, and a small, satisfied smile crept onto her face.

As she got on her bike and started it up, she whispered to herself, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, Goku.”

Chapter Text

The midday sun blazed down on Kami’s Lookout, casting shadows across the endless carpet of clouds surrounding the floating sanctuary. Goku stood at the edge, fists raised and body tense, his eyes trained on his opponent with razor-sharp focus—or at least, that’s what he was aiming for.

“Concentrate, Goku! Your mind and body must act as one if you are to achieve true mastery.”

Goku inhaled deeply, then exhaled, dropping into a fighting stance. His eyes narrowed as he squared off with Mr. Popo, ready to engage. His weighted training gear felt heavy on his body, but he pushed against it, charging forward with a burst of speed, throwing a swift jab.

“You’re improving, Goku,” Mr. Popo acknowledged, evading each strike with practiced ease.

“Thanks! But I’m not done yet!” Goku flashed a quick grin, side-stepping to the right before darting around behind Mr. Popo, aiming for an opening. “This time, I’ve got ya!”

He pulled back his fist, preparing to unleash a series of quick, calculated punches to Mr. Popo’s abdomen—only to find himself hesitating, a familiar face drifting into his thoughts. Bulma.

The unexpected distraction threw off his timing, and Mr. Popo easily caught his arm. The older fighter raised an eyebrow.

“Losing focus, Goku?”

Goku blinked, trying to shake off the image of her laughing, her bright eyes teasing as she poked fun at him.

“Uh, yeah… sorry!” He pulled his arm free, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I, uh… just got distracted, I guess.”

Kami’s voice broke through again, more pointed this time. “Concentrate! You must leave your mind clear, Goku.”

Goku took a breath, forcing himself back to the present. But no matter how hard he tried, Bulma’s face kept resurfacing.

“Why does she keep popping into my head?” He puzzled over it, replaying moments from their recent meeting. “Was it how happy she looked to see me? Or… maybe the way she laughed when I told her about my training?”

“Focus!”

Kami’s voice snapped again, sharper this time, and Goku shook his head, trying to clear the images away. But there was something about her he couldn’t quite let go. She wasn’t just his friend; she was... different.

“Why does it feel this way?:

He’d never been good with words for things he didn’t understand, but the feeling lingered, warm and unfamiliar. It was a strange mix of excitement and comfort—like the anticipation before a big fight but softer, gentler.

“Goku!” Mr. Popo’s voice finally broke his reverie, and Goku quickly dropped back into his stance, heart still racing. Whatever this new feeling was, he couldn’t shake it.

“Right, sorry!”

Goku shook his head, forcing himself to focus as he re-engaged, launching forward with a swift, calculated punch aimed straight at Mr. Popo. The weight of his training gear anchored him, but he poured all his strength into each strike, determined to keep his mind in the present.

Mr. Popo sidestepped, smoothly blocking his punches. “That’s better, Goku,” he said with a calm smile, countering each move. “But I can still see your thoughts wandering.”

“Not this time!” Goku grinned, doubling down as he shifted his stance, his feet moving in a quick, sharp rhythm. He pivoted and aimed a surprise uppercut toward Mr. Popo’s midsection. But just as he pulled back to strike, an image flashed into his mind—Bulma, her laugh echoing in his memory.

“Why am I thinking about her right now?”

Goku stumbled slightly, his focus slipping as the memory of their recent meeting replayed in his head. He recalled how her face had softened when she’d said goodbye, how her eyes had lingered on him just a second longer than usual.

“I just want to get stronger, right? That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Mr. Popo quickly stepped aside, blocking his punch with ease. “You’re distracted again, Goku,” he said, giving him a knowing look.

“Sorry, Mr. Popo,” Goku mumbled, rubbing the back of his head, cheeks faintly red.

“I’ve gotta focus. But why can’t I stop thinking about her?”

He shook his head, bewildered. Fighting and training—that’s what he understood. They were straightforward. But this? This was a whole new kind of confusion. His stomach felt all twisted up, and his chest held a warmth that was more than physical. He’d missed her, and now that they’d met again, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Kami observed Goku’s struggle from a distance, his wise eyes narrowing thoughtfully as he turned to Mr. Popo. “Perhaps it’s time we shifted his training. What do you think, Popo? Should we start teaching him flight?”

Mr. Popo crossed his arms, watching Goku slumped to the ground and refocused. “Yes, I believe so. He’s come a long way with his physical strength and speed. Learning flight would challenge his control and concentration in a new way.”

Kami sighed, watching Goku’s movements. “I suspect it may also help him center his mind. He seems... distracted today.”

Mr. Popo chuckled.

“A rare thing for Goku, but maybe it’s part of his growth.” He glanced back at Kami. “The flight technique requires patience and focus, which may help him find balance—especially if his mind’s drifting elsewhere.”

Kami placed a thoughtful hand on his chin. “Indeed. We’ll have him start. For now…” he paused, raising his voice so Goku could hear, “Goku, that’s enough sparring for today.”

Goku looked over, surprised. “Really, Kami? We’re done?”

Kami gave him a nod, gesturing him over. “There’s something else I’d like you to learn. However, I have a question for you.”

He jogged over to Kami and Mr. Popo, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Kami’s expression was as calm as ever, but his gaze was locked on his young student, studying Goku with curiosity.

“Goku,” Kami began, his tone gentle but probing, “you seemed... distracted during training. Your movements were unfocused. Tell me, what has your mind so preoccupied?”

Goku scratched his head, looking slightly sheepish. “I don’t know, Kami. I’ve been thinking about... well, about Bulma,” he admitted, feeling a warmth rise to his face as he spoke her name. “Ever since I went to West City, I can’t get her out of my head. It’s strange—I mean, I’m used to missing friends when I’m away, but this is different.”

Kami shared a knowing glance with Mr. Popo. “Different, you say?”

“Yeah,” Goku continued, struggling to put it into words. “It’s like... when I think about her, it’s like this warm, good feeling. Not like when I think about fighting. I mean, I feel happy, but it also makes my stomach feel weird.” He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

Kami listened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps your heart is discovering something new. These feelings aren’t so uncommon, Goku. People experience them when they care deeply for someone.”

Goku blinked, processing Kami’s words. “Oh... so it’s kind of like training, then? Like, just something you get better at as you go?”

“Precisely,” Kami said, nodding. “And for now, let’s add a new skill to your training that might help you refocus—learning how to fly. It requires intense concentration and will be invaluable in the battles you’ll face.”

Goku’s eyes widened with excitement. “Flying? Really?”

“Yes,” Mr. Popo interjected. “And once you get the hang of it, it will feel as natural as running.”

Goku grinned, his earlier distraction forgotten for a moment as excitement filled him. “That sounds awesome! I’ll work extra hard, Kami—I’ll learn this in no time!”

“Before we start… How would you say the progress for having your tail been? The instincts you have when there is a Full Moon. I knew you wished to keep and strengthen as a memento of your grandfather’s words.”

“I guess I’ve gotten better, huh?” Goku grinned, giving his tail a quick flick. “Grandpa always told me it was part of who I am. Even when he warned me about the Full Moon, he said it was important to stay connected to my roots. I remember him saying that my tail was something to be proud of, not something to be afraid of.”

Kami crossed his arms, “Your grandfather understood something very valuable. The tail is a unique trait, a part of you that connects you to something beyond what you know. It makes you stronger, yes, but it also awakens powerful instincts. Harnessing that has made you more attuned to the world around you.”

Goku took a deep breath, thinking it over. “Yeah… I feel like when I’m training, I can sense things better. Like, I’m connected to the earth, the air, and everything around me. It’s almost like my tail lets me feel things differently. I can even feel when the people I care about are close by like they’re a part of me.” He paused, smiling softly as he thought of Bulma.

Kami observed him with a slight smile. “That awareness is key, Goku. Control and understanding of your own nature are what makes you a true warrior. Your tail is more than a physical trait; it’s a reminder of where you came from and what’s important to you. This balance will help you as you grow stronger.”

Goku nodded, a renewed sense of purpose swelling within him. “Thanks, Kami. I’ll keep working to understand it better. I want to be stronger—not just for me, but for everyone else too. And the next time I see Bulma, I want her to see that.”

Kami gave him an approving nod and took a step back. “Then let’s continue. There’s still much to learn, and your journey has only just begun.”

Goku nodded, his expression hardening with resolve. “Right.”

“Now,” Kami instructed, his tone even and steady, “clear your mind. Feel the ki around you. Release it, let it flow freely through every part of you. If you master flight, you’ll gain an invaluable edge. It’s not just about moving upward; flight allows for unmatched control in the air. You’ll be able to maneuver seamlessly, positioning yourself with precision, which will be critical in your upcoming match against Piccolo.”

Goku clenched his fists as a determined grin spread across his face. “That sounds awesome! I mean, the Nimbus is great, but flying on my own… that’d be something else.”

Kami’s mouth curved slightly. “The Nimbus has served you well, but for what lies ahead, you’ll need to rely on your own ki to carry you. Now, feel the energy inside. Not just in your limbs, but all over, like it’s part of your entire being.”

Closing his eyes, Goku took a deep, centering breath. He could feel that familiar warmth of his ki, pulsing, ready. Flying… on my own… I bet Bulma would be impressed if she saw me do this. He felt a swell of confidence as he grinned, the thought giving him an extra boost of motivation.

“Good,” Kami continued. “Feel your energy lifting you, as though it were a current carrying you upward. Similar to when you jump, but this time, focus on holding that flow steady, sustaining it.”

With a deeper focus, Goku let his energy flow outward. Slowly, he felt the pressure leave his feet as his body began to feel weightless. For an instant, he hovered in place, just above the ground. His eyes snapped open in surprise, and he lost his concentration, dropping back to his feet with a soft thud.

“Whoa! I actually felt it!” he exclaimed, looking up at Kami in awe.

“Good,” Kami said, his calm voice carrying a hint of encouragement. “That was an excellent start. Practice, patience, and focus, Goku. Mastering this will not only give you an edge against Piccolo, but it will also deepen your awareness of your ki and help you achieve a new level of control. Take it one step at a time.”

With determination burning in his eyes, Goku grinned. “Alright! I’m gonna master this! When I go up against Piccolo, I’ll show him how much stronger I’ve become.”

Popo and Kami watched Goku’s progress, a smile of approval on each of their faces. But Kami’s expression soon shifted, his gaze growing distant as he looked out toward the horizon, brows furrowing with sudden concern.

“What’s wrong, Kami?” Popo asked, noticing the shift.

Kami’s gaze didn’t waver as he replied, “We’re stopping early today, Goku.”

His voice held a weight that made both Goku and Popo pause.

Goku blinked, confused.

“Huh? But I was just starting to get the hang of it!” His tail flicked in mild frustration, eager to keep practicing.

Kami shook his head. “There’s no time. I sense something… troubling. The girl—Bulma—she’s in danger.”

Goku’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Bulma’s name. “Bulma? What happened?! Where is she?”

Kami turned toward the distant West City, his gaze intense. “She’s being pursued by a large man. I sense malicious intent, and he bears the mark of the Red Ribbon Army.”

Goku’s eyes widened.

“Red Ribbon? But I thought I took care of them a long time ago!” His fists clenched, the thought of Bulma being in danger lighting a fire inside him. “I’ve gotta go help her!”

Kami nodded. “Go, Goku. She doesn’t have much time.”

Without another word, Goku shot into the sky, leaping off Kami’s Lookout at breakneck speed, his heart pounding in his chest. His thoughts raced as he soared toward West City, the air whipping around him.

Bulma’s in trouble… and the Red Ribbon Army? What are they doing here?

He hadn’t faced anyone from the Red Ribbon in years, but if they were after Bulma, he knew he couldn’t waste a second. He pushed his body harder, the wind rushing past him as he zeroed in on West City.

Hang on, Bulma. I’m coming!

The streets of West City were usually bustling with life, but at this moment, it felt like everything had come to a standstill for Bulma. Her heart raced as she backed up against a brick wall, her wide eyes fixed on the hulking man looming over her. His face was twisted with a mix of anger and desperation, his thick arms tensed as if ready to grab her at any moment.

“W-What do you want with me?” Bulma stammered, her voice unsteady, though she did her best to maintain her composure.

The man sneered, jabbing his thumb at the red emblem emblazoned on his shirt—a logo she hadn’t seen in years but recognized instantly: the Red Ribbon Army.

“Capsule Corp’s the reason I’m out of a job,” he growled, his voice thick with bitterness. “You and your family’s fancy inventions made my work worthless. A man can’t even feed his family because of you!”

Bulma’s heart skipped a beat. Capsule Corp had always been about advancing technology for the betterment of everyone, but she knew that sometimes progress came with unintended consequences. She swallowed hard, trying to think of a way out of this.

“I-I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said quickly, glancing around for an escape route. “We just want to help people.”

“Help people?” The man let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer. “The only people you helped were the rich folks who can afford your gadgets. People like me? We’re left to rot!”

Bulma’s mind raced. She needed to stall, to come up with a plan, or hope that someone—Goku—would show up. She couldn’t let this get out of control, but the man’s towering figure and growing rage made it clear he wasn’t interested in talking things through.

He clenched his fists, the ground beneath them trembling slightly as he took another step toward her. “You’re gonna pay for what you and your company did to me, lady.”

Bulma’s back pressed against the wall, her heart pounding as her mind screamed for a solution.

She barely had a moment to react before the man’s hand swung across her face with brutal force. The sharp sting of pain made her head snap to the side, and a soft gasp escaped her lips. Her vision blurred for a second as he grabbed her by the collar, lifting her off the ground effortlessly.

Her heart raced, panic set in as she kicked her legs helplessly, her hands instinctively grabbing at his thick wrist to try and pry herself free, but his grip was unyielding.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do,” the man snarled, his breath hot against her face. His dark eyes bore into hers with a sick satisfaction. “You’re gonna fill my account—and my buddies’—with top Zeni. And if you do, we’ll disappear, and you’ll never see us again.”

He paused, leaning in closer, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “Or... we can take something else from a pretty thing like you.”

Her blood ran cold, fear gripping her tighter than the man’s hold. She’d been in dangerous situations before, but this… this felt different. Her mind raced, desperate for an escape, but her body trembled as his words sank in.

Bulma's vision blurred further as the bruising pressure on her collarbone tightened, the ache flaring with every shallow breath. She blinked through the pain, her eyes widening as she saw more figures appear around her—rough-looking men clutching knives, bats, and tasers, their faces shadowed and eyes glinting with menace. Each step they took seemed to echo, a chilling reminder of how dire her situation had become.

“Y-You’re hurting me…” she choked out, her voice strained, barely able to form the words.

The man holding her just grinned, his eyes cold. “Good. That’s what you rich bastards deserve. To hurt.” He gave her a slight shake, his sneer deepening. “You think you can just waltz through life without facing the consequences of people like me losing everything?”

Bulma’s mind screamed for a way out, but every attempt at pulling free only made his grip tighter. Her head throbbed, and her pulse hammered with fear as the other men drew closer, closing off any hope of escape.

“Now,” he continued, leaning in menacingly, “are you going to be smart about this? Or does it have to get worse?”

She couldn’t respond, every nerve on edge as her mind filled with a single thought: “Please, someone, anyone… help.”

Bulma’s heart pounded harder than ever, a nauseating dread filling her as she felt the man’s hand drift lower, his fingers digging into her inner thigh. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping, praying this was a nightmare. Fear gripped her so tightly that her entire body started to tremble uncontrollably.

Around her, the other men laughed and jeered, each voice colder than the last.

“I got next, Sumo,” one sneered.

“I want her mouth,” another growled.

“And don’t forget me,” a third chimed in with a twisted grin. “I need my turn too, Sumo.”

Her chest heaved, every breath coming in shallow gasps. She wasn’t far from her home, not even deep into the city—and yet here she was, cornered and utterly helpless. No one was coming. The bustling city was suddenly empty, and indifferent, while she was caught in this nightmare.

As their taunts grew louder, her mind drifted desperately, clinging to anything that could bring her strength. She tried to steel herself, to summon the resilience that had carried her through so much already, but each touch, each vile word, chipped away at her defenses.

And then, through the chaos of her thoughts, a memory surfaced: *Goku.* His promise, his smile, that spark of pure, unwavering strength.

“Please, Goku…” she thought, barely able to hold back the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Get off of her!”

The sharp, fierce command cut through the air like a blade. Bulma’s eyes fluttered open, her vision focusing just enough to see a familiar figure standing defiantly in front of her, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen.

“G-Goku…” she murmured, a spark of hope igniting within her.

The gang of men froze, their taunts falling silent as they turned to face the newcomer. Goku’s stance was firm, his hands tightly gripping his power pole. His usually cheerful face was now hardened with anger, his gaze locked on the man holding Bulma.

“Who the hell are you, kid?” sneered Sumo, tightening his grip on her collar. “You better leave if you know what’s good for you.”

But Goku didn’t budge. His eyes darted to Bulma, his jaw clenching as he took in her bruised face and trembling form.

“I said,” he repeated, his voice unwavering, “get off of her.”

One of the thugs snickered, hefting his bat. “You think you can take all of us on, runt?”

In a blur, Goku leaped forward, swinging the power pole with precise, brutal force. The man with the bat was thrown backward, crashing into a stack of crates, knocked out cold. The remaining men hesitated, their cocky demeanor faltering as they realized this kid wasn’t backing down.

Goku looked back at Bulma, his face softening for a moment as he reassured her.

“Don’t worry, Bulma. I’m here now.”

Goku’s grip on the power pole tightened, his eyes blazing with fury as he stared down Sumo. The threat only made his resolve stronger, but he could see Bulma struggling, her face pale as Sumo’s hand pressed harder against her throat.

“Stop hurting her!” he shouted, his voice carrying an intensity that shook the air around them.

Sumo sneered, his fingers digging cruelly into Bulma’s skin. “Then do yourself a favor and walk away, kid. You’re messing with people way out of your league.”

But Goku’s eyes remained locked on Bulma, a silent promise passing between them. “I’m not going anywhere,” he replied firmly, taking a deep breath. “I won’t let you hurt her anymore.”

With a fierce determination, he charged forward, his movements faster than any of them could track. In an instant, he brought the power pole down hard, striking Sumo’s arm with pinpoint precision. The thug let out a yell of pain, his grip on Bulma loosening just enough for her to break free and stumble back.

Goku immediately stepped between her and the gang, his gaze unyielding. “Leave her alone,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The second Bulma was clear, Goku wasted no time. He dashed forward, planting his foot solidly into the ground before launching his power pole with blinding speed straight into Sumo’s gut. The man doubled over, gasping as the air was knocked out of him, but Goku didn’t relent.

He twisted the pole and jabbed upward, smashing it into Sumo’s chin with a sharp *crack* that sent the thug reeling backward. Before Sumo could regain his footing, Goku darted to his side and drove a powerful kick into his ribs, sending him crashing into a lamppost.

The remaining men watched, stunned as Sumo tried to stagger back up, clutching his side in pain. Goku followed up by spinning the pole over his head and slamming it down onto Sumo’s shoulder, forcing him to the ground. He knelt down, glaring at the beaten thug.

"Now," Goku said. "Leave Bulma alone and never come near her again.”

Sumo grimaced, unable to answer as he clutched his bruised shoulder, nodding in terrified compliance.

The men scattered in all directions, their bravado shattered as they disappeared into the night, leaving Goku and Bulma alone on the street. Without hesitation, Goku rushed to her side, gently scooping her up in his arms, his worried gaze scanning over her injuries.

"Are you okay, Bulma?"

Bulma nodded weakly, though the pain was evident in her expression. Her busted lip was swollen, and a bruise had already started forming around her left eye. She gave him a small, grateful smile despite the discomfort.

"I... I'll be fine," she muttered, wincing slightly. "Thanks, Goku. You really saved me."

Goku frowned, still looking her over. "They really hurt you..." He gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face, his expression darkening. "I should’ve gotten here sooner."

Bulma shook her head, her fingers lightly gripping his arm. "No, Goku. You came just in time... I don't even want to think about what would've happened if you hadn't."

"I'm here now," Goku reassured her. He tightened his hold on her as if to prove he wasn’t going anywhere.

Bulma’s body relaxed slightly in his arms, but her eyes still held traces of fear.

“Goku… can you help me get back home? I don’t want to take any more risks today.”

“Sure, Bulma. I’ll take you back. Uhm…” He scratched the back of his head, a sheepish smile appearing. “I don’t know how to get there though.”

Despite the situation, Bulma let out a giggle, her fingers lightly resting against his chest.

“Don’t worry… I’ll guide you,” she said, her voice shaky. “Just… let’s get out of here.”

With a determined nod, Goku held her close and began walking, listening carefully as she directed him toward Capsule Corp. The day was quiet now, a contrast to the chaos they had just escaped, and though Bulma was still shaken, she felt safer in Goku’s arms than she had in a long time.

As they began to move, Bulma’s legs wobbled beneath her. She took a shaky step but quickly felt her strength giving out. Just as she was about to hit the ground, Goku instinctively reached out, catching her effortlessly in his arms.

“Whoa! I’ve got you,” he said, a hint of urgency in his voice as he lifted her, cradling her against him. Bulma’s heart raced—not from fear this time, but from the warmth of his embrace and the way he held her protectively.

“Goku, I’m okay,” she insisted, though she couldn’t help but lean into him, feeling safe for the first time since the encounter. “Really, you don’t have to—”

“Of course I have to!” he interrupted. “You need to rest. I’m not letting you walk like this.”

Bulma looked up at him, her heart swelling with gratitude and a hint of something deeper.

“Thanks,” she whispered, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks.

Goku smiled back, his usual cheerful demeanor returning. “Just tell me where to go,” he said, shifting her slightly in his arms as he began walking again. “I’ll get you home in no time!”

With Bulma guiding him through the dark streets of West City, Goku felt a renewed sense of purpose. No matter what, he was going to make sure she was safe.

Goku adjusted his grip on Bulma, ensuring she was secure in his arms. The streets were waking up, and the distant sounds of honking cars and bustling pedestrians filled the air. Bulma took a deep breath, the fresh scent of the day rejuvenating her spirit.

“Okay, Goku,” she said, her voice steadier now. “You’ll want to head down this street for a couple of blocks, then take a left at the café.”

She pointed toward a charming little diner where the smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of breakfast being served.

Goku nodded, his expression focused as he followed her directions. “Got it!” He glanced down at her, noticing how her eyes brightened as she started to feel more at ease. “So, uh, is there anything you want to do when we get to Capsule Corp? I can help with whatever you need!”

Bulma chuckled softly, the sound soothing against the lingering fear from the night before.

“Maybe just a nice long shower and some food? I think I’ve earned it after this morning.”

“Food sounds great!” Goku grinned, his enthusiasm infectious. He picked up his pace slightly, eager to get her home. As they turned the corner onto a busier street, Bulma felt relief wash over her.

“Just a few more blocks, and we’ll be there,” she encouraged, her heart racing a bit—not from fear, but from the comfort of Goku’s presence.

She directed him down a tree-lined avenue, pointing out familiar landmarks: the park where they used to play as kids, the fountain where she and her father had spent afternoons, and finally, the large, distinctive building of Capsule Corp.

“There it is!” Bulma exclaimed. “Just ahead!”

Goku looked up, spotting the impressive structure. “Wow, it’s even bigger than I remembered!” he said, a childlike wonder in his voice. “You really live here?”

“Yep! And I’d love to show you around sometime,” she replied, a playful smile lighting up her face. “Though maybe not while I look like this.”

She gestured to her now black eye, cheek, and swollen lip.

Goku shrugged, “You still look awesome to me!”

Bulma felt warmth rush to her cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and happiness bubbling within her.

“Thanks, Goku,” she said, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes.

When they approached the entrance, Goku carefully set her down, ensuring she was steady before releasing his hold. Bulma felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of contact, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing on getting inside.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and grab some lunch,” Goku said, flashing her a confident smile.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect,” she agreed, her spirit lifting with each step toward her home.

Once Goku gently set Bulma down, she took a moment to steady herself before gesturing for him to follow her. “Come on, my knight in shining armor,” she said, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Knight in shining armor?” Goku repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. He scratched his head, trying to decipher the phrase.

Bulma chuckled, shaking her head. “It’s an Earth expression, Goku. It refers to someone who rescues someone else, like a hero. Seems like Kami can’t teach you much about that. I’ll have to step into that department.”

“Uh, that would be great,” Goku replied, his earnestness shining through. “I’m not good with that sort of stuff… not yet, anyway.”

Bulma smiled, her heart warmed by his sincerity. “Well, I’ll take good care of you, Goku. I’m quite the tutor,” she assured him playfully. “Now, I need to get cleaned up and let my parents meet the young man who has saved their daughter.”

As they approached the entrance to Capsule Corp, Bulma sighed. She knew her parents would be thrilled to meet Goku, especially after hearing how he had come to her rescue. She pushed open the large glass doors, leading him into the sleek, modern lobby adorned with high-tech gadgets and the company’s signature blue and silver colors.

“Welcome to Capsule Corp!” she announced with a flourish, though her voice was still tinged with lingering adrenaline from the earlier encounter. Goku looked around, his eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the futuristic surroundings.

“Wow! This place is amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Just wait until you see the lab,” Bulma said, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “My dad has some cool inventions he’s been working on. You’ll love it!”

“Cool! I can’t wait!” Goku grinned, following her as she led the way deeper into the building. The excitement of being back with Bulma overshadowed everything else, and he felt a sense of joy that he hadn’t realized he was missing.

“Let’s head to my room first,” Bulma suggested. “I’ll clean up, and then we can hang out. I promise to introduce you to my parents afterward.”

“Sounds great!”

As they ascended the sleek staircase, Bulma glanced back at him, a shy smile gracing her lips.

“You were incredible back there, Goku. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

Goku shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I just did what anyone would do… right?”

Bulma shook her head, her expression turning serious.

“No, Goku. Not everyone would have stepped in like you did. You are a hero in my eyes.”

Her words hung in the air, making Goku feel a flush of warmth on his cheeks.

“Thanks, Bulma,” he said quietly, a genuine smile breaking through. “That means a lot coming from you.”

Once they reached Bulma's room, she pushed the door open, revealing a space that reflected her vibrant personality. The walls were adorned with posters of various inventions, colorful designs, and even a few photos of their adventures together. Goku stepped inside, feeling an admiration for the girl who had always been a source of inspiration.

“Make yourself comfortable while I freshen up,” Bulma said, moving toward her bathroom. She tossed a glance over her shoulder and added, “You can check out some of my latest projects if you want.”

Goku nodded, intrigued by the various gadgets scattered around the room. His eyes landed on a small model of a spaceship.

“Whoa! Did you build this?” he asked, picking it up to examine the intricate details.

“Yep! That one’s designed for interstellar travel,” Bulma called from the bathroom, her voice slightly muffled. “I’ve been working on it for a while now. I’m hoping to make a trip to another planet someday.”

“Another planet? That’s amazing! You should take me with you!” Goku replied, excitement bubbling in his chest. The idea of exploring new worlds sounded exhilarating, especially with Bulma by his side.

“Maybe I will!” she replied, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel around her shoulders, her hair damp but already looking revitalized. She caught Goku staring at the spaceship and smirked. “You want to be my co-pilot, huh?”

“Absolutely! I’ll help navigate!” Goku grinned, setting the model down carefully. “But, uh, I might accidentally steer us into a fight with space pirates.”

Bulma laughed, her spirits lifting further. “As long as you promise to protect me, I think we’ll be okay.”

“Deal!” Goku replied, his confidence unwavering.

"I need a shower, and so do you, Goku. I can't let you meet my parents smelling like that. I'll take one first, so you stay right there."

"Okay, Bulma."

She disappeared back into the bathroom, Goku glanced around her room, marveling at the treasures within. Each invention had its own story, a glimpse into the mind of the brilliant girl he had grown to admire. He felt a wave of warmth wash over him, realizing how much he had missed her during their time apart.

His gaze fell on a photo pinned to the wall—a snapshot of the two of them from one of their earlier adventures. They were both grinning, a smaller Goku’s cheeks stuffed with food while Bulma held up a victory sign, her eyes sparkling with mischief. A sense of nostalgia hit him hard, and he couldn’t help but smile. Those were the moments he cherished the most—their shared laughter and thrilling escapades.

Just then, he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, the splashing creating a peaceful atmosphere. Goku’s mind wandered to the tournament, his training, and how he had promised to protect Bulma. He felt determination—he would do anything to keep her safe.

He snapped back to reality when he heard Bulma’s voice again, slightly muffled. “Okay, Goku! You stay there for a moment while I wash up. And don’t peek!”

“Uh, I won’t!” he called back, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his cheeks, although he couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea.

But as Bulma stood in the bathroom, she couldn’t help but glance at the cracked door, leaving it just ajar enough. A playful smirk crossed her face as she thought, “But maybe I wouldn’t mind if you did peek, Goku… just a little.”

She shook her head, pushing those thoughts aside. “But he’s so innocent,” she mused, the contrast of her desires and his unwavering purity making her heart race.

As the water turned off, Bulma took a deep breath, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel around her shoulders, her hair damp but already looking revitalized. “Okay, Goku! Time for you to shower.”

“Sure, Bulma!” Goku replied cheerfully, but as he stood there, he seemed to take her instructions a bit too literally. Without hesitation, he started to unbutton his shirt right in front of her.

Bulma’s eyes widened in surprise. “W-Wait! Goku, hold on a second!”

He paused, looking back at her with his signature innocent smile. “What? You said I should shower!”

“Yeah, but maybe—uh, how about you do that in the bathroom?” She stammered, her heart racing as she tried to maintain her composure. “I mean, it’s a bit… um, inappropriate to change right here!”

Goku tilted his head, completely unfazed by her embarrassment. “But why? We’re friends, right? It’s not a big deal!”

Bulma’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson. “He doesn’t get it,” she thought. “Well, it’s just… it’s different for girls and boys, Goku! You should shower in the bathroom. It’s a private space.”

“Private space?” he repeated, sounding genuinely puzzled. “Oh! Is that like when you didn’t want me to peek?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Bulma said, desperately trying to keep her composure. “So, why don’t you go ahead and get cleaned up in there?”

With a shrug, Goku finally relented and moved toward the bathroom, his shirt already halfway off. He tossed it aside without a second thought, revealing his toned physique as he entered the bathroom. Bulma’s breath caught in her throat for a moment before she turned away, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just go! I’ll be waiting out here!” she called her heart pounding as she tried to focus on anything other than the fact that Goku had been ready to strip down right in front of her.

Once inside, Goku turned on the shower, the warm water cascading over him. As he scrubbed his skin clean, his mind wandered to Bulma—the way she had laughed, her playful teasing, and that hint of something more in her voice. He felt a warmth in his chest, the thought of their bond deepening more than friendship, making him grin as the water flowed over him.

Meanwhile, Bulma leaned against the wall outside the bathroom, shaking her head with a smile.

“That boy is something else.”

She could still picture him getting ready to change right in front of her. Part of her was grateful he didn’t seem to have any of the societal hang-ups about nudity, but another part of her was intrigued by the idea.

Pushing those thoughts aside, she resolved to keep things light and playful when he came out. The last thing she wanted was to overthink things after the scare she’d just experienced.

“Hey, Goku!” she called, trying to keep her voice upbeat. “Don’t take too long! We have a lot to talk about!”

“Okay!” came his cheerful reply from inside the bathroom. “I’ll be quick!”

Bulma smiled to herself, the earlier tension dissipating as she awaited his return, eager to introduce him to her family and share more moments.

As the warm water cascaded over Goku, he quickly realized he had no idea how to operate the shower properly. The knobs and levers were confusing, and after a moment of fiddling, he called out, “Uh, Bulma! How does this thing work?”

Bulma sighed, her patience wavering between amusement and frustration. “Just turn the knob for the hot water until it feels right!” she shouted back, trying to maintain a steady tone.

“Hot water?” he echoed, scratching his head. “Which one’s that?”

Bulma held in a blush, reminding herself to stay calm. It’s just Goku. Calm down, Bulma, she told herself, suppressing the urge to giggle at his innocence. “The one on the left! Just turn it slowly!”

“Okay!” Goku replied, and after a moment of silence, he exclaimed, “It’s not working!”

“Are you turning it?” Bulma asked, exasperated but trying to keep her voice light. “Just twist it to the left! Not too hard!”

“Like this?” he called, turning the knob dramatically.

“No, no! Goku, that’s way too much! Just a little!”

“Oops! Is this right?”

Bulma couldn’t help but chuckle despite her embarrassment. “Just a little more to the left and see if the water gets warmer!”

Goku followed her directions, twisting the knob carefully this time. “Oh! I think it’s working now!” he shouted, sounding proud of his achievement.

“That’s it! Now you just need to wash up!” Bulma called, biting her lip as she tried to focus on anything but the image of him in the shower. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.

It’s just Goku. Focus on getting him cleaned up so he doesn’t smell like sweat and dirt when he meets my parents.

After a moment, she added, “Make sure to use soap too! And don’t forget to rinse!”

“Rinse? Like this?” he asked, water splashing as he moved around.

“Yes! Just… you know what, I’ll come help!” Bulma said, shaking her head with a grin as she walked toward the bathroom door. “Stay put! I’ll be right in!”

“Okay!” Goku replied, his enthusiasm unwavering.

She stepped inside, she couldn’t help but feel embarrassed.

“Alright, here’s the soap. Just lather it in your hands like this,” she demonstrated quickly, but her cheeks burned as she realized how close they were.

“Like this?” Goku mimicked, earning a laugh from Bulma as he generously applied the soap all over his arms, splattering some on her in the process.

“Just don’t use so much! You’re gonna slip!” she said, trying to keep a straight face.

“Oops! Sorry, Bulma!” he chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Just be careful, okay? I’ll get you a towel when you’re done,” she said, trying to focus on helping him rather than the awkwardness of the situation.

As Goku scrubbed away, Bulma couldn’t shake the flutter in her stomach.

“This is so ridiculous,” she thought, but the joy in his laughter made it all worthwhile. She loved how he brought light into her life, even in the most unexpected moments.

Once they were done, Bulma took a moment to appreciate how much fun they had shared, laughing and joking despite the initial awkwardness. But then a sudden realization hit her. Goku needed some fresh clothes.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured to herself, glancing over at Goku, who was still blissfully unaware of the problem as he dried off. “What are you going to wear?”

She racked her brain for a solution. I can’t have him walking around in just a towel. My parents will freak out!

“Goku, wait here for a second!” she said, dashing to her closet. She rifled through her clothes, pulling out various items. Most of them were too small or too feminine for him, but she finally spotted an old pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt that used to belong to her father. They might not fit perfectly, but it was better than nothing.

“Here!” she exclaimed, returning to the bathroom and tossing the clothes over the door. “Put these on! They should fit you well enough.”

“Thanks, Bulma!” Goku called back, sounding genuinely grateful. She heard the rustling of fabric as he put on the clothes, and her heart raced at the thought of him in her father’s old T-shirt.

After a moment, he opened the bathroom door, revealing himself in the slightly oversized clothes. The shirt hung loosely on his frame, and the sweatpants were baggy but somehow still looked good on him. “How do I look?” he asked with a goofy grin.

Bulma blinked, momentarily taken aback by how adorable he looked. “You look… great!” she managed, trying to keep her composure. “Very stylish.”

Goku scratched the back of his head, oblivious to the impact he had on her. “I feel like I’m wearing a giant pillow,” he laughed.

“Better than nothing, right?” Bulma replied, rolling her eyes but smiling. “Now that you’re all cleaned up, we can head downstairs to meet my parents.”

“Yeah! I’m ready!” he said, his enthusiasm shining through.

Bulma took a deep breath, “Okay, let’s do this.”

They descended the stairs, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something new—something that felt much more than just friendship.

“Just be yourself, Goku,” she said, glancing back at him. “They’re going to love you.”

“Really?” Goku’s eyes brightened. “What if they don’t like me?”

“They’ll love you,” Bulma insisted with a reassuring smile. “Trust me. You’re like a big bundle of energy and positivity. They’ll appreciate that.”

“Okay!” he replied, determination sparking in his voice.

Bulma reached the bottom of the stairs, her hand on the railing. She could hear her parents chatting in the kitchen, the clinking of dishes, and the soft hum of her mother’s favorite home renovation show playing in the background. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

“Mom! Dad! I’m back!” she called out.

Her mother, a petite woman with warm eyes, looked up from the stove, a smile spreading across her face. “Welcome home, sweetheart! Did you have a good day?”

Bulma stepped further into the room, nudging Goku forward gently. “Yeah, it was great! I, um, brought someone with me. This is Goku!”

Her dad, a short man with a friendly demeanor, turned from where he was setting the table. His expression shifted from curiosity to surprise. “Goku, huh? The one Bulma’s talked about?”

Goku waved enthusiastically, his smile radiant. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Briefs! It’s nice to meet you!”

Bulma’s parents exchanged glances, and then her mom stepped closer, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “It’s nice to meet you too, Goku. You saved our daughter today, didn’t you? Thank you for that.”

Goku shrugged, scratching his head sheepishly. “It was nothing. I just did what any friend would do!”

Her father nodded, clearly impressed. “Well, we appreciate it. Bulma can be a bit reckless sometimes.”

“Hey!” Bulma protested, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m standing right here!”

Goku chuckled, sensing the playful banter. “It’s true, though. She does have a knack for finding trouble.”

“Exactly!” her father chimed in. “You have to keep an eye on her, Goku.”

“I will!” Goku promised earnestly, his eyes wide with sincerity.

“Alright, dinner will be ready soon. Make yourselves comfortable,” her mother said, gesturing for them to sit at the kitchen table.

When they settled down, Bulma watched as Goku and her parents started to chat. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly he engaged with them, his genuine nature shining through.

They talked about their respective hobbies, with Goku sharing stories about his training and the adventures he had with friends.

“Training is great! I’ve learned so many cool techniques!” Goku said animatedly, his hands moving expressively as he described one of his latest training exercises with Kami.

“Sounds intense!” her dad replied, intrigued. “What kind of techniques?”

Bulma leaned back in her chair, her heart swelling with affection. It was moments like this that made her realize how special Goku was. He was innocent and strong, yet completely unaware of the charm he had.

“Why can’t he see what I see?”

Before long, her mother placed a steaming pot of stir-fried vegetables and rice on the table, filling the room with a mouthwatering aroma.

“Dinner is served! I hope you like it, Goku!”

Goku’s eyes lit up at the sight of the food. “It looks amazing! I love trying new things!” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious.

As they began to eat, Bulma felt a wave of comfort wash over her. Surrounded by laughter and warmth, she realized how important these connections were. Goku, her parents, and the bonds they shared were all intertwined in a way she had never fully appreciated before.

“Hey, Bulma,” Goku said between bites, his mouth full of rice. “You should show me around your house after dinner. I want to see more of your cool gadgets!”

“Definitely!” she replied, feeling a flutter in her stomach. “I’d love to show you. I think you’ll find a lot of things interesting.”

“Grandkids early will be great, Bulma,” her mother said.

“Mom!”

“She’s right, Bulma. Another genius around here would be great,” her Father said.

“Dad!”

“Hey, how are kids made?” Goku asked.

The question sent to entire table into an uproar, as they laughed at his question. And while her parents went over the conversation of the birds and bees, Bulma cringed on the inside. But maybe for the first time, she felt that maybe he was starting to see her in a new light, too.

After dinner, Bulma helped her mother clear the table while Goku sat back, happily chatting with her dad about the different types of food he had tried during his travels. The way Goku animatedly described his experiences—like the time he had tried the bizarre but delicious dish known as “Chili Ramen”—made her smile. It was clear he had a way of making everything sound exciting.

Once the dishes were done and her parents retreated to the living room, Bulma turned to Goku with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Ready for your tour, my knight in shining armor?”

Goku beamed at the title, clearly still processing the concept.

“Sure! What do you want to show me first?”

“Well,” she said, leading him back up the stairs, “let’s start with my workshop. It’s where I create all my inventions!”

They entered the workshop, and Goku’s eyes widened at the sight. The room was filled with various gadgets, parts, and tools, some of which looked like they had come straight out of a science fiction movie. There were blueprints pinned to the walls, and the smell of soldering metal lingered in the air.

“Wow, this is incredible, Bulma!” Goku exclaimed, stepping closer to examine a half-finished robot. “Did you make this?”

“Yep! I’m working on it for a robotics competition,” Bulma said proudly. “It’s designed to assist with tasks around the house, but I think it could do more. Maybe one day it can help me with training!”

Goku laughed. “That would be awesome! But, uh, can it fight?”

Bulma shrugged playfully. “Not yet! But if you keep encouraging me, maybe I’ll add that feature. You never know when you might need a fighting robot.”

She turned and noticed Goku inspecting a strange device with buttons and levers. “Be careful with that! It’s not ready to be used yet,” she warned.

“What does it do?” Goku asked, his curiosity palpable.

“It’s supposed to enhance energy output for training, but I haven’t quite perfected it yet,” she explained, a bit sheepishly. “I don’t want it blowing up in my face.”

“I’d be careful then,” Goku replied with a grin. “I’m good at dodging explosions, but I’d rather not have to!”

Bulma rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress a smile. Goku’s innocence and carefree attitude were refreshing, and it made her heart flutter. As she watched him explore her workshop, a thought crossed her mind: What would it be like if he saw her as more than just a friend?

“Hey, Goku,” she started, stepping closer to him. “What do you think about being a partner in my inventions? We could create some amazing things together!”

Goku turned to her, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“That sounds awesome! I’d love to help! But what can I do? I’m not good with machines.”

Bulma thought for a moment. “Well, you’re great at training, and that could be helpful! We can design gadgets that improve your abilities, or even weapons for you to use. Think of it as a way to combine our talents!”

“Okay!” Goku nodded enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face. “I’m in!”

As they discussed potential projects, Bulma found herself getting lost in the moment. Goku’s passion was contagious, and their ideas flowed freely. But amid the excitement, she couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting something more. She stole glances at him when he wasn’t looking, studying the way his hair fell over his forehead and how his smile lit up the room.

Suddenly, she remembered something. “Oh! I have something to show you!” Bulma rushed to a corner of the room and pulled out a large box, carefully placing it on a table. “This is my latest invention. I call it the Capsule Drone!”

Goku leaned forward, eyes wide with interest. “What does it do?”

“Here, let me demonstrate!” Bulma pressed a button on the drone, and it whirred to life, hovering above the table. It began to project a holographic display showcasing various landscapes and designs. “It can record and transmit data from anywhere, and it even has a camera. You could use it to scout during training or even in a battle!”

“Whoa, that’s really cool!” Goku exclaimed, leaning closer to get a better look. “You could send it to watch the mountains while we train!”

“Exactly!” Bulma felt her excitement bubbling over. “It’s not just for that; it can also help document your progress! Imagine how much stronger you can get with this!”

Goku looked at her with admiration. “You’re so smart, Bulma! I can’t wait to start using it!”

As the drone hovered in the air, Bulma felt a warmth spread through her. The way Goku looked at her—filled with genuine admiration—made her heart race. This was the kind of connection she had been longing for, and it made her realize that their friendship could evolve into something more.

“Thanks, Goku. I’m glad you like it,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on him longer than usual.

He turned back to her, catching the expression on her face.

“Hey, Bulma?”

“Yeah?” she replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into her voice.

“Can I ask you something?” he said, his tone serious.

“Of course! What is it?”

Goku hesitated as if he were choosing his words carefully. “What do you think friendship means to you?”

Bulma blinked, taken aback by the depth of the question.

“Um… I think friendship is about trust and support. It’s having someone who believes in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

Goku nodded, his expression thoughtful.

“That makes sense. I feel like that’s what we have. You always help me train and keep me motivated.”

Her heart raced at his words. “I feel the same way, Goku. You inspire me to push my limits.”

He smiled at her, a genuine warmth that made her pulse quicken. “Then let’s keep being the best friends we can be! We can help each other grow stronger.”

Bulma bit her lip, holding back the overwhelming emotions that threatened to spill over.

“Absolutely!”

But deep down, she knew there was more than just friendship brewing between them. As they continued to discuss ideas for their inventions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey—one where their bond would only grow deeper, and perhaps, even blossom into something more.

As the evening wore on, Bulma and Goku dove deeper into their conversation about potential inventions and projects. The playful banter turned into serious brainstorming, filled with ideas and sketches scattered across her workspace.

“Okay, how about we make a training suit that tracks your power levels?” Bulma suggested, her hands animatedly drawing in the air. “It could analyze your techniques and give you real-time feedback!”

“Whoa, that sounds amazing!” Goku replied, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “And I could use it to see how much I’ve improved over time!”

“Exactly! And we can include a feature that sends alerts if your energy levels drop too low. That way, you can train safely,” she added, her mind racing with possibilities. “We could even design a training room that simulates different environments for you to practice in.”

“That would be awesome! I could practice in a mountain setting or even underwater!” Goku said, getting carried away with the idea.

Bulma chuckled, imagining the endless scenarios they could create together. “We could call it the ‘Capsule Training Simulator!’”

“I love it!” Goku said, clearly thrilled at the prospect of getting stronger.

Bulma paused, catching her breath as she looked at him. His enthusiasm was infectious, and it warmed her heart to see him so engaged. She felt an overwhelming urge to bridge the gap between friendship and something more.

“Goku,” she said softly, drawing his attention. “I appreciate how you’re always there for me. You make me feel safe and supported.”

His gaze turned serious, and he nodded.

“You do the same for me, Bulma. I’ve always admired your intelligence and strength. You’re really special.”

The weight of his words settled in the air between them. Bulma felt her cheeks flush slightly as she tried to maintain her composure. “Thanks, Goku. That means a lot coming from you.”

While they continued to share ideas and build off each other's concepts, the atmosphere shifted. It was no longer just about inventions; it was about their connection. Each laugh, each shared look, felt charged with a newfound energy.

Eventually, Bulma glanced at the clock and realized how late it had gotten. “Wow, we’ve been at this for hours! I should probably let you get home soon.”

Goku scratched the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish. “Yeah, I guess I should. But, um, I don’t want to leave yet. I’m having too much fun.”

“Me too,” she admitted, her heart racing. “But won’t Kami start to worry?”

“Okay, how about we wrap this up and make a plan for tomorrow? We can meet up again and work on our ideas!” Goku suggested, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Definitely! I can’t wait to see what else we can come up with!” Bulma said, her heart soaring at the thought of spending more time with him. “And maybe we can try testing that training suit as well.”

“Yeah! That’ll be awesome!”

Goku's enthusiasm was still contagious, and Bulma felt herself getting swept up in his energy.

The duo cleaned up the workshop, but Bulma found herself stealing glances at Goku every so often, appreciating the way he focused on every little task she had given him.

“He’s just so… different,” she thought. “And I like it.”

“Hey, Goku,” she said suddenly, her voice steady despite the flutter in her stomach. “I’ve been thinking… you could stay for a movie or something. I mean, if you want to, of course.”

“Really? That sounds great! But, uh, what movie? And I thought you said Kami will probably be worried.”

“A day of rest won't hurt. Besides, I have a few options,” Bulma replied, feeling a little more confident. “How about an action movie? I know you like those!”

“Sounds perfect!” Goku grinned.

“Ok. To my room, we go then.”

Bulma couldn’t shake the feeling that this evening was significant—not just because of their inventions, but because of how close they were growing. Everything was going so well, her parents liked him and everything was great. It was so different than when she dated Yamcha for the short interim.

She set up the movie, letting the screen flicker to life, and settled onto the bed beside Goku.

The movie started, and she couldn’t help but glance at him. He was completely engrossed in the film, his expressions shifting with the action. Bulma felt a warm flutter in her chest as she leaned back against the cushions, letting herself relax.

Halfway through the movie, she glanced at Goku, only to find him staring back at her. His expression was soft, a gentle smile gracing his lips. For a moment, time seemed to freeze as they held each other’s gaze.

“Goku…” Bulma began, her heart pounding in her chest. “I…”

But before she could finish, Goku leaned slightly closer. “Bulma, can I ask you something?”

“Of course!” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you think we could be more than just friends?” he asked, his eyes sincere and searching.

Bulma’s breath hitched in her throat, the weight of his question hanging heavily in the air. She felt a rush of emotions—surprise, joy, and a rush of hope. “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing. “I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

Goku smiled brightly, relief washing over his features. “Really? That’s awesome! I thought I was being too forward.”

“No, not at all,” she reassured him, her heart racing. “I want this too. I care about you, Goku.”

“Best friends!” Goku said.

Disappointment crossed her face, “Best friends… Goku.” Bulma smiled, but she sighed. “Still a work in progress.”

Time passed and Goku was now sleeping in Bulma’s bed while cuddling her.

Bulma, however, was wide awake despite the late hour.

She lay there, feeling the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat a calming presence in the otherwise quiet room. Goku had nestled into her chest, his tail wrapping around her waist in a comforting embrace.

He looks so peaceful, she thought, watching the rise and fall of his chest. It was a sight that filled her heart with warmth and an unexpected surge of protectiveness. Today had been a whirlwind of emotions—a stark reminder of how quickly things could change, how danger could lurk just around the corner, and how deeply she cared for him.

Bulma’s mind drifted back to the chaos of earlier. The way Goku had burst onto the scene, wielding his power pole with precision and strength, had left her in awe. He had been her savior, just like the heroes she had always read about in her books. But he was more than that; he was her friend, and now, he was so much more than that, too.

*Why does it feel so different now?* she mused, her heart racing at the thought. I’ve known him forever, but tonight… something has changed. Maybe it's because he’s grown up. Or maybe it’s because I have.

With a soft sigh, Bulma glanced around her room, taking in the familiar sights: the posters of her inventions, the scattered tools from her latest projects, the little mementos of their adventures together. Each item held a memory, a moment they had shared, and now, here they were, taking their friendship to a new level.

As she absentmindedly ran her fingers through Goku’s spiky hair, she felt a surge of affection wash over her. “He really is a knight in shining armor,” she thought with a smile. “Even if he doesn’t know what that means. It’s a major step up from that jerk, Yamcha…”

She had always admired Goku’s innocence, his unwavering belief in the goodness of people. It was one of the things that drew her to him in the first place. But tonight, with the danger of the day still fresh in her mind, she felt a sense of urgency to protect that innocence, to shelter him from the darker sides of the world.

But more than that, she wanted to explore this new, uncharted territory between them. The way he had held her after saving her, the way he looked at her with those bright, curious eyes—it made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t expected.

What if I show him how I feel? she wondered, her stomach flipping at the thought. What if he doesn’t feel the same? Or worse, what if it changes everything?

But deep down, she knew she couldn’t ignore her feelings forever. Goku had always been there for her, and now, she wanted to be there for him in the same way.

The minutes ticked by, and Bulma found herself lost in thoughts of what tomorrow might bring. She envisioned working on their projects, going on more adventures, and, hopefully, uncovering the new dynamics of their relationship. She wanted to share everything with him—the excitement, the laughter, and maybe even the things that made her heart race with anticipation.

Gazing down at his peaceful face, Bulma gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Goku,” she whispered, unsure if he could hear her. “I’ve been thinking... maybe it’s time I told you something important.”

She hesitated, unsure of how to voice the feelings that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long. “You’re not just my best friend. You mean more to me than that. I...” She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words. “I think I’ve fallen for you.”

The confession hung in the air, vulnerable and raw. She felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought of his reaction. Would he understand? Would he feel the same way?

He shifted slightly, his tail tightening around her waist instinctively, she couldn’t help but smile. He was so innocent, so unaware of the turmoil inside her.

“I just hope you see me as more than just your childhood friend,” she murmured, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

Laying back against her pillow, Bulma stared at the ceiling, replaying the day’s events in her mind. The thought of the upcoming tournament lingered in the back of her head.

“If I tell him later, will it change anything? What if we lose? What if he finds someone else?”

But as she gazed at Goku, peaceful in his slumber, she felt hope. “Maybe you’re worth the risk, Son Goku.”

Bulma pulled him closer. She decided that before the tournament, she’d find the courage to share her heart. Whatever the outcome, she wanted him to know how much he meant to her.

Chapter Text

Bulma stirred awake, blinking groggily as morning sunlight filtered into the room. The events of the previous night slowly came back to her—sharing ideas, watching a movie, and then falling asleep side by side. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she felt a strange weight pressing against her chest.

Looking down, she saw Goku’s face nestled comfortably against her chest, his arms wrapped around her in a tight, snuggly hold. He let out a contented sigh, nuzzling deeper, a silly grin on his face.

“Fluffy… so soft…” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he snuggled closer, completely unaware of where he was or what he was doing.

Bulma’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she processed the situation. "G-Goku…!" she whispered, trying not to wake him too abruptly. But then he muttered something that made her stop in her tracks.

“Mmm… just a little more, pillow… I’m starving…” He smacked his lips, his face burrowing even closer. Bulma’s face twitched, her blush quickly replaced by an expression of irritation.

“Fluffy pillow?!” she hissed, clenching her fists. She resisted the urge to smack him, knowing he was completely oblivious. Instead, she cleared her throat loudly. “Goku,” she said, her voice saccharine sweet, “would you mind explaining what exactly you’re doing?”

At her voice, Goku mumbled and lazily cracked one eye open, blinking up at her with a dopey smile. “Bulma…? Hey, did you get new pillows?” he asked, still half-asleep, his arms loosening their grip.

“New pillows?!” She let out an exasperated sigh, trying to keep her cool. “Goku, for the love of—wake up! You’re not snuggling a pillow; you’re snuggling me!”

That snapped him fully awake. He jerked back, wide-eyed, and nearly fell off the bed. “Ahh! B-Bulma! I didn’t mean to—uh, I thought…” He scratched his head sheepishly, looking every bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Bulma gave him a bemused smirk, crossing her arms. “Yeah, well, next time, remember what’s a pillow and what’s a person, will ya?”

“Sorry, Bulma,” he chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Guess I got carried away.” He flashed her a grin, looking unbothered by the whole ordeal.

Bulma sighed, unable to help a small smile creeping onto her face. “Only you, Goku…” she muttered, shaking her head.

“What’s for breakfast, Bulma?”

“Is food always the first you think of when you wake up?”

“Uh. Master Roshi said breakfast is an important meal of the day.”

“That old creep I swear…”

Bulma sighed.

“Goku —”

“Bulma darling; why don’t you—”

Mrs. Brief's face morphed into a fox-like smirk. Her daughter was only in a bra and shorts, and Goku only had his shorts on.

“Oh my. You two are already at huh? And early at that.”

Bulma’s face turned scarlet. “Mom! It’s not what it looks like!”

Mrs. Briefs’ smirk widened as she leaned against the doorframe, unquestionably amused at her daughter’s predicament. “Oh, no need to explain, sweetheart. You’re a young couple in love—breakfast can wait!” She winked, making the situation even more embarrassing.

Goku tilted his head, completely oblivious. “Couple in love? Bulma, are we a couple?”

Bulma stammered, practically choking on her words. “No! I mean—! It’s… I mean, we’re friends!”

Mrs. Brief chuckled, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her daughter squirming. “Well, whatever you two are, I’ll get breakfast started. I’ll make extra—seems like you worked up quite the appetite!”

Bulma buried her face in her hands as Mrs. Briefs floated out of the room with a knowing grin. “I am never going to live this down…”

Goku, however, just grinned. “Well, if breakfast’s ready soon, let’s get going!” He jumped out of bed, seemingly unfazed.

Bulma groaned, her face still hidden in her hands. Only Goku…

The two dressed quickly and went down to the kitchen which Goku could only describe as paradise. There were arrangements of different meats, eggs, fruits, pancakes, drinks, and yummy goods that only made him hungrier.

Goku’s eyes sparkled at the sight of the massive breakfast spread.

"Whoa, Bulma! Do you eat like this every day?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Not quite, but my mom goes all out when we have guests. So, feel free to dig in. Just try not to eat everything in one bite, okay?”

Goku grinned, already seated and grabbing a stack of pancakes.

"I’ll try!” he mumbled, mouth half-full. “It’s so much better than training food!”

Bulma snorted. “Yeah, I bet Mr. Popo and Kami don’t exactly serve up a buffet like this.”

“They just give me some weird bean paste and tell me it’s good for my ‘spirit’ or something. I don’t get how they can stand it.”

“Well, they’re a lot more focused than you are, that’s for sure.”

Just then, Mrs. Briefs waltzed back in, setting down a new tray of pastries and eyeing Goku’s enthusiasm with delight. “Goodness, Goku, eat up! We wouldn’t want you going hungry before training!”

Goku beamed up at her, his face covered in syrup. “Thanks, Mrs. Briefs! You’re the best!”

Dr.Brief sat on the other side of the table, reading his daily newspaper.

“You know Bulma, the way to a man’s heart is through food; and for this fella you’re apparently going to need lots of it; if you wanna be a good wife.”

Quicker than anybody expected, Bulma materialized behind her Father and shook him, “You’re a crazy old man.”

Dr.Brief chuckled, barely fazed by his daughter’s grip. “I’m just saying, dear! A man with an appetite as big as his will need a wife who can keep up!”

Bulma flushed, finally letting go of his shoulders. "Dad, please! I’m trying to have breakfast here without thinking about… that kind of stuff.”

Goku, still focused on his food, looked up mid-bite. “Wife? What’s that got to do with breakfast?”

Bulma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Nothing, Goku. Just… eat your food.”

Mrs. Brief giggled, winking at her husband. “Oh, you two are just adorable! Young love is so refreshing.”

“Mom!” Bulma groaned, sinking into her chair, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Goku only shrugged and went back to shoveling pancakes into his mouth, blissfully oblivious to the implications. “You guys are acting so weird this morning. But hey, this breakfast is amazing!”

Dr. Brief peered over his paper, still chuckling. "Well, I’ll just say you’re welcome in advance, Bulma, when you’re the one making these pancakes every morning.”

“Dad!” Bulma shot him a glare that could melt steel, and he wisely ducked back behind his newspaper with a quiet laugh.

As Goku continued eating, completely unfazed, Bulma sighed, deciding it was best to leave well enough alone.

“Anyways, what do you two have planned for today Bulma?”

“Goku does have to get back to training for the tournament, but there is one last thing I wanted to do with him today,” Bulma said.

“What’s that dear?”

“Shopping!”

Dr. Brief raised an eyebrow, peering over his newspaper with a grin. “Shopping, huh? Well, I can’t imagine Goku will mind… unless it keeps him away from food.”

Bulma smirked. “Oh, I’ve got a plan for that. Besides, he owes me for all the times I’ve patched him up.”

Goku looked up, mid-bite, blinking with syrup still on his cheek. “Wait, what’s shopping?”

“Oh, don’t worry, Goku,” Bulma said with a mischievous glint. “It’s just a quick trip to find you some… battle gear for the tournament! You want to look tough, right?”

Goku’s face lit up. “Yeah! Do you think they sell things to make me look extra strong? Like some kind of… armor?”

Mrs. Brief chimed in, “Why, I bet Bulma will make sure you look very strong, dear.” She gave her daughter a little wink, and Bulma rolled her eyes, cheeks tinged pink.

“Okay, Goku, let’s get going,” Bulma said, standing up and giving her parents a “please stop” look before they could make another remark.

Goku leaped up from his chair with enthusiasm. “Alright! Let’s get this shopping stuff done so I can get back to training!”

Bulma sighed, tugging on his arm as they headed out. “Oh, Goku, I think this is going to be fun—don’t you worry!”

Bulma and Goku arrived at the grand entrance of Seven Sun Mall, the largest shopping complex in West City, its impressive glass facade towering above them. Sunlight glinted off the sleek design, while the constant flow of shoppers bustled in and out, carrying bags stuffed with everything from clothes to gadgets.

Goku stared up at the mall, wide-eyed. “Whoa, this place is huge! Are we supposed to fight our way through?”

Bulma chuckled, patting him on the back. “No fighting, Goku! This is just a place where we… find things we need. Well, and sometimes things we don’t need but want anyway.”

Goku gave her a blank look. “So… it’s like training?”

Bulma shook her head with a laugh. “Sure, let’s call it training for now.”

As they stepped inside, the cool air conditioning swept over them, along with a blast of mixed scents from nearby food courts. Goku’s stomach immediately rumbled, and he glanced over at Bulma with a hopeful grin.

“Can I train for food first?” he asked.

Bulma sighed but couldn’t hide a smile. “Fine, but only a snack. We’ve got a lot to do today, mister!”

Bulma led Goku through the mall’s sprawling food court, which was packed with more options than even Goku could have dreamed of: steaming dumplings, savory skewers, sweet pastries, and endless rows of other treats. He was practically vibrating with excitement as they neared a booth selling gigantic pretzels.

“Oooh! Can I get that? It’s like a big, salty wheel!” he exclaimed, pointing.

Bulma chuckled, handing him a few bills. “Alright, get the pretzel. But make it quick; we’ve got clothes shopping to do after this.”

Goku darted over to the booth, grinning as he ordered the biggest pretzel they had. Within seconds, he was happily munching, his eyes still darting around the food court as he savored each bite.

Once his snack was finished (and a second one quickly procured), they ventured toward the first store on Bulma’s agenda: a high-end athletic shop filled with training clothes and gear. The instant they walked in, Bulma grabbed a stack of different outfits for Goku.

“Now, you need something that’s practical for training but also makes you look a bit more… civilized,” she said, giving him an appraising look. “I mean, the gi is great and all, but maybe something a little less torn?”

Goku looked down at his usual outfit, brushing off a stray bit of pretzel salt. “But this one’s comfy!”

“Just try them on,” she insisted, shoving a handful of clothes into his arms.

A few minutes later, Goku emerged from the changing room wearing a pair of workout pants and a fitted tank top, looking completely bewildered. “Bulma, this feels… weird. My arms aren’t used to all this tight stuff.”

Bulma stifled a laugh. “Goku, you look great! Let’s just get a few of these for days you don’t want to look like you’ve been wrestling dinosaurs.”

Goku brightened. “Well, I do wrestle dinosaurs sometimes, so that makes sense.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, fighting a grin as she handed him a few more items to try on. Shopping with Goku was like dragging a kid through candy stores, each new outfit met with a fresh wave of curious excitement or utter confusion.

After leaving the last store, Bulma spotted a massive shoe store at the corner of the plaza, its windows showcasing rows of footwear ranging from sturdy hiking boots to high-tech athletic sneakers. She grabbed Goku’s arm, pulling him toward the entrance.

“Come on, Goku! Your shoes are basically held together by hopes and dreams at this point. Let’s get you something that’ll actually last through all your training.”

He blinked, glancing down at his worn-out sneakers, which had clearly seen one too many battles. “Oh… but they still work, don’t they?”

Bulma raised an eyebrow, pointing to a part of his shoe that was hanging by a thread. “Yeah, until you sneeze and blow them apart. Besides, a little upgrade won’t hurt, and trust me, you’ll feel the difference when you’re fighting Piccolo. Just give it a shot.”

As they entered, Goku’s eyes widened at the sheer size of the store. Shoes lined the walls and shelves in every direction, their vibrant colors and designs overwhelming. He looked completely lost, scratching his head as he glanced at a bright red pair with giant air-cushioned soles.

“So… what do I do? Just pick a pair that looks cool?”

Bulma grinned. “That’s one way to start, but let’s go for something that’ll support all the running, jumping, and… dinosaur wrestling you like to do.”

She pulled him over to a section labeled Training and Performance. Goku’s eyes sparkled as he saw rows of sturdy, well-padded shoes with sleek designs, each promising durability and support.

“Here,” Bulma said, grabbing a pair of black, lightweight trainers with reinforced soles. “Try these. They’re made for running and high-impact movement—perfect for someone with your… unconventional workout routine.”

Goku slipped off his old sneakers, revealing holes in his socks, which made Bulma wince. Ignoring her reaction, he eagerly slid into the new pair, bouncing on his toes to test the feel.

“Whoa!” His face lit up, genuinely surprised. “These feel… bouncy! Like I could jump all the way to the ceiling!”

Bulma laughed, rolling her eyes. “Let’s not scare the other shoppers, alright? But see? Comfortable, huh?”

Goku jogged in place, looking down at his feet with a big grin. “Yeah! It’s like my feet are wrapped in little clouds. You were right, Bulma—this is way better!”

The store assistant wandered over, smiling at Goku’s enthusiasm. “Looks like you’ve found a good fit. Those shoes are top-of-the-line for high-impact athletes. They’ll hold up, even through intense training.”

Goku’s grin widened as he punched the air, nearly hitting a display in the process. “Perfect! Piccolo won’t know what hit him!”

The assistant raised an eyebrow but chuckled. “Happy to help! Just don’t go kicking anyone in these, alright?”

Bulma smirked. “Good advice. Alright, Goku, let’s buy these and get moving.”

As they headed to the counter, Goku gave Bulma a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bulma. This shopping stuff is way more fun with you helping me out. I didn’t know shoes could make such a difference.”

Bulma playfully bumped his shoulder as they waited to check out. “Just wait until you see what a full wardrobe upgrade can do. But seriously, Goku, it’s nice seeing you out of your training zone once in a while.”

Goku laughed. “Well, it’s nice hanging out with you too, Bulma. Maybe we can make this a… uh, what do you call it? Like, a regular thing?”

“Sure thing, Goku,” she replied, smiling as she handed the clerk the payment. “As long as you don’t blow up the store, that is.”

After their footwear success, Bulma made a beeline for her final destination: the mall’s largest makeup store, GlamCo. As they stepped through the doors, Goku looked around with wide eyes, taking in the endless shelves of colorful products, shiny mirrors, and glamorous posters.

“Uh… Bulma? What is all this stuff?” he asked, scratching his head as he eyed a display of lipsticks in every shade imaginable.

“Makeup!” she replied cheerfully. “It’s for… enhancing things. A girl likes to feel pretty, you know? And since you made me spend all day on your new wardrobe, I think I’ve earned a little shopping of my own!”

He looked at her, genuinely puzzled. “But you’re already pretty, Bulma. You don’t need anything else.”

She felt a faint blush creep up her cheeks. “Aw, thanks, Goku, but it’s fun. Besides, I’m not just here for me. You never know when this stuff could come in handy!”

Goku tilted his head, even more confused. “Handy? You mean for fighting?”

“Sure,” she said with a smirk, “but more like for making an impression or… hiding a black eye or two if you get a little carried away with Piccolo.”

She turned to the nearest display and started browsing, picking up different lipsticks and eyeshadow palettes with an expert eye. Goku watched her for a while, trying to understand the appeal, but eventually, he picked up a tube of glittery pink lip gloss, examining it as if it were some strange alien artifact.

“Hey, what’s this shiny stuff?” he asked, twisting off the cap and sniffing it.

Bulma snatched it from him quickly. “That’s lip gloss, Goku! You’re supposed to wear it, not eat it.” She gave him a playful glare, then softened. “Actually… here, hold still.”

Before he could react, she dabbed a small amount of the gloss onto his lips, a mischievous grin on her face. “There! Now you look fabulous,” she teased.

Goku blinked, then smacked his lips together, a confused but oddly pleased look on his face. “Hmm, tastes kinda fruity,” he said, completely unfazed. “Do people really wear this stuff all the time?”

Bulma laughed. “Not all of it, but some of it, yeah. It makes people feel more confident like they’re ready to take on the world. Just like your new shoes, right?”

Goku gave a thoughtful nod, now browsing the store with a little more interest. He picked up a small compact and looked at his reflection, making a fierce expression. “If it helps you be stronger, maybe I should wear some to the tournament. Do you think it would make me faster?”

Bulma chuckled, trying not to laugh too loud. “I’m not sure that’s how it works, but you’d definitely look intimidating. Maybe even Piccolo would hesitate.”

Goku grinned at that. “Then maybe we should get some more of that glittery stuff!”

She patted his shoulder. “Maybe next time, big guy. Let’s leave the sparkle to me for now.”

After a few more stops, some snacks, and a surprising amount of haggling over a capsule for extra supplies, they finally finished up, bags in hand.

Bulma smirked as they left the last store. “See, shopping’s not so bad, right?”

Goku shrugged, a big smile on his face. “Well, if I get to eat and pick out things for fighting, then yeah, it’s kinda fun!”

As they strolled out of the mall, Goku leaned back, looking at the sky. “You know, Bulma… this day’s been pretty awesome. I never thought I’d train by trying on clothes and picking stuff out.”

Bulma laughed, nudging his shoulder. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. You’re not just a fighter, you know? You’re also my… best shopping partner.”

Goku gave her a big grin. “Hey, maybe I am!”

“I’m going miss you, Goku?”

“Why?”

“Did you really forget you have to go back and train with Kami?”

“Oh yeah. I kinda forgot after everything that happened today.”

“I noticed.”

“I’ll help you with your bags and get home; the tournament is only a few months away; I won’t be gone forever.”

They walked toward Bulma’s car, the weight of her bags slowing them down only a little as Goku held most of them effortlessly, his cheerful smile never wavering.

“You know, Goku,” Bulma said softly as they reached the car, “I know you’re all about training, but it’s okay to take breaks now and then. You need time to just… enjoy things.”

He looked at her, tilting his head in his usual curious way. “You really think so?”

She nodded, her gaze soft. “Yeah. Look at today. Just because you’re a fighter doesn’t mean you can’t have days like this, where you don’t have to think about battles or power levels. You can just be you.”

Goku scratched the back of his head, a bit bashful. “I guess I never thought about it that way. Training’s just… what I do, you know? But today was fun. Really fun.”

Bulma laughed. “Well, when you win the tournament, you’ll have to come back for another shopping day. I won’t let you get out of it!”

“Deal!” he said, beaming as he placed the bags into the car with ease.

They both climbed in and as Bulma started the engine, she couldn’t help but glance over at him, wondering how long it would be until their next adventure. He wasn’t just a fighter; he was a friend—her best friend. And as they drove back toward her home, she felt grateful for every unexpected moment they got to share together.

And once they finally made it to her house, Bulma parked her car and got out; with Goku following behind her.

“Well, I guess this is it till the tournament Goku.”

“Yeah, Bulma. But time will fly and I’ll be even stronger.”

“I know you will.”

She looked up to see his big smile, it gave her hope; a feeling of safety that none other was able to produce.

“Should I…”

The idea of what she was about to do burned in her mind.

“Goku. I —”

Her words didn’t reach their end, when she felt herself close in on a hug. The cologne she had bought for him smelt amazing and she didn’t want to leave his grasp.

Goku’s arms enveloped her in a warm, tight hug, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Bulma’s heart raced in her chest as she felt the steady beat of his heartbeat against her own. It wasn’t just the comfort of his strength—it was the comfort of him, of knowing that he was always there, even when she didn’t have the words for it.

She rested her head against his chest, her hands lightly gripping the fabric of his shirt. “I’ll miss you, Goku,” she whispered.

“I’ll miss you too, Bulma,” he said, his voice carrying an earnestness that made her heart flutter. “But we’ll see each other again soon, right? I’ll be training hard, but I’ll be back before you know it.”

Bulma pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a smile. The words that she had wanted to say earlier, the ones that had been lingering in her mind, felt like they were just about to burst out. Her breath caught in her throat as she met his gaze.

But before she could speak, Goku gave her a goofy grin and scratched his head. “You know, I’m glad we’re friends. It’s nice having someone like you around.”

She chuckled lightly, her nerves melting away.

"Yeah. Me too."

For a moment, everything felt like it was frozen in time. She could still feel the warmth of his arms, the way his strong presence seemed to fill every inch of space around them.

“Don’t forget the cologne, Goku,” she teased, her smile growing as she noticed how he still smelled faintly of the scent she had chosen for him.

“Yeah, it smells good, huh? You picked it out yourself?” Goku grinned, clearly enjoying the gesture.

Bulma nodded. “It’s my way of making sure you don’t forget me while you're off training. It’s… a little reminder.”

Goku’s eyes softened, and he reached up to gently ruffle her hair. “You’re pretty cool, Bulma.”

As he turned to leave, her heart gave a little tug. I really need to tell him how I feel—but the moment passed, and she watched him walk toward the horizon, already focused on the next step of his journey.

He’ll be back soon, she reminded herself. And when he does, maybe then I’ll have the courage to say it.

Bulma stood there for a moment, her eyes following Goku until he was just a figure in the distance. She felt an odd sense of anticipation building inside her. The tournament is only a few months away... and maybe things will be different by then.

She watched as the golden cloud appeared and how he hopped onto it with no effort, his waving goodbye almost caused her to break down into tears. The feelings were strong, but she knew Goku would win the tournament and win her.

“You’re finally back Goku,” Kami said.

He could see that the distractions that once plagued the boy’s mind were gone, instead, he was focused and determined. Visiting that girl has unlocked another pathway in his mind, and now he would be able to become even more capable.

“Yep. And I am more than ready to begin our training once more, Kami,” Goku cracked his knuckles ready to dive back into the training.

The elderly namekian smirked, “Then let us begin with your training once more, Son Goku.”

Chapter Text

The skies above Papaya Island were a swirling mass of gray, the once-bright sun hidden behind a thick blanket of storm clouds. Rain poured in relentless sheets, drenching the tournament grounds and leaving puddles scattered across the cobblestone paths. The howling wind carried the unmistakable scent of rain-soaked earth, its chill cutting through the otherwise lively atmosphere.

Despite the weather, the energy in the air was electric. Crowds of spectators huddled under umbrellas and ponchos, their excitement undampened by the storm. Vendors shouted over the rain, their voices determined to be heard as they sold hot drinks and rainproof souvenirs. The iconic tournament arena stood stoic in the distance, its walls gleaming wet under the downpour, ready to host yet another legendary battle.

Near the registration desk, a small commotion began as a young man in a familiar orange gi approached, his cheerful demeanor and spiky black hair instantly recognizable. Goku had arrived.

“Wow! Look at all the people!” Goku exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement as he took in the scene. He had grown taller and broader over the years, his appearance reflecting the countless hours of training he’d endured. Yet, his childlike enthusiasm remained unchanged.

Goku stood with his hands on his hips, completely unbothered by the rain streaming down his face. His orange gi was already soaked, clinging to his muscular frame, but he barely noticed. Instead, he grinned as he searched for his friends and master.

Three years had passed and he couldn’t wait for Master Roshi and the others to see how well he had grown under the tutelage of Kami and Mr. Popo. But Bulma, he saw her a few months ago and still, he missed her company, which was still strange to him.

“Is that you, Goku?”

Goku turned to see Bulma standing there with an umbrella, that protected her short, blue dress and white boots which held the signature Capsule Corp branding. It was both stylish but also functional for the occasion.

“Bulma! You made it!” Goku beamed, waving her over.

“Of course I did,” she said, walking up to him. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Besides, someone has to make sure you don’t get lost before the first match.”

“I wasn’t gonna get lost,” Goku said with a laugh. “But thanks for coming! It’s always better when you’re here.”

Bulma felt a slight blush creep onto her cheeks but quickly brushed it off. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go getting sappy on me. You’ve got a tournament to win. You promised me that, remember?”

“Haha. Of course not.”

She grabbed his arm, the new muscle growth was not lost on her. The months had passed, and Goku was almost a different person.

“Come on. Don’t you want to see how strong the other have gotten?”

“You bet I do.”

As the two walked toward the registration desk, they passed other familiar faces: Yamcha and Paur, sporting a confident grin as they chatted with Krillin and Oolong; Tien, standing confidently as Chiaotzu hovered nearby; and even Launch and Master Roshi, who seemed to be “inspecting” the female competitors far more closely than necessary.

The sight of his friends filled Goku with excitement. “Wow, everyone’s here! This is gonna be amazing!”

Bulma smirked, crossing her arms. “Don’t get too excited, Goku. Remember, these people have been training too. You’re not the only one who’s gotten stronger.”

“Wow… Is it really you, Goku?” Krillin said.

“No doubt about. Look at that hair.” Yamacha said.

Goku grinned as he waved at his old friends, his enthusiasm as infectious as ever. "It’s me, alright! Krillin, Yamcha—wow, you guys look great! And Puar, Oolong, you too!”

Krillin stepped closer, eyes wide as he looked Goku up and down. “Wow, Goku… what have you been eating? You’re built like an ox!” He gave a playful jab at Goku’s arm but winced and shook his hand. “Ouch! It’s like punching a brick wall!”

Goku laughed, rubbing the back of his head. “Heh, I’ve been training a lot with Kami and Mr. Popo. Guess it paid off, huh?”

Yamcha smirked, arms crossed as Puar floated beside him. “It worked. But don’t think for a second I’ve been slacking. I’ve been hitting the grind too, Goku. Let’s see if you can handle me this time!”

Bulma laughed, nudging Goku. “Oh, trust me, Yamcha. Goku’s more than ready. You might want to start stretching now.”

Oolong snorted, leaning lazily against the registration booth. “Stretching won’t help Yamcha against Goku. You’d need a miracle—or some really big muscles.”

Puar chimed in cheerfully, “Yamcha’s been working hard, though! Don’t count him out yet!”

Krillin waved a hand, grinning. “Hey, don’t forget about me! I’ve been training too, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got some new tricks up my sleeve.”

“New tricks, huh?” Goku said, his enthusiasm rising. “I can’t wait to see what everyone’s learned! This is gonna be the best tournament ever!”

Nearby, Tien stood with his arms crossed, Chiaotzu hovering beside him. He gave a small nod to Goku. “You’ve changed a lot, Goku. I can tell just by looking at you. This tournament will be a real test.”

“And I’m looking forward to it,” Goku replied.

Not far away, Launch stood under an umbrella, switching between her sweet demeanor and sneezing into her blonde, wild-haired self. She alternated between cheering for Tien and glaring at anyone who got too close.

Bulma chuckled, still clinging to Goku’s arm. “Oh, I think he’s more than ready to keep up. You guys might want to step up your game.”

“And when did you get so buddy, buddy with Goku, Bulma? Are you two dating or something?” Oolong asked.

“Hush your mouth; or do you want to become bacon?”

“No. No. I’m quite alright like this.”

Krillin burst into laughter at Oolong’s quick backpedaling. “Still as smooth as ever, huh, Oolong?”

Bulma smirked, giving Goku’s arm a playful squeeze. “What can I say? Goku’s just more tolerable than the rest of you jokers. Besides, someone has to make sure he doesn’t get lost or forget his name in all the excitement.”

“Forget my name? That’s silly, Bulma. I could never forget my name!”

Yamcha leaned in with a sly grin. “Seriously though, what’s going on here? Bulma, you’ve been glued to Goku since you showed up. Are you sure nothing is going on between you two?”

Bulma flushed a light pink, narrowing her eyes at Yamcha. “For the love of—do you ever stop fishing for gossip? Goku and I are friends, okay? Just friends!”

Oolong snickered. “That sounded way too defensive to be convincing.”

Bulma spun on him, pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t start, bacon breath! I’ve got a whole list of punishments for you, so don’t test me.”

Oolong raised his hands in surrender, retreating behind Krillin. “Alright, alright! I’ll behave! No need to go frying anyone.”

Goku laughed, scratching his head. “You guys are so weird. I don’t get half of what you’re talking about, but it’s funny.”

Master Roshi, still observing from a distance, chuckled under his breath. “Ah, young love… or whatever that is. Brings back memories.”

Bulma shot him a glare too, causing the old hermit to quickly turn his attention back to the competitor's list.

As the group walked toward the registration desk, the storm intensified, with the rain drumming against the tiled roofs and the wind howling through the grounds. Goku seemed unfazed, chatting animatedly with his friends, while Bulma occasionally shielded her face from the rain with her free hand.

Meanwhile, Master Roshi stood holding an umbrella over his head while squinting at the female competitors. His sunglasses gleamed, but it was clear what he was up to.

Bulma’s eyes narrowed when she spotted him again.

“Oh, for crying out loud. Old habits do die hard.”

“Maybe he’s just scouting for talent,” Goku offered innocently, earning an exasperated sigh from Bulma.

“I swear, Goku, you’re too pure for your own good,” she muttered, pulling him along.

When they finally reached the registration desk, Goku handed over his form with an eager grin. The attendant glanced up at him, clearly unimpressed by his rain-soaked appearance.

“Name?”

“Son Goku.”

The attendant scribbled down his name, then looked past him to the next fighter. But before Goku could step away, Yamcha slanted over the desk, flashing his trademark smirk.

“Hey, don’t forget to put down ‘future champion’ next to my name,” he said, earning a few groans from Krillin and Tien.

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Yamcha. Save it for the arena.”

“Goku,” Master Roshi seemed to finally notice him and the others.

“I wasn’t sure if you and the others were going to make it in time. And you look way stronger. Still keeping the old tail in check too I see.”

Goku grinned at Master Roshi, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, we made it just in time! And thanks, Master Roshi. I’ve been training hard with Kami and Mr. Popo. As for my tail—” he gave it a quick flick, “—it’s not giving me any trouble. I think I’ve finally got it under control.”

Master Roshi adjusted his sunglasses, nodding with approval.

“Good, good. You come a long way then.”

“Thanks, Master Roshi!” Goku replied, his smile as bright as ever despite the rain soaking his hair.

Meanwhile, Bulma shot Roshi a look, crossing her arms.

“You better not be here just to ogle the female competitors, old man.”

Roshi coughed awkwardly, pretending to lean on his staff.

“Ahem! Bulma, I’m here to support my students and observe the competition. Strictly professional, I assure you.”

Bulma snorted. “Yeah, right. I know you too well.”

The 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai wasn’t just a tournament—it was a chance for each of them to prove how far they’d come.

Goku clenched his fists, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Let’s do this!” he said, and the group headed toward the arena, ready to give it their all.

Bulma stayed by the entrance, watching Goku and the others file in. She waved as Goku turned to glance back at her. “You’ve got this, Goku! Don’t hold back!”

“I won’t!” Goku called back, his trademark grin on full display.

The tournament officials began handing out numbered slips to divide the fighters into smaller groups for the preliminaries. The room quickly filled with chatter as old rivals exchanged tense glances and new contenders sized each other up.

“Alright, everyone,” one of the officials called, silencing the room. “Here’s how it works: you’ll fight in your assigned group until only the top two remain. Those two will advance to the main tournament. Remember, no killing, and if your opponent is down for a count of ten or gets knocked out of bounds, they lose. Got it?”

The fighters nodded; for most, it was just standard procedure.

Goku clenched his fists, bouncing slightly on his heels. “Man, I can’t wait to see how strong everyone’s gotten!”

Krillin, standing beside him, grinned nervously.

“Yeah, let’s just hope we’re not in the same group, huh?”

Yamcha cracked his knuckles, surveying the competition. “Piece of cake. I’ve got this in the bag.”

Tien remained silent, his expression calm but focused, while Chiaotzu hovered at his side, whispering strategies. He had Chiaotzu change the slips to ensure none of them fought each other until the finals.

As the groups were called, the fighters spread out into different arenas, each cordoned off by simple rope barriers. Goku found himself in a group filled with a mix of seasoned martial artists and a few overconfident amateurs.

The official blew a whistle to start the matches. “Group preliminaries, begin!”

The first match pitted Goku against a familiar face: King Chappa, a skilled martial artist Goku had defeated in the previous tournament.

King Chappa stepped into the ring, his calm demeanor masking the fury burning within him.

“I’ve trained endlessly since our last fight, Goku. This time, things will be different.”

Goku smiled, shifting into his fighting stance.

“That’s great, King Chappa! Let’s see how strong you’ve gotten!”

The referee’s hand shot up. “Match, begin!”

Chappa moved in with incredible speed, unleashing a flurry of precise strikes. But Goku remained unfazed, effortlessly dodging each attack. He waited for an opening, then tapped Chappa lightly on the chest with the back of his hand.

The force sent Chappa sliding across the ring and into the boundary, where he slumped unconscious. The referee raised Goku’s hand.

“Winner: Son Goku!”

Meanwhile, Yamcha, Krillin, and Tien also dominated their matches, showcasing the results of their training. Yamcha’s Wolf Fang Fist overwhelmed his opponent in a dazzling display, while Krillin’s agility and power sent his challenger flying out of bounds. Tien’s precision and overwhelming strength silenced his opponent in seconds.

But the mood shifted during Chiaotzu’s match. The small, psychic fighter stood confidently across from his opponent—an intimidating figure in a metallic suit: Mercenary Tao, now rebuilt as a cyborg.

Chiaotzu’s face paled.

“Tao?! What are you doing here?”

Tao sneered, his robotic eye glowing red. “I’m here to settle some old scores. Starting with you, you little traitor.”

Chiaotzu launched his psychic attacks, trying to keep his distance. For a moment, it seemed like he might hold his own. But Tao’s new enhancements allowed him to shrug off the psychic assaults and close the gap. With brutal efficiency, he unleashed a barrage of strikes, finishing with a devastating kick that sent Chiaotzu crashing out of the ring.

“Winner: Mercenary Tao!” the referee announced as medics rushed to tend to the unconscious Chiaotzu.

Tien clenched his fists, his three eyes blazing with fury as he watched his friend being carried away. Tao smirked at him, making a slicing motion across his throat before walking off.

Elsewhere, the preliminaries saw surprising upsets. A young woman fought her way to the finals, her graceful but fierce fighting style drawing admiration from the crowd. She moved with a blend of speed and precision that left even seasoned fighters struggling to keep up.

Another contender, a bookish-looking man named Hero, bumbled his way into the finals with unassuming movements and lucky-seeming strikes. In one match, Hero defeated a disguised Yajirobe, sending the burly swordsman flying out of the ring with a seemingly accidental trip. The referee declared Hero the winner.

As the first round of eliminations wrapped up, the finalists began to assemble. Among them stood Goku, Yamcha, Krillin, Tien, the young woman, Hero, Mercenary Tao, and, lurking in the shadows, the enigmatic fighter known only as Junior.

Goku could sense the evil ki of Piccolo Jr. and he knew he would have to be the one to take him down. The two made brief eye contact before focusing on the next announcement.

While the rain had continued, the storm clouds parted just enough for the sun to cast a muted glow over the arena. Spectators huddled under umbrellas and makeshift coverings as the quarterfinal matches began on the main platform outside.

The first match was announced: Tien Shinhan versus Mercenary Tao.

“That same Mercenary Tao is all cyborg now,” Bulma said.

“I thought he was dead,” Master Roshi said, eyeing the assassin.

The crowd murmured as the two fighters stepped onto the platform. On one side, Tien is stoic and composed, his muscular frame and calm confidence drawing respect from onlookers. On the other, Mercenary Tao, his mechanical enhancements gleaming, his twisted smirk ready to kill.

Goku stood near the sidelines with Krillin, his arms crossed as he watched intently.

“Tien’s serious about this one,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “Tao hurt Chiaotzu earlier. He won’t let that slide.”

“Good,” Krillin muttered, clenching his fists. “That guy deserves it.”

On the platform, Tao sneered at Tien. “Still playing the noble hero, I see. How quaint. You’ve forgotten the ruthlessness Master Shen taught us, but don’t worry—I’ll remind you.”

Tien’s three eyes burned with cold determination. “You’re a disgrace to the Crane School, Tao. Today, it ends.”

The referee raised his hand. “Begin!”

Tao wasted no time, darting forward with mechanical speed throwing a barrage of strikes. Tien blocked and deflected with ease, his movements were fluid yet unyielding. The clash of his fist against Tien’s forearm echoed across the arena, drawing gasps from the crowd.

“You’re not bad,” Tao admitted, leaping back. “But let’s see how you handle this.”

With a sudden mechanical whir, a blade shot out from Tao’s robotic arm. He brandished the dagger with a wicked grin, pointing it at Tien.

“What?!” Bulma gasped from the sidelines.

“That’s dirty even for him!” Krillin growled.

“Tao is disqualified for the use of weapons in the tournament.”

“I’m here to kill you and that Goku; I don’t give a damn about this tournament!”

Goku’s eyes narrowed, his arms tightening across his chest. “Tien’s got this. He won’t lose his focus.”

“That’s a shame, Tao. I’ll be the one to humble you then.”

Tien didn’t flinch as Tao lunged at him with the blade, aiming for his chest. Instead, he sidestepped with lightning speed, grabbing Tao’s arm mid-strike. With a surge of strength, Tien twisted, forcing Tao to drop the dagger with a metallic clatter.

The crowd roared as Tien spun Tao around and delivered a powerful knee to his midsection, sending the mercenary skidding across the platform.

“You’ve relied too much on your gadgets, Tao,” Tien said. “You’ve forgotten what true strength is.”

Tao growled, staggering to his feet. “You’re just like that fool Goku. Let’s see how you handle this!”

Tao raised his remaining hand, charging a glowing red energy blast. But Tien was faster. In a blur, he closed the distance, slamming his palm into Tao’s chest with a thunderous impact.

The mercenary’s energy dissipated as he was lifted off his feet and launched out of the ring, crashing into the ground outside with a deafening thud.

The referee raised his hand. “Winner: Tien Shinhan!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, but Tien’s expression remained serious. He bowed respectfully to the audience, then turned and stepped off the platform, his focus already on the next match.

From the sidelines, Goku smiled. “I knew he’d win.”

“Yeah,” Krillin added, “but that was intense. Tao’s not gonna forget that anytime soon.”

As the crowd settled from the excitement of the last match, the announcer stepped forward.

“Ladies and gentlemen, our next quarterfinal match is here! Please welcome: Son Goku and… Anonymous Girl!”

Goku hopped onto the platform, his usual carefree grin lighting up his face. “Alright! I’ve been waiting for this!”

From the opposite side of the arena, a young woman stepped forward and moved with a purposeful stride.

Goku tilted his head, scratching it in confusion. “Hey, wait a minute… Do I know you?”

The girl stiffened, “You don’t remember me?!”

Bulma, watching from the sidelines, frowned. A gnawing sensation began to creep up her chest. Who was this girl, and why was Goku looking at her like that?

“Uh… should I remember you?” Goku asked, tilting his head innocently.

“Of course, you should!” the girl snapped, her frustration evident. “You promised to marry me, Goku! Have you forgotten everything?!”

The revelation sent a wave of shock through the arena.

Bulma’s face turned crimson, but not from embarrassment—this was anger. Marry her?! Her grip tightened around the railing as her teeth clenched. “What the heck is this about, Goku?” she hissed under her breath.

“Are you okay, Bulma? Your face is red.” Oolong said.

“Stupid…” Bulma was muttering curses under her breath.

“Never mind then…” Oolong inched away. He wanted no part in whatever was upsetting her.

Goku blinked, looking genuinely baffled. “Wait, what does ‘marry’ mean again? Is this because I said I wanted a bride? I thought that was food..?”

Bulma’s jaw dropped, and Krillin burst out laughing. “Oh man, this is priceless!”

The girl stomped her foot. “It means you made a promise to be with me forever! And now you’re just pretending you don’t remember?!”

From the sidelines, Yamcha smirked. “Classic Goku. Oblivious as ever.”

Bulma, meanwhile, looked like she was seconds away from storming the ring herself. Who does this random girl think she is?! And Goku—how can he be so clueless?! She has to be taking advantage of him.

The announcer, unfazed by the drama, raised his hand. “Alright, enough talk! Fighters, ready?”

“Uh?” Goku said, blinking in recognition. “Oh yeah?”

Chi-Chi’s eye twitched. “I’ll tell you my name if you beat me!”

The referee’s voice cut through the tension. “Begin!”

Chi-Chi lunged at Goku with surprising speed, her strikes sharp and precise. Goku, still confused, dodged easily but seemed hesitant to fight back.

“I was hoping you be a little stronger.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me, Goku!”

From the sidelines, Bulma’s hands curled into fists. She could barely contain her frustration as Chi-Chi attacked Goku.

“She’s showing off. That’s what this is. She’s just trying to impress him.”

“Goku, don’t just stand there! Fight back!” Bulma shouted, unable to keep silent any longer.

Goku glanced at her, looking puzzled. “But she’s mad about something, Bulma! I don’t get it!”

Chi-Chi froze mid-attack, glaring at Bulma. “Stay out of this! This is between me and Goku!”

Bulma’s eyes narrowed, “You’re lucky I’m not the one in that ring. I’d settle this real quick!”

Chi-Chi turned back to Goku, her voice trembling.

“Do you even care about what you promised me? Or was I just someone you forgot the second you left?”

Goku scratched his head, looking genuinely apologetic. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I guess I didn’t understand what I was saying back then, but if I made a promise, I’ll keep it.”

Chi-Chi’s fierce expression softened, her anger giving way to something more vulnerable. “You mean that?”

“Of course!” Goku said, his smile bright and sincere. “I always keep my promises.”

Bulma felt her stomach twist as Chi-Chi stepped back and lowered her guard.

“I forfeit,” Chi-Chi announced.

The crowd erupted in surprise.

Chi-Chi turned to Goku, “You’d better win this tournament, Goku. After that, we’ll talk about what comes next.”

Goku grinned, giving her a thumbs-up.

“Sure!”

“And the name is Chi-Chi.”

As Chi-Chi left the arena, Bulma’s simmering frustration was boiling. Master Roshi nudged her with a smirk.

“Jealous, Bulma?”

“Jealous? Of her?!” Bulma snapped. “Please. She can’t even throw a decent punch.”

But as she crossed her arms and turned away, a part of her couldn’t shake the gnawing worry that Chi-Chi might take away something—or someone—important to her.

As Goku walked back to the fighters' waiting area, his usual carefree demeanor intact, he was stopped mid-step by a firm grip on his wrist.

“Huh?” He looked over to see Bulma, her face was red.

“Come with me,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Goku blinked but didn’t resist as she pulled him away from the others, weaving through the crowd until they found a quieter corner near the outer edge of the arena. The sound of the roaring crowd and the next fight being announced faded into the background.

Bulma finally let go of his wrist and spun around to face him, her arms crossed and her foot tapping impatiently.

“Uh… Bulma? What’s up?” Goku asked, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“What’s up? What’s up?” Bulma’s voice dropped to a hiss, her eyes narrowing. “What was that back there? You promised to marry her?!”

Goku scratched the back of his head, his expression sheepish. “Oh, yeah, that. I guess I did. But I was a kid, and I didn’t really know what it meant. She looked upset, though, so I thought I should keep my word. That’s the right thing to do, right?”

Bulma’s jaw dropped.

“Goku, do you even understand what you just agreed to?”

“Not really,” Goku admitted with a shrug. “But Chi-Chi seems nice, and if I promised her, I should keep it. Isn’t that what friends do?”

Bulma’s hands flew up in exasperation. “This isn’t about friendship, Goku! Marriage is… it’s… it’s about spending your life with someone! Being their partner, their—” She stopped herself, her cheeks flushing as the words caught in her throat.

Goku tilted his head further. “Oh. So, like a teammate?”

“No!” Bulma nearly shouted, her frustration bubbling over. “It’s not about fighting or tournaments or anything like that! It’s…” She groaned, running her hands through her hair. “Never mind. Of course, you don’t get it. Why would you?”

Goku looked genuinely concerned now. “Bulma, are you okay? You’re acting kinda weird.”

Bulma let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Weird? Oh, sure, I’m the weird one. Not the guy who just casually agreed to marry someone because he doesn’t even know what it means!”

“Bulma…” Goku’s voice softened, and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?”

The sincerity in his voice made her anger falter. She looked up at him, his wide, innocent eyes filled with concern. He wasn’t trying to hurt her—he was just being Goku.

Bulma sighed, her shoulders slumping. “No, Goku. You didn’t do anything wrong. You just… you don’t understand how big a deal this is. That’s all.”

He nodded slowly as he tried to process her words.

“So, you’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Bulma said, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice. “I’m just… I’m worried about you, that’s all.”

“Worried? About me?”

She nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. You’re diving into something you don’t even understand, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Or to hurt someone else.”

Goku grinned, his confidence returning. “Don’t worry about me, Bulma. I’m tough! And Chi-Chi seems nice, so I’ll figure it out.”

Bulma opened her mouth to say something but stopped herself. What could she say? Goku had made up his mind in the simplest way possible, and trying to explain her feelings to him would only confuse him more.

“Yeah,” she said. “You’ll figure it out.”

As Goku turned to head back to the fighters’ area, Bulma stood there, watching him go. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as a swirl of emotions churned in her chest—frustration, sadness, and a pang of something she didn’t want to name.

How can he be so oblivious? she thought, biting her lip. And why does it bother me so much?

“Hey, Goku?”

Goku paused mid-step and turned to face her, "Yeah, Bulma?"

She hesitated, her mind racing to find the words. What was she even trying to say? What could she say that wouldn’t just bounce off his thick skull?

“Just… don’t do anything stupid, okay?” she finally said, crossing her arms to mask the vulnerability in her voice.

Goku blinked, “Stupid? Like what?”

Bulma groaned, running a hand down her face. “Ugh, never mind. Just… be careful. And don’t forget—when you win this whole thing, you owe me a favor!”

His grin widened. “Oh, sure! What kind of favor?”

“I’ll figure that out later,” she said. “Just win, alright?”

“You got it!” Goku gave her a thumbs-up, his energy as boundless as ever, before turning and jogging back to the waiting area.

As his figure disappeared, Bulma sighed, the weight of her unsaid feelings pressing down on her.

“Why does it have to be so hard?” she muttered to herself, kicking at a stray pebble on the ground.

She didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though. The roar of the crowd reminded her that the tournament was in full swing, and she wasn’t about to miss seeing Goku’s next fight—even if her heart ached in ways she wasn’t ready to admit.

With one last glance toward the fighters’ area, Bulma squared her shoulders and marched back to the stands, determined to cheer Goku on, no matter how complicated things felt inside.

Once she was settled back into her seat, she saw Krillin being escorted out of the ring by some medics. He had a match against that junior guy… But that was fast.

“What happened to Krillin, Roshi?”

“That Junior guy… he’s no ordinary fighter, Bulma. Took Krillin out with a single move. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Bulma’s heart sank as she looked down at the ring, where "Junior" stood, exuding an unsettling presence. He was calm, too calm for someone who had just effortlessly eliminated a seasoned martial artist like Krillin.

“That’s… that’s not normal,” she muttered, leaning forward. “Krillin’s tough. For him to go down so fast…”

“Junior’s strong, alright,” Roshi said, his voice low. “But there’s something else—something dark about him. It’s like he’s holding back, and even then, he’s terrifying.”

Bulma frowned, her eyes narrowing at the figure in the ring. “Goku’s going to fight him, isn’t he?”

Roshi nodded gravely. “If things keep going this way, it’s inevitable.”

Bulma clenched her fists, her earlier frustrations with Goku momentarily replaced by concern. “He has to win, Roshi. He has to. But… what if this Junior guy is too much, even for him?”

“Don’t underestimate Goku,” Roshi replied, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face despite the tension. “He’s faced impossible odds before, and somehow, he always pulls through. Still, we can’t deny that this might be his toughest challenge yet.”

Bulma sat back, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside her. If Goku was worried, he certainly didn’t show it, but she could feel the weight of this fight looming like a shadow over the tournament.

As the medics carried Krillin past her, she leaned down, calling out softly, “Hey, Krillin! Are you okay?”

Krillin winced but managed a weak thumbs-up. “I’ve… been better. That guy’s no joke, Bulma. Goku’s going to need everything he’s got to take him down.”

She nodded, her resolve hardening. “Well, he’ll have us cheering him on. He’s going to need it.”

Turning back to the ring, she watched as the next match was announced Hero versus Yamcha.

“I’m placing my bets on Yamcha,” Puar said.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less, my fuzzy friend. But that Hero guy looks like an oddball. I’m not even sure how he made it this far.”

Bulma rested her chin on her hand.

“Hero’s a strange one. He doesn’t look like much, but there’s got to be more to him if he made it to the quarterfinals.”

Puar floated above the railing, his little paws clenched. “Yamcha’s got this in the bag! He’s been training like crazy, and Hero doesn’t look like he could even throw a decent punch.”

“Don’t underestimate the weird ones,” Oolong chimed in, crossing his arms. “Remember that guy with the stretchy arms a few years ago? Everyone thought he was a pushover until he flattened half the competition.”

“Hero doesn’t even look that dangerous,” Bulma said, her tone skeptical. “But I guess we’re about to find out.”

Down in the ring, Yamcha cracked his knuckles and grinned at Hero. “Alright, buddy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Hero, an awkward-looking man with thick glasses and a timid posture, gave a nervous chuckle and scratched the back of his head. “Oh, I’m not sure I’ll do too well, but… I’ll try my best!”

The announcer raised his hand. “And… begin!”

Yamcha lunged forward, his movements sharp and precise as he launched a flurry of strikes at Hero. But Hero stumbled backward, seemingly by accident, dodging Yamcha’s attacks with an almost comedic level of clumsiness.

“What the..?” Yamcha muttered, stepping back to reassess.

Hero adjusted his glasses and smiled sheepishly. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I get in your way?”

The crowd laughed, and even Bulma couldn’t help but crack a smile. “What is this guy? A klutz or a genius?”

Puar’s ears twitched nervously, “Yamcha’s got him on the ropes, right? Right?”

Oolong shrugged, “Hard to say. Hero’s dodging everything like it’s dumb luck, but… is it luck?”

Yamcha narrowed his eyes, focusing his energy. “Alright, enough games!” He launched a powerful Kamehameha wave, aiming to finish the match.

Hero’s eyes widened, and he stumbled, tripping over his own feet just as the blast sailed over his head and exploded harmlessly against the arena wall. The force of the blast caused him to spin around before landing on his feet, still unscathed.

The crowd erupted in laughter and cheers, but Yamcha’s face was a mix of frustration and disbelief.

“Are you kidding me?!” Yamcha shouted.

Bulma shook her head, a grin tugging at her lips. “This guy’s either the luckiest fighter alive or the most annoying opponent Yamcha’s ever faced.”

Back in the ring, Hero adjusted his glasses again, his expression innocent. “Oh my, that was a close one! You’re good at this, Mr. Yamcha!”

Yamcha gritted his teeth. “Okay, no more holding back!”

The match continued, Yamcha pushing harder while Hero’s bumbling defense somehow kept him in the fight. Bulma leaned closer to the railing, captivated despite herself.

“I don’t know how, but this Hero guy is giving Yamcha a run for his money,” she murmured.

“Come on, Yamcha!” Puar cheered. “You’ve got this!”

As the match wore on, Hero’s seemingly unintentional moves began to feel less like luck and more like calculated precision. The crowd started to quiet, sensing there was more to this unassuming fighter than met the eye.

Bulma’s smile faded as she leaned back in her seat. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this…”

A moment later, Hero managed to push Yamacha out of the ring after a headshot to the latter’s crotch. Which garnered a resounding ouch from the crowd, especially the man who all witnessed it.

“And the winner is HERO!” The announcer raised the clumsy man’s hand. “With that folks, we will be proceeding to the semi-finals; with the first match being Son Goku vs Tien Shinhan.”

Bulma sat in stunned silence, her eyes wide as she processed what had just happened. The sound of the crowd’s collective gasp echoed in her ears as Hero stood in the ring, grinning awkwardly while Yamcha clutched his... well, his pride, slowly making his way out of the ring.

“Did that just happen?” Bulma muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. "What was that even... how did he—"

Oolong’s laughter broke her thoughts. “Oh man, that was priceless! Talk about a cheap shot!”

Puar, still hovering next to Bulma, winced. “I’m pretty sure Yamcha’s gonna be out of commission for the rest of the day… He’s got to be feeling that one for a while.”

Bulma's lips curled into a slight smirk despite herself. “Well, I guess Hero’s not as clumsy as he looks.” She quickly looked over at Goku, who seemed completely unfazed, like he hadn’t just watched his friend suffer.

“Looks like the next fight’s going to be interesting,” Bulma mumbled, eyeing the announcement board. “Goku vs Tien…”

The announcer’s voice boomed again, cutting through the buzz of the crowd. “And now, folks, the semi-finals! The first match will be Son Goku versus Tien Shinhan!”

Goku was already walking toward the arena with his trademark grin plastered on his face.

Bulma stood up in the stands, a lump forming in her throat as the two fighters prepared. She did not doubt that Goku would give it his all, but Tien was no slouch. She crossed her arms, trying to hide her growing concern, and whispered to herself, “Come on, Goku. You’ve got this…”

The announcer stepped back, signaling the start of the match.

“BEGIN!”

Goku immediately charged forward, using his speed to close the gap between them. Tien, ever the strategist, remained calm, dodging Goku’s attack with precise movements. But Goku was fast—so fast that even Tien had to take a step back to avoid being hit.

“Impressive,” Tien muttered, then took his stance, preparing to strike. “But speed alone won’t win you this fight, Goku.”

“How about we take this hand to hand then Tien? You think you can keep up with three eyes?” Goku taunted.

Tien’s eye twitched slightly, but he kept his cool.

“I don’t need any special tricks to defeat you, Goku.”

He darted forward, his movements quick and calculated. He aimed a series of rapid punches at Goku’s midsection and shoulders, each one aimed to test his defenses.

But Goku’s reaction was lightning-fast, parrying and dodging with ease. He was having fun now, his grin widening.

“Hey, not bad, Tien! You’ve gotten stronger!”

Tien’s third eye glinted with focus as he shifted his stance. Without warning, he leaped into the air, spinning to land a powerful kick aimed directly at Goku’s head.

Goku, however, was already moving. He deflected Tien’s foot, sending the fighter back a few paces; attacks like that were a specialty of Mr.Popo. Giving him an advantage on how to counter them from a similarly skilled opponent.

The crowd was on the edge of their seats, watching with bated breath. Each move between the two combatants seemed almost too fast to follow. Tien landed with a grunt, crouching low to the ground.

“I’m just getting started, Goku!” He thrust his hands forward, releasing a barrage of ki blasts aimed at Goku.

Goku didn’t flinch. He bounded into the air, dodging the blasts with a flip.

“Nice try!” he shouted, launching himself toward Tien once more.

But Tien wasn’t finished. As Goku approached, Tien used his third eye to anticipate his next move, turning to block Goku’s punch before it could land. The two fighters were now locked in a fierce struggle, neither one willing to give an inch.

Bulma watched from the stands, her heart racing with every move they made. Even though she’d seen Goku fight countless times, something about this match felt different. She caught the eye of Chi-Chi watching and cheering Goku on from her place in the stands and that only infuriated her more.

Tien narrowed his eyes. He was starting to get a feel for Goku’s movements, and his unorthodox style. With a sudden shift in momentum, he launched himself at Goku, aiming for a powerful series of strikes to his midsection. But Goku, always one step ahead, ducked and spun, using his speed to slip past Tien’s defenses.

With a burst of strength, Goku grabbed Tien’s arm and twisted it behind his back, applying pressure. The crowd gasped as it looked like Goku might be seconds away from securing a victory.

Tien gritted his teeth. “Not yet…” With a sudden counter, he flipped backward, using his third eye to pinpoint Goku’s next move. As he landed on his feet, Tien unleashed a devastating energy wave, sending a shockwave through the arena.

Goku was thrown back but quickly regained his balance, landing lightly on his feet. He was sweating now, but his smile only grew wider. “I knew you had more in you, Tien!”

The two fighters stood opposite each other, staring each other down. The rain picked back up and washed away the sweat the two had built.

Goku’s movements became increasingly fluid as the fight wore on, his body shifting with the precision of a seasoned martial artist. He was anticipating Tien’s moves before they even happened, his instincts honed from years of intense training. As Tien lunged for another series of strikes, Goku shifted his weight to the side, using the air’s resistance to his advantage. With a controlled flick of his foot, he dodged Tien’s punch by the narrowest of margins, feeling the rush of air past his cheek.

“I know what you’re doing, Tien,” Goku said, his eyes sharp as he watched Tien’s every move. “Trying to outsmart me with speed and strength. But you’ve got to be quicker than that!”

Tien's eyes narrowed, and with a sharp twist of his body, he disappeared in a blur of motion. Goku didn’t flinch, keeping his senses open. Clones?

A moment later, Tien reappeared in a flash, and suddenly, two more Tien Shinhan’s materialized beside him, all three attacking from different angles. The three figures struck at Goku in perfect synchronization.

“Nice try, Tien. But you can’t fool me with clones!”

He leaped into the air, using the shift of the air currents to propel himself upward. As he spun through the air, his senses heightened, allowing him to spot the subtle differences between the real Tien and his clones. The real one has a slight shift in his stance... Goku thought, observing the smallest detail. Plus, the weakness of the clones was their divided strength the more he made of them.

With a burst of speed, Goku dove straight at the real Tien, his fist raised high. The clones tried to intercept, but Goku was already past them. He reached out and grabbed Tien by the wrist before he could react, twisting his body and throwing him to the ground

Tien winced in pain, but before he could recover, he locked eyes with Goku.

Suddenly, Tien’s third eye glowed brighter, and he raised his arms dramatically. “Tri-Beam!” he shouted.

A massive burst of energy shot from Tien’s hands, expanding into a cone of intense light that blasted toward Goku. The air itself seemed to crackle with energy as the attack barreled forward, seeking to overwhelm Goku with its sheer power. The ground around the arena trembled under the force of Tien’s technique.

Goku’s eyes widened for a split second, sensing the immense energy behind the Tri-Beam. This was no ordinary attack. He could feel the strain Tien was putting on his body to maintain the technique—this was a high-risk move, and if Goku didn’t act quickly, it could be his downfall.

Goku’s instincts kicked in. He didn’t have the time to dodge in the traditional sense, and he wasn’t going to risk being caught in the blast. Instead, he planted his feet firmly on the ground, gathering his energy. Now’s my chance!

“Solar Flare!” Goku shouted.

In an instant, Goku unleashed a blinding flash of light, temporarily overwhelming the arena with brightness. Tien’s focus faltered, his eyes squinting from the sudden assault on his vision.

For that brief moment, Goku saw his opening. With Tien stunned, he blurred forward at lightning speed, his body a streak of motion. He darted around the remaining clones and headed straight for Tien. Before Tien could react, Goku landed a precise blow to his side, knocking the wind out of him.

Tien staggered back, struggling to regain his footing. But Goku wasn’t finished yet. With one final burst of energy, he leaped into the air and came crashing down with a powerful punch that sent Tien skidding across the ring. The impact caused the clones to fade into thin air, leaving only the real Tien standing.

Goku stood over him, chest heaving with the effort of the battle, but his face was as calm as ever. “Good match, Tien.”

Tien, bruised and battered, struggled to rise but he couldn’t. His breathing was labored, and the energy from his Tri-Beam had taken its toll. He gave Goku a nod of respect. “You’ve gotten even stronger, Goku... I can’t keep up with you anymore.”

Goku grinned, offering him a hand. “You did great, Tien! I’m proud of you.”

Tien took his hand with a slight smile, showing that, even in defeat, his respect for Goku hadn’t wavered.

“And with that,” the announcer called out, “Son Goku wins the match and advances to the finals!”

Goku returned to the fighters’ area, taking a seat on the bench with a curious expression as the next match was announced.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, the second match of the semi-finals: Hero versus Junior!”

The crowd roared with anticipation as Hero—a lanky man with glasses and an awkward posture—stepped into the ring. His opponent, Junior, moved with a quiet menace, his green skin and turban-clad head making him stand out starkly among the competitors. Goku’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the faint flicker of familiarity in Junior’s aura.

“That guy…” Goku muttered to himself, leaning forward.

“Something wrong, Goku?” Krillin asked, his face still pale from his earlier match against Junior.

Goku didn’t answer immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Junior as the demon-like fighter stepped into the arena. “It’s like I’ve felt his energy before… but I can’t put my finger on it.”

Krillin frowned. “Well, I’ll tell you one thing—he’s scary strong. Be careful if you end up facing him in the finals.”

The gong sounded, signaling the start of the match.

Hero shuffled awkwardly to the center of the ring, his hands raised in an almost apologetic gesture. “Well, uh… let’s have a good match, okay?” he said, his voice nervous but steady.

Junior said nothing, his cold, calculating eyes narrowing as he sized up Hero. With blinding speed, Junior launched forward, his fist aimed directly at Hero’s face.

To everyone’s shock—especially Goku’s—Hero ducked just in time, stumbling backward as Junior’s fist sailed past him. The crowd gasped at the display of agility, but Goku’s sharp eyes caught something else.

“Wait a second…” Goku murmured. “That wasn’t luck. He planned that.”

Junior didn’t give Hero any time to recover, launching into a relentless series of attacks. Each punch and kick was delivered with precision and power, but Hero dodged and deflected with surprising skill. To the untrained eye, it looked like Hero was barely managing to survive, but Goku noticed the subtle shifts in Hero’s movements.

“He’s baiting Junior,” Goku muttered, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What do you mean?” Tien asked, his arms crossed as he watched intently.

“Hero’s letting Junior think he’s clumsy, but he’s actually testing him, figuring out his moves. It’s smart.”

Back in the ring, Hero stumbled over his feet again, narrowly avoiding a devastating kick from Junior. The audience burst into laughter at Hero’s apparent ineptitude, but Junior wasn’t laughing. His eyes were narrowed, his frustration beginning to show.

“That’s enough games,” Junior growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t care who you are—you’re not walking away from this.”

Junior raised his hand, gathering energy into a glowing orb of ki. The air around the ring grew heavy with power as the green glow intensified. “Take this!” Junior roared, hurling the energy blast straight at Hero.

Hero’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and for a moment, it looked like he was frozen in place. But just before the blast hit, he leaped into the air with astonishing grace, flipping over the attack and landing behind Junior.

“What the—?” Junior spun around, but Hero was already moving.

With a sudden burst of speed, Hero charged forward, his clumsy demeanor gone. He struck Junior with a sharp kick to the side, sending the green fighter sliding backward across the ring.

Goku’s eyes widened in realization. “That’s not just any guy,” he said, his voice low.

“What do you mean?” Krillin asked.

“Hero’s been holding back this whole time. He’s not what he seems.”

Back in the ring, Junior wiped a trickle of blood from his lip, his eyes burning with fury. “You’ve been hiding your true power,” he hissed. “Who are you?”

Hero adjusted his glasses, his awkward smile returning. “Oh, just a guy trying his best,” he said, his tone light.

But Goku wasn’t fooled. As the match continued, his suspicions only grew. Hero’s movements, his strategy, and even his aura were too calculated to belong to an ordinary fighter.

The fight raged on, with Junior growing more aggressive and Hero continuing to evade and counter with precision. The crowd was on the edge of their seats, completely enthralled by the unlikely showdown.

“Hero’s not just some random guy,” Goku murmured to himself. “Those moves… and the way he’s analyzing Junior. I’ve only seen someone fight like that once before.”

Krillin, sitting nearby, raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about, Goku? He’s just some weird guy with surprising skills.”

“No,” Goku replied, his voice more certain now. “Hero’s not just weird—he’s someone powerful. Someone… familiar.”

Then it hit him. The subtle shifts in Hero’s stance, the calm but purposeful way he moved—it was a mirror of the techniques Kami had once demonstrated.

“That’s it!” Goku gasped, sitting upright. “Hero is Kami!”

Krillin’s jaw dropped.

“What? Kami? The Guardian of Earth? How’s that possible?”

“I don’t know why, but he must be using a disguise to compete,” Goku said, his gaze locked onto the ring. “And if he’s here, that means he’s got a reason… something big.”

As Goku spoke, the fight took a dramatic turn. Hero and Junior exchanged a flurry of blows, each strike faster and more intense than the last. Then, Hero abruptly leaped back, his glasses catching the light as he raised his hands.

“This ends now,” Hero said, his tone shifting to one of authority and power. The clumsy façade was gone. “Junior, your reign of terror ends here!”

Junior sneered, his eyes narrowing. “What are you babbling about, old fool?”

Hero brought his hands together in a specific formation, his energy surging. The crowd gasped as a swirling green vortex began to form between his palms.

“No way,” Goku whispered, recognizing the technique immediately. “The Evil Containment Wave!”

In the ring, Hero’s voice boomed with conviction. “By the power of the Guardian, I banish you to eternal imprisonment!”

The swirling vortex grew larger, its pull unmistakable. Junior’s eyes widened in shock as the wave began drawing him toward it. “What?! No! You think you can trap me?!”

Junior struggled against the force, his feet dragging across the ring as he resisted. But Hero pressed on, pouring every ounce of energy he had into the technique.

The vortex closed in, and Junior’s body began to distort, his essence pulled toward the green light. But then, with a sudden, terrifying shift, Junior’s expression hardened.

“You think you can defeat me with this pathetic move?!” he roared.

In a blinding burst of power, Junior raised his hands and reversed the vortex, the energy snapping back toward Hero. The crowd gasped as the Evil Containment Wave spiraled out of control.

“No!” Hero cried out, his energy turning against him.

With a final surge, the vortex sucked in Hero, but Kami freed the man’s body before he was sealed into the jar.

Junior sealed the bottle, laughing manically, as the thunder pronounced his features.

“You’re next, Goku. But I’ll be the one to kill you.”

The announcer was confused by all the happenings, “The winner is um Junior! We’ll take a short intermission folks before we commence the final fight.”

The crowd erupted into confused chatter as the thunder roared overhead, the rain cascading harder across the arena. Junior stood in the ring, his laughter echoing ominously as he held the sealed bottle high, his manic grin framed by streaks of lightning.

Goku watched from the sidelines, his fists clenching at his sides. “So, he really managed to reverse it,” he muttered under his breath. “Even Kami couldn’t stop him.”

Bulma, standing beside him, looked worried. “Goku, are you sure you can handle him? That guy… he’s not normal. And now he’s got Kami in that jar or whatever!”

“He doesn’t have Kami completely,” Goku said. “Kami freed the man’s body before he was sealed. That was his plan all along—to fight Junior head-on and weaken him enough for me to finish the job.”

Bulma’s brow furrowed as she glanced between Goku and the ring, where Junior was basking in the uneasy energy of the crowd. “This doesn’t feel like a normal tournament anymore,” she said softly.

“It isn’t,” Goku replied, his eyes locked on Junior. “This is way bigger than a title or prize money. If I lose, the whole world could be in danger.”

The announcer, drenched from the relentless rain, finally found his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, what an… unexpected turn of events! After that thrilling match, we’ll be taking a short intermission before the final fight of the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai: Junior versus Son Goku!”

The crowd’s cheers and murmurs filled the air as Junior stepped off the platform, his gaze locking with Goku’s. He raised the jar slightly as if taunting him, before turning toward the preparation area.

Goku’s jaw tightened, his determination growing with every step Junior took. “This is it,” he murmured, mostly to himself.

“Goku…” Bulma’s voice was softer now, her worry etched across her face.

He turned to her, his usual carefree smile surfacing despite the gravity of the situation. “Don’t worry, Bulma. I’ll win. I promise.”

She opened her mouth to respond but stopped herself. Instead, she gave him a firm nod, though the worry in her eyes lingered.

As the rain continued to pour, Goku turned and began walking toward the waiting area to prepare for the final battle. In his heart, he knew this was more than a fight—it was a battle for the fate of the Earth.

"So Piccolo is alive, Goku?" Krillin asked.

Tien stood quietly, trying to piece everything together.

Goku nodded as he explained, his voice steady but serious. "Yeah, Krillin. When I fought Piccolo years ago, he did something at the very end—right before I killed him. He spit out an egg. That egg hatched into Junior, his reincarnation or whatever you want to call it."

Krillin’s face contorted with worry, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by unease. "Man, that’s… that’s insane. So he planned for this? He knew he’d come back?"

Tien, arms crossed and silent until now, finally spoke up. "It makes sense. That explains why Junior’s energy feels so similar to Piccolo’s. I thought it was just me imagining things." His gaze hardened. "But this… this means Piccolo—or Junior, whatever—still has all of Piccolo’s memories and hatred, doesn’t it?"

Goku nodded again. "Yeah. He’s got everything. Piccolo’s strength, his techniques, and all of his plans to take over the world." Goku’s face darkened as he clenched his fists. "That’s why I can’t hold back. If I don’t stop him here, he’ll destroy everything."

Bulma, who had been quietly listening, finally interjected. "Goku, are you sure you’re ready for this? This isn’t just a tournament fight anymore. If you lose…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the dire implication unspoken.

"I won’t lose," Goku said firmly, meeting her worried gaze with unwavering confidence. "I’ve trained harder than ever, and I’ve gotten stronger. But more importantly, I know what’s at stake."

Krillin took a deep breath, trying to shake off his unease. "Well, we’re behind you, Goku. Just… be careful, okay? This guy doesn’t play by the rules."

"I know," Goku said, his determination evident in his voice. He turned his gaze toward the arena, where Junior stood off to the side, his sinister grin framed by the rain. "But neither do I when the world’s on the line."

As Goku turned to leave the group and prepare for the final match, Chi-Chi suddenly rushed forward, her arms outstretched. “Goku! Be careful out there! You can do it!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with concern and admiration.

Before she could wrap her arms around him, Goku sidestepped without even seeming to notice her intentions. His focus was razor-sharp, his mind already in the arena, thinking about the battle ahead. “Thanks, Chi-Chi,” he said absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on Junior, who stood across the ring, radiating malice.

Chi-Chi froze mid-step, her arms awkwardly hovering before she slowly let them drop, a mix of confusion and irritation crossing her face. “Uh, Goku?” she called out, trying to regain his attention.

But Goku was already walking away, his energy building as he prepared himself mentally and physically. His expression was resolute, every muscle in his body coiled and ready for the fight of his life. He didn’t seem to notice Chi-Chi’s disappointment—or if he did, he didn’t have the bandwidth to process it.

Bulma, standing nearby, couldn’t help but smirk at the scene, though there was an undertone of sympathy in her eyes. “Looks like someone’s got their priorities sorted,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she watched Goku’s determined strides.

Chi-Chi huffed, folding her arms. “He’s so… ugh! Typical Goku! Oblivious as ever!” she fumed, though her frustration was laced with affection.

Krillin tried to lighten the mood. “Well, you’ve gotta give him credit. When Goku’s got his mind on something, there’s no distracting him.”

“That’s an understatement,” Bulma added, shaking her head as she watched Goku step onto the rain-slicked arena platform. “But if anyone can handle that monster out there, it’s him.”

All eyes turned toward the ring as the announcer’s voice echoed through the stormy air, signaling the start of the final showdown.

Chi-Chi turned to Bulma, her hands on her hips, still bristling from Goku’s nonchalant brush-off. “I don’t know how you can stand there so calm while Goku’s about to fight for his life!”

Bulma arched an eyebrow, her own frustration bubbling just below the surface. “Oh, please. Goku’s been in tougher spots than this, Chi-Chi. Have a little faith in him. He’s not just some damsel in distress.”

“Of course, I have faith in him!” Chi-Chi shot back. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried! Unlike some people, I actually care about him!”

Bulma’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me? You think I don’t care? Who do you think made sure he had decent clothes when he came back from training with Kami? And who dragged him out shopping to teach him what cologne even is?”

Chi-Chi huffed, crossing her arms. “Oh, so you think buying him a few outfits means you care more than me? I’ve been dreaming of marrying Goku since we were kids! Do you even know what he likes to eat after a fight?”

Bulma smirked. “Let me guess—everything? Goku’s about as picky about food as he is about social cues.”

“That’s not the point!” Chi-Chi yelled, her cheeks red with frustration. “I’m the one he promised to marry! Not you!”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like he even knows what marriage means,” Bulma retorted, jabbing a finger at Chi-Chi. “He probably thinks it’s some kind of sparring technique.”

Krillin, sensing a brewing storm, slowly edged away, muttering, “Oh no. I am not getting involved in this…”

Meanwhile, Tien stood nearby, observing with an expression of mild disbelief. “How is this even a conversation? Shouldn’t we be focused on the fight?”

“Face it, Chi-Chi. Goku would be better off marrying me. We already spend so much time together; it’s like we’re practically married anyway.”

Chi-Chi’s jaw dropped, her eyes blazing. “What did you just say? You think Goku should marry you?”

Bulma shrugged nonchalantly. “Why not? I mean, we’ve been through everything together—adventures, battles, tournaments. I’m the one who’s always had his back, patched him up, and made sure he’s ready for whatever crazy thing comes next.”

Chi-Chi stepped closer, pointing a finger at Bulma. “You don’t get it, do you? Marriage isn’t about dragging someone around on shopping trips or fixing their clothes! It’s about love, loyalty, and building a life together. You think Goku even sees you that way?”

Bulma leaned forward, unfazed by Chi-Chi’s intensity. “Oh, and you think he gets what marriage is? The only thing Goku loves more than fighting is food. You’re dreaming if you think he’s ready for white picket fences and romantic dinners.”

“I’m not expecting that!” Chi-Chi snapped. “I just know he’ll figure it out, with me. I’ve been in love with him since we were kids, and I’m not going to let someone like you swoop in and confuse him!”

Bulma laughed. “Confuse him? Chi-Chi, sweetie, Goku’s confused 90% of the time. That’s just his default setting. But at least I understand how to talk to him without scaring him off with all this ‘marriage’ stuff.”

“You don’t scare him off?” Chi-Chi countered. “You’re bossier than a drill sergeant! I bet Goku would rather fight Junior blindfolded than go on another one of your shopping trips!”

“Oh, please,” Bulma shot back, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Goku loves hanging out with me. I keep things exciting and fun. I don’t pressure him like some people.”

Their voices grew louder, catching the attention of the crowd nearby. Krillin and Yamcha exchanged glances, inching further away.

“She’s really going for it,” Krillin whispered.

“Yeah, but this feels like a fight Goku would not want to be a part of,” Yamcha muttered.

Meanwhile, Goku, still blissfully unaware of the storm brewing between the two women, sat in quiet focus near the ring, mentally preparing for his upcoming battle.

Back in the stands, Chi-Chi finally threw her hands up in exasperation. “Fine! You keep telling yourself that you’re closer to Goku. But when he wins this tournament, he’ll come back to me, because I’m the one he promised to marry!”

Bulma huffed, crossing her arms. “We’ll see about that, Chi-Chi. Don’t be surprised if he ends up realizing he’s better off with someone who’s always been by his side.”

“Oh, and one more thing, Chi-Chi. I’ve already kissed Goku before. So maybe you should think twice before claiming you’re the one he’s going to marry.”

Chi-Chi’s eyes widened in shock, her face turning crimson. “You what?! When did that happen?!”

Bulma shrugged casually, enjoying the reaction. “Oh, you know… here and there. Let’s just say Goku and I have a special bond you wouldn’t understand.”

Chi-Chi clenched her fists, her voice rising. “That doesn’t mean anything! A kiss doesn’t decide a marriage! Goku promised me, and I’m holding him to it!”

Bulma smirked. “Sure, Chi-Chi. Keep telling yourself that. But you know what? Since we’re both so convinced, why don’t we let Goku decide after the tournament? We’ll ask him who he wants to marry—if he even understands what that means.”

Chi-Chi’s glare could have cut steel. “Fine! But don’t come crying to me when he picks me.”

“Crying? Over you? Please.” Bulma rolled her eyes and turned away, arms crossed. “You’d better be ready to lose.”

Krillin and Yamcha, who had been eavesdropping from a safe distance, exchanged uneasy glances.

“This is getting intense,” Krillin muttered under his breath. “Poor Goku’s gonna have no idea what hit him.”

“Yeah,” Yamcha agreed, grimacing. “You think they’re going to ask him this right after he fights Junior? That’s gonna be… a lot.”

As the intermission ended and the crowd’s chatter grew louder, Bulma and Chi-Chi sat back down, each silently fuming. Both women cast occasional glances toward Goku, who was still sitting in quiet concentration, entirely unaware of the drama brewing between them.

The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena. “Ladies and gentlemen! The moment you’ve all been waiting for—the final match of the 23rd Tenkaichi Budokai! Son Goku versus Junior!”

“I hate to tell you this Junior. But I’m not losing today.”

"You'll be taking those words to the afterlife, Goku! This arena will be your grave."

The air shimmered as Goku moved first, launching himself at Junior with a burst of speed. His fist shot out like lightning, aiming straight for Junior’s head. But Junior was faster—his body weaving around Goku’s strike with impressive agility. Goku quickly pivoted, twisting his body in mid-air to strike with a roundhouse kick, but Junior blocked it, his arms raised in a perfect guard.

The two exchanged blows in rapid succession. Goku’s fists came faster than lightning, but Junior’s counterattacks were like a well-tuned machine. Each time Goku thought he saw an opening, Junior was there, shifting his stance, adapting to the flow of the fight. The sound of their fists clashing echoed through the arena with brutal force, each strike making the ground tremble.

Goku’s eyes locked on Junior’s movements, feeling the subtle shifts in the air with each punch, each step. Junior’s power was incredible—his body was honed from years of combat, and his strength was no joke. But Goku had fought through worse, and this battle felt like a dance. A high-speed game of cat and mouse.

Junior threw a wild left hook, and Goku ducked just in time, the punch narrowly grazing his cheek. He twisted his body, using his momentum to propel himself upward and behind Junior. With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a Ki blast, sending a wave of energy toward Junior’s back. Junior twisted in the air, avoiding the blast with an acrobatic flip.

"Nice try," Junior smirked, but Goku was already closing the distance.

This time, Goku’s moves were more in sync, and more calculated. He feinted a punch to Junior’s face, watching as Junior brought his arms up to block, then quickly shifted his weight to deliver a low kick that swept Junior off his feet. Junior hit the ground hard, but before Goku could capitalize, Junior rolled and sprung back up with a surprising speed, his eyes burning with fury.

“You think you can win, Goku? I’m not some weakling!” Junior roared, his aura flaring as his body seemed to surge with power. He moved with such speed that Goku could barely track his movements. Junior’s fists came in rapid succession, each one aimed with deadly intent.

Goku’s body responded on instinct. He twisted his torso to the side, narrowly avoiding one punch, then slid beneath another, countering with a jab to Junior’s ribs. But Junior didn’t stagger—he absorbed the blow, turning it into an opening to launch a brutal knee strike to Goku’s chest. The impact rattled Goku’s bones, but he grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline.

"Is that all you’ve got?" Goku taunted, pushing through the pain.

Junior didn’t reply. Instead, he let out a battle cry and slammed his fist into the ground. The shockwave of energy radiated outward, sending a ripple through the air. Goku’s legs planted into the earth as the shockwave threatened to knock him off balance.

But he wasn’t going to be distracted. In one smooth motion, he used the shift of air around him to propel himself upward, launching himself into the air to gain an advantage. As Junior charged at him with a flurry of punches, Goku spun in the air, using his Ki to control his descent. With a powerful kick, he propelled himself downward at high speed.

Junior’s eyes widened as Goku's foot slammed into his chest with the force of a wrecking ball. The blow knocked the wind out of him, but before Junior could fall to the ground, Goku twisted in mid-air, using his legs to flip and land behind him.

Goku planted his feet and, in a flash, charged up a massive Kamehameha, aiming it directly at Junior. Junior was fast, but Goku was faster—he fired the blast with perfect precision, the blast of energy engulfing the space between them.

But Junior wasn’t done. With an almost feral roar, he activated his own Ki, deflecting the blast with a huge energy barrier, but the force of the blast sent him skidding backward. His breathing became labored, his body shaking from the exertion.

This was the opening Goku had been waiting for. He shot forward with blinding speed, his fists a blur as he aimed a series of punishing blows to Junior’s torso. Each hit landed with a sickening thud until Junior could no longer keep up. With one final, overwhelming punch, Goku sent Junior crashing to the ground, his body skidding across the arena.

Goku stood tall, panting, his heart racing from the exhilaration of the fight. Junior lay on the ground, groaning, unable to rise.

“The game is over, Junior,” Goku said.

The air crackled with malicious energy, and the color of the sky seemed to darken in response. The crowd fell silent as the transformation continued—Junior’s form swelled with muscle, his features sharpening into something more monstrous. His once youthful face twisted into a sneer, his aura burning with the same vile energy that had once made King Piccolo a terror to the world.

“Says who!? That fear you made me feel will be returned ten-fold,” Junior spat, his voice now deep and guttural, a dark echo of King Piccolo’s own.

Goku’s eyes sharpened as the demon-like power flooded the arena. His heartbeat echoed in his ears, the vibrations of the world around him making him feel both exhilarated and challenged. This was more than just a fight—it was a test of everything he had learned.

"W-What! You’re huge!" Goku gasped, his eyes scanning Junior's new form. He wasn’t just a step up—this was a completely different level of strength. His limbs were thick, veins bulging under his skin as if his power had been unleashed to an entirely new degree. The aura radiating from him was like nothing Goku had ever felt before.

The ground under Junior’s feet cracked, a deep fissure forming where his energy slammed into the earth. He lifted his head, glaring at Goku with eyes filled with cold, malevolent rage. With a low growl, he stretched his arms out to the sky, cracking his knuckles, and then lowered them into a fighting stance. Every movement he made felt like it would tear the very fabric of reality.

Goku clenched his fists, his body surging with power. "Okay, then. I’ll just have to push harder."

The air around him rippled as his muscles tensed, his aura flaring to life in response. He could feel the weight of the battle in his bones—the pressure was immense, but Goku thrived in moments like this. It wasn’t just about physical strength; it was about pushing through the limits of what he thought was possible.

“Everyone get out of here now!” Goku shouted to his friends who were the only remaining watchers, beside the announcer himself.

“They’ll be joining you in the afterlife right after I finish torturing you insignificant maggot.”

Junior’s roar pierced the air as he charged forward, his new size giving him immense strength and speed. His massive fist barreled toward Goku, who narrowly dodged to the side, feeling the wind of the attack brush past him. Goku retaliated, launching himself forward with a powerful knee aimed at Junior’s ribs.

The impact was enough to shake the air, but Junior barely flinched. Instead, he swung his arm around, catching Goku in mid-air and slamming him into the ground with bone-crushing force. Goku grunted as the wind was knocked from his lungs, but within moments, he was back on his feet, his body already healing, his mind locked in focus.

"You’re strong, Junior. But I won’t lose," Goku muttered, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip.

Junior’s laugh was low, mocking. "You can't stop me. This power is beyond your reach. No one can defeat me now."

But Goku wasn’t so sure. He knew there had to be a way to break through Junior’s defense—he had fought opponents with immense power before, and he had always found a way to win. This time would be no different.

Junior’s enormous fist swung again, and Goku leaped into the air, narrowly avoiding the blow. As Junior’s arm swiped through the air, Goku shifted his weight, darting to the side with a burst of speed and launching a powerful ki blast directly at Junior’s face.

The explosion was deafening, and the shockwave of energy rippled across the arena, but Junior simply absorbed the blast, his body undeterred. His eyes flared, and he raised his hand, preparing to unleash a devastating counterattack.

"Nice try, Goku. But now you’ll feel the full force of the Demon King!" Junior growled, his hand crackling with dark energy.

Goku gritted his teeth, determination burning in his eyes. He couldn’t afford to hold back now. Junior had grown stronger, but so had he. With a roar, Goku gathered every ounce of energy he could, his entire body brimming with the power of the Great Ape. The ki surged, turning his form into a blur of motion.

In an instant, Goku disappeared from Junior’s line of sight, reappearing behind him in a flash. He slammed his elbow into Junior’s back with a force that sent shockwaves through the air, but Junior’s monstrous form absorbed the blow.

Goku didn’t let up. With incredible precision, he moved from one attack to the next, throwing jabs and ki blasts in quick succession. His movements were fluid, almost instinctual, his every action designed to outpace Junior’s overwhelming power. But no matter how hard Goku tried, Junior kept coming back—his strength and regeneration made him nearly impossible to defeat.

Goku narrowed his eyes. He needed to finish this—before Junior could truly unleash the full extent of his power. With a deep breath, Goku planted his feet firmly, focusing every ounce of his energy into one final move.

"Ka...me...ha...me...HA!" The blast of energy tore through the arena, a massive wave of light and destruction. Goku’s beam shot forward, faster than anything Junior had seen.

For a split second, Junior’s face twisted in shock. His body trembled as he tried to block the wave, before he let out a burst of maniacal laughter, as he grew once more; this time the size of a volcano.

"You won’t be killing me. Give up and I’ll make your death quick!" Junior roared, his voice rumbling like an earthquake.

But Goku’s eyes sparkled with determination. This was it—the opening he had been waiting for. He had to act fast, and there was only one way to end this. Goku’s body tensed as he shot forward, moving with a blinding speed toward Junior’s massive form.

Before Junior could react, Goku leaped into the air, aiming straight for the gaping maw of the demon’s mouth. His muscles burned as he rocketed toward the opening, his every sense focused on his target. Junior’s eyes widened in disbelief, and with a guttural roar, he tried to slam his jaws shut.

But it was too late.

Goku shot into the darkness of Junior’s throat like an unstoppable force, his fists pounding the walls of his insides with a relentless barrage of strikes. Each blow shook the monster’s core, causing Junior to stagger, his massive body reeling from the pain. The pressure around Goku's body was suffocating, but he pressed on, each punch and kick directed at the inner walls of Junior’s throat.

"Come on, Junior. You’re not as tough inside, are you?" Goku taunted, his voice muffled by the thick walls of flesh surrounding him.

Junior’s roar turned to a choking cough, his body buckling as he staggered from the onslaught. The pressure Goku was exerting from the inside was enough to force the demon to heave, his stomach twisting in agony.

With a final, powerful punch, Goku struck deep into Junior’s gut, causing the giant to heave violently. Junior’s mouth opened in a deafening scream, and with a final surge of energy, Goku forced him to vomit the bottle that contained Kami—sending it flying out of his mouth.

Kami’s bottle flew through the air, landing safely on the arena floor. Goku wasted no time. He shot out of Junior’s mouth in a flash, landing gracefully on the ground with the bottle in hand. As he stood, his chest heaving, he saw Junior wobble, his form beginning to shrink back down to its original size, his energy draining from the intense internal assault.

He quickly grabbed the bottle, tossing it to Tien who released the cap that freed Kami.

Kami emerged from the bottle, his weary but grateful gaze landing on Goku. The Namekian’s expression softened as he placed a hand over his chest, taking a deep breath of fresh air. “Thank you, Goku. You’ve saved me once more,” Kami said, his voice hoarse but sincere.

Goku, still panting from the intense battle, simply grinned. “No problem, Kami. Glad I could help.”

Tien, watching the scene unfold, was quick to act. “We need to finish this fight now,” he said, his tone serious. His eyes locked onto Junior, who was still stumbling, his monstrous form now returning to its original size, but significantly weakened. The once towering threat was now a mere shadow of its former self, drained from Goku’s assault.

Junior’s rage-filled the arena as he growled, clutching his stomach and glaring at Goku. His voice was low, dripping with venom. “You think you’ve won? This is far from over.”

But Goku wasn’t fazed. His stance was calm, and despite the energy he had expended, his confidence radiated. “You really should have stayed down,” he said with a smirk, eyes narrowing in focus. “You’re not the first to try and take over Earth. You won’t be the last, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you succeed.”

Junior, struggling to stand, snarled, attempting to gather what was left of his power. His aura flickered weakly, barely holding up against the assault he’d just endured. He looked up at Goku, his eyes burning with the same hatred and ambition that had fueled his ancestor, King Piccolo.

“You will regret this, Goku,” Junior spat, “I’ll make sure of it.”

But Goku’s expression remained unshaken. “Let’s end this.”

“So be it, Goku.”

Junior concentrated all of his ki into his body, as the ruins of the arena and surroundings shook and trembled. He was going to annihilate everything into oblivion. In one massive explosive wave.

The ground beneath their feet trembled, and the air crackled with raw, unstable energy as Junior gathered his power. His body glowed an ominous green, his aura expanding violently, threatening to consume everything around him. His eyes glared at Goku with the intensity of a dying star, a final, desperate attempt to end it all.

"You won't be able to stop this, Goku!" Junior snarled, his voice thick with rage. "I’ll tear this world apart with my final attack. You should have stayed down!"

Goku’s eyes narrowed, watching his opponent’s movements with sharp focus. "Not if I can help it, Junior." He immediately turned to the stands, where his friends and spectators were still recovering from the chaos of the previous fight.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” Goku yelled, his voice ringing through the air. “He’s going to blow! RUN!”

Bulma, Krillin, Tien, and the others froze, their eyes wide with disbelief. The air around them vibrated as the immense energy began to swell.

“Goku…” Bulma’s voice shook, her eyes locked on him. “What are you—”

“There’s no time! GO NOW!” Goku shouted, his urgency cutting through the panic in the air.

Krillin, who had been by Goku’s side through countless battles, didn’t hesitate. "Come on, everyone! We have to get out of here, NOW!" He grabbed Bulma’s arm, pulling her away from the danger zone, his eyes darting around to usher the others to safety as they all jumped into a ki-made hole.

Tien and Chiaotzu followed swiftly, leaping into the air, as they knew the blast was going to be something catastrophic. The last thing they needed was to be caught in the middle of it.

Meanwhile, Goku stood firm, his feet planted on the ground, his eyes never leaving Junior. The massive ki wave was beginning to build, swirling with an unearthly force, as the energy inside Junior reached an all-consuming point.

Junior raised his arms, the sphere of energy growing more unstable with each passing second. "DIE, GOKU!" he roared, releasing the devastating wave with all his might.

Goku, undeterred by the overwhelming power, pushed his energy to the limit.

“I’m sorry, Bulma. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my promise, this time.”

He wrapped his tail around his waist, crossing his arms into a guarded resistance.

“This is the end for all of you!” Junior shouted. “This world shall be ruled by me, the new demon king.”

Goku’s body was pushed back by the force of the blast, his arms straining against the massive surge of energy. The world seemed to tremble around him, the sound of Junior’s explosion ringing in his ears like a thunderclap. His muscles screamed from the intensity, but his resolve remained unshaken. He clenched his teeth, his body fighting to resist the overwhelming force pressing down on him.

His thoughts drifted, just for a moment, to Bulma. I’m sorry. I promised I’d protect you… he thought, gritting his teeth as the shockwave pushed him further back. He could feel his body protesting, the raw energy pulling at his very soul. But I won’t let him win. Not after everything we've been through.

The air around him was thick with the power of the blast, as it cracked and splintered the earth beneath his feet. Goku struggled to maintain his footing, every fiber of his being pushed to its absolute limit. His energy, his heart, everything focused on stopping Junior’s destructive wave.

But despite his best efforts, Junior’s energy was overwhelming. Goku felt the pressure intensify, his body starting to give under the force of the attack. The light from the explosion flooded everything, blinding him for a split second.

No... I won’t give in, Goku thought, focusing all of his remaining power into one final act of defiance. His tail wrapped tighter around his waist, and with a primal roar he coated himself with ki; the faint aura of the Great Ape shielding him, as the explosion reached its critical mass.

Once the explosion died down, Junior stared bug-eyed at Goku who was still standing.

“Y-You!”

Goku didn’t say a word, he rushed down the weakened Junior with body-breaking blows; his fists crashing into Junior’s chest with each strike, the force of his punches shaking the very earth beneath them. The ground cracked under the pressure, dust, and debris swirling around them like a storm. Junior staggered back, his body struggling to stay upright as Goku relentlessly assaulted him, not giving him a chance to recover.

“This ends now,” Goku growled, his voice a low, determined growl as he hammered down on Junior’s defenses. Each blow was precise, filled with everything he had left. His muscles screamed in protest, his body battered from the earlier blast, but his will remained unbroken.

Junior’s attempts to fight back were feeble at best. He tried to block, but Goku’s relentless barrage was too much. Every punch seemed to rattle him more than the last, his once formidable aura now flickering as his strength drained away. Goku’s attack was merciless, each strike a message that this fight was over.

With one final, earth-shattering punch, Goku’s fist connected with Junior’s chest, sending him flying backward, his body crashing into the arena wall with a resounding crash. The dust from the impact settled slowly, leaving Junior’s form crumpled against the wreckage, his power completely extinguished.

Goku stood tall, his chest rising and falling as he panted heavily. His limbs trembled with exhaustion, but his determination had carried him through. He looked down at his defeated opponent, his expression calm but resolute. Junior's aura was gone, snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

The arena was silent for a moment, the dust still hanging in the air like a thick fog. Then, slowly, the cheering began. It started as a faint rumble, but it quickly grew into an overwhelming roar of applause as the spectators realized what had just happened.

Goku’s knees buckled slightly as the adrenaline left his body, but he stood tall. His heart was still racing, but there was no fear, no regret. He had won, not just for himself, but for his friends, for the world.

“Count it.”

“Right!” The announcer began his count, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!” but a sudden scream stopped him.

Goku’s right side of his chest now had a hole in it.

Junior emerged from his own position, “You got too cocky, boy.”

He slinked closer, standing over the downed Goku.

“First your right leg,” Junior shot a concentrated blast of ki through the leg.

“Then the left.”

Another blast went through the left leg.

Goku screamed as the demon continued his torture, disabling his body.

“Keep screaming,” Junior shot one last beam through the left side of his chest. “Because the squealing pain will make this all the more enjoyable. I’ll be depriving you of your life now.”

Junior floated into the sky, as he charged up another blast. The final one is to kill Goku permanently.

Bulma had tears in her eyes, as she saw the state Goku was in. The cries he had left out, as she was helpless to protect the man.

Bulma’s heart raced as she watched Goku, the person she cared for more than anything, suffering right before her eyes. His body was riddled with injuries, his once-strong frame now crumpled and broken under Junior’s brutal assault. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as frustration, anger, and helplessness coursed through her. She wanted to run to him, to do something—anything—to stop this, but the arena felt miles away, and she was frozen in place.

“Goku, no…” she whispered, her voice shaking. Tears threatened to fall, but she refused to let them. Not yet. She couldn’t give up on him.

In the ring, Junior floated high above Goku, the sadistic grin never leaving his face. The blast he was charging up was pure malice—designed to obliterate everything in its path, to finish what he started. Junior’s hands were glowing with deadly energy, the air crackling with power as he prepared to unleash his final strike.

“This is it, Goku,” Junior sneered, his voice filled with venom. “You were a fool to think you could defeat me. The Demon King’s blood flows through my veins, and I will be the one to end you.”

Goku’s body shook as the pain intensified, but his will, his spirit, remained unbroken. His eyes flickered with determination, even as his strength was fading. He struggled to rise, his body fighting against the overwhelming exhaustion and the searing pain that coursed through him.

Junior’s eyes narrowed. “You still have the nerve to look at me like that?”

“Goku...” Bulma’s voice trembled as she stepped forward from the stands, her legs barely able to carry her, but driven by the need to be with him, to help. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as the situation grew more dire.

Suddenly, Goku’s lips curled into a small, defiant smile. His voice was weak but steady. “You... won’t win, Junior...”

Junior’s expression darkened, his hand raised, ready to unleash the final blast. “You’re too weak to stop me. You’re already dead.”

But as the energy crackled in his hands, a strange feeling began to stir inside Goku—something that had always been there, deep down. A spark of power, of will. The same spark that had carried him through countless battles before.

“I won’t... let you win...” Goku murmured under his breath, his hands trembling as he summoned what little energy he had left.

The blast from Junior’s attack hit the ground where Goku had been, but Goku was nowhere to be found. The air was thick with tension, and the crowd gasped in disbelief. A moment of silence filled the arena, and Bulma collapsed to her knees, her hands over her mouth as she stared at the space where Goku had once been.

“No... no... Goku...” Her voice broke as her hope faltered.

But then, a figure emerged from the cloud of dust—Goku, soaring into the air. He had done it. He was flying. His legs were barely able to hold him, but the joy of breaking through his limits, of achieving what he’d been striving for all this time, fueled him like nothing else.

“He’s... he’s alive!” Krillin shouted, his face lighting up in surprise.

“Is that... is that Goku flying?!” Chi-Chi gasped, barely believing her own eyes.

Goku didn’t say a word, but he knew that this was a moment of triumph—a moment he’d been working toward since the day he first began training. The realization that he had finally achieved flight, something that had once seemed impossible, hit him with the force of a storm.

Without wasting a second, Goku aimed his body downward, gathering every last shred of his energy, and shot toward Junior like a homing missile. He barreled through the air with such speed that the wind itself seemed to part for him. His body collided with Junior’s chest in a brutal impact, sending the demon king’s body crashing to the ground, unconscious and completely defeated.

The arena fell silent as the dust settled. Goku lay on the ground next to his fallen foe, panting heavily, his chest heaving with the remnants of his battle. His body was battered, his clothes tattered, but his spirit was unyielding.

Goku had won.

“Son Goku is the new world martial arts champion!” The announcer shouted.

His friends erupted into a frenzy of cheers, but Goku could barely hear them over the ringing in his ears. His head swam, his vision blurred, and all he could focus on was the feeling of exhaustion that had consumed him. He had done what he promised. He had saved everyone.

Bulma rushed to his side, her eyes wide with worry and relief as she knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she touched his injured body.

“You did it, Goku,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “You did it.”

Goku gave her a weak smile, his eyes barely open. “I... couldn’t... let you down...”

“Goku, you were amazing!” Chi-Chi said.

He glanced up at her, his smile still there despite his exhaustion. “Yeah... I did it, Chi-Chi.”

Before any of them could say anything else, the sound of hurried footsteps approached. Yamcha, Krillin, and the others appeared, their faces filled with concern.

“We’ve got to get you to a hospital, Goku,” Yamcha said, his voice strained with worry. “You’ve taken too much damage.”

But before Goku could respond, a familiar voice interrupted the moment.

“No need for that.”

Everyone turned, startled, as Yajirobe appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He was grinning, holding something small in his hand.

“Yajirobe?!” Krillin exclaimed, a bit confused but relieved at the sight of their friend.

“That's me,” Yajirobe said with a smirk, his voice always carrying a tone of confidence, even in the middle of a crisis. He stood next to Goku, offering him a small bean. “Eat this Senzu bean and you’ll be back to 100%. No hospital needed.”

Goku’s expression lit up at the sight of the bean, and despite his exhaustion, he took it without hesitation. He chewed and swallowed quickly, the effects almost immediate. The weariness in his body seemed to vanish as his energy surged back, his wounds healing rapidly.

Bulma watched in awe, her eyes widening as Goku's bruises faded and his energy returned.

“Wow... Senzu beans really are amazing,” she muttered a sense of wonder in her voice.

Goku stretched and flexed his arms, the feeling of vitality returning with a renewed sense of strength. He grinned up at Yajirobe.

“Thanks, buddy. That’s a lifesaver.”

“No problem,” Yajirobe shrugged, his grin never fading. “Just doing my part.”

“Looks like we’re all good, huh? Let’s get this celebration started.”

Bulma, still in shock at how quickly Goku recovered, couldn’t help but laugh. She reached out to gently tap his arm, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“You really know how to give us a scare, don’t you?”

Goku gave her a playful wink. “I’m just keeping things interesting.”

There was one more thing, however, Goku rushed to stop Kami from killing Junior.

“You can’t kill him, Kami. If you die, then the Dragon Balls will disappear too.”

Kami paused, his hand hovering just above Junior, his eyes narrowing with internal conflict. The urge to end the demon's life—once and for all—was strong, but Goku’s words struck a deep chord within him.

“You’re right, Goku,” Kami said. “But you saw what he’s capable of. If I let him live, he’ll only bring destruction again. The world has suffered enough from the Piccolo bloodline.”

“I understand, Kami. But if you kill him, then the Dragon Balls will be gone forever. And so will you. That’s something we can’t afford to lose. Maybe there’s another way—maybe we can find a way to stop him without resorting to death.”

Kami’s expression softened, his eyes switching from Goku to the now-weakened Junior, still barely able to move after Goku’s intense assault.

“And what do you propose we do with him?”

Goku glanced back at Junior, who was lying on the ground, his body too damaged to escape, but the fire of hatred still burned in his eyes.

“We lock him away. He can’t hurt anyone if he’s contained. Maybe even... give him a chance to change. I don’t know. I just feel like we should try something else, before taking his life.”

Kami’s gaze darkened, a conflicted expression crossing his face as he looked at Junior. The thought of sparing someone who had caused so much destruction seemed impossible, yet Goku’s words carried weight. He had seen the boy’s potential for growth, despite the chaos Piccolo had caused. Kami took a deep breath, his decision weighing heavily on him.

“You’re asking a lot, Goku,” Kami said, his voice soft but firm. “But I trust you. We’ll find another way.”

With that, Kami lowered his hand, releasing the pressure that had been building around Junior. The once-threatening demon remained on the ground, his power now dwindling, and the world watched in silence.

“Without the Dragon Balls, Goku and the others would have never met. Or even grown as much as they have these past few years; if you didn’t make these balls. Because of the one ball you forged many lives have been saved.” Master Roshi said.

Kami nodded, “You are an excellent teacher. I’m glad that Goku learned from you too.”

Goku nodded, relief flooding his body. “Thanks, Kami. I knew you’d see reason.”

“And one more thing,” Kami raised his hand, restoring Goku’s gi with the symbol of the turtle. “You had a good master and a great heart that allows you to do the impossible.”

Junior, still seething with anger, glared at Goku, but his movements were sluggish and weak. He realized the fight was over, and his chance to bring about his reign of terror had come to an end.

Goku fed a Senzu bean to Junior, which immediately rejuvenated him.

“You’re a fool and mercy will be your downfall. One day, I’ll be back and I’ll take this world with me and my progeny!” Junior said as he took off into the distance, disappearing in the clouds.

Master Roshi stepped forward, his usual cheerful demeanor present. "You did the right thing, Goku. The Dragon Balls might not be able to fix everything, but you've certainly made the world a better place."

"I don't know about that. But I couldn't just end it like that... Maybe there's a way for him to change. I mean, I’ve seen what mercy can do, right?" He glanced over at Kami, who had remained silent, watching Junior’s retreating form.

Kami nodded, the weight of his responsibilities resting heavily on his shoulders. "You have a good heart, Goku. I wish there were more like you in the world. But be aware—mercy is not always without its consequences."

Goku nodded solemnly, knowing the path ahead would not be an easy one. He had made the right choice, but he couldn't deny the unease that simmered inside him. He could feel it—the sense that this was not the end of Junior’s story. Perhaps, in time, Junior would return. Perhaps even stronger.

Bulma approached Goku, her eyes soft with concern but also admiration. "You really are something else, Goku. You didn't just save the day; you saved someone who could have easily destroyed it."

"Yeah, but not alone. All of you helped me get here." Goku gave her a tired but grateful smile. "Even if I did all the fighting, it was everyone who believed in me that got me through."

“Would you like to be the new guardian of Earth, Son Goku? Reside over the lookout tower and take my place. I trust you alone, to handle any new threats that cross the planet’s horizon.”

“Nah. No thanks. It’s too boring and I want to travel and get stronger.” Goku crossed his arms.

“Well, alright, Goku. But the offer still stands if you ever decide to change your mind.” Kami said.

“What about your promise to marry me, Goku?” Chi-Chi asked.

“Huh? We said we were going to ask him who he wants to marry.” Bulma said.

Chi-Chi's face flushed with both frustration and anticipation eyes narrowing at Bulma. "I don’t care about any of that right now," she said, voice shaking. "I’m talking about the promise Goku made to me."

Goku, sensing the tension, scratched the back of his head, looking slightly confused. "Wait, we talked about marriage? I don’t really remember…"

Bulma rolled her eyes, but there was no malice in her expression. She crossed her arms, leaning toward Goku with a half-smile. "You’ve been so focused on the fights and saving the world that you’ve completely forgotten all the times we talked about this?" she said, teasing but with an undercurrent of seriousness.

Chi-Chi huffed her hands on her hips. "We agreed when we were younger, Goku! You promised that we’d get married once everything settled down!"

Goku blinked, still oblivious, before glancing at the others around him. "Uh... I think I just promised to protect you both. I didn’t know I had to pick a... wife right now."

Kami, watching the situation unfold, couldn’t help but smile faintly. "It seems the true battle begins now, Goku."

Bulma rolled her eyes dramatically, sighing. "Honestly, Goku, you’re impossible.”

“Marriage is someone that you like buddy,” Krillin said. “If that helps anyway.”

“I like Bulma.”

"I told you so," Bulma said, as she pulled Goku to her.

"Fine. You win I guess. I'll just find my true husband." Chi-Chi said.

Goku blinked in confusion, glancing between Chi-Chi and Bulma, still trying to piece things together. “Wait, so if you both want me to marry you, does that mean we’re fighting over me? Like a tournament but… not a tournament?” he asked, genuinely lost.

Krillin let out a snicker. “Goku, buddy, I think you’ve missed the point completely.”

“I really don’t get it,” Goku said, scratching his head, still clueless.

Bulma, holding back a sigh, leaned in closer to Goku. “It’s not about a fight, Goku,” she said, her tone a little exasperated. “But, if I’m being honest, we’ve been through a lot together. I’ve always been there for you.”

Chi-Chi crossed her arms, frowning. “You know, it’s not like I’m just going to give up either, Bulma. Goku promised me.” She gave Goku a pointed look. “We’ve been through our own struggles too, and he knows how I feel.”

Goku, overwhelmed by the emotions in the air, looked from one woman to the other. “I… I’m not really sure what to say.”

Kami, still observing from a distance, chuckled softly, his voice carrying a note of wisdom. “You see, Goku, it’s not just about fighting for victory. It’s about the bond you share. And while you may not have all the answers now, you’re surrounded by people who care about you.”

Chi-Chi stood there, fuming, as Bulma quickly tossed out a capsule, the sleek jet unfolding before them. Without missing a beat, Bulma grabbed Goku by the arm and pushed him inside the jet, slamming the door behind him.

"He's going to be my husband, Chi-Chi, so good luck finding you one," Bulma called out with a smirk, her eyes gleaming with a mix of triumph and playful defiance.

Goku, trapped inside the jet, blinked in confusion, his head still spinning from the chaos of the past few hours. "Wait, what’s going on?" he asked, looking out the window at Chi-Chi, who was glaring at the jet with a mix of shock and disbelief.

Chi-Chi clenched her fists. "You can't just take him like that, Bulma! I—I was promised to him first!" she yelled, her voice tinged with frustration.

Bulma just waved her hand dismissively. "Promises? Goku doesn't even know what he's doing half the time, Chi-Chi. So I guess it's up to me to show him what's what!" Her smirk widened as she powered up the jet.

"You can't just—!" Chi-Chi started, but the jet was already taking off, the roar of its engines drowning out her words.

Inside the jet, Goku looked between them both, still totally bewildered. "Uh... okay, hold on, what just happened?" he asked, glancing at Bulma and then back at Chi-Chi, who was standing, hands on her hips, fuming.

"Looks like you’re stuck with me for now, Goku!" Bulma said cheerfully, tapping on the jet's controls as she flew them both away.

"Okay, but I thought we were just going to eat..." Goku muttered, his voice filled with confusion.

"I’ll get you food later," Bulma replied.

Meanwhile, back on the ground, Chi-Chi could only watch as the jet disappeared into the sky, her anger still simmering.

"I won’t give up, Goku. This isn’t over," she muttered to herself

"Hey, Chi-Chi!" Yamcha’s voice rang through the air as he jogged up to her, his usual grin plastered on his face. "If you're looking for a husband, I’m always available, you know."

Chi-Chi barely even looked at him, her arms crossed tightly. "You? Seriously? No thanks, Yamcha. Not now, not ever."

Yamcha scratched the back of his head, a bit embarrassed. "Ah, well... worth a shot, right?"

Chi-Chi shot him a glare, her frustration with the whole situation bubbling up. "You can have a shot when pigs fly, Yamcha."

The wind whipped around them as the distant sound of the jet engines faded into the horizon, and Yamcha, now thoroughly rejected, chuckled nervously. "Guess that’s a no, then."

"Yep," Chi-Chi muttered, still staring at the sky where Goku and Bulma had vanished.

Yamcha sighed and turned away, muttering to himself, "One day... one day, I’ll get it right."

Meanwhile, Chi-Chi's focus remained on the jet, the playful squabble barely registering in her mind as she quietly vowed to win Goku back—whatever it took.

And thus the journey of Son Goku and Bulma began.

Chapter Text

The room was quiet, except for the faint hum of Capsule Corporation’s advanced climate system. Moonlight spilled through the large windows, casting a glow over the sleek, futuristic decor. Bulma’s bedroom felt oddly still despite the chaos of the day.

Food. Fun. Laughter. 

The defeat of Junior and Goku’s new status as champion was acknowledged all across the cities. He was a champion, and rightfully so. Yet here he was, in the bedroom of Bulma; he missed it. A quiet space, his space.

While Goku sat cross-legged on the floor, he glanced around the room curiously, taking in all the unfamiliar gadgets and luxuries. This was a far cry from the humble lifestyle he’d grown up with. But he felt comfortable, the last time he was here was a few months before the tournament.

Bulma was sitting on the edge of her bed, her legs tucked beneath her. She watched Goku, her mind swirling with thoughts she wasn’t sure how to articulate. She’d spent years trying to unravel this enigma of a man—her best friend, the strongest person she’d ever met, and now, potentially, her future husband. After everything that happened, this was her chance. 

“You look like you’re deep in thought, Bulma,” Goku said,. His innocent smile lit up his face, and for a moment, Bulma felt her heart skip a beat.

“I guess I am,” she said, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Today was… a lot. You saved the world again, Goku. And now, here we are.”

Goku tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “What’s wrong? You don’t seem happy about it.”

Bulma shook her head quickly. “No, it’s not that. I am happy. It’s just… complicated.”

He frowned slightly, clearly trying to piece together her words. “Complicated how? We stopped Junior, and Kami’s fine. Everyone’s okay now.”

“That’s just it, Goku. It’s not about the fight or what happened earlier. It’s about us.” Her voice trembled, and she bit her lip, unsure of how to continue.

“Us?” Goku repeated, his brow furrowing.

Bulma took a deep breath, steeling herself. She had never been one to shy away from speaking her mind, but this felt different—raw and vulnerable. “Yeah, us. I’ve been thinking about it all day, ever since Chi-Chi brought up the idea of marriage. And the truth is…”

Her voice faltered, but she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Goku, I’ve… always cared about you. Way more than I ever let on. You’re not just my best friend, or some guy I’ve been tagging along with for years. You’re… everything to me.”

Goku blinked, clearly startled by her words. 

“Everything?”

“Yeah,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing. “I didn’t want to admit it before, because I thought I’d lose you. But the truth is, I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Goku.”

Goku’s expression softened, his dark eyes gazing into Bulma’s with an earnestness that made her breath hitch.

 “I… I’ve been thinking about that, Bulma. Ever since you said you wanted me to protect you.” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “I didn’t really understand it at first, but… I think I like you more than anyone else. I’ve always wanted to keep you safe, no matter what.”

Bulma’s heart raced at his words, and she leaned forward slightly, not willing to let the moment slip away. 

“Then why couldn’t you say that at the tournament? You just stood there, letting Chi-Chi think she had a chance with you!” Her voice wavered with frustration and something more vulnerable—fear that he might still not understand.

Goku frowned, his brows furrowing as he tried to work through her words. “I wasn’t trying to make Chi-Chi think anything. I just… I didn’t really know what she meant when she said I promised to marry her. And I promised… I really don’t like breaking my promises. But with you, it’s different. I know how I feel now.”

Bulma didn’t waste the opportunity to push the subject further, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“So, Son Goku… let me ask you this: Do you want to marry me?”

Goku blinked at her question, his face flushing slightly as he sat back, considering her words carefully.

 “Marry you?” He paused, his tail unfurling slightly from his waist as he thought. “Yeah… I think I do. I want to protect you, Bulma. I want to stay with you. Is that what marriage is?”

Bulma’s lips parted in surprise, disbelief flooding through her. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, though she wasn’t sure if they were from frustration or sheer joy.

 “That’s part of it, Goku,” she said. “Marriage is about more than just protection. It’s about sharing your life with someone—your hopes, your dreams, your happiness… and everything else.”

Goku nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his lips. 

“Then yeah, Bulma. I want to do that. I want to share all of that with you.”

Bulma’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to fade away. She reached out, cupping his face in her hands, her heart pounding. 

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He nodded again, his smile growing wider. “I’ve never been more serious, Bulma.”

Unable to hold back any longer, Bulma sealed his lips with a kiss, her lips pressing against his with a mix of passion and relief. It was a kiss years in the making, one she hadn’t realized how much she needed until now.

When they finally pulled apart, Goku’s face was red, but his smile was brighter than ever. 

“So… does this mean we’re getting married?”

Bulma laughed, wiping away the tears that had spilled over.

“Yeah, Goku. It means we’re getting married.”

“As long as it’s with you, Bulma. I’m happy.”

“Bulma’s face was now completely red, the boyish charm Goku had smitten her.

“There’s something married people do together, Goku. Do you wanna do that with me… now?”

“Bulma. Uh… you’ll have to teach me what it is, though. Is it like training?”

Bulma’s face grew even redder as she realized how unprepared she was to explain this to someone as straightforward and naïve as Goku. It would be her first time too, but she still had some education on the subject matter.

“N-Not exactly, Goku,” she stammered, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. The shortness of it was more like a curse than a blessing at the moment.

 “It’s… um, something that two people who love each other do to get closer. You trust me, don’t you?”

Goku nodded without hesitation, his dark eyes unwavering as he looked at her. 

“Of course I trust you, Bulma. I’ve always trusted you.”

Her heart melted at his words, and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. She leaned closer to him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she met his gaze. 

“Alright, then… let me show you.”

She placed her hand on his cheek, her fingers trembling slightly as she leaned in once more. Their lips met in a soft, lingering kiss, and this time, she let her feelings guide her actions. 

Their lips touched, she bit down on his lower lip begging for entrance, as her tongue edged against his. Tasting the flavor of her husband to be.

Goku responded hesitant at first, but as the moments passed, he seemed to relax, instinctively following her lead. Allowing his natural instincts to take over, to embrace the intimacy the way Bulma was showing him.

When they pulled apart, Goku’s face was one of wonder.

“That felt… different. Good, but different,” he said, his hand reaching up to touch his lips. That tingled with a newfound feeling.

Bulma sighed, her shyness fading as she saw how genuine he was. 

“That’s because it’s special, Goku. It’s something only we’ll share. But there’s more to it…”

“Like what, Bulma?”

“Telling him all this is going to take all night.”

She poked his chest, “Take your gi off Goku.”

Goku blinked, looking down at her finger pressed against his chest. “Take my gi off? Uh… alright, Bulma.” 

Without hesitation, he untied his belt and slipped the top of his gi off, revealing his toned, muscled chest.

Bulma couldn’t help but pause for a moment, her eyes lingering.

“Just how much have you endured, Goku?”

He was stronger and more impressive than she’d realized, even though she had him a few months ago his body was still growing; sculpting itself for battle. 

“Should we do this? He might kill me…”

Bulma felt her cheeks warm, but she pressed on, “This is about more than just kissing, Goku. It’s about showing each other how much we care—how much we love each other. It’s something only people who are really close do.”

Goku tilted his head slightly. “Like sparring, but… different?”

She laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. 

“Not quite, but I’ll show you.” 

She placed her hands on his shoulders, guiding him to lay back against the pillows.

“Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay.”

Bulma took a deep breath, before taking her time to trace the man that was Son Goku. The faint scars that adorned his skin, reminded her of every moment they shared together. The danger they had face, but the victories they won together.

“You’ve been through so much. But you’re still so perfect.”

“Perfect? I’m just me, silly.”

“And that’s exactly why,” her nails wandered lowered, grazing the defined planes of muscle that instinctively reacted.

Goku was in a daze, training didn’t feel this way. The sensation that was coming to him felt good, it made him feel hot. His member below grew in size, as the primal urges of his brain screamed what to do next.

“That feels… funny.” 

His cheeks were highlighted a shade of pink, as Bulma reached the border of his pants.

“Good funny or bad funny?” 

“Good, I think?”

Encouraged by his reaction, moved in closer; pressing her breast against his chest, while her mouth sank onto his collarbone. Littering the man’s skin with dark bruises that spoke for themselves:  You’re mine.

Goku eyes closed, groans escaped his lips. He didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but he accepted it. Every touch, every kiss, every bite, spoke in a language that he could understand: physical touch.

“I love you, Goku,” Bulma positioned her hand over his heart. “And I’m not letting anyone take you away from me.”

His eyes opened to see the stare of blue that reminded him of Master Roshi island’s clear water.

She cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek.

“Look me in the eyes and promise me that, Goku,” she whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

Goku opened his eyes fully, meeting hers with an honesty that only he could manage. There was no hesitation, no doubt, only sincerity as he nodded. “I promise, Bulma. I’ll stay with you. Always.”

The weight of his words sent a shiver down her spine, her heart pounding in her chest. She searched his gaze for any sign of uncertainty, but all she saw was that same boyish earnestness that had drawn her to him from the start.

“Good,” she murmured, her lips curving into a soft smile. “Because you’re mine now, Goku. And I don’t share.”

He grinned, that carefree, endearing smile that made her chest tighten. “I don’t want to be anyone else’s, Bulma. Just yours.”

Her heart melted at his words, and she leaned down, pressing her forehead against his. “You better mean that,” she said playfully, though the emotion in her voice was unmistakable.

“I do,” Goku replied without missing a beat. “You’re the most important person to me. I want to protect you, make you happy… always.”

Her lips trembled as she leaned in, capturing his mouth in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, sealing the promise between them. This moment, this connection—they were both stepping into something new, something that bound them together in a way neither had experienced before.

Bulma pulled back, her fingers threading through his wild hair. 

“Then don’t ever forget that promise, Goku,” she whispered.

“Never,” he said.

“You just don’t know how special you’re to me. How incredibly lucky I feel to have met you all those years ago. You already make me so happy.”

“I didn’t know I was doing anything special. I was just being me.”

“And I love you for that. It’s not about doing something. It’s about who you are.  How you make me feel safe, cared for, and important.”

“You’re important to me too. I didn’t know why back then. Now I kinda understand what it means to love someone and this marriage thing.”

Bulma squealed, happy that she finally was getting across to Goku.

“We are going to do the next step, okay Goku?”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll show you.”

Bulma slid off of him and lowered herself on the bed to she was flat, raising her legs up as she pulled off her black underwear.

“Take your pants and underwear off, Goku.”

Goku kinda understood why, quickly taking the rest of his clothes off.

Bulma gestured for him to come closer with a finger.

Goku crawled over, his body hovering over hers.

“Be gentle with me. It’s my first time. Our first time.”

“I won’t hurt you, Bulma. I love you.”

Hearing those words reassured her, she grabbed his dick and helped him find her entrance. Rubbing it against her pussy, so he could get a feel for it.

“This feels good, Bulma.” 

“It’s only going to get better from here; I promise.”

With those words said, Bulma shifted and Goku’s tip had been engulfed. She winced at the sudden intrusion, taking a slow breath as she saw his worried face.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry… I didn’t -”

“It’s okay. It’s our first time doing this, it only hurts a little. Just move slow okay?”

Goku nodded. 

“I’ll let you know what feels good. But let’s start slow and go from there.”

Bulma laid her back against the pillow, maintaining eye contact with the person she loved as he slowly inched deeper inside of her. Finding his own rhythm, as she could feel the new feeling of her pussy being stretched by the man. The way her muscles contorted and glistened to accommodate the thing inside of her.

“G-Goku. A little faster.”

The capsule corp dress rose up  Bulma’s waist, her hands gripping the railings of her bed, while the thrust of Goku went in and out of her.

“Bulma. I love you. I want to keep going.”

“Keep going, Goku. This is only for you. I promise.”

The smell of sex and the aroma of Bulma’s body activated a powerful awakening in Goku’s brain. His tail wrapped around Bulma’s waist and he stared at her with astonishment; she could feel his body shaking.

“Goku? Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s just my body feels like it wants more. Like something is going to come out if we keep doing this.”

“It must have something to do with his body. He’s not human after all.” 

Bulma contemplated her next choice of words, “Harder and don’t stop, Goku. I want to endure everything that you have to offer me.” She stroked his tail, as he prepared himself.

“Thank you, Bulma.”

Those words did little to the effect that Bulma was now feeling the full force of what it meant to endure Goku’s strength.

Her pussy clenched and throbbed as she took in his length, his grunts in her ear as he nuzzled his head into her shoulder. While her nails clawed at the man’s back.

“Fuck. Me. Son. Goku. Please.”

The words seemed to be understood, because Goku kept going. Stretching and repeatedly thrusting inside of her wet pussy, mating with the woman he loved; following the instincts to breed her. To claim Bulma as his territory, his mate. 

Which was soon to happen, as the build up of a new sensation was imminent.

Bulma felt the throbbing sensation, her body responded by clutching harder to Goku. Not letting him go, as the thrilling warmth shot inside of her pussy. 

“I fucking love you!” She shouted, legs trembling as her own body twitched and spasmed with the impending orgasam now free as she squirted over Goku’s cock and wetted her sheets.

They both dropped, as Goku rolled over and looked at Bulma who was catching her breath.

“That was amazing, Bulma.”

“Tell me about it.”

She was in a daze, the euphoria was feeling her brain and everything was just right in the world.

The only thing she wanted to do now was…

“Wanna go again, Goku?”

“I do, Bulma.”

She smirked, he had a lot of stamina and she was prepared for a long night. He was her soon to be husband and whatever she wanted to do with him was her business alone.

“I may become your new training partner, Goku.”

“Oh yeah? That would be great, Bulma.”

Bulma repositioned herself on the bed, showing off some flexibility as she arched her body, looking back at him. 

“Come train with me, partner.”

Chapter Text

“You two sleep well?” Dr briefs looked up from his morning newspaper.

“What did you say, Dad?”

Dr. Briefs peeked over the edge of his newspaper, his glasses slipping down his nose. “I asked if you two slept well.”

Bulma froze on the staircase, her cheeks heating.

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?” she stammered, glancing back at Goku, who was following her down with his usual carefree grin.

Goku scratched the back of his head, clearly oblivious to any implications.

“Yeah, I slept great! Bulma’s bed is soft. S”

Dr. Briefs chuckled, folding his paper and setting it on the table.

“Good to hear, son-in-law.”

“Dad!” Bulma’s voice went an octave higher as she descended the last steps, her hands flailing. “We’re not married yet!”

“Well, not yet,” her father replied, his smirk widening. “But it’s only a matter of time, isn’t it?”

Goku tilted his head, looking between them.

“Are we talking about the wedding stuff again? I thought we decided that last night!”

Bulma shot him a glare, her face now fully red.

“Goku! Could you not just blurt things out like that?”

“What?” Goku looked genuinely puzzled, his tail swaying lazily behind him. “We are getting married, right? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Mrs. Briefs chose that moment to float in, holding a tray of pancakes and humming to herself. “Oh, it’s so exciting! My little girl finally found the perfect man. Isn’t love wonderful?”

Bulma groaned, dropping into a chair at the table and burying her face in her hands. “I need coffee… Lots of coffee.”

“You were a bit loud last night, Dear. I’ll get you all the coffee you need.”

“Mom!”

“Oh. I can’t wait to tell your sister all about this. She’s going to want to see my handsome, Son-in-law. All the ladies at my book club are going to be so jealous.”

Mrs. Briefs giggled as she placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Bulma, who was doing everything in her power to not disappear into the floor.

“Mom, could you not?!” Bulma hissed, peeking out from behind her hands.

“Why not? It’s a proud moment!” Mrs. Briefs chimed, clasping her hands together with a dreamy look. “My brilliant daughter finally snagged herself a strong, handsome man who adores her. I’ve been waiting for this day forever!”

Goku, who was already halfway through a stack of pancakes, paused mid-bite. “Wait, there’s a club for books? What does that have to do with me?”

Dr. Briefs coughed to suppress his laugh while flipping the channels on TV. “Don’t worry about it, son. Just know you’re about to become the subject of every gossip circle in West City.”

Bulma groaned louder, clutching the mug of coffee as if it were her only lifeline. “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you guys right away.”

Mrs. Briefs rubbed circles on her daughter’s back with a smile. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, dear. You should be proud! Goku, darling, do you know how lucky you are to have Bulma?”

Goku looked at Bulma, then back at Mrs. Briefs, and nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Bulma’s great. She’s super smart and even lets me eat as much as I want.”

Dr. Briefs chuckled again. “That’s love, all right.”

“Goku, you’re not helping!” Bulma snapped, though her cheeks were burning with a mix of embarrassment and something softer she didn’t want to admit.

Mrs. Briefs clapped her hands. “Oh, I know! Why don’t we start planning the wedding? You two can’t dilly-dally forever, you know. Speaking of which, a big garden wedding would be perfect this spring! Or, or, a wedding under the stars right on the beach. Lots of cameras, decorations, and your very own custom made wedding dress!”

“Mom, can we have breakfast before you start turning this into a royal event?”

But Goku, ever oblivious, brightened at the idea. “A wedding on the beach? An island would be fun too! Do we get to eat a lot after it?”

Mrs. Briefs patted his shoulder with a motherly smile. “Oh, Goku, you’ll have a feast fit for a king. I love your enthusiasm and creative ideas. An island it is; don’t you worry your sweet little head about a thing..”

Bulma let out a sigh, resigning herself to the inevitable chaos. Her Mother was spoiling Goku like he was her baby.

“I should’ve known this would happen…”

“Welcome to married life, kid. It only gets more entertaining from here.”

“We’re not married yet, Dad!”

Mrs.Briefs followed her next train of thought: “Goku. I presume you and Bulma will be living here? It’s a big place, and we love the company, " she said as she walked with the phone beside her ear.

“I don’t have anywhere else to go. And I don’t have anything to carry besides my power pole.”

“Perfect. Once we’re done. We’re going to take you shopping and set you and Bulma up in a new part of the compound with more space. We’re on the 2nd floor East Wing, so you two can have the West Wing to your selves. Free to be as loud as you want, because we won’t be able to hear you from our side.”

“Mom!”

Mrs. Briefs gave her an innocent smile, completely unbothered. “What? I’m just thinking of your comfort, dear. Privacy is important for a newly engaged couple. And the West Wing has such lovely views of the city.”

Goku’s expression was puzzled. “I don’t get why we need a whole wing. Isn’t this place already big enough? I’m fine wherever Bulma is.”

Bulma groaned, dropping her head into her hands. “Goku, don’t encourage her…”

Dr. Briefs sighed his eyes meeting Goku’s eyes with a knowing smirk. “You’ll learn soon enough, son. When it comes to Mrs. Briefs, there’s no stopping her once she gets an idea. That’s how I ended up with two kids after all.” The last of his words were not said, but he was reminiscing on how his family came to be.

Mrs. Briefs twirled the phone cord around her finger, still chatting happily. “Oh, no, you’re absolutely right! A whole new wardrobe would be perfect for Goku. I mean, that orange gi is cute, but he needs something a bit more formal for his wedding day. And maybe some casual clothes too! Oh, yes, I’ll bring him to that boutique you recommended.”

Bulma shot up from her chair. “Wait, hold on! Mom, you’re not taking Goku shopping without me!”

Mrs. Briefs waved her off, “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll take good care of him! Now, let’s see… should we go for classic tuxedos or something a bit more adventurous? Maybe a dragon motif to match his style…”

Goku scratched his head, leaning toward Bulma. “Uh, what’s a tuxedo? Is it something I can fight in?”

Bulma groaned for what felt like the millionth time today, “This is my life now…”

“We’ll start with the living room first. Come on, Bulma. We have an entire wing to set up.” Mrs. Briefs said, all while managing a second conversion on a new phone.

“Mom, can’t we at least finish breakfast first?”

Mrs. Briefs glanced at her, unfazed. “Oh, nonsense, dear. The best ideas come when you’re on the move! We’ll have the room ready in no time. Trust me, you’ll love it. Goku, sweetheart, do you have any preferences for the decor? Maybe something rustic or adventurous?”

Goku blinked, completely lost. “Uh… I don’t know. As long as there’s a bed and food nearby, I’m good.”

Bulma let out a long sigh, dragging her hands down her face. “Mom, can you please not overwhelm him with your home makeover plans? He just agreed to live here like, five minutes ago!”

Mrs. Briefs ignored her, still juggling her phone conversation and her excitement. “Oh, you’re absolutely right, Karen! Neutral tones with a splash of blue would be perfect—like his gi! Oh, and maybe a martial arts theme for the west wing’s living space. I’ll handle everything, don’t you worry.”

Bulma slumped back into her chair, staring at her coffee like it might save her. “Goku, I’m warning you now—this is what you signed up for.”

Goku smiled at her, looking genuinely happy. “It’s fine, Bulma. I think your mom’s nice. She’s just trying to help, right?”

Bulma shook her head, muttering, “You’re way too innocent for your good…”

Dr. Briefs kept drinking his coffee, “Just go with the flow, Bulma. You’ll thank her when it’s all done. You know how she gets.”

“Exactly!” Mrs. Briefs chimed in, turning toward the staircase. “Come on now, let’s get started! I already have a list of things to do. Oh, and Goku, don’t forget—you’re coming shopping with me after this!”

“Uh, is that okay?”

Bulma reluctantly stood, “Fine, but I’m coming with you. I don’t trust her to not dress you in something ridiculous.”

Mrs. Briefs beamed, motioning them to follow her up the stairs. “Wonderful! The sooner we get this done, the sooner you two can settle in properly. Now, let’s see about that dragon motif…”

As they headed toward the west wing, Goku leaned toward Bulma. “This ‘married life’ stuff is a lot of work, huh?”

Bulma nudged him.

“You have no idea.”

“Are you happy with this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“ I just want to make you happy. I’m learning as we go. So whatever I can do to make you feel happier. That’s what I wanna do.”

If she hadn’t heard from his mouth, Bulma wouldn’t have believed this was Goku talking and not some kinda imposter. But here he was considering her feelings, which her eccentric parents didn’t seem to mind at this moment.

Bulma reached out and held his hand, the two walking hand to hand now as her Mother continued to go on and on about the home makeover.

Her mind was elsewhere, focusing on the one thing that mattered most to her at this moment.

Goku.

“I am happy. You’re my sunshine, Goku.”

The words she spoke seemed to work, because she felt his hand’s grip increase, begging for her not to leave his touch. It was an affection that she now knew Goku was capable of; he was maturing and learning as time went by and she was happy to see him grow.

“You think I’m like sunshine? I thought that was just something people say.”

“It’s not just something people say. You’re bright and warm, and you make everything feel better just by being around. That’s what you are to me.”

His cheeks flushed slightly as he scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “Well, if that’s what you want me to be, I’ll keep trying to make you happy, Bulma.”

Mrs. Briefs’ chatter about paint swatches and curtain patterns was now just background noise to them. Bulma couldn’t help but admire how Goku was trying so hard to adapt to a life so different from the one he’d known. This wasn’t about fighting or training—this was about emotions, relationships, and building a future.

She leaned her head against his arm as they walked. “You’re already doing it, Goku. Just by being here.”

Dr. Briefs, trailing behind them with his paper tucked under one arm, cleared his throat. “Well, you two certainly seem cozy. I hope you’ll still let us see you from time to time once you’ve settled into the west wing.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. You’ll probably see us plenty, especially since Goku’s new hobby will probably involve eating us out of house and home.”

Goku grinned sheepishly. “I can’t help it—your mom’s cooking is too good!”

“Oh, Goku, you’re too sweet! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure the kitchen in the west wing is fully stocked for you two. And if you need anything, you just call me.”

Bulma inhaled as they entered the expansive, unused west wing, her eyes scanning the empty space.

“I and your Father kinda forgot how much-unused space this place has, but I think you two can solve that. Bulma is a tad touchy about how everything is arranged, Goku.”

“That’s because you two never heard of putting anything back where you found it. How Tights survived you two I’ll never know.”

Mrs. Briefs clasped her hands together with a beaming smile. “Oh, nonsense, dear. A little creative chaos is good for the soul! Besides, this is a blank slate for you and Goku. Just think of all the fun you’ll have decorating it!”

Bulma sighed, rubbing her temple. “Fun, huh? That’s one way to put it. Goku, you okay with all this?”

Goku looked around the enormous space, his eyes wide as he took in the towering ceilings and sprawling rooms. “Yeah! This place is huge. Are we going to live here?”

Bulma’s annoyance melted away as she saw Goku’s childlike wonder. “Yeah, it’s ours to do whatever we want with. Well, as long as we can survive my mom’s design ideas.”

“Oh, I have so many ideas already! Just wait until you see the color palettes I’m thinking of. Oh, and Goku, what’s your favorite color? We could do something inspired by that!”

“Uh... gray, I guess?” Goku said, scratching his head.

“Gray! How bold! We can accent it with blues to complement Bulma’s hair. Perfect!” Mrs. Briefs was mentally rearranging furniture as she flitted about the common room.

“Mom, don’t turn this into a circus, please. We’ll figure it out.”

Goku crossed his arms, “Why does it matter what color the walls are? Can’t we just leave them the way they are?”

Mrs. Briefs gasped in mock horror. “Oh, no, no, no, Goku. A home reflects the people living in it! We can’t have bare walls—it’s practically criminal!”

Bulma shook her head, muttering, “Welcome to the madness, Goku.”

Dr. Briefs shuffled in, clutching his mug, and gave a nonchalant shrug. “As long as the fridge is stocked, my lab is working and I’ve got a place to sit, you can paint the walls neon green for all I care.”

Goku laughed, the sound filling the empty space, “This is already way fancier than I’m used to. I think it’ll be fun figuring it all out. And food is always great to have, Dr. Briefs.”

Bulma glanced at him, “You’re way too optimistic, you know that?”

He grinned back.

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

Mrs. Briefs came over phone in hand, “Alright, you two. Let’s get started! This place won’t decorate itself! Plus, I need to tell Karen all about this.”

The workflow of the group was started small, with the men moving the old furniture and heavy objects from the space, while Bulma and her Mother took care of the finer, more fragile things that had occupied the space. And while they were sorting through some dusty boxes left in one of the west wing closets, Mrs. Briefs suddenly gasped, pulling out a large, slightly faded photo frame.

“Oh my goodness, look what I found!”

Bulma turned from where she was inspecting a stack of furniture catalogs.

“What now, Mom?”

Mrs. Briefs held up the frame with a nostalgic smile. It was a prom photo, showing a younger Bulma in a stunning blue dress, her arm wrapped around Yamcha, who was grinning awkwardly in a tuxedo.

“Mom.” Bulma sighed, “Why do you even still have that?”

“Oh, come now, dear. It’s such a lovely picture! You and Yamcha looked so adorable together back then.” Mrs. Briefs turned the frame toward Goku. “Look, Goku, isn’t Bulma just the cutest?”

Goku leaned closer, squinting at the photo. “Huh, that’s Yamcha? He looks... different.”

Bulma snatched the photo from her mother, her expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

“Different? Try insufferable! We were teens, and that relationship was a disaster.”

Mrs. Briefs chuckled, clearly unfazed by her daughter’s irritation. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, dear. You two had your moments. Besides, it’s all ancient history now, right? You’ve moved on to someone much better.” She gave Goku a wink.

Goku scratched his head, confused as ever. “I don’t get it, but if it’s embarrassing, why don’t you just throw it out, Bulma?”

“Believe me, I’ve tried,” Bulma muttered, glaring at her mother. “But apparently, Mom’s got some weird attachment to it.”

“Oh, nonsense!” Mrs. Briefs protested, taking the photo back and admiring it again. “It’s a part of your history, Bulma. And someday, you’ll want to look back and see how far you’ve come. Besides, you were stunning that night.”

Bulma groaned, burying her face in her hands. “This is mortifying.”

Goku offered a reassuring smile. “I think it’s kinda cool, Bulma. You looked happy back then. But you’re even happier now, right?”

Bulma peeked through her fingers, her frustration softening at his words. “Yeah, Goku. I am.”

“Good,” he said. “Then let’s keep it. Maybe one day we can show our kids how cool their mom looked at her prom.”

“Kids?”

“He’s already thinking about that? Does he even know… He can’t.”

Bulma blinked, caught off guard by the unintentional sweetness of his comment and the revelation behind it. “You know how to save a moment, don’t you?”

Mrs. Briefs beamed.

“See, Goku’s got the right idea! Alright, this photo’s staying. Now, let’s find a nice spot for it in your wing!”

Bulma sighed, “Fine. But it’s going in a drawer. A deep drawer.”

Chapter Text

Goku stuck his head out of the car window, his hair flapping in the wind as he marveled at everything West City had to offer.

“Man. This place has so much going on. It’s nothing like Mount Paozu.”

“I’m going to get you acclimated to your new life here. Don’t you worry, my precious Son-in-law,” Mrs. Briefs chimed, eyeing Goku through the rearview mirror.

Bulma sighed. She had to admit, that the way her parents had accepted Goku into the fold was a little overwhelming, but she couldn’t complain. They adored him, and Goku, for all his quirks, had blended in with them easily.

The drive to the mall was quick, but it felt like time slowed as the three of them chatted non-stop. Mrs. Briefs and Goku had easily hit it off, and now, Bulma was just along for the ride—though she had no complaints.

She glanced at Goku again, who was still peering out the window with wide-eyed wonder. In a way, it was like watching a child discover the world. But that was part of what made him so special—his pure, untainted excitement for everything around him. It was hard to stay frustrated with him for too long when his enthusiasm was this infectious.

She thought about the time she spent with Yamcha. The early days had been fun—romantic and carefree—but the more they got to know each other, the more she realized they weren’t right for one another. Yamcha was too flirty, too self-absorbed, and, as if on cue, she remembered the prom incident when he cheated on her with some girl from school.

Bulma shifted in her seat, pushing those memories aside. Goku was different. He was a little rough around the edges, sure, but he was honest, he was loyal, and—no matter what—he made her feel important.

“Mom,” Bulma said, breaking the comfortable silence, “How many people do you think we should invite to the wedding?”

Mrs. Briefs tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully, her eyes never leaving the road as she navigated through traffic. “We have to make a guest list. I can’t think of all the people I want to invite off the top of my head. But we’ll keep it nice size—close friends, family, and of course, we must invite all your childhood friends.”

“Can you make sure Krillin and Master Roshi are on the list,” Goku interrupted from the back.

Bulma looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re not planning on inviting everyone from the dojo, are you?”

Goku smiled sheepishly, “Well if they helped me, I think they deserve to be there.”

Mrs. Briefs grinned, adding her voice to the mix. “Of course, we’ll make sure to invite Krillin and Master Roshi! They’re practically family at this point.”

“Not to mention, we can’t have a party without the people who helped you get here.”

“Right! I wouldn’t have been able to get stronger without them,” Goku agreed, his tone earnest.

Bulma smiled, feeling a wave of affection for him. He might have been naive in some ways, but his heart was bigger than anyone she knew.

The car pulled into the parking lot of the mall, and Goku, already on high alert, bounced out of the car. “This place is huge! I can’t wait to see everything!”

“Alright, here’s the plan!” Mrs. Briefs said enthusiastically, pulling a list from her bag. “We need new furniture, decorations for your wing, clothing for Goku—he can’t live in that gi all the time—and, of course, some practical household essentials. Oh, and I saw a boutique with the most adorable curtains for your new bedroom, Bulma!”

“Curtains are the least of my worries, Mom. Can we focus on, I don’t know, the important stuff first?”

“Is food on the list?” Goku asked, his stomach already growling as he looked around.

Bulma sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Goku, you just ate three full breakfasts before we left.”

“Yeah, but shopping makes me hungry.”

Mrs. Briefs patted Goku on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry, dear. We’ll stop for snacks soon enough! But first, let’s get started at the furniture store.”

The first stop was a sprawling furniture showroom, filled with everything from sleek modern couches to ornate antique armoires. Goku’s eyes darted around, taking in the overwhelming variety.

“What’s all this for?” he asked, poking a leather recliner.

“Goku, we need to make your wing livable,” Bulma explained, already scanning the shelves for something practical. “That means beds, chairs, tables, everything. And if we’re lucky, Mom won’t buy anything with lace.”

“Lace adds character, dear,” Mrs. Briefs chimed in, holding up a floral-patterned throw pillow. “What do you think, Goku?”

“Uh… it’s soft?” Goku said, giving the pillow a tentative squeeze.

“Mom, stop overwhelming him.” She turned to Goku and pointed at a simple wooden table. “How about this? It’s sturdy, it’s not too fancy, and it’s big enough for you to eat on without breaking it.”

Mrs. Briefs wasn’t going to let her daughter have the only say so, “It’s too plain. Isn’t that right, Goku-kun?”

“Plain?” Goku took a look at the table. It wasn’t eye-catching or anything special but it looked okay. “Y’know it kinda is plain, Bulma.”

“When did you become such an expert on interior design?” Bulma rolled her eyes.

“Since he became my son-in-law, of course,” Mrs. Briefs pulled Goku along with her, “whatever catches your eye honey it’s yours. I think these smart tables would be good, oh it even comes with a fridge!”

“I want it!” Goku said.

“Sold!” Mrs. Briefs waved down the cashier, setting up the purchase and delivery to Capsule Corp. Bulma, on the other hand, was about to interject—Goku didn’t need a fridge in a table when they had an entire kitchen in their wing—when her mother suddenly gasped.

“Oh my! Yamcha, dear!”

Bulma froze, her stomach twisting at the name. She slowly turned around, and sure enough, there he was, standing just a few feet away with a tall, red-haired woman hanging off his arm. He looked… different. His hair was a little shorter, and his outfit was more polished than his usual get-up. But the cocky grin? That was still the same.

“Mrs. Briefs! What a surprise,” Yamcha said, rubbing the back of his neck before his eyes landed on Bulma. “Bulma. Goku.”

Goku blinked at him, then gave a friendly wave. “Oh hey, Yamcha! Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Bulma, however, had her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. “Yamcha.”

The redhead beside him tilted her head. “Oh, is this Bulma? The ex?” She smiled, but there was something condescending about it. “You’re just as pretty as he said.”

Bulma’s eye twitched. Oh, she did not like this woman.

“Yeah…,” Yamcha said quickly, shooting his new girlfriend a look before glancing back at Bulma. “We were just picking out some things for my apartment. You know, fresh start and all that.”

Bulma smirked, shifting her weight to one hip. “Fresh start, huh? That’s good. You needed one.”

Yamcha chuckled awkwardly, clearly picking up on her edge. “Yeah… So, uh, what are you guys doing here?”

Mrs. Briefs, blissfully unaware of the underlying tension, clapped her hands together. “Oh, we’re shopping for Goku and Bulma’s new home! You know, they’re getting married!”

Yamcha stiffened. “Married?”

On his part, he thought it was just Bulma using Goku as usual, especially after everything that happened at the tournament. Yet, here it was, Bulma, his ex, getting married to knucklehead Goku.

The redhead raised an eyebrow. “Wow. That was fast.”

“Well, when you— What do you mean fast? Yamcha’s been talking about me to you?”

Goku, oblivious to the pointed exchange, grinned and threw an arm around Bulma’s shoulders. “Yeah! I didn’t think much about stuff like marriage before, but Bulma makes me happy, so I figured—why not?”

The redhead laughed. “That’s so cute! I mean, kinda surprising, but still cute.”

Bulma could feel Yamcha’s gaze on her, but she refused to acknowledge it. She had nothing to prove to him. Nothing to explain.

“Well, we’ve got a lot of shopping to do,” she said, grabbing Goku’s hand. “See you around, Yamcha.”

Yamcha opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he just nodded. “Yeah… See you around.”

As they walked away, Goku glanced at Bulma, confused. “You okay? You seem kinda tense.”

Bulma let out a breath, shaking off the last remnants of irritation. “I’m fine.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Come on, we still have a ton of stuff to buy. And you still need more clothes.”

Goku groaned. “Ugh, do I have to?”

“Yes,” Bulma said, leading him toward the clothing section. “You’re my fiancé now. You need to at least look the part.”

Mrs. Briefs trailed behind them after she finished purchasing the smart table, “What about the bed, sweety?”

“Mom. We can come back after the clothes… I just don’t want to be in this section right now.”

Mrs. Briefs pursed her lips but didn’t argue, sensing the shift in Bulma’s mood. She simply patted her daughter’s shoulder and gave her an understanding nod. “Alright, darling. Clothes first, then we’ll circle back.”

Goku, still blissfully unaware of the tension lingering from their encounter with Yamcha, stretched his arms behind his head. “So, what kind of clothes do I need? Can I just get more of what I already have?”

Bulma shot him a look. “No, Goku. You’re not just going to live in nothing but gi and fighting gear. You need casual wear, formal wear—something that doesn’t scream ‘I live in the mountains and punch things for a living.’”

Goku pouted. “But I do live in the mountains and punch things for a living.”

“You did. And now you live in West City. With me. You’re going to be my husband. The least you can do is dress the part.”

Mrs. Briefs giggled. “Oh, I love it when you two bicker. It’s like an old married couple already!”

Goku rubbed the back of his head, grinning. “Well, I guess if it makes you happy, Bulma, I’ll wear whatever you want.”

Bulma smirked, already planning a complete wardrobe overhaul. “I’ll hold you to that. Besides, we’re getting you sweatpants and joggers for you to lounge around in and some hoodies, so I can steal them.”

As they made their way into the men’s clothing section, Bulma immediately got to work, sifting through racks of shirts, jackets, and pants, holding up different outfits against Goku’s frame. He stood there, arms slightly raised, letting her do as she pleased.

Mrs. Briefs hummed thoughtfully as she pulled a navy blue button-down from the rack. “Oh, this would look so handsome on you, Goku!”

Goku blinked at it. “It looks kinda stiff.”

“It’s called being put together,” Bulma said, already grabbing a pair of dark jeans to match. “You’ll thank me later when you’re not walking around looking like you just got out of a training session.”

Goku sighed dramatically but let her pile more clothes into his arms. “Man, this is worse than training.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic and go try those on.”

As Goku went inside the dressing room, a voice from behind made Bulma’s shoulders tense again.

“Hey, Bulma.”

She turned around, and there was Yamcha again, standing alone this time. His new girlfriend looking at outfits in the women’s section.

Bulma crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Yamcha. Are you stalking us, seriously?”

He hesitated before scratching the back of his head. “Look, I just… I wanted to say congratulations. I was kinda caught off guard earlier, but if you’re happy, then I’m happy for you.”

Bulma studied him for a moment. The old her might’ve softened at the attempt at closure, but she had moved on. She no longer needed his approval—or his guilt.

“Thanks, Yamcha,” she said, her tone even. “I am happy.”

“Can we talk in private,” Yamcha said.

Bulma looked at his girlfriend, then the dressing room, then her Mother. “You got until Goku gets out of that dressing room to say what you want to say.”

“That’s more than enough time.”

“Mom. Can you keep an eye on Goku; I’m going to have a chat with Yamcha for a bit.”

“No problem, Darling. I got this handled.”

This was one of those times that she was glad her Mom was so easygoing and understanding.

Bulma led Yamcha a few steps away, just enough to have some semblance of privacy but still within sight of the dressing rooms. She crossed her arms, staring at him expectantly.

“Alright, spill it. What do you want, Yamcha?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you, alright? It’s just… running into you today made me realize I never really got to say what I needed to.”

Bulma raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what exactly do you need to say?”

Yamcha hesitated, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor before meeting hers again. “I screwed up, Bulma. Back then. With you. I took you for granted, and I know I can’t change the past, but… I just want you to know that I do regret it.”

Bulma’s expression remained unreadable. She wasn’t sure how to feel about this sudden confession. It wasn’t that she wanted an apology—she had already moved on. But hearing him say it out loud, acknowledging what he had done, was… something.

“I appreciate that, Yamcha. But honestly? I don’t need an apology.”

“You don’t?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Because I’m over it. I was angry for a long time, but I realized something—you weren’t the right person for me. And I wasn’t the right person for you either. We were just kids trying to force something that wasn’t meant to work.”

Yamcha gave a small laugh. “Yeah… I guess we were, huh?”

Bulma gave him a small smirk. “You’re not a bad guy, Yamcha. You just weren’t the guy for me.”

Yamcha nodded slowly. “And Goku is?”

Bulma’s smirk softened into something more genuine. “Yeah. He is.”

Yamcha studied her for a moment before smiling. “Then I guess I am happy for you.”

Before Bulma could respond, a loud rip echoed from the dressing rooms.

“Uh… Bulma?” Goku’s voice rang out.

Bulma groaned, already dreading what she’d find. “Oh, for the love of—what did you do now, Goku?!”

Mrs. Briefs giggled from the sidelines. “I think he might’ve flexed a little too hard, dear.”

Yamcha chuckled. “Heh. Some things never change.”

Bulma shot him a look before turning on her heel. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Go take care of your girlfriend.”

Yamcha held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m going.”

As Bulma stormed toward the dressing room, ready to scold Goku for destroying another piece of clothing, she couldn’t help but feel lighter. Maybe closure wasn’t what she had expected, but it was nice to know that she didn’t have any lingering baggage.

She had Goku now. And that was all that mattered.

Bulma yanked open the dressing room curtain and immediately groaned at the sight in front of her.

Goku stood there, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, his muscular frame now adorned with what used to be a perfectly fitted blazer—until he had moved the wrong way and completely torn the sleeves and back. Strands of fabric dangled helplessly, and it looked more like a battle-worn cape than a suit jacket.

“Goku. How did you even—”

“I just stretched a little,” Goku said innocently. “Didn’t know it was that weak.”

Mrs. Briefs giggled from the side, holding up a hand to stifle her amusement. “Oh, dear. Looks like we’ll need to find a good tailor, won’t we?”

Bulma sighed, putting her hands on her hips. “No, Mom. What we need is to find something that doesn’t fall apart when Goku breathes wrong.”

Goku pouted. “It’s not my fault my arms don’t fit in these tiny city clothes. My gi never rips like this.”

“That’s because it’s made for training! You’re not supposed to wear martial arts gear to formal events, Goku.”

Mrs. Briefs was still smiling, completely unbothered. “Well, why don’t we just get something custom-made? We are the richest family in West City, darling. A tailored suit would be much more fitting for Goku’s unique… proportions.”

Goku’s face brightened at the idea. “Oh! So I won’t have to squeeze into this weird stuff anymore?”

Bulma groaned but relented. “Fine, we’ll get you a custom suit.” She turned to her mother. “Mom, you have any good tailors in mind?”

“Oh, I have plenty! There’s this wonderful designer who made your father’s suits back in the day. He’s retired now, but I know his apprentice took over the shop. Oh, they’ll love the challenge of making something for Goku!”

Bulma tapped her fingers against her arm, already calculating how much time they had left before the wedding. “Alright. Fine. We’ll go.”

Goku grinned, pulling at the ruined blazer. “So, can I take this off now? It’s kinda tight.”

“Yes, Goku,” Bulma said dryly, rubbing her temples. “Take it off before you destroy the rest of the store.”

As he happily shed the tattered remains of the blazer, Bulma turned to her mother. “You’re sure we can get this done in time?”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. Money speeds up everything.”

Bulma sighed again but couldn’t help smirking. At least Goku would have something decent to wear for their wedding.

“I guess it’s just casual clothes for you today, Goku.”

“What does casual clothes mean?”

“Sweats and hoodies for you, comfy clothes,” Bulma said.

“Can we get back to the furniture then, dear?” Mrs. Briefs said. “ I saw this temperature-cooled, memory foam mattress that I think you’ll love.”

Goku perked up at the mention of furniture. “Oh yeah! We still need a bed, right?”

Bulma exhaled, relieved to be moving on from the disaster that was the clothing section. “Yes, and before you complain, you need a proper bed if you’re going to be living in Capsule Corp. No more just sleeping on the floor or outside.”

Goku grinned. “Hey, I don’t mind the floor! But if you say so.”

Mrs. Briefs linked arms with Goku and led the way, her voice bright with excitement. “Trust me, darling, you’re going to love this mattress! It’s temperature-controlled, which means it keeps you cool in the summer and warm in the winter. And the memory foam molds perfectly to your body—so even someone with your strength won’t wear it down too fast.”

Goku blinked, tilting his head. “So… it’s like sleeping on a cloud?”

Mrs. Briefs chuckled. “Oh, even better than that, sweetheart!”

Bulma rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling as she followed them back to the furniture section. It was still surreal, watching her mother dote on Goku like he’d been part of their family forever. But somehow, it felt… right.

As they stepped into the mattress display area, Mrs. Briefs immediately beelined toward an extravagant, high-tech bed that practically looked like something out of a sci-fi movie. “Here it is! Isn’t it fabulous?”

Goku stared at the massive mattress with wide eyes. He pressed a hand into it, watching how the material molded around his palm before bouncing back into shape. His grin widened. “Whoa! This is better than a cloud!”

Bulma smirked. “Told you. Now, go ahead and try it out before Mom buys half the store.”

Goku didn’t need to be told twice. With a single leap, he landed on the mattress, letting out a pleased hum as he sank into it. “Oh wow. This is nice.”

Mrs. Briefs clapped her hands together. “I knew you’d love it! We’ll take it!”

Bulma groaned. “Mom, can we at least check the price before you just—”

“Oh, nonsense, dear! Nothing is too expensive for my future son-in-law’s comfort.”

Bulma sighed but let it go. There was no stopping her mother when she got like this.

Goku stretched out on the mattress, already looking too comfortable. “Hey, Bulma?”

“What?”

“…Can we get two of these?”

Bulma facepalmed.

“Absolutely not.”

Chapter Text

If today was like any other day, then Bulma knew she should have stayed in bed with Goku.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, barely awake while turning the front door’s switch from locked to unlocked. The scent of morning air laced with the scent of incoming rain meant today was going to be a lazy day. 

The last few days they had spent shopping, moving furniture in, stocking the fridge, and sending out invitations for the wedding, and it was all too much. 

So much so that she hadn’t even bothered to brush her hair yet, and her oversized sweater slipped off one shoulder as she made her way down the stone path toward the mailbox. The Briefs estate was usually quiet at this hour, save for the occasional chirp of birds nesting in the trees.

“Better not be any more gift requests I swear….” She grumbled to herself. Being wealthy was not an invitation for people to send her all their needs. Tuition. Sponsorships. Stock request. Charity. All of this got worse when her Mother just had to publicize her wedding to the entirety of West City. Nobody was offering gifts, only requesting. 

She turned the latch on the mailbox and opened it, mindlessly sorting through the usual pile- bills, invitations, junk, more junk.

Then she saw it.

“What’s this?”

A single black envelope sat wedged between a Capsule Corp business flyer and a wedding catalog. The paper was thick, heavier than any letter she had ever received. There was no return address, only a single word written in deep red ink across the front:

“ Briefs .”

Bulma frowned. 

“Who the hell still uses handwritten letters these days?”

Her fingers paused before finally tearing the seal. Inside was a folded sheet of parchment, the texture rough beneath her fingertips. The handwriting was all over the place, as if each letter had been carved rather than written.

“ To the ones who took everything from me.

I have not forgotten.

I will take from you what you cherish most.

Consider this your only warning.”

Bulma put the letter back in the envelope, “What a creep. I swear these kids have nothing better to do.”

She shoved the envelope under the rest of the mail and started back toward the house, shaking her head. Probably just some dumb prank. Capsule Corp had its fair share of weirdos—fans, conspiracy theorists, even the occasional protester who thought they were secretly building doomsday weapons.

Still, something about the letter gnawed at her. The way the ink bled slightly into the rough parchment. The sheer weight of the paper, like it had been pressed with purpose. And that line— I will take from you what you cherish most . It was corny and she had no time for some melodramatic stalker.

She went back inside, tossing the mail onto the kitchen counter. The scent of fresh coffee filled the air, and Mrs. Briefs hummed to herself as she plated a fresh stack of pancakes.

“Oh, good morning, dear! Did the invitations arrive yet?”

Bulma glanced at the pile, spotting a few envelopes that did look like wedding RSVPs. “Yeah, I think so.” She shrugged. “Also got some weird letter, probably just some kid playing a joke.”

Mrs. Briefs set a cup of coffee in front of her and gave a breezy laugh. “Oh, those pranksters! You know, your father once got a ransom note from a rival company demanding all our blueprints—turns out it was just the neighbor’s grandson testing out his new typewriter.”

Bulma huffed a small laugh, she pulled out a chair and took a sip of coffee, letting the warmth chase away the chill that had settled in her bones.

Probably nothing.

She just wished she believed that.

“Mom, when are you going to stop just coming over and making breakfast for us? You know I can cook too right?”

Mrs. Briefs giggled as she set down another plate of pancakes. “Oh, sweetheart, I know you can cook. But what kind of mother would I be if I didn’t spoil my baby girl every now and then?”

Bulma sighed, stabbing at her pancakes with her fork. “I’m not a baby anymore, Mom.”

“To me, you’ll always be my baby,” Mrs. Briefs said with a wink.

Bulma rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling a little. At least one thing in her life was normal. As she took a bite, her eyes drifted back toward the pile of mail on the counter. The strange letter was buried underneath, but she could still feel its presence, like an itch in the back of her mind.

Before she could dwell on it too much, a familiar whoosh echoed from the backyard, followed by the sound of feet landing against the patio.

“Bulma! What’s for breakfast?”

Goku strolled in with his usual grin, his hair still messy from sleep. He yawned, stretching his arms before plopping into a chair beside her.

“I thought you’d never wake up.”

“We did a lot of training last night, so I did my best. But you wore me out. Bulma. Especially when you—”

“Ah, I think we got Goku.” Bulma choked on coffee, face red as she glared at her Mother who had a knowing smile.

“You two love birds will be giving me grandchildren very soon.”

“It’s not like that, Mother.”

Mrs.Briefs ignored her daughter, setting two plates of pancakes and meats in front of Goku. “Of course, dear! Now, Goku, you eat as much as you want.”

Goku grinned wide, already digging in. “Thanks, Mrs. Briefs! You always make the best food.”

Bulma buried her face in her hands, groaning. “Mom, seriously. You can’t say stuff like that.”

Mrs. Briefs simply sipped her tea, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh, sweetheart, I was your age once too. No need to be shy.”

Goku, completely oblivious to the tension, shoved another bite into his mouth. “Mmm—Bulma, you okay? Your face is all red.”

Bulma shot him a glare before taking a deep breath, willing herself to move past the embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

Her fingers unconsciously tapped against the envelope sitting on the counter. Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe it was just some dumb prank.

“Are we still going to Mount Paozu today, Bulma?” Goku asked.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course we are.”

“Awesome! I haven’t been back in a while.

Mrs. Briefs placed another plate of food in front of Goku. “Oh, what a wonderful idea! A romantic getaway in the mountains, just the two of you under the stars.”

“It’s not romantic, Mom. It’s just camping.”

Mrs. Briefs waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, dear, call it what you want, but these things always lead to romance.”

Goku, oblivious as ever, simply dug into his food. “Camping sounds fun either way! Plus, I can catch us some fish!”

“Let’s just get packed, okay?”

“I’m still eating.” 

“Eat up, I’ll be in our room if you need me.” Bulma kissed his cheek, removing herself from the chair as she went upstairs.

Goku barely acknowledged the kiss, too focused on shoveling food into his mouth. Mrs. Briefs giggled behind her hand.

“Oh, that boy,” she mused, watching Goku devour his breakfast. “Bulma sure picked someone with an appetite!”

Goku paused mid-bite, swallowing before grinning. “Food’s important! Gotta keep my strength up.”

Meanwhile, upstairs, Bulma closed the door behind her, sighing as she leaned against it. Her fingers instinctively brushed against the pocket of her joggers where she had stuffed the letter.

Why is this bothering me so much?

She pulled it out again, unfolding the parchment. The handwriting still looked unhinged, like someone had carved the words in a fit of rage. The warning was clear, and no matter how much she tried to rationalize it, she couldn't shake the feeling that this was personal.

Whoever sent this wasn’t just playing a prank.

Bulma sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her messy hair. Maybe she should tell Goku. But what if it was just some weird joke? She could already hear him brushing it off, telling her not to worry.

No, she’d keep an eye on it for now. If anything else happened, then she’d say something.

For now, she had a camping trip to prepare for.

The wind howled across the grassy plateau as Goku dropped their bags onto the ground, his hair whipping wildly in every direction. “Man, it’s really blowin’ today,” he said, shielding his eyes as he surveyed the area.

“Yeah, well, we’ll manage. We’re doing this the old fashioned way, no capsule tech.”

“Huh? But you always use capsules. Don’t you hate doing things the hard way?”

“Well, you never take shortcuts, and I figured… I dunno, maybe I should try it your way for once.”

A slow smile spread across Goku’s face. “Really? That’s kinda cool, Bulma!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get used to it.”

The wind picked up again as she pulled out a bundle of poles and fabric, trying to recall how to set up a tent manually. Goku crouched beside her, watching as she unfolded the pieces with a focused frown.

“Need help?” 

“Nope!” she said, gripping a pole and jamming it into the ground. The wind immediately tried to yank the fabric from her hands, sending it flapping violently. “Ugh! Stay still!”

“This is why I usually just sleep under a tree.”

“That is not happening tonight! We are sleeping in a proper tent, even if it kills me!”

“But if it does kill ya, then I’m definitely sleepin’ under a tree.”

Bulma groaned, shoving another pole into his hands. “Just hold this and shut up.”

Goku grabbed the pole, and unlike Bulma, it didn’t budge no matter how much the wind blew at him. 

“I never set up a tent, but isn’t there something like instructions we can use?”

“Gee, Goku. Why didn’t I think of that? Bulma then huffed, brushing a few stray hairs out of her face. The wind was starting to aggravate her. “Oh wait, I did think of that. But those flew away five minutes ago when you weren’t looking.”

“Oh… whoops.”

She sighed, this was the norm living with Goku. He had a lot to learn but she had to teach him. There was no way another Chi-Chi situation was happening under her watch, not that he had an eye for women. The only attraction he had besides her was food; lots of food.

“Whatever! We don’t need instructions. I can figure this out.”

“Why not just ask me to hold the whole thing up while you put the stakes in?”

Bulma froze, then narrowed her eyes. “…That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“Heh, I do have good ideas sometimes.”

With a sigh, for what felt like the thousandth time today, she handed over the tent. “Fine. You hold it, I’ll do the rest.”

Goku lifted the fabric with ease, the wind no match for his grip. Bulma quickly grabbed the stakes and hammered them into the ground, moving quicker now that she wasn’t fighting against the elements alone.

As she hammered in another stake, the wind picked up again, tugging the fabric with a violent snap. She gritted her teeth and pressed her knee against the base, trying to keep it from flapping away.

“Goku, hold it steady!”

“I am holding it steady!” Goku said, holding the tent poles. “It’s not my fault the wind’s goin’ crazy!”

Bulma grumbled, trying to drive another stake into the ground. “Ugh, I should’ve just used a capsule…”

“Then why didn’t ya?” 

The remark almost made her snap. She had already explained to him that she wasn’t looking for an easy way out. All her life she had been gifted with understanding science and technology, but things like this, not so much. 

“ Sweetie ,” she never called him that. “Why don’t we focus on getting this last one in?”

Goku felt his body shiver not from the winds, but the tone of Bulma's voice. She wasn’t happy. 

“Uh… yeah, sure, Bulma,” he said quickly, grabbing the last stake. He hammered it in with just a little more force than necessary, hoping to avoid whatever wrath was bubbling beneath her calm expression.

Bulma didn’t say anything at first, just brushing her hands off on her pants before giving the tent one final tug to make sure it was secure.

“There,” she said, standing up and dusting herself off. “Now, sweetie—”

Goku flinched again. Something in his head warned him not to push her another inch.

“—why don’t you go catch us some dinner while I set up the rest of the campsite?”

He shot to his feet, eager for an escape. “Yep! I’ll be back in a flash!”

Before she could say another word, he flew off toward the nearby river, leaving a gust of wind and swirling leaves in his wake.

“Sweetie, huh? That got his attention.”

With a small smirk, she turned back toward the supplies, shaking her head. 

“Maybe I should mess with him more often.”

Now alone, she could focus on setting up the rest of their camp. It was only supposed to be for the weekend and mainly serve as a retreat from her hovering Mother.

Lately, it felt like she couldn’t take a single step without hearing, “ Oh, Bulma, let me do that for Goku!” or “ Sweetie, your husband shouldn’t have to lift a finger!” It was infuriating. Goku was the strongest man on the planet, yet her mother insisted on treating him like a helpless child who couldn’t tie his shoes. Which he couldn’t actually, and she still was working on those fundamentals. Regardless, it was her job to better him. 

It was beginning to be annoying hearing the stories of everything her Mother had done for him or taught him, so she started a nightly ritual of silencing his mouth with a treatment under the covers. A win for her and a win for him, if she said so herself.

Thinking of Goku and sex wasn’t two words she thought would be in the same sentence, but surprisingly he caught on quick. The training was paying off and he was more affectionate during those moments.

She unrolled their sleeping bags inside the tent, smoothing out the fabric with a little more care than required. She just wanted the best for them. She wanted to make him feel as comfortable as possible, no matter how small the gesture was. And honestly, he probably doesn’t even notice. He’s just happy as long as there’s food.

Still, it annoyed her. She had spent years proving herself as a capable scientist, a businesswoman, and someone who could handle her problems. Now that she was going to get married, her mother acted like she was supposed to be some doting housewife, tending to Goku’s every need like he couldn’t take care of himself.

She stepped back and surveyed her work. The tent was up, the firepit was set, and all that was left was waiting for Goku to return with dinner.

With a tired stretch, she sat on a nearby log, rubbing her temples. Maybe she was overthinking things. This trip was supposed to be relaxing, after all.

Her eyes wandered to her backpack, where the strange letter from that morning was tucked away. The uneasy feeling from before crept back in. 

“No. Forget it. This is just a weekend away. Nothing’s going to ruin it.”

Her focus snapped to the nearby sound of the trees and bushes, which were bristling louder than the wind could howl.

“Goku, are you trying to scare me?” There was no response, so she did the next reasonable thing; Bulma pulled out her gun.

Still no answer.

Bulma’s nerves prickled. She wasn’t helpless, but she also wasn’t stupid. She had seen too much in her life to dismiss the gut feeling crawling up her spine.

Keeping the gun steady, she took a cautious step forward, eyes scanning the shadowed tree line. The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky, casting long, eerie silhouettes across the plateau.

A twig snapped.

She spun toward the sound, finger twitching over the trigger. “Alright, whoever you are, I will shoot—so you better start talking!”

The bushes parted, and from the shadows emerged a towering figure. Broad shoulders, thick arms, and a stance that exuded raw strength, whoever he was, he wasn’t just some lost traveler. The last of the day’s sunlight glinted off his weathered skin, muscles taut beneath a ragged, sleeveless gi that had seen better days.

Bulma’s grip tightened on the gun. “Who the hell are you?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a slow step forward, boots crunching against the dirt.

“I was wondering when I’d finally run into you,” he said, voice deep and rough, like gravel scraping together. His eyes were dark and drifted over her, but there was no lecherous glint, no casual interest. Just cold, simmering hatred.

“No. But I know you.”

“You’ve got five seconds to explain before I put a hole in you.”

The man didn’t flinch.

“Go ahead. Shoot.”

Bulma didn’t need to be told twice and she fired, not once, not twice, but three times. The first bullet struck the man square in the chest. The second hit his shoulder. The third, his side.

But he didn’t fall.

Her breath hitched as the man barely flinched, his lips pulling into something between a smirk and a sneer. He looked down at the bullet holes in his gi—small patches of red already blooming beneath the fabric, but he remained standing, apparently unbothered.

Her gun clicked. Empty.

“Not bad,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder as if shaking off an annoying itch. “But if you think that’s gonna stop me—”

“Who are you?”

“Didn’t you get my letter?”

Bulma’s blood ran cold. The letter. The one she had brushed off as some stupid prank.

Her grip tightened around the empty gun, but it was useless now. Her only option was to stall.

“What do you want?” she demanded

The man chuckled, a deep, humorless sound. “Like I said. I’m here to take from Capsule Corp what they cherish most, you.” 

Before she could react, the pain of something hitting the back of her neck sent her world dark.

Meanwhile, Goku was having the time of his life in the river.

He swam beneath the surface, eyes darting around as he spotted a school of fat fish lazily drifting in the current. His grin widened. Jackpot!

With a sudden burst of speed, he shot forward, hands outstretched. One fish. Two fish. Three—slip!

The fourth fish wriggled free, smacking him across the face with its tail before escaping into the depths. Goku surfaced with a sputter, blinking as he wiped water from his eyes.

“Oh, come on!” He pouted before shaking it off. “Eh, three’s still good.”

He waded to the shore, proudly holding up his haul. “Bulma’s gonna be real happy about these—”

Then, the wind picked up. Not the normal kind of wind, either. It howled through the trees, carrying an unsettling silence with it. No birds. No rustling. Just… emptiness.

Goku’s smile faded. His body tensed. Something didn’t feel right. And it wasn’t just the hair-raising chill he got from the wind blowing on his wet body.

“ Bulma .”

He lifted himself into the air, and flew back to their campsite, as he soared above the trees, his heart pounded harder than it did in any battle. The closer he got, the heavier the unease settled in his chest.

The campsite was still. Too still.

Goku landed with a soft thud , his bare feet sinking into the grass. The tent was there, untouched, but the firewood Bulma had gathered lay scattered. No sign of her.

“Bulma?” He called again, stepping forward. His sharp eyes scanned the area. The wind howled through the trees, but there was no response. No teasing remark. No annoyed huff.

His fingers curled into fists.

Then, he saw it.

The gun. Lying on the ground. The dirt around it was disturbed, as if there had been a struggle.

The unease turned into something else—something hot, boiling just beneath his skin.

Someone had taken her.

And they were going to regret it.

Goku took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He pushed past the noise of the wind, the rustling leaves, and the distant rush of the river, focusing only on the energy that mattered most—Bulma’s.

It wasn’t easy. Ki sensing had never been his strongest skill, especially when it came to people who didn’t fight. But he had worked on it. Mr. Popo and Kami had drilled the technique into him, making him refine it beyond just sensing power levels. He had learned to pick up the subtle differences, the flickers of life force beyond warriors.

His brows furrowed. “ Come on, Bulma… where are you?”

Then, there it was. Faint. South-East.

His relief was short-lived.

Right near Bulma’s ki was another presence. One that made his stomach twist.

It was dark. It wasn’t the same as King Piccolo’s twisted nature. It was something he couldn’t describe.

Goku’s eyes snapped open. His jaw clenched as he turned in the direction of the presence. He knew that place.

"Dragon Rock."

The home of creatures of all sorts and she was there. His Bulma was there with someone who had decided to touch her. Anger rose in his chest, his tale swayed back and forth in unrivaled anger. No matter how carefree he was, nobody hurt his loved ones. Especially not his soon to be wife. No one.

Without another second wasted, Goku shot into the sky like a star crossing comet, the ground beneath him cracking from the force of his takeoff. His mind was clear, his instincts sharper than ever. 

“I'm coming, Bulma.”

Chapter Text

Goku’s mind was a blur of anger and worry as he flew toward Dragon Rock, the place now burned into his thoughts. His senses were sharpened, his eyes scanning the terrain below. The ki he had sensed earlier—a dark, twisted presence—was still lingering. It wasn’t far now. His hands clenched into fists as his tail lashed behind him, his body tensing with every passing second.

Dragon Rock was a primal place, filled with creatures and stories that his Grandpa Gohan told him, even the bravest warriors hesitated to undertake. It had once been a refuge for those who lived in harmony with the wild and mystical creatures of the world, but that peace had long since been corrupted. It was a place where monsters roamed, and the very rocks seemed to pulse with an abundance of ki.

“Bulma,” Goku murmured under his breath. The wind whipped past him, pulling at his hair and clothes, but he barely noticed. His focus was on the energy signature that was now clearer than ever. His senses had been fine-tuned through years of training with Mr. Popo and Kami. He’d been able to pinpoint the slightest fluctuation of ki, and right now, it was all focused on one thing—getting to his Bulma.

He remembered all the times he’d trained to sense and track energy, but this-this was different. This felt personal. And the thought of Bulma being in danger, trapped somewhere, made his heart race.

The closer he got, the more the air seemed to thicken. The wind was fierce, blowing harder, as if trying to push him away. But Goku didn’t slow down. He pressed forward, his eyes narrowing when he finally saw the silhouette of Dragon Rock on the horizon, the jagged peaks towering over the land like silent guardians.

And then he felt it. A hint of ki, almost hidden, but unmistakably there.

"You're not getting away from me.”

With a surge of speed, he shot downward toward the rocky terrain. The ground below seemed to draw nearer with every passing second until, finally, he landed with a thud that echoed through the rocky landscape.

His boots hit the ground with force, sending a cloud of dust swirling around him. His eyes darted from side to side, his senses searching for any sign of Bulma, any sign of that dark ki he had sensed earlier.

“Bulma!” he called out, his voice carrying across the winds. 

He waited for a response, but there was nothing. But his senses were still guiding him, pushing him forward. Every step he took, every breath, told him he was closer. He wouldn’t stop until he found her.

With renewed determination, he continued through the rocky landscape, the air growing colder as the sun dipped lower in the sky. His heart raced. The fight was coming. And Goku knew that whoever had taken her, whoever was behind this, would regret it.

The dark ki he’d sensed earlier flared again. It was close now.

He took off at a full sprint, his muscles rippling with power as he charged ahead, ready for whatever would come next. The closer he got, the more he could feel the significance of the threat hanging in the air. And then—there it was. A clearing up ahead, where the ki was strongest.

Goku’s eyes narrowed as he slowed his pace, carefully stepping into the clearing. The winds died down here, and the air felt heavy. The ground beneath him was littered with large boulders and jagged rocks, creating a perfect place for an ambush. He could hear movement ahead, and his heart skipped a beat when he finally saw the figure standing there.

The man who had taken her.

The man who had threatened everything he cared about.

Goku’s fists clenched tighter as his teeth ground together. He wasn’t going to let this person get away with it.

“Where is she?” 

The man didn’t respond right away. Instead, he turned slowly, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement.

“Well, well. I’ve been expecting you.”

“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

The man smiled wickedly. 

“Is that so, Son Goku?”

“How do you know me?” 

“Oh, I know all about you. The prodigy. The hero. The ‘savior’ of Earth.” He said the title like it was something rotten on his tongue. “I was supposed to fight you once, remember?”

Goku narrowed his eyes. “You were at the tournament...?”

“The 23rd World Martial Arts Tournament,” the man confirmed. “I trained for it. I bled for it. I was going to show the world what true power looked like. But then your precious Capsule Corp made sure that never happened.”

Goku frowned, confused. “Capsule Corp?”

The man’s expression twisted with fury, teeth gritting. “Because of them… because of their damn science and meddling—I never got my chance. A shipment of their tech exploded at the southern arena just days before the tournament. They said it was a 'malfunction.' But I knew better. I was caught in it. I lost everything.”

“I don’t think they meant to—”

“Don’t,” the man snapped, stepping forward. “Don’t you dare defend them. While you were being handed trophies and titles, I was in a hospital bed, broken, forgotten. So I found something else. Something… greater.”

Goku’s eyes shifted as he felt it again—that strange, wild energy radiating from the man. It was unnatural, erratic.

“How are you so strong?”

The man smirked. “Ah, so you can feel it. Yes. The fruit of the Eternal Bloom. Found it in the pit of the Forgotten Forest. They said it was cursed. They said no human should eat it.”

“And you did anyway.”

“I did. And now… now I’m something else.” His aura began to spike, rippling with a deep, violent red that crackled at the edges. “I’m stronger than ever, and I’ve waited months to return the favor. You took my future, Son Goku. So I’ll take your present.”

“Where’s Bulma?” Goku demanded, his ki rising in response.

“She’s safe… for now. A few bruises and a black eye, but if you want her back, you’ll have to earn it.”

At the mention of the black eye, Goku’s stance shifted into a fighting pose, his tail snapping behind him like a whip. “Then I guess I’ll just have to beat it out of you. And then some more for putting a hand on Bulma.”

The man’s eyes gleamed. “Good. I’ve waited a long time to hear that.” He flexed every visible muscle in his body, as if his body were trying to escape its human limits. 

The two fighters clashed, their energies sending violent ripples through the air. Rocks splintered. Dust whipped around them. Goku lunged first, his fist colliding with the man’s jaw, but the stranger barely staggered.

“You hit like a kid,” the man sneered, blocking Goku’s follow-up punch with his forearm. He countered with a knee to Goku’s ribs, but Goku twisted midair and landed on a nearby boulder.

“You talk a lot for someone who’s been hiding behind threats and letters.”

The man smirked. “You would’ve done the same. If your name didn’t open every door.”

He dashed forward, palm extended. Goku blocked it just in time, their auras crackling as they exchanged blows midair. Fists, elbows, knees—each strike faster than lightning, louder than thunder.

“Still think a fruit makes you stronger than training?” Goku grunted, dodging a roundhouse kick that shattered the rock behind him.

“This isn’t strength. It’s evolution!” the man roared, grabbing Goku by the wrist and slamming him into the ground hard enough to create a crater.

Goku winced but flipped back to his feet, blood dripping from his lip. “Nah. You’re just crazy.”

“I had to be crazy,” the man barked, dashing toward him. “You don’t get this strong by staying sane!”

Their fists met again—this time, both skidded back from the force. A gust of wind exploded outward, knocking debris into the trees.

“You know what the fruit gave me, Son Goku?” the man hissed. “ Clarity. You all live in comfort. In peace. But strength... real strength is born in the fire. In loss. In pain.”

Goku powered up, and the hue of his ki changed his aura now. “Then you’re about to feel a whole lot of it.”

He shot forward, faster than before, slamming the man in the gut. The attacker doubled over, only to grin through clenched teeth.

“Now that’s more like it.”

Bulma stirred with a groan, pain shooting through her skull as she blinked against the murky light filtering through cracks in the cave walls. Her left eye throbbed with every heartbeat, swollen shut, and her lip was split. The metallic taste of blood still lingered on her tongue.

Her wrists ached, tightly bound behind her back with some kind of thick wire. She shifted, wincing as her shoulders screamed in protest. The ground beneath her was cold stone, damp with moisture and moss. Every inch of her body ached.

Then came the rumble. A low, distant growl in the earth, like a thunderclap from deep underground.

She tilted her head, listening harder. That wasn’t thunder. That was Goku.

Even through the pain, her lips curled into a smirk.

“Took you long enough, dummy…” 

Another tremor rolled through the cave, shaking loose a pebble from the ceiling. The echoing boom that followed told her everything she needed to know: someone out there was getting their ass kicked, and Goku was definitely involved.

Her eyes watered from the pain, but her spirit refused to break. “Come on, Goku,” she muttered, glancing around the cavern. “Just don’t destroy the whole mountain getting to me.”

A shadow passed by the cave entrance. Her heart skipped. It wasn’t Goku.

The man.

He hadn’t left her completely alone.

Bulma stilled her breath, calming herself. She would not panic. She’d lived through worse. She was Bulma Briefs —and if she got out of this alive, someone was going to pay dearly.

The clash of fists and energy lit the skies above Dragon Rock, a storm of raw power and fury. The plateau below was scarred, boulders shattered, the ground cratered and blackened with scorch marks. Wind whipped violently as the two warriors stood apart, breathing hard, bloodied and shirtless, muscles taut and heaving with every breath.

Goku’s chest rose and fell, a deep gash marking his side, and another bruise darkening his shoulder. His hair, wild as ever, whipped with the wind, eyes locked with his opponent’s.

“You’re strong,” He admitted, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “But I still don’t even know your name.”

The other man spat to the side, his own body battered and torn. His left eye had begun to swell shut, and burn marks trailed down his ribcage, but he still stood tall, feral grin etched onto his face.

“They called me Karu,” he said. “But you don’t get to know that name for long. You’ll be dead before it matters.”

“You’re the one who sent that letter? Who took Bulma?”

“Capsule Corp’s little princess. Don’t worry, she’s still breathing. For now.”

A flash of red surged in Goku’s blue aura. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he stepped forward, the energy rising around him like a second skin.

“You’re gonna regret laying a hand on her.”

“Then stop talking, and come prove it.”

In the next instant, they clashed again—fists colliding like thunder, ki flaring violently around them, the very air screaming from the force of their blows.

Karu blocked high, but Goku ducked low, sweeping his leg beneath Karu’s knees. The larger man stumbled, and Goku followed up with a spinning kick to the gut, launching Karu through a jagged pillar of stone.

But Karu wasn’t down for long. With a roar, he burst from the rubble, fist cocked back. Goku met him mid-air, deflecting the punch with the red length of his Power Pole, which extended in a blink, slamming Karu back down into the earth with a crash.

“HAH!” Goku shouted, the Power Pole shrinking and whipping back into his hand. He spun it with one hand, then vaulted over Karu with a flip.

Karu tried to counter with a burst of Ki from his palms, but Goku twisted mid-air, his tail lashing out like a whip. It wrapped around Karu’s wrist, jerking it downward. The energy blast exploded into the ground.

Using the tail as leverage, Goku flipped himself onto Karu’s shoulders, grabbed his head, and slammed a knee down into his face.

Karu staggered back, dazed, but furious. He snarled, driving his elbow toward Goku’s spine. Goku sensed it coming, twisting mid-dodge, his tail unwinding and launching him backward, just out of range.

Before Karu could recover, Goku pointed the Power Pole at his chest.

“Extend!”

The rod shot out, smashing into Karu’s gut and lifting him off the ground. As Karu flew backward, Goku pulled it back with a twirl, crouched into a stance, and channeled his Ki into the feet, cracking the stone around his feet.

Karu hit the mountain wall hard, coughing blood. But even then, he laughed.

“You’re good,” Karu growled, pulling himself upright, “but you haven’t even seen what this fruit really gave me!”

Goku planted his feet. The wind howled across the battlefield, carrying heat and rage.

“I don’t care what it gave you,” Goku said, Power Pole braced across his shoulders. “If you hurt Bulma, that’s all I need to know.”

The earth trembled beneath Goku’s feet. 

Karu staggered forward, his breathing heavy but controlled. His lips twisted into a grin, wide and wicked.

“You wanna know what that fruit gave me, Son Goku?” he asked again, his voice roughening into something deeper. “Let me show you.”

His muscles bulged unnaturally, cords of flesh rippling beneath his skin as it began to redden, taking on a dark, volcanic hue. Black veins spidered out from his chest across his shoulders and down his arms. His eyes lost their whites, replaced by glowing orange, like molten rock.

“That’s new.”

Karu threw his head back with a guttural growl. The air around him warped—his aura now burning red with a thick, choking heat.

“You see it now?” Karu said, voice guttural and warped. “Strength beyond mortal limits. My bones are iron. My skin? Tougher than diamond. You can’t beat this.”

Goku didn’t flinch. He cracked his knuckles, rolled his neck, then, grinned.

“Wanna bet?”

Karu charged, arms outstretched.

Goku waited, then sidestepped, moving low. His tail lashed around Karu’s ankle, “Ouch! That’s hot.” But it was all he needed to trip him off-balance for half a second. 

That was all he needed.

Goku pounced— literally —onto Karu’s back, sank his teeth into his shoulder with a snarl.

“AGHH—WHAT THE HELL!?” 

“I learned from a dinosaur once!” Goku shouted, holding on like a beast. “Biting works!”

Blood, thicker and darker than normal, splashed from the wound. Karu elbowed Goku in the ribs, sending him flying into a boulder, but Goku was already back on his feet, wiping his mouth.

“Yeah,” he said, “not a fan of the taste. You’re definitely not tasty like the dinosaur.”

Karu touched his shoulder, fingers coming away slick with blood. “You’re going to regret that, monkey.”

“You look big like a mountain and talk a lot, but your strength might as well be a pebble.”

“You should’ve stayed down.”

Karu’s feet dug into the cracked earth, arms spreading as the ground beneath him began to tremble. Ki surged up his body—red, thick, and pulsing, coiling around his arms like a storm of fire.

“I’ll bury you,” he spat. “And everything within ten miles of this cursed area!”

Goku’s eyes widened as the environment changed, around them, the sky turning a deep, stormy gray. Karu thrust both arms forward, and from his palms, a massive, spiraling beam erupted, crimson and black, twisting like a drill made of fire and hate. It tore across the landscape, ripping boulders from the ground and turning trees to ash.

Goku’s feet slid back as he raised his arms in defense. Not this time. He was going to take the offensive.

His hands cupped together.

“ Ka… ”

The beam closed in.

“ Me… ”

His aura flared sky-blue, blazing to life against the red storm surging toward him.

“ Ha… ”

The ground cracked beneath him, pressure building, tail coiling tightly behind him like a spring.

“ Me—HA!! ”

The blue wave tore from his hands, screaming forward with the raw might of earth-shattering energy. The two blasts collided—blue and red slamming into each other with a thunderous shockwave that flattened everything nearby. Trees disintegrated. Rocks vaporized.

Goku gritted his teeth, pouring more of himself into the beam.

“Bulma. Don’t worry. I’m coming.”

Karu screamed against the resistance, veins bulging along his arms, as his power began to waver.

“NO—NO! I WON’T LOSE TO YOU!”

But Goku’s blast pushed forward, inch by inch, until—

BOOM.

A titanic explosion lit up Dragon Rock, and everything went white. Smoke spiraled high into the sky like the breath of a titan. The forest around Dragon Rock was in shambles—trees turned to splinters, boulders melted to glass, the once-proud cliffs now jagged ruins scorched black from the blast.

The wind howled, carrying ash and silence. A shadow stirred near the epicenter. Goku stood hunched, his feet buried in cracked earth, one arm singed and trembling at his side, the other braced against his knee. His gi was nearly torn to ribbons, blood trailing down his cheek and chest, hair heavy with sweat and soot. His tail hung limp, twitching weakly behind him.

He looked up.

Karu was on his knees across the battlefield, his body smoking, the skin across his chest charred where the Kamehameha had landed. His breathing was ragged, wheezing, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t died completely.

Goku stepped forward, slow but steady. Each footfall kicked up dust.

“Give it up,” he said, voice hoarse. “You’re done.”

“You think this is over…?” Karu spat blood. “You think this is all I have…?”

But his body betrayed him, his arms gave out, and he collapsed face-first in the dirt, twitching, unconscious.

Goku sighed, letting himself drop to one knee. His lumped eye and crooked smile looked at Karu, “Next time, get stronger with your power, and then come train with me the proper way.”

In the midst of that speech, his head snapped up—Bulma . He bolted across the ruined terrain, eyes scanning through smoke and rubble until—

There.

A half-buried cave entrance, barely visible beneath crumbled rock.

“Hang on,” Goku muttered, forcing his aching body forward as he scrambled to the rocks, ripping them away one by one. “I’m here.”

Inside the cave, Bulma stirred at the sound, eyes open as she looked to see who came through its entrance. The ropes were still cutting into her wrists, her lip split, and her face bruised.

“Goku…” 

He burst through the last of the rock, eyes locking with hers. Before he broke the bindings that kept her restrained. 

“I got you.”

Bulma hugged him, and Goku hugged back, not letting her go, as he took in the smell, the feeling of her body against his, and everything he loved about her.

“You’re safe now.”

She was going to offer him a witty response, but the other man who stayed watch was creeping up behind Goku, “Behind you, Goku!”

The man tried to sink his knife into his back, but Goku’s tail smacked the man into the wall, knocking him unconscious. 

“Did I hit him too hard, Bulma?”

She undid their embrace, stomping on the man’s face a few times, “Nope. He deserved it, and that other guy, Karu. Where is he? I need to give him a piece of my mind, too.”

“You sure you don’t wanna rest first?”

Goku winced as she placed a hand on his ribs, clearly still sore. Bulma mouthed a quick sorry, taking in the base of operations. 

“Rest? After what he did to me? Goku, I was kidnapped . I am not going to lie around and play damsel while you finish the movie without me.”

He gave a tired chuckle, brushing some dust out of her tangled hair. “Alright. Just… maybe don’t kick him too hard. He’s already out cold.”

Bulma huffed but relented, glancing toward the cave mouth. “So what now?”

Goku looked back out at the devastation, and Karu's unconscious body still lay where he had collapsed, unmoving.

“We’re going home.”

Bulma nodded, though her body leaned into him just a little more as the adrenaline wore off. 

“Good. I need a real bed. And a shower. And about eight cups of coffee. And a good bath, with my lovely man.”

Goku tightened his hold around her, “You’ll have all of that. And pancakes. I’ll ask your mom to make them extra fluffy.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Please don’t encourage her.”

They stepped out into the open air. The sun had begun to set beyond Dragon Rock’s jagged cliffs; Karu’s body still twitched occasionally, unconscious but alive, the red hue of his transformation now gone.

Bulma’s eyes drifted to him. “You think he’ll come back?”

“Maybe. But if he does… I’ll be ready.”

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder as he floated upward. “We'd better call the others soon. If Karu’s just the beginning…”

“Yeah. This isn’t over. But you’re safe. That’s what matters right now.”

And with that, they soared off into the horizon, the last rays of sunlight catching in Bulma’s tangled hair as she closed her eyes, safe in his arms, but already planning for whatever would come next.

Chapter Text

Bulma sat at one end of the tub, her knees pulled up to her chest, her muscles easing in the hot water, but still her bruises were clear in her reflection. The water showcased the blackened eye that would have to be hidden with makeup. She was ugly now. Karu had scarred her temporarily, and he was lucky that she didn’t have a gun on her. 

“A guy like him probably wouldn’t have flinched at a bullet… Goku all those years ago didn’t.”

Whether the bullets would have been effective or not wasn’t what mattered to her. The plan still would have been to give him some payback for what he did to her, to make up for the damage he had done to her. But they were home now, and she couldn’t take her mind off things. She was powerless in the face of an adversary who far outmatched her when technology failed because she got snuck up on, and letting her guard down led to a blackened eye and some bruises that would need to be patched up.

“Great. The wedding is in a few weeks, and now this. Perfect, Bulma.”

Goku lounged at the other end, head lying back, arms spread along the edge of the tub, a sigh rising from his lips. His chest and ribs bore the remnants of the fight, scratches, cuts, bruises, and dried blood that refused to fully wash away.

“Are you an idiot?” Bulma looked at Goku, whom she could only see clearly with one eye thanks to her slumped bang, which hid the darkened eye.

“Why would I be an idiot, Bulma?” 

If Goku were anyone else, she would have taken that as a trick question. But Goku always made the things that she would think twice about seem not so malicious. He always had that look. The one where he was confused but smiled anyway, like a superhero that didn’t see all the faults in the crack; that was Goku. She was half tempted to splash his face with their bathwater, to ‘wake him’ from that naive view that he had about most things in the world. Ignorant more than naive, maybe both.

“You could have gotten hurt or worse…” 

“I don’t care how many times I get hurt. I won’t let anyone get away with hurting you, Bulma.”

“Classic, Goku.”

Bulma looked down at the water again, her lips pressed into one another. “You say that like it’s some badge of honor. Like dying for me would mean something.”

“It would mean everything.”

“Don’t say that,” she sighed. “You think throwing your life away for me is noble? What do you think would happen to me if I lost you, Goku? Huh?”

He sat forward, suddenly serious, the steam between them like a wall waiting to be breached. 

“I’m not planning on going anywhere, Bulma. I fight to make sure I come back. To you.”

“You’re not invincible. You never were.”

“I know.” He was always so kind, somehow, no matter the circumstances, he kept his good nature. It was who he was after all. Grandpa Gohan taught him to be nice, friendly, and especially to girls. Then his eyes found Bulma’s through the rising steam. “But I am strong. And I can take it. The pain, the danger. If it means you’re safe, then I’ll keep taking it.”

Bulma didn’t respond right away. Her fingers skimmed over the surface of the water, watching the ripples distort her reflection again. “Do you remember when Piccolo almost killed you at the tournament?”

He nodded slowly.

“I was in the crowd,” she said. “And when you got back up, bloodied, broken, and still smiling like a fool, I hated it. I hated how relieved I was, and how scared I was to feel that way about you.”

“What are you saying, Bulma?’

“I’m saying…” she splashed him. “That I fell in love with a man who doesn’t know how to stop.”

Goku shook his head, the water from his hair going everywhere as he dried off from the splash. 

“You charge in without a second thought, without hesitation. And for the most part, that’s who you are. That’s what makes you Goku. But sometimes I wish you’d be selfish just once. Just once, for me. I know this is new for both of us, and I don’t mind you training and wanting to get stronger; I just don’t want you dying on me. ”

He splashed her with his tail, the force of the water making it more like a small tsunami rather than the splash that he intended it to be. “Oops. Sorry, Bulma, heh.” Goku almost wanted to jump out of the bath and into some dry clothes versus facing her right now. “But that is for you, Bulma. I fight to protect you… to keep what we have.”

“But you almost lost it. Again. And I almost had to bury you. That was before ‘us’, before the confession. But we’re getting married soon, so… We just have to be more considerate of one another’s actions.”

The words came out like she had held them too long. 

Goku went quiet, uncharacteristically so. Then, he said, “When I was a kid… I didn’t really have anyone besides Grandpa Gohan. And it wasn’t like this. Not someone waiting for me at the end of a fight. You gave me that. You gave me a home. ”

Bulma stared at him, letting him learn to express his emotions and thoughts to her clearly. He was much better than they started with, but moments like these showed her that there was more in his head than the next big fight. 

“I don’t ever want to lose that feeling,” he added. “So no matter how beat up I get, no matter how hard the fight, I’ll always come back.”

Her hand reached for the side of the tub again to balance herself as she took in the man’s words. 

“You better,” she muttered, swallowing the emotion. “Because I swear, if you ever die on me, I’ll find a way to drag your ass back.”

Goku grinned. “You probably would.”

“Damn right I would. I need you.”

Outside the bathroom window, the evening was creeping in, painting the clouds pink and gold, like bruises healing in the sky.

“Can you wash my back, Bulma? I can’t do it as good as you can.”

“ Seriously ?”

Bulma rubbed her chin, “And what’s my reward in all this, hmm?”

“Uhh. A thank you?” Goku stroked his chin, unsure of what exactly he could give her.

“What do you think I would want, Goku? It’s nothing crazy, it’s pretty simple now that I think about it.”

“Uhh… food?”

Bulma rolled her eyes with a tired smile. “No, not food.”

“More hot water?”

“No.”

“A new training room?”

Bulma splashed a little water on his face. “Goku!”

He chuckled, shaking the droplets from his bangs. “Okay, okay! I give up. What do you want?”

She slid a little closer through the water, brushing some loose strands of wet hair behind her ear as she looked at him.

“I want you to massage my feet. That’s it. And watch the stars with me tonight, there’s supposed to be a meteor shower and I want to watch it with you; we were supposed to do it during our camping trip, but we still have a pretty good view here.”

Goku blinked, something clicking behind his eyes. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh .” She turned, handing him the loofah with a small sigh. “Now scoot forward, idiot. Let me scrub your back.”

He obeyed, still thinking about her words. As the loofah moved across his shoulder blades, “I can do that. I want to do that.”

Bulma smiled to herself, even if he couldn’t see it. “Good. Because that’s the only thing I want now, Goku. You and me.”

“You’re in a good mood today.” 

“Am I? Guess I am, considering I was tied up in a cave like some damsel in distress less than twenty-four hours ago.”

Goku turned his head, giving her a lopsided grin. “You didn’t feel like a damsel. You yelled at me like usual, the second you saw me.”

“It was my right.” She rinsed the loofah in the water. “And I’d do it again. You scared me half to death, Goku. Showing up all busted up and bleeding like that.”

“I was fine.” He sounded almost sheepish.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” She splashed a little water at him. Before delicately cleaning the cuts. “But you’re here. And we’re home. And for once, I don’t feel like the world’s about to explode. So yeah, maybe I’m in a good mood.”

“I like it when you’re in a good mood. You don’t threaten me as much.”

“Don’t ruin it, Goku.”

He reached behind with a wet hand and caught her foot beneath the water, squeezing it. “Not trying to. Just saying I like this. You and me. Even if we’re all beat up and sore.”

She didn’t answer right away. Just watched the way their reflections shimmered together on the water’s surface.

“Yeah,” she said. “Me too.”

“We should do this more often. Take baths in hot water.”

“I’m surprised you like baths so much.”

“I didn’t at first. I just cleaned and jumped out. But with you here, I’m starting to like them for longer.”

Bulma dropped the loofa and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her face against his back.

“You’re maturing, Goku?”

“Maturing? What’s that?”

“You’re becoming like Roshi.”

“Master Roshi?” The idea took a second to click into Goku’s head before he realized what that meant. “I’m going to get old and wrinkly like him???”

“No, Goku. Hm.” Bulma thought for a moment who would be a better comparison. And easier to understand. “You’ll be more like Krillin.”

“I’m going to get short?”

“Tien, then?”

“A third eye on my forehead? That’s freaky. Seriously, Bulma.”

“You’ll be more like me then.”

Goku scrunched his face to picture himself with blue hair and a sassy mouth. “Wait… am I gonna start yelling at everyone?”

Bulma couldn’t help but laugh, her cheek still pressed against his back. “No, dummy. I mean thoughtful. A little wiser. More grounded. Like you’ve seen enough to understand things differently.”

“Oh.” He paused, his hands trailing lazily through the water. “I guess that makes sense. I do feel different. Not in a bad way, like I know what matters now.”

“And what’s that?”

“ You .”

The answer came so easily that it made Bulma blush. She didn’t respond at first, only held him a little tighter, her arms clasped around his middle like he might slip away if she let go.

“You’re not as dumb as people think, you know that?” she murmured.

“Yeah, but I don’t really care or think of myself as smart as someone like you,” Goku said with a grin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

They stayed like that for a while, two lovers, caressing and cleaning their bodies. Soap and water splashed as they fought like two kids in a tub big enough to be an indoor pool. 

After they got out of the tub, dried and cleaned up in their night clothes, they sat on the balcony under the night sky.

“Today was fun, wasn’t it, Goku?” Bulma was sitting in his lap, watching the astrological objects that were classified as stars twinkle in the sky.

Goku nodded, his body sore, but Bulma had wrapped him with bandages, cleaning gauze, and a mini Capsule Corp sticker on his shoulder.  

“Yeah. I’m sorry about everything.”

“It’s nothing, Goku. I just was scared, was all; I don’t mind you fighting because I always know you’ll find a way to win.” 

“Really? You have a lot of faith in me, huh, Bulma?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You kicked King Piccolo’s butt. And even his reincarnation. There’s no one I have more faith in than you.”

Her words were like a balm that healed in a way that even the hot bath hadn’t been able to replicate. 

“You’ve always believed in me,” he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Even when I didn’t understand why.”

Bulma looked up at him, her blackened eye catching the glow of the moonlight. “That’s because you’ve never let me down, not where it mattered.”

Goku was quiet, listening to the wind and the distant sounds of Capsule Corp security drones buzzing far below. 

“When I saw you tied up… hurt like that… something snapped. I’ve been in a lot of fights, Bulma, but that one, it felt different.”

She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. “Because it was different. That wasn’t just another opponent. That was someone who crossed a line.”

Goku’s tail lazily rubbed her thigh. “He won’t ever get the chance to do it again.”

“I know.” Bulma sighed, body sinking deeper into the comfort of his. “That’s why I’m not afraid anymore. Because when the world gets scary, I know you’ll always come find me.”

“I will,” Goku said. “No matter where you are.”

“Do you want to make a wish?”

“Like a Dragon Ball wish?”

“Not quite.” Bulma pointed to the stars. “When a meteor shower or comet crosses the sky, we make a wish.”

Goku eyed the night sky, where everything seemed the same. “Nothing happened, yet? Should I make a wish now?”

“We can wait till it starts, that way we can make one at the same time.”

“Yeah.” 

“Is that where I come from, Bulma?”

She blinked at the question, surprised not by its strangeness, but by the curiosity in his voice. She turned in his lap to see his face more clearly, his eyes looking toward the heavens with childlike wonder dancing in them.

“Yeah,” she said after a moment. “You fell from the stars, remember? That old pod Gohan found it wasn’t from Earth. Neither were you.”

Goku nodded, his arms still snug around her. “I don’t remember anything before that. Just Grandpa, the forest, and eventually you.”

“And that’s okay.”

“Yeah, it’s weird. Sometimes I wonder what kind of life I would’ve had if I had never come here.”

Bulma reached up and tapped his chest, right over the Capsule Corp bandage. “Then I never would’ve met you. And I don’t want to think about that.”

“Me neither.”

The sky shimmered as the first streak of light cut across the horizon, fast and brilliant. Then another. Then two more.

“Okay,” Bulma said, gripping his hand. “Now. Make a wish.”

Goku stared at the lights. And in the silence between one meteor and the next, he made his.

“I wish-”

“Say it in your head, Goku.”

“Okay.” He regained his bearings, “I wish that the world stays at peace. More time like this. Oh, and for Bulma to stay safe no matter what happens to me. Even if I die, I want her to be protected.”

“What’d you wish for?” 

“If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Who told you that?”

“Yamcha.”

“Figures.”

“I want to give you a gift,”

“A gift? Right now?”

Bulma nodded, easing off his lap and onto her knees in front of him, her hands resting on his thighs. “Yeah. Right now.”

He looked confused, as always, but didn’t move—

“You went through so much for me, Goku,” she murmured, her fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, brushing against his skin. “You hurt for me. You fought for me. I want to take care of you now. Let me do that.”

“Bulma… you don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Her eyes locked with his. “You always show me how much you care in your way. Let me show you mine.”

Goku let his hand do the talking, touching Bulma’s cheek. She leaned into it, kissed his palm, then moved lower, her fingers tugging at the waistband of his pants.

Goku had an idea, but he didn’t stop her. Instead, he let his head fall back, the meteor shower beginning in earnest now—streaks of light racing across the heavens as Bulma gave herself to the moment, to him. Her movements were tender, reverent. This wasn’t about dominance or distraction, it was a balm for the ache in both their hearts. Her touch was purposeful, her lips wet and soft with her new lip gloss, as she took in every part of him with care and affection.

She took it slow, teasing the tip of her man’s cock with nibbles and traces of her tongue. But the size of his cock was still something she was learning to handle, so she did her best to drain his semen. Only Goku could get such treatment from her. 

His breath grew heavier, his fingers finding her hair, not guiding, just holding. Like if he let go, she’d disappear into the stars above them. He murmured her name like a prayer, voice strained with emotion more than need. 

And when it was over, when his body trembled and his breath caught in his chest, he looked down at her with wide, grateful eyes.

“Bulma…”

She climbed back into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, her forehead against his. “I told you,” she said, kissing him, sharing the essence of their taste. “Just you and me. Always.”

Goku didn’t falter; the ache in his pants wanted more. His hand pulled Bulma’s shorts and panties to the side, while his free hand led his cock from the hole of his sweats to penetrate her pussy in one motion.

Bulma moaned, exhibition wasn’t her thing, but it was night, and they were practically clothed. Her pussy took in Goku’s cock like a fitted sweater, invisible to the outside world until she rose and dropped back once more; riding the organ that she so desperately needed after a long day.

“I love… you.” That was all she could manage to say, in between the thrusts from her fiancé. Unlike when he was training, all the strength he had was fine-tuned to the point where he wouldn’t hurt her, no matter how easy it would be for him to demand sex, demand head. 

Goku marked her shoulder, his hands guiding her without pressure, without force, just grounding her to a position where they could reciprocate and enjoy one another without any interruptions.

If anyone had told her she would be having sex with Goku on their private balcony, during a meteor shower, she probably would have dismissed their idea as delusional fantasy. Yet, here she was, letting the man she once considered an idiot, nothing more than a good friend, fuck her with tender affection. Making love to her in a way that she felt like a cattle being bred, and then punishing her pussy so she could never forget what it was like to be his woman, and his alone.

“Don’t pull out, Goku. I want your baby. I want you to breed me.”

Her words only made it worse, from what were doable thrusts, turned faster, and drool escaped Bulma’s mouth as Goku, with no limitations, pounded her with no mercy. The fragment of strength he was using was well outside of her limitations; she would be sore for the next few days, but that’s what she wanted.

“Fuck me, till I can’t walk anymore. Cripple your fiancé, make me your woman.”

Bulma had to force her tongue inside his mouth to lessen her moans. She didn’t need her parents hearing their daughter getting fucked. It would be embarrassing, but that was outside of what she wanted.

Son Bulma.

The familiar twitch and throbbed etched inside of her pussy, before the flow of hot semen poured inside. With her luck, it wouldn’t be long before she was pregnant with a baby. Her eyes rolled back, and her grip loosened, but she hung on because he went back to it. He was fucking her again, and with no intentions of stopping him, she just held on. 

Son Bulma.

It was all she wished for and was all that she hoped for. 

A thousand times over.

Son Bulma.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t every day that Bulma got the normally hyperactive Goku to take it easy; last night’s fun led to more than she had expected, and she was exhausted. Wearing down the stamina of Goku was a sport in itself, and Bulma couldn’t even remember how long it went on before she passed out. 

Now they were in the living room of their building, and she was wrapped in her thick throw blanket and nestled onto Goku’s side. While he finished the remnants of the pancake tower she had made him for breakfast, promising him another meal later if he just relaxed today. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to do anything, but her body was still aching from the crazy guy and the sex they had. 

“Are you full, Goku?”

“Yep, Bulma. Full as can be! Yajirobe must get a lot of good meals to stay big as he is, because I’m stuffed.”

Bulma fought hard to suppress the giggles that escaped from her mouth; the visual image of the man like a bowling ball tumbling down a lane did nothing to suppress what she thought it to be.

“You’re awful,” she said, snorting against his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

Goku grinned, licking syrup off his thumb. “I'm as honest as can be.”

“You know,” she murmured, shifting in the blanket to get more comfortable, “if you keep eating like that, I’m gonna have to start rationing syrup. We’ll go bankrupt on breakfast food alone.”

“But it was so good!” Goku beamed.  The last of syrupy goodness was gone from his fingers. “You make better pancakes than Mr.Popo’s temple stew. Don’t tell him I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me; I promise.”

And then, like clockwork, peace was shattered by the whine of Capsule Corp’s front gate. A motor revved obnoxiously loud, followed by a honking horn that insisted it was much too early to be ignored.

Bulma groaned, “Perfect. We can’t get one day to ourselves, and it’s still so early, ugh.”

Goku looked around, confused. “Are we expecting someone?”

“Nope.” Bulma took the blanket and got off the couch. I’m going upstairs to change. You can handle the visitor, right?”

“In a fight?”

“No…” Bulma thought it over. “Well. No. Just be normal and have a conversation to see who it is and what they want. I’ll be down soon.”

“Okay, Bulma,” he nodded, serious as ever, like she had just entrusted him with protecting the sacred scroll of Earth’s fate rather than, you know, answering the door.

She waved him off with a sleepy flick of her wrist, dragging the blanket behind her like a cape, disappearing upstairs to swap pajama shorts for something that didn’t scream “ I had the best night of my life but my body hates me.”

Goku wandered outside in his Capsule Corp sweatpants and an old tank top, his tail lazily swaying behind him. The early morning breeze greeted him, and with it came the scent of—wait, was that perfume?

A second later, the source made herself very known.

“So you’re the lucky guy who has Bulma’s heart. Mom has told me so much about you lately.”

“Um, thanks? But who are you?”

“Bulma hasn’t told you who I am?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Tights stood up from the hood of her hover car, where she was seated like a pin-up model from a magazine.

“I’m Tights! Bulma’s older sister and soon-to-be your sister-in-law. Nice to meet you, Goku.”

“You know my name?”

She smirked. “You think I’d show up unannounced at my genius little sister’s home and not know exactly who her fiancé is? You’ve been in more news articles than the weather lately.”

He scratched his head. “I’ve been in the news? That’s weird. I haven’t even done anything cool this week.”

“Trust me,” Tights said, stepping down from the car with her shoes clicking against the pavement. “Existing with abs like that counts.”

Just then, the front door creaked open behind Goku.

“Tights?” Bulma’s voice came from the top of the stairs, exasperated but fond. She was in a sleeveless turtleneck and shorts now, hair pulled into a lazy half-up bun. “What are you doing here this early?”

“The wedding is next weekend, so I thought I’d drop in early to visit you guys,”  Tights winked at her. “And Mom said she needed help with the last of the arrangements. She needed someone who could deal with high-maintenance vendors and last-minute guest lists. Plus, she said you’ve been distracted lately.”

Bulma groaned and dragged her hand down her face. “Of course she did. Did she also mention how I explicitly told her not to stress about the gold-trimmed dessert plates?”

“Oh, she mentioned it. Right after, she asked me to find out whether you and Goku were doing the ceremony barefoot in the grass, like wild animals.’ Her words. Not mine.”

Goku tilted his head. “We’re not?”

Bulma shot him a quick look. “No, Goku. We’re not.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Tights continued, waving the datapad that was just tucked under her shoulder, “I also brought some work with me. I’ve been consulting on this weird research project for an independent archivist. Total conspiracy nut, but he’s backed by some royal funding.”

“Royal?” Bulma squinted. “As in, money?”

“Yup. The name on the transfer was something like ‘Mai R.’, and she mentioned an old employer who had emperor in his title. Sound familiar?”

“Emperor Pilaf?” Goku said.

Tights blinked. “Wait, you actually know who that is?”

“Yeah! Little blue guy with a dog and a lady sidekick. Tried to steal the Dragon Balls forever ago.” Goku scratched his head. “Didn’t think he was still around.”

“Apparently, he’s resurfaced, or at least his name’s popping up in weird circles again. And get this,” Tights leaned in conspiratorially, “there’s a report out of the Northern Mountains about someone surviving a stasis chamber built underground—a ‘prince’ of some sort. Had red eyes and a serious vendetta.”

“Sounds like another problem for another day, Tights,” Bulma said.

“If you say so,” Tights leaned against the doorframe with the ease of someone who had no intention of leaving anytime soon. “Anyway, I’ve got my suitcase in the back and a whole folder of questions from Mom. But I also brought cappuccinos and those coconut pastries you like, Bulma.”

That earned a grudging smile. “You always know how to bribe your way into my house.”

“Please, I’m family. Bribery’s just icing on the cake.”

Goku was still trying to process everything. “Wait. We’re getting married next weekend?”

Both sisters turned to stare at him.

Bulma blinked slowly. “Yes, Goku. That’s what all the phone calls, fittings, and the formal invitation from King Furry were for.”

“Oh, right. I just didn’t know it was so soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Guess I should do something nice for you before then, huh?”

Tights raised an eyebrow. “What, like learn how to dance without punching someone?”

Bulma grinned. “I missed you. Remind me why you moved away again?”

“Because I love my sanity,” Tights replied. “But I did miss you. So let’s sit down and catch up… before I throw the weird stuff I found on your kitchen table.”

Bulma’s eyes narrowed. “Weird stuff?”

Tights just smirked. “Let me get my bag. You’re gonna want to see this.”

She returned from the hover car carrying a small travel bag over her shoulder and a slim silver case under her arm—the kind of case that usually screamed government secrets or strange alien tech, depending on what side of the Brief family tree you fell on.

She dropped the case on the living room coffee table with a dramatic thud, raising both eyebrows at Bulma, who was now looking at it with her coffee in hand.

“Alright,” Tights said, popping the latches open. “So I was passing through East District 439, you know, near that abandoned fortress we explored in our younger years when you thought you could start treasure hunting?”

“That was your idea,” Bulma muttered, sipping her drink.

“Details.” Tights flipped the case open and spun it toward them. Inside, nestled in a bed of foam, was a tiny blue capsule, labeled with peeling handwriting that looked suspiciously like it had been scrawled in crayon.

Goku blinked. “That looks like one of your capsules, Bulma.”

“It’s not,” Bulma said. “Too old. And definitely not manufactured by Capsule Corp. anymore.”

Tights smirked, pulling out a tiny folded map that was tucked beneath it. She unfolded it onto the table—half-burned, crudely drawn, and marked with a little red ‘X’ over what appeared to be Mount Paozu.

“Looks like someone’s still trying to find something,” Tights said. “The weird part is, I found this locked in a box with three security droids guarding it—and the only logo I recognized? The Pilaf Gang Emblem.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was.” Tights tapped the capsule. “Whatever they were after, they either still want it… or they left it behind by mistake. Either way, I figured you’d want first to crack before someone else stumbles onto it.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “The very same. They’re probably after the Dragon Balls again. Which is not our problem.”

“Shouldn’t we go check it out?” Goku asked, his voice already tinged with that spark of adventure.

Bulma sighed, knowing full well her fiancé was looking for a fight rather than just wanting to do good. 

“Nope. Right now, we have a sister, a coffee, and a full day of not being attacked. I’d like to enjoy that while it lasts.”

Tights raised her pastry. “I’ll eat to that, Bula.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Bulma set her coffee down and leaned against the couch with a long exhale. “You know, I didn’t think I needed you here… but I’m glad you came.”

Tights smirked, pulling one leg up under her. “Of course you are. I’m the only one in the family who understands you and still willingly shows up.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m just saying, you’re a genius, Bulma. But even geniuses need backup. Especially when they’re marrying a walking protein shake with no concept of a calendar.”

From across the room, Goku perked up. “Hey, I know what a calendar is! …Kind of.”

Bulma snorted and looked back at her sister. “Thanks, Tights. Seriously. For being here. For helping with Mom. For… all of it.”

Tights gave a half-shrug, her voice softening. “You’re my little sister. I know we fight, and you steal my clothes, and you always think you’re smarter than me—”

“I am smarter than you.”

“See?” Tights grinned. “But I love you. And I wasn’t about to let you get married without me around to make sure your mascara isn’t running and you don’t faint under pressure.”

“I don’t wear mascara.” Bulma looked away and rubbed at her eye. “But thanks. Really.”

Tights reached over and gently bumped her shoulder. “Always.”

Goku watched the two of them, head tilted like he was watching a kind of magic he didn’t fully understand. 

“You two really are close, huh?”

Bulma and Tights exchanged a glance, then said in unison:

“No.”

Then, out of nowhere, a new voice rang through the house like a glitter bomb of joy.

“My two girls are finally back together—so you know what that means!”

All three heads turned as the front door burst open with zero warning and zero hesitation.

“Girls’ day out!”

Bikini Brief stood in the entryway, all sunshine and designer sunglasses, her heels clicking against the tile like she was about to walk a runway instead of her daughter’s living room. In one hand, she had a glittery clutch that somehow matched her floral sundress perfectly. In the other—a small tablet covered in rhinestones, blinking with reminders, notes, and a whole itinerary color-coded in pastel madness.

“Oh no,” Bulma muttered, her face already going pale. “She made a schedule.”

Tights groaned into her hands. “I should’ve stayed on the island.”

Goku blinked. “What’s a girls’ day out?”

Bikini beamed, zeroing in on him. “Oh, sweetie, it’s when the men stay home and we go spend money on dresses, desserts, and just a sprinkle of psychological warfare.”

“…Huh?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Bulma said, dragging herself off the couch with the weight of impending doom. “Eventually.”

Tights stood too, her face caught somewhere between dread and resignation. “We’re not going to escape this, are we?”

Bulma just groaned, pulling her sister along toward their inevitable fate. “Not unless we crash into another car.”

As the front door closed behind them, Goku sat on the couch,“…So I am staying home?”

He looked around. The house was quiet now. He grinned.

“Guess that means I can go train!”

Chapter Text

“I betcha Krillin and Master Roshi are going to be surprised to see me!”

Goku was soaring through the sky, a blur above the waves below. He always had Flying Nimbus, but the freedom in which the ability to fly was nothing like it. He cut through clouds like paper, grinning ear to ear, arms behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world.

Because somewhere else, Bulma, her Mom, and Sister were shopping.  And Dr. Briefs was talking about his inventions, but he couldn’t comprehend exactly what he was saying. Unlike Bulma, who made it easier for him to understand the stuff that he didn’t.  So now was a good time as any to stretch his legs out and do whatever got him moving.

“Krillin better not have gotten rusty,” he thought to himself, squinting toward the horizon where Kame House was finally coming into view—a tiny speck of pink in the middle of endless blue. “Maybe Master Roshi’s still got those milk crates, too, that need to be delivered?”

He chuckled at the memory. Back when he was just a kid, carrying full crates of milk up mountains and across that island was training. Now? He could fly them back and forth without breaking a sweat.

Still, something in him itched for that simplicity again. A lot of sweat. A few laughs. Just a good, old-fashioned challenge. No shortcuts. That’s how he liked it, just hard work and a lot of training to get better.

He landed on the shore, and from inside the house, over the sound of a turtle snoring, he heard Krillin’s unmistakable voice:

“…No way. That’s Goku, isn’t it?”

Goku grinned.

“Yup. It’s me!”

Krillin came barreling out of the Kame House in his tank top and shorts, nearly tripping over the old beach mat as he fumbled for his sandals.

“Dude! I haven’t seen you since… what, the tournament!” His mouth was already stretching into a wide grin. “Did Bulma finally kick you out for training too much? Or eating too much?”

Goku scratched his cheek with a sheepish laugh. “Nah, she’s with her mom and sister. Something about wedding stuff and shopping. I figured I’d swing by and see if you wanted to train!”

Krillin stared at him, then sighed. “You never change.”

From the doorway, Master Roshi leaned out, one eye visible beneath his sunglasses. “Did someone say train? You two better not break my roof again!”

“Hi, Master Roshi!” Goku waved. “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it low impact.”

“Yeah, you say that,” Roshi muttered, but a fond smirk tugged at his lips. “Well, don’t let me stop you. Just try not to blow up the house. Again.”

Krillin stepped closer and gave Goku a quick punch to the arm. “Man, it’s good to see you. You look… different. Stronger, somehow. After everything with Piccolo at the tournament, and now this. What has Bulma been feeding you?”

“Uh, everything?”

“Of course she has, you’re a walking garbage disposal, Goku, I swear. I don’t know how you keep it down.”

“Me either; I just eat until I’m full and train afterwards.”

“Whelp, you’re the only person I know that can do it, Goku.” Krillin crossed his arms. “Besides that, what made you want to train with me rather than Kami? Wouldn’t he be a better training partner than me?”

“No way!” Goku said. “Kami is great and all, but it feels good to be back here. Brings me back, y’know? And I want to train with my friends, since it has been a while since I’ve seen guys.”

Krillin smirked, nudging Goku with his elbow. “Look at you, getting all sentimental. Next thing I know, you’ll be writing poetry about long walks on the beach.”

Goku scratched the back of his head, laughing. “Nah, I’m not that good with words. That’s more Yamcha’s thing, right?”

Krillin rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

The two walked toward the training patch in front of the house, where the sand was already sun-warmed and soft beneath their shoes. The breeze carried salt and seabird cries, just like it had when they were kids, dragging milk crates and dodging bees under Master Roshi’s wild training regimes.

“But really,” Krillin said, more serious now, “it’s nice. You're dropping by like this. We all drifted a little after the last tournament. Yamcha’s busy with baseball, Tien’s off meditating in the mountains, and you… You've got a wedding coming up. Life’s moving forward.”

“Yeah.” Goku’s voice was thoughtful. “It’s kind of weird. But good weird. I still love training, still want to get stronger, but now, it’s not just for me anymore. It’s for Bulma. For the life we’re building. I want to protect it.”

Krillin blinked, then smiled, genuinely proud. “I never thought I’d hear you say something like that. You’ve grown up, Goku.”

Goku tilted his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, man. I mean, you’re still a big kid on the inside, but now you’re like… a dad waiting to happen kind of grown-up.”

Goku grinned. “Well, I don’t know about that yet, but I do know I’ve missed this. Just being here. With you.”

“Same here, buddy.”

They clasped hands, a firm, familiar grip, then shifted into their stances. The unspoken rhythm returned instantly, like no time had passed at all.

“Alright,” Krillin said with a smirk. “Let’s see if Bulma’s been feeding you too well.”

Goku’s ki flared, just a little. “You’re on.”

From inside the Kame House, Roshi peeked through the blinds and sighed, already hearing the crack of fists and the whoosh of movement in the air.

“Turtle,” he muttered, reaching for his iced tea. “They’re gonna wreck the hammock again, aren’t they?”

The turtle gave a sleepy grunt.

“Don’t think I’ve been slacking off just because I've been living here with Master Roshi.”

“I don’t count on it. You ready?’

“Yeah. Let’s start.”

Their feet moved almost at the same time, sand kicked up, air blew, and the action began. 

Punches snapped from both combatants and were dodged just as quickly, feet skimmed the sand, and for a moment, it felt just like it used to: two friends trying to outmatch each other under a wide blue sky.

“Come on, Krillin,” Goku said, flashing that boyish grin as he ducked under a fast punch. “You’re not getting slow on me, are you?”

Krillin scoffed, hopping back just in time to avoid a sweeping leg kick. “I could ask you the same! What, Bulma keeping you too busy playing house to train properly?”

“Ha!” Goku lunged forward with a quick jab, which Krillin blocked with a grunt. “She feeds me good.”

Krillin winced as he parried another flurry. “Yeah, yeah, your stomach’s your real sensei.”

Their feet pounded across the sand, kicks and strikes landing and missing in rhythm like a well-practiced dance. Each blow was heavy, but never malicious; they were testing each other, grinning like kids at recess.

Krillin dashed to the side, then leapt high. “I still remember when I could beat you in a footrace!”

“You mean when we were ten?”

“It still counts!”

Goku laughed, catching Krillin mid-air by the ankle and flipping him toward the sea. But Krillin twisted just in time, landing with a backflip that kicked up a wave of sand. He skidded to a stop, panting, sweat already trailing down his temple—but smiling.

“You’ve gotten stronger, Goku. Again.”

Goku shrugged, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. “I’ve been trying not to get rusty. But I’m glad I came back. This feels good.”

Krillin nodded, lowering his stance once more. “Yeah. It does. Just like old times.”

For a moment, neither moved. The sea lapped quietly at the shore behind them. Then—

“Round two?” Goku asked.

Krillin smirked. “Only if you promise not to take it easy on me.”

“Of course not.”

Before the last syllable left his mouth, Goku vanished and reappeared in front of Krillin with a burst of wind, grabbing him by the gi and hurling him into the sky like a human rocket.

“Wha—!?”

Krillin barely managed to stabilize midair before Goku was already above him, hands locked together and crashing down like a hammer. The blow sent Krillin hurtling toward the ocean, trailing a sonic boom behind him.

But just before he hit the water, Krillin flipped backward, skimming the surface with his boots and launching himself back up. “Okay! That’s how we’re doing this!”

Goku beamed. “Yup!”

They clashed again in midair, Krillin’s kicks fast and astute, Goku’s blocks seamless, his movements trained. But he wasn’t mocking him. Goku’s eyes gleamed with respect, his grin wide, because this was the kind of thing he missed: honest sparring with someone who knew him better than anyone.

“You’ve gotten faster, Krillin,” Goku said between blows.

“And you’ve gotten annoyingly strong,” Krillin said back, while dodging a punch that shook the air.

They spiraled upward, exchanging blows like lightning strikes, before Krillin finally got a solid hit to Goku’s gut that made him grunt and back off a few feet.

“Heh,” Krillin said, panting. “Still got it.”

“You never lost it,” Goku replied, rubbing his stomach. “That one stung.”

They hovered there for a moment, both catching their breath, the sky around them peaceful but charged with energy.

“Okay, okay— now round three?”

Krillin groaned, laughing. “At this rate, you’ll break me before Launch gets a chance to!”

Goku laughed too, arms loose at his sides. “She’d get mad at me if I did.”

“Then maybe I'd better win,” Krillin said, flaring his aura again.

Goku could sense it instantly: Krillin was charging up his ki with real intent now. Not just for fun, he wanted to push him, to prove he could still go toe-to-toe. And Goku, thrilled by the challenge, responded in kind. Both of them widened their stances, hands out in mirrored poses.

Krillin cupped his palms at his side. “ Kaaa... ”

Goku echoed, his palms glowing with gathering light. “ Meeeee... ”

The ocean below trembled, the waves flattening under the pressure of their combined power.

“ Haaaa... !”

“ Meeee... !”

Master Roshi’s old turtle shell, propped up by a beach umbrella near the house, rattled from the force of their twin attacks. Even the snoozing Turtle opened both eyes in groggy concern.

Two brilliant spheres of energy pulsed in their hands.

“ HAAAAA—!! ”

They fired.

Twin beams of searing blue light spiraled into the air, colliding in a thunderous explosion of wind and pressure that shook the very clouds. The sky between them lit up, and for a moment, it looked like two suns had met and wrestled midair.

Goku leaned into the blast, digging his heels into the sky itself.

Krillin’s feet were pushed back, but he gritted his teeth, kept his focus. He was giving it everything he had. After everything that happened, they both deserved and earned each other’s all when it came to sparring.

“Come on, Goku!” Krillin shouted above the blasts of ki. “Let’s see if you can take this seriously!”

“You got it!”

In a blink, he vanished from behind his beam and reappeared above Krillin, palm glowing not with force, but with a tap of gathered energy.

Krillin yelped, just before the energy burst, and flung himself spinning downward, only to be caught by Goku before he hit the water.

“Still think you’re gonna win?” Goku said, chuckling.

Krillin groaned, hanging upside down in Goku’s arms. “I’ll get you next time.”

Goku grinned, just happy to have his friend around and training. “I hope so.”

They both burst into laughter, the tension dissolving instantly as the ocean breeze cooled the sweat on their brows.

A voice called to them from the island, “Sweetie, come down and eat! Oh, and you too, Goku!” There she was, Launch, standing on the deck of Kame House with one hand on her hip and the other waving a towel. Her blue hair with that signature red ribbon, and she was dressed in a breezy sundress that fluttered in the island wind. A tray of food sat beside her on a table, already laid out: rice balls, stir-fried noodles, and what looked suspiciously like a whole roasted fish.

“Whoa,” Goku said, eyes lighting up. “She made food!”

Krillin rubbed the back of his head as Goku floated them both down to the beach. “Yeah, she’s been helping out around the island again lately. Keeps Master Roshi from ordering too much takeout—and keeps me from starving. And we kinda got a thing going on right now.”

“What kind of thing?”

Krillin thought on how to put it in a way for Goku to understand what he was saying, “It’s kinda like you and Bulma, but less serious right now.”

“Oh. You’re going to marry, Launch?”

“Whoa there, buddy. Let’s calm down and see what happens, shall we? And please don’t say that around her, we’ve gotten the invitation to your wedding, and now it’s all she’ll talk about if someone mentions it. Or worse, she’ll switch to her other personality.”

Goku nodded, knowing all too well how scary Launch’s personality switch was. From sweet to scary in an instant, and now she and Krillin had a thing.

Launch greeted them with a smirk as they landed, her eyes going between the two of them. “You boys looked like you were trying to blow up the sky again. Got a little nostalgic, did we?”

“Just a little,” Krillin said, grinning. “Goku’s been in the mood for old-school training.”

“And old-school friends,” Goku added. “Plus, I missed your cooking.”

Launch rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her fondness. Her hair now blonde, “Well, good thing I made enough for ten. Eat fast, though. If I hear one word about sparring again while I’m seasoning the soup, I swear I’ll blast both of you and that old pervert, too.”

Krillin and Goku gulped, knowing all too well that it wasn’t a joke. 

Launch turned on her heel and marched back toward the house, the hem of her sundress fluttering behind her like a battle flag.

Krillin let out a nervous laugh. “See what I mean?”

Goku scratched his cheek, eyes wide. “Yup. Definitely scary Launch now.”

“But she’s a great cook,” Krillin added quickly. “And she’s… y’know, kind of great too. When she’s not threatening bodily harm.”

They made their way up the beach toward the house, the smell of grilled fish and stir-fried vegetables pulling them like gravity. Master Roshi was already seated at the table, sunglasses on, pretending not to tremble under Launch’s shadow as she handed him a bowl with a death glare sharp enough to split the table.

“Eat up, old man,” she said. “One wrong glance, and I’ll feed this spoon to your nose.”

Roshi only nodded and muttered a prayer of thanks.

Goku and Krillin sat down, grabbing bowls like they were starving monks. And for a while, the island settled into a good meal. Waves crashed. Food vanished. Laughter drifted over the sea like a forgotten lullaby from their youth.

Krillin leaned back with a sigh. “Man, I needed this. No danger, no death beams, just good food and good company.”

“Yeah,” Goku said through a mouthful of rice. “Feels like home.”

Launch snorted as she slid another plate onto the table. “You two are such softies now. What happened to the boys who used to wreck this island for fun?”

Krillin smiled. “They grew up.”

“Somewhat,” Launch muttered, but the smile tugging at her lips told a different story.

Goku looked out over the ocean, letting the breeze hit his face. For now, the world was calm. Today was for friends, food, and peace.

And if trouble came tomorrow?

Well, they’d be ready.

But right now?

“Pass the soy sauce!” Goku said.

Krillin rolled his eyes. “You just ate your third plate!”

“And I’m still hungry!”

Launch groaned. “I swear, I’m dating the second-most impossible man on this island.”

Krillin raised an eyebrow. “Second-most?”

She glanced at Goku. “You know who the winner is.”

Goku just smiled, oblivious.

“How is that Bulma of yours, Goku? Has she gotten any sexier?” Master Roshi asked, his magazine did little to hide the nosebleed.

“What do you mean, Master Roshi?” 

Krillin nearly choked on his drink. “Oh no…”

Launch stopped mid-step, spatula in hand. Her eye twitched.

Master Roshi chuckled, fanning himself with the magazine. “I mean, she was already a ten back in the day, but now she’s getting married, there’s something about a woman in love that just adds a certain glow! Right, boys?”

Goku blinked, genuinely confused. “Uh… I guess she does glow sometimes. Especially when she’s yelling at me.”

Krillin facepalmed. “Goku, don’t—”

“Like this one time,” Goku continued cheerfully, “she was working on some big machine, and her hair was all messy and she had grease on her cheek, and she looked kinda shiny from sweat and—”

Launch slowly turned toward Roshi, her aura spiking, blonde hair sparking like she was charging a ki blast.

“Oh boy,” Krillin muttered. “Here we go.”

Before Roshi could utter another word, a ladle whizzed through the air and smacked him square in the face.

“YOWCH! Launch, what was that for?!”

“For being a lecherous old freak!” she shouted. “And for talking about someone else’s fiancée like she’s pin-up art!”

She stomped back to the kitchen, grumbling under her breath.

Master Roshi groaned, massaging the lump forming on his forehead. “Worth it.”

Krillin whispered to Goku, “You might want to remind Bulma that Master Roshi still hasn't changed.”

“Why would he? Oh, should I bring her some food too?”

“Yeah. You should. Launch always makes a lot of leftovers.

Goku's stomach groaned at that response. "Haha. You're a lucky guy, then, Krillin. Lots of food to eat."

"Nah. I can't eat that much, unlike you."

Goku stretched out in his chair, "That's true. But still, I'm glad to see you guys are all okay and happy."

"Don't be a stranger now, Goku. I'm happy to train with you whenever you want."

"You can count on it, Krillin."

"What he said, Goku," Master Roshi added. "And when you do... Bring that sister or mom of Bulma's around so I can do an inspection, heh."

A flying pan flew through the house's open door and knocked Master Roshi on the back of the head, knocking him out. 

"Tried to warn him," Krillion said to himself.

Goku looked down at the magazine, which had fallen directly in front of him, which was full of nude models.

"None of these girls look as good as Bulma, Krillin."

Krillin spat out his drink in a full spray. “Goku!”

“What?” Goku blinked, entirely sincere. “They don’t! Bulma’s prettier than any of them.”

Launch popped her head out from the kitchen again, one eyebrow raised, a smirk threatening to break through. “Now that’s something I wouldn’t mind seeing in the wedding vows.”

Krillin shook his head with a laugh. “You’re unbelievable, man. I mean… I guess that’s romantic… in your own weird, Goku way.”

“Thanks!” Goku said, like he’d just been handed a gold medal.

Behind them, Turtle finally showed up. “Even… I can’t compete with that kind of honest dumb…”

"Shut up, Turtle, or you're next," Launch said from the kitchen.

"Yes, ma'am."

Krillin and Goku laughed as they went about going over what they had been doing these last few weeks, as the light of the day went with it.

Chapter Text

Goku tugged at the collar of his freshly ironed, button-down shirt, struggling with it as though it were some strange new battle armor which Bulma insisted he had to wear. She had laid this particular outfit for him before he got into the shower. 

“Do I really have to wear this? It’s so… tight.”

“Hold still,” Bulma said, sliding in front of him to straighten his tie. “You’re the guest of honor tonight, remember? You can’t just show up in your gi and expect everyone to take you seriously.”

“But I still don’t get what this ‘bachelor party’ thing is,” Goku said, puzzled in his thoughts as he scratched his head, trying to understand what the big deal was. 

“Krillin and Yamcha just keep saying it’s a surprise. Is it some kind of new training?”

“No, Goku. I already told you what it was last week, remember?”

The blank stare on his face made Bulma want to kiss him for his tendency to forget or lecture him about not remembering things; she was learning towards both.

“Uh, totally forgot, Bulma, I’m sorry.”

Bulma just sighed. This was her Goku after all.

“It’s a guy’s party before a wedding. Krillin told me all the details last week, so you just have fun, okay?”

“I can do that.”

“That’s my man,” Bulma kissed his lips, “you always look even more handsome when you’re dressed nice.”

No matter how much they did it, Goku couldn’t help but blush at the gesture. After all, here he was with his lifelong friend, and they were kissing and hugging, and it was just everything he still wasn’t used to. But it made him happy seeing the way she smiled and looked at him. 

“You’re beautiful too, Bulma.”

Bulma had to hide the feeling that was the blooming red painting her face. Just as Goku had a party to attend, her Sister and Mother had a girls' party planned out for her, but she wasn’t going to do anything until Goku was squared away and dressed appropriately. 

“Thank you.”

She felt his hand on her waist as he lifted her with as much grace as he could manage, their foreheads resting against one another.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“You’ll be back before you know it, Goku.”

“I know, but…”

“No buts, okay? I want you to have a good time and don’t break anything.”

“How would I break anything?”

Bulma knew that a loop of questions would start if she answered it, so she deflected it, “Will you give me a massage when we lie down tonight?”

“Of course!”  

His enthusiasm always made Bulma feel at ease; the feeling of trusting Goku to not do anything to hurt her was a treasure that she just couldn’t have with Yamcha. His name alone was a headache. When Krillin brought up the idea of a bachelor party for Goku, she was all for it until she found out Yamcha was going to be tagging along. In another life, she thought of what Yamcha would have been doing on his bachelor party, and him being her fiancé, made her almost pale at what he would do on his final ride of being ‘unmarried’. If anything were to transpire between Goku and another woman, it was probably going to be Yamcha's fault. But she hoped it wouldn’t, not when their wedding was two days away. 

She was just about to tell Goku one more thing when the doorbell rang and the voice of Krillin came aloud.

“Come on, Goku! The night’s not getting any younger!”

From outside, Yamcha’s engine revved like a war cry. 

“ New car, Yamcha?”

 Bulma let him keep the car she had bought for his birthday, but this one was much louder and sounded like it was equipped with a much different engine than the one she had given him.

“ Classic Yamcha.”

If he had sold the car that she had bought him, then it would be what it is. He was the past, and he could do whatever he wanted. She only needed to focus on what really mattered to her, and that was… 

Goku perked up, already forgetting his confusion. “Guess it’s time, huh?”

Bulma broke their contact, handing him his jacket. “Just try to come home in one piece, okay?”

Goku gave her one last hug before making his way to their room’s window.

“Goku…”

By the time her words settled, he was already out the window and flying to the entrance of their house. 

“Have fun.” 

She wanted to chastise him for not taking the stairs and opening the door like a regular person, but he was Goku. And she didn’t mind the silly antics and way he thinks so out of the ordinary.

When he landed, Goku didn’t have to settle himself as Krillin grabbed his arm.

“C’mon, Goku! We don’t have all night!”

Before he could ask where they were going, Yamcha swung open the car door, leaned out with a fox-esque smirk, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder.

“Get in, loser—we’ve got a night to party.”

Goku tilted his head. “…Party? Like a feast?”

Krillin sighed. “Something like that.”

Yamcha revved the engine like he was about to tear through a cyberpunk city skyline, the neon lights of West City gleaming behind him.

“Let’s go, before Bulma figures out we’re kidnapping you to have some real fun rather than what Krillin told her.”

“What?”

The man didn't have a chance to think about what was being told to him as Krillin shoved him into the car and closed the door behind him. As he took his spot in the passenger’s seat up front. 

“Hit it, Yamcha!”

“My pleasure!” 

Yamcha slammed his foot on the gas, and the car roared to life, weaving into West City’s main strip. Neon signs and holographic billboards painted the streets in electric blues and reds, flickering off Goku’s wide-eyed expression.

“Whoa…! This place looks way different at night,” Goku said, leaning halfway out the window to stare at a giant dancing Capsule Corp ad.

“Try not to fall out before we get there,” Krillin said.

Yamcha smirked in the rearview mirror. “Relax, tonight’s about cutting loose. No training, no sparring—just drinks, food, music, and maybe a few surprises.”

“What kind of surprises?” Goku asked.

Krillin and Yamcha exchanged a look.

“You’ll see,” Krillin said, grinning like a man who was keeping the best (or worst) secret.

They sped past a row of glowing noodle stands, high-rise clubs with lines of people in flashy outfits, and a rooftop lounge pulsing with bass so strong Goku could feel it in his teeth.

“Bulma’s never gonna forgive you guys if this is bad.”

“Oh, trust me,” Yamcha said, turning down an alley lit in hot pink light, “this is gonna be legendary.”

The car skidded to a halt in front of a steel door tucked between two towering, flickering holo-ads. One showed a Capsule Corp hover-bike peeling through the sky; the other looped an ad for some glitter-covered energy drink called “KiKick.”

Goku tilted his head. “Uh… is this a dojo?”

Krillin hopped out first, already grinning. “Not exactly.”

Before Goku could ask, the door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, spilling out a rush of pounding bass and a strobe of multicolored lights. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of sizzling food, engine grease, and something sweet he couldn’t quite place.

“Welcome to The Ox’s Horn,” Yamcha announced, slapping the side of the doorway. “Best underground spot in the city. Fighters, racers, gamblers—if it’s illegal or awesome, it happens here.”

They walked in, weaving past a group of bikers arm-wrestling on a glowing table and a pair of guys sparring in a roped-off corner while a crowd shouted bets. Goku’s eyes lit up at the fighting, but Krillin caught his shoulder.

“Nope. Not tonight. You’re not here to fight—you’re here to party.”

From somewhere in the back, a cheer went up, and a server walked by carrying a tray stacked high with plates of grilled meat and bowls of noodles. Goku’s attention snapped instantly.

“…Okay, maybe this place is pretty great,” he admitted, already following the smell.

Krillin guided Goku through the crowd, dodging a spilt drink here and a swinging chain there. “Alright, Goku,” he said, “first rule of a bachelor party: you don’t ask too many questions. Just follow our lead.”

“Follow your lead… what does that mean exactly?”

Yamcha smirked, spinning his car keys like they were a set of throwing stars. “It means trust us. We’ve got this all mapped out. Just enjoy the ride.”

They reached a corner of the club where a long table was stacked with food, drinks, and a few arcade machines. Neon lights reflected off the metallic surfaces, and loud laughter echoed across the room. A couple of unfamiliar faces from past tournaments waved at Goku, giving him thumbs up and playful salutes.

“Whoa…” Goku muttered. “This is… a party?”

Krillin undid the top button of his suit, stretching as the dainty appearance to fool Bulma was no longer needed. “Yep. A proper guy’s night out. You train hard, you eat harder, and tonight you don’t have to worry about anyone chasing you or Bulma’s schedule.”

Goku’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Cool! So… what’s first?”

Yamcha leaned in, his arm wrapped around Goku’s shoulder; a part of him was jealous that Goku was with the woman he did, does still have a soft spot for. No matter how much he reeled seeing them together, a part of him wanted Bulma back, to try again for another chance.  But he knew that time was over, and he shouldn’t be thinking about it on the guy’s bachelor party of all things, but he couldn’t stop. 

“First up, we hit that strength test machine to show off to the ladies and work up our appetites. You down?”

Krillin gave Yamcha a look at the mention of ‘ladies’; Yamcha had a girlfriend, and Krillin himself was in limbo with Launch and her ever-changing personality. 

“Yamcha, man, I don’t know if the ladi…” He didn’t have a chance to finish as Yamcha and Goku were already headed to the machine, and here he was left sweat-dropping as he was talking to no one. “Some friends you guys are.”  

Yamcha led Goku to the machine, not missing the multiple looks from women and men that followed the duo. If he got lucky, it was going to be a score, and he could probably convince Krillin to help him secure a two-man mission with these pretty ladies. Goku wouldn’t have a clue about anything he said, but maybe the strippers he paid will give him a good time.

“So, Goku,” they stopped in front of the large, flashing machine. Yamcha patted Goku’s back, “We’re going to have a contest of who will hit the hardest, no ki enhancing allowed. The loser pays for the meal tonight, got it?”

“Got it.”

“Yamcha,” Krillin finally caught back up to them, “I thought you said everything was on you?”

“Did I say that?”

“You did?”

“Damn it, Krillin. Chill.” Yamcha was by no means poor, but the cost of this place and the money he prepaid for the entertainment tonight had cost a bit more than he planned to spend.  And now he was trying to recuperate some of it by beating out Krillin at least.

“What’s a friendly competition without a small risk?”

Krillin grumbled under his breath, and his hands were crossed, but he wasn’t going to pass on a competition. Master Roshi had ingrained that into their spirits to challenge themselves. 

“Fine. Just don’t go crying about your wallet once I win this.”

Goku stood back and observed, “Do your best, Krillin.”

The man nodded, stretching and relaxing his body as he prepared to give it his best shot. 

“Here I go!”

Krillin’s fist connected with the punching bag, and it flashed a series of numbers before stopping at 812. 

Yamcha cracked his neck and stepped up after Krillin, giving him a smirk as he passed.

“Not bad, cueball. But watch a real pro.”

He took his stance, put some flair into it, and fired away. The result drew a decent cheer from the crowd, though Goku’s grin suggested he was already thinking of how to top it.

When it was his turn, Goku bounded forward with unrestrained enthusiasm, eyes bright with that childlike competitive spark.

“Alright! My turn!”

He wound up, let loose, and the sheer force behind it earned a roar of approval. He hit the maximum points that the machine could display and set himself up to be the clear winner of the competition. It wasn’t challenging for any of them, but it was all in good fun, but for Goku, his hunger was starting to set in.

"More games? Or food?”

Yamcha smirked, clearly having taken over party-planning duties. “Relax, Goku. We brought a little… entertainment for the occasion.”

“Entertainment?”

Before he could ask more, a few dancers stepped onto the scene—carefully choreographed, music thumping in the background. Goku’s eyes widened… but not in the way Yamcha had hoped.

“Oh! Cool! Are we supposed to spar with them, or…?” Goku asked, leaning forward, genuinely interested. “Do they need training too?”

Krillin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, Goku! They’re… uh… here for, you know… entertainment.”

“Oh! Like a performance! Awesome! I love performances!” He clapped his hands together, totally thrilled.

Yamcha’s smirk faltered. “Uh… maybe relax a little?”

The ladies each took an arm—one looping hers through Yamcha’s, the other slipping her hand into Goku’s, and lastly one for Krillin. Their perfume was intoxicating.

“VIP’s waiting,” one of them purred, her tone a promise rather than a suggestion.

Goku was going to question it, but let himself be led without protest after a look from Krillin. Yamcha, meanwhile, grinned like he’d just won the championship.

“Sweetheart, you have to relax,” Bikini scolded, though the twinkle in her eye betrayed her excitement. “It’s your bachelorette party. Not a board meeting. You’re supposed to have fun! We’re in a pool after all.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, “I am having fun, Mom… I just can’t stop thinking about Goku. He’s out there somewhere, probably getting dragged into chaos by those two idiots.”

Tights snorted. “Probably. But don’t worry—we have a strict no-drama policy tonight. Unless it comes in the form of champagne or chocolate, of course.”

“All you want to do is eat sweets, Tights. I don’t know how you expect to keep that figure if you keep raiding the dessert table.”

“Oh yeah?” Tights set her champagne aside, her smirk widening. “Say that to my face, little sister.”

“Dare me.”

“I dare you.”

“Girls…” their mother sighed, the picture of elegant exasperation. “This is supposed to be a peaceful evening.”

Her warning might as well have been background noise. With a swift tug, Tights yanked Bulma off the pool’s edge and into the water with a splash. Laughter and squeals followed as the two sisters kicked up waves at each other. Bikini, unwilling to let them have all the fun, slipped off her heels and dove in.

One of the dancers had plopped onto Goku’s lap with a theatrical swoon, grinning.

“Well, aren’t you adorable!” she said, dramatically fanning herself. “Everyone at the club said you’d be the cutest guy here tonight, and I just had to see for myself!”

“Oh! Thanks! I like training too!” He gave a thumbs-up, completely missing the flirtation.

“Training?” the dancer repeated, breast pressed against Goku’s chest. “No, no… I meant you’re cute ! All the girls want a little spin with you in the VIP room! You've got a lot of muscles under that shirt.”

“I train a lot, so I’m plenty strong.”

“Is that so?” The dancer said. “We might have to see for ourselves how strong you are, hm?’

“You wanna spar?”

All the ladies couldn’t help but giggle at Goku’s antics; his innocence and jokes definitely weren’t the norm for this place.

Krillin groaned from the other side of the table. “Goku… maybe just smile and nod.”

Yamcha waved at Goku. “Just… sit, drink, and enjoy the bachelor party like a normal human being.” He rose smoothly to his feet and offered his arm to the woman beside him. He clapped Krillin on the shoulder as he passed. “Speaking of which… Myself and this pretty lady here have an appointment to attend to, Krillin, take care of our buddy, Goku, here, ok? ” 

Krillin sighed. “Yeah, sure. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Once Yamcha was out of the picture, a shadow of a man wrapped in tattoos showed up at their VIP table. His smile was anything but friendly, and the scars on his face proved that as he slammed his hands down on the table.

“Hey, baldy and monkey,” he drawled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my girls?”

“They’re entertaining us, right, Krillin?”

“Really, Goku? At a time like this? And of course, this happens right after Yamcha leaves with that chick.” Krillin didn’t budge, putting on a straight face, far from intimidated by the large man.  “As far as we know, these lovely ladies aren’t your property.”

The dancer on Krillin’s lap seemed to stiffen at the voice of the man, her hand digging into Krillin’s leg as if it were a response to her sudden fear. The dancer on Goku’s lap hid her face in his shoulder, which prompted Goku and Krillin to figure something wasn’t right.

“Coffey. Glew. Get your asses out of here now before you make me angry.”

Coffey, the woman on Krillin’s lap, spoke first, “Mr. Shisui said…”

“I don’t give a damn about what that old bastard said. Scramble now, or do I need to teach you and that other worthless whore a lesson again?”

Krillin, however, had enough of this bastard. “Hey, hey, now big guy. You don’t talk to the women like that. Don’t you have any manners?” 

“Who do you think you are, baldy? I’m a trained fighter and could beat you within an inch of your life before you realized what happened. Do you really want to go there with me or my boys?”

“I’ll knock out any loser that tries to degrade people.”

Coffey and Glew took that as their opportunity to bounce, as they disappeared from the table. Leaving just Goku, Krillin, and the man. 

“Hey, you shouldn’t be rude to others just because they're hanging out with other people. I don’t get the big deal, but I won’t turn down a fight.” Goku locked eyes with the man who towered over him. 

“What’s scrawny chump like you with a tail going to do to someone like Yojo the Metal, the champion of this here’s fighting ring?” 

“Champion, huh? Well, I do train a lot, so I guess we can see who’s stronger!”

Yojo sneered, cracking his knuckles. “You don’t look like much, monkey boy. I could crush you before you even blink.”

Goku started stretching out, “That’s fine. I’m used to starting small and getting stronger. Ready?” The warm-up bounce gave him everything he needed for a good fight.

Krillin clenched his fists, muttering under his breath, “I swear, if he actually fights this guy… Bulma is going to kill me first.”

Yojo stepped closer, looming over Goku. “You’re either going to beg me or get embarrassed in front of everyone here.”

Before Goku could even blink, Yojo lunged forward, swinging his massive fist with all the force of a professional fighter. 

“Here we go,” Krillin thought to himself. 

The fist connected squarely with Goku’s face, but the attack that would have sent any ordinary man flying hadn’t moved Goku an inch. His hardened expression all the same, as Yojo clutched his now pulsating fist. 

“You bastard. You’re going to pay for playing dirty tricks on me. Come poke some holes in these two bastards, men.”  Yojo’s call seemed to spawn the empty section into a horde of similar tattooed grunts, all with the same objective. “I tried to play nice with you, but I’m done being nice.”

The grunts swarmed the duo, with the first targeting Goku, who sidestepped one swing so fast it barely registered, grabbed another thug’s arm mid-punch, and tossed him like a ragdoll into a nearby table. The table groaned under the impact, bottles and glasses clattering across the floor. 

Krillin ducked under a sweeping kick, countering with a rapid punch combination that sent his attacker sprawling into the neon-lit wall. Yamcha’s absence suddenly felt less important; these two friends worked in perfect sync, their years of training and instinct guiding every move as they pummeled the attackers.

Yojo, however, saw an opportunity and charged forward, aiming to put Goku in a crushing bear which backfired as the hug was reversed mid-charge by Goku, who lifted him off the ground effortlessly. Yojo’s fists flailed, pounding against Goku’s chest, but it was like hitting solid steel. 

With a powerful twist, Goku flung him spinning across the VIP room, slamming him into a row of arcade machines. Sparks flew as the machines groaned under the impact.

The remaining grunts hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough for Krillin to spring into action. He dashed forward, striking with a flurry of precise punches that sent two of the tattooed men sprawling into the fountain area.

Goku was still standing where he was at first, itching for a challenge. “Come on, guys! Is that all you got?” His grin was wide, his aura practically radiating confidence.

One by one, the remaining thugs charged, but it was futile. Goku ducked, weaved, and countered with strikes so fast they weren’t visible. Krillin followed, keeping pace with unmatched accuracy, and soon the entire gang was either unconscious or nursing bruises in corners of the VIP section.

Yojo, the so-called Metal Champion, groaned from the remains of a shattered table, holding his head as he struggled to rise. “This… can’t… be real…”

Goku bent down, offering him a hand with that innocent, carefree smile. “Hey, you fought well, but maybe next time don’t pick a fight you can’t finish.”

Krillin rolled his eyes, panting but laughing. “Yeah… tell him that, Goku. Some people just don’t learn.”

Yojo smacked Goku’s hand away and pulled out a knife, aiming to slice the man’s throat, but failed as Goku caught his wrist and knocked him unconscious with a chop to the neck.

Goku’s expression remained calm, almost amused, as Yojo crumpled to the floor. He glanced at Krillin, who was rubbing his shoulder and muttering under his breath about how wild this night had become.

“Alright, that’s enough excitement for one evening,” Goku said cheerfully, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “Let’s get back to the party before more trouble shows up.”

Krillin sighed, giving a half-grin. “You mean before the rest of the club decides to pick a fight with you?”

Goku laughed, already heading toward the VIP area, and the two of them began picking their way through the wreckage, leaving the unconscious thugs and broken furniture behind. The neon lights reflected off the mess, but neither friend seemed fazed—after all, this was just another sparring session, albeit with far less friendly faces. As they reached the table, the remaining dancers who had scattered earlier began cautiously returning, eyes wide, whispers of awe filling the air. 

Goku waved at them innocently. “Hey, don’t worry. Everything’s fine now!”

Krillin shook his head, but couldn’t deny that Goku’s friendliness was infectious. “You know you do bring chaos wherever you go, don’t you?”

Goku grinned. “That’s why it’s fun!”

“If you say so, Goku. But let’s try to enjoy the rest of the party?”

“You betcha. I’m starving!”

The night had come to an end, and Goku was finally back where he wanted to be all along. It was late, later than he had anticipated coming back home.

“We had fun, Goku, we’ll see you at your wedding,” Krillin waved from the passenger seat, as Yamcha honked the horn as they drove off.

Goku, now alone, stared at the door to his house. “I wonder if Bulma’s still up?”

On que, the answer to his question was revealed. Bulma was in her night gown, and her hair was down, freshly washed and dried; the only thing she was missing was him.

“Bulma!” Goku rushed over to his fiancée, who gladly accepted being scooped up by the man she called her fiancée, as he hugged her as if they hadn’t seen each other in years.

“I missed you, too, Goku.”

“I missed you, too, Bulma.”

“Why do you smell like a woman’s perfume?”

“Long story?”

“Mhm. Let’s go lie down, and you can massage me and tell me all about what you did for your bachelor’s party.”

"I'm so going to kill Yamcha and Krillin."

Chapter Text

“You nervous, Goku?”

“About what, Dr. Briefs?”

“You forgot about your big day already?”

“Oh, the wedding?”

Goku crossed his arms; the tailored shirt that Bulma specifically told him to wear it else, did little to hide his physique, but it was comfortable enough for him to do some warm-ups, his tail was free, and the martial artist had finally wrapped his mind around what a wedding was, and his heart felt happy that it was with someone he cared about a lot, Bulma.

“Of course, Dr. Briefs. I am excited, actually, and Bulma said there was going to be lots and lots of food for the wedding!”

Dr. Briefs couldn’t help but chuckle at the one-track mind of his soon-to-be son-in-law. Food was certainly a constant motivation for him, though the scientist suspected there was something else under the surface, something Goku hadn’t quite learned how to put into words.

“I brought your blazer and tie. You want me to help you put them on?”

“Yep.”

It wasn’t every day that he encountered anyone who was as unique as Goku. West City had its ups and downs, fallouts and better times, but those were thoughts for a different day. When he would be in his lab, tinkering on his next big project.

Today was all about his baby girl.

He helped Goku slip into the black blazer. On Goku, it looked like a strange hybrid—half martial artist, half groom—but it oddly suited him. The tie, though, was another matter entirely.

“Hold still a second,” Dr. Briefs said, looping the fabric around Goku’s neck.

“This feels like someone’s trying to choke me,” Goku muttered, tugging at the knot.

“You’ll survive. If you can take a hit from Piccolo, I think you can handle a tie for one day.”

Goku grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess so. But I’d still rather fight Piccolo again.”

The older man shook his head, patting Goku’s shoulder once the knot was neat. “Well, you’ll get through it. And Bulma… she’ll never admit it, but she’s been dreaming about this day for a long time. Don’t tell her I said that, though.”

For a moment, Goku stood still, imagining Bulma walking toward him, full of the energy he loved so much. A warmth settled in his chest that had nothing to do with food, training, or fighting.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Briefs,” he said at last. “I’ll make sure today’s the best day ever—for her.”

“Now that’s the spirit, Goku. You ready to walk down the aisle?”

“Walk down the aisle?”

Dr.Brief suppressed another chuckle; his wife and daughter’s preparations should have been spent more on Goku’s wedding rehearsal.

“I’ll give you a quick breakdown, don't worry, Son.”

Bulma paced back and forth in her one-of-one white wedding dress, the Capsule Corp lighting catching the sheen of the fabric. It was flawless, of course—she had made sure of that—but her nerves weren’t so easily polished. Every turn in front of the mirror revealed not just her perfect complexion, but the brilliant design she, Tights, and their Mother worked with the tailor on to make the perfect look.

Still, the bruise she had gotten on her eye was somewhat noticeable despite the makeup to conceal it.

“I’ll just use the Dragon Balls to fix it if it doesn’t heal right in a few months,” Bulma stated at her reflection, wondering if it made sense to use the Dragon Balls for such a purpose. It wasn’t like she needed anything. And most didn’t even know of their existence, much less find all seven.

“Ugh, why am I thinking about this when I should be thinking if something goes wrong? What if Goku forgets what he’s supposed to do? Or worse—what if he shows up hungry and eats before the ceremony?!”

The door creaked open, and her mother peeked in, humming cheerfully as always. “Oh, darling, you look absolutely brilliant! Just like a princess.”

Her Mother’s words did little to pause the entire collapse she was feeling on the inside.

“Mom, please! I don’t need pep talks right now, I need… I don’t know, maybe some air, a sedative.”

“Well, if you faint, it’ll be memorable. People do love drama at weddings.”

Bulma slapped her forehead with a groan. Her Mother was always such an airhead.

“That’s not helping, Mom.”

From the hall, a muffled voice called out, “Hey, Bulma, you done yet? You’re not chickening out, are you?”

Bulma froze. She knew that voice. Yamcha. What was he doing back here? How did he get in here? Why was he in here?

She smoothed her veil down and shouted back, “Mind your own business, Yamcha! You’re not even supposed to see me until the ceremony!”

“R-right, sorry…”

Her mother giggled. “He sounds nervous, too. Isn’t that sweet? Do you want to talk to him?”

“No.”

“You su-”

“It’s my wedding day, I can’t today. Not today. Y’know, he always makes everything complicated.”

“Come on, sweetie, I’m sure he isn’t looking to cause any trouble. Or you wouldn’t have invited him, right?”

“Did I? Or did you?”

“I don’t remember, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s going to be a great time for everyone after all our preparations and planning.”

Bulma was now at the edge of her vanity, bouquet resting on her knees. The positivity of her Mom made it aggravated her. It was no wonder that she could never stay mad at Tights, since she took so much after their Mom with the smarts of their Dad.

“Yeah. You’re right, Mom.”

Bulma glanced at herself in the mirror one more time. Yamcha was a past that she didn’t want to revisit, and he wasn’t taking the hint. If they talked, it would be sometime later, once the festivities had settled down. Because she couldn’t focus; her heart raced on and off, not just from nerves, but from the surreal truth of it.

Today, she wasn’t just Capsule Corp’s heiress or the brains behind the Dragon Ball Radar. She was a bride about to marry the boy, now a man who had once been a clueless kid with a tail—who’d grown into someone stronger, braver, and somehow, still the same simple-hearted Goku.

“I’ll deal with him later.” Bulma got up from her position.” Well… guess this is it. No turning back now.”

Her mother clasped her hands together, eyes misty.

“Oh, honey, you look beautiful. Your father’s waiting at the end of the hall to walk you down the aisle. And believe me—there are so many people out there who can’t wait to see you two lovebirds tie the knot.”

Bulma gave herself one more moment of grace, then she gained her confidence, and then her signature smile formed on her face.

“Alright. Let’s go knock their socks off.”

The garden of Capsule Corp had been transformed for the occasion. Rows of chairs stretched across the lawn, filled with familiar faces—Krillin fidgeting in his suit, Launch sneezing herself into blonde mid-sentence, Yamcha watching with crossed arms, Oolong already eyeing the catering tables, Yajirobe glaring at the staff setting up the tables of food, and Roshi sitting in the front row, adjusting his sunglasses far too often for comfort to peek at all the fine ladies that have come to the wedding.

At the altar, Goku stood tall in his blazer and tie, looking both proud and slightly out of place. His foot tapped with restless energy, as if he might bolt into a training stance at any moment.

“Man, I can’t believe this is happening,” Krillin whispered to Puar. “Goku… actually getting married. Who would’ve thought?”

“Yeah,” Puar said, “and to Bulma of all people…”

Krillin chuckled nervously, remembering the explosive arguments Bulma had thrown Goku’s way over the years. “Guess he’s not afraid of anything, huh?”

A hush fell over the crowd as music began to play. Heads turned as Dr. Briefs appeared at the end of the aisle, arm in arm with his daughter.

Bulma walked forward, the veil framing her face, her smile tugging between composure and nerves. For once, she wasn’t in control; she was just a woman, in white, about to step into a future she hadn’t calculated or invented.

When Goku saw her, his eyes lit up in the same way they did when he spotted a worthy opponent. He leaned forward, grinning in genuine awe.

“Wow…” he said out loud, unable to stop himself. “Bulma, you look amazing!”

Bulma nearly tripped, biting back a cry as whispers rippled through the guests. Trust Goku to blurt something like that before the vows.

Dr. Briefs patted her hand as they reached the altar.

“She’s all yours, son.”

“Thanks, Dr. Briefs!” Goku said he was just like a puppy full of energy that was ready to be shared with a person he loved.

The officiator cleared his throat, clearly unsure if this ceremony would go the way it was supposed to.

“Ladies and gentlemen… we are gathered here today to witness the union of Son Goku and Bulma Briefs.”

As the words rolled, Bulma risked a glance at Goku. He wasn’t fidgeting or overthinking like she was. He just stood there, smiling at her with that same simple, unshakable sincerity he had since the first time they met in the mountains. And somehow, that made her calm down.

The officiator continued: “Do you, Bulma Briefs, take Son Goku as your husband—”

“Yes,” Bulma said firmly, cutting him off before he could even finish. The crowd laughed, but she didn’t care.

“And do you, Son Goku, take Bulma Briefs as your wife?”

“That means we’ll be together, right? Eating, traveling, having fun, and stuff?”

Bulma covered her face with her bouquet in embarrassment. “Yes, Goku, that’s exactly what it means!”

Goku’s grin widened. “Then yep! I do!”

The officiator blinked. “…Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Before he could even say “you may kiss the bride,” The gap closed between them, and to Bulma’s surprise,

Goku took the initiative. Swooping away all doubts, all the anxiety that she had about today, and throwing it away. There was no future without him in it, and she’d be damned if she let anyone have what was hers. And this kiss solidified that notion. Their lips bridged a divide that no longer needed to be crossed; a romantic bond that was built on the foundation of their lifelong friendship and now official relationship. The kiss went on longer, as Bulma greedily explored Goku’s mouth, making sure her claim was made clear. He was hers, she was his. And there was nothing in between that fact. And once they finally broke apart and the sounds of applause finally became clear again, Bulma’s face was red, not from embarrassment but the absolute feeling of joy that she had for living the dream with a man who would always be by her side.

“I don’t know much about fancy words,” Goku said, his heart racing from their actions. “But I know I want to protect you forever, Bulma. Not just from danger, but from sadness, from loneliness. You’ve been with me since the start. And I don’t want an end.”

Bulma’s throat caught, tears welling up despite her stubbornness. “You idiot. You always make things sound so simple. And that’s why I love you. You’ve made me believe in things I’d stopped believing in. In trust. In strength. In us. You’re my biggest adventure, Son Goku. And the only one I’ll never finish. I’m happy to be Son Bulma.”

The wedding bell tolled as the two newlyweds were finally married. Signaling that all's well that ends well for the newfound Son family.

The crowd erupted—Krillin cheering, Launch bawling into tissues, Oolong fainting dramatically, and Mrs. Brief and Dr.Brief clapping their hands in delight. Even Kami, the Earth’s protector, and Mr. Popo had come in attendance to see Goku’s marriage.

For the first time all day, Bulma stopped worrying. She just held onto him and kissed him back, realizing maybe this wasn’t so scary after all. A future with her husband was all that she needed to get her anxiety about this day out of her mind.

When they broke apart, Bulma knew her next words would make Goku’s day even better: “Are you ready to eat, Husband?”

The growl that echoed from Goku’s stomach settled on that answer, “Haha, yeah. Sorry about my stomach.”

Dr. Briefs gave a booming clap of his hands. “Well then, let’s not keep anyone waiting—especially the groom!”

Mrs. Brief squealed. “Time for the banquet! I had the chefs prepare everything Goku likes. Isn’t that just lovely?”

Goku’s eyes practically sparkled as he took Bulma’s hand. “Really? You mean there’s food already?!”

“Goku!” Bulma spoke through her teeth. “At least walk me out first. Then you can sprint for the buffet.”

Krillin leaned over to Master Roshi as the newlyweds made their way down the aisle. “I’m just glad he didn’t try to eat during the ceremony.”

“Give him a few more seconds, my boy. He’s still warming up.”

As soon as the applause died down and the couple stepped into the open reception hall, Goku’s patience officially ended. The long tables were stacked with mountains of food—noodles, rice, dumplings, roasted meats, sushi platters, and whole carts of desserts.

“Bulma, look! It’s like a dream come true!” Goku exclaimed, already undoing his tie.

Bulma rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding her laughter. “You’re unbelievable. Fine, go ahead. But remember—you have to dance with me later. No excuses.”

“Deal!”

While Goku ran off and the other guests followed him to the banquet table, Yamcha couldn’t stop glancing at Bulma, who caught his stare.

“Let’s get this over with,” Bulma sighed. She brushed past him, tapping his shoulder just enough for him to get the hint. He followed, silent, until they found a shaded corner of the Capsule Corp garden, away from the laughter and clatter of plates.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Yamcha shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing the ground with his shoe, while Bulma held her bouquet tight against her chest.

“…You look beautiful,” he said. “I guess… I guess I should’ve expected Goku, huh?”

“Not at all.” Bulma rolled her eyes. “And don’t make it sound like he stole me from you, Yamcha. You had your chance. More than once.”

“I know. I messed up. I just…” He trailed off, looking back toward the tables where Goku was happily devouring plate after plate, Krillin egging him on. “I just never thought he’d be the one you’d choose over me.”

“Yamcha, you were my first real boyfriend. That’ll always matter. But we both know it wasn’t working. You wanted freedom, and I wanted… something else. And Goku—” she paused, glancing at her new husband, who had somehow managed to stack an entire roast duck on top of his third plate of noodles, “—he gives me peace in his way. He doesn’t complicate things. He doesn’t make me feel like I have to second-guess everything when a girl is around.”

Yamcha looked down, his throat tightening. For once, he didn’t argue.

“Look,” Bulma said, resting a hand on his arm. “We’ll always be friends. That won’t change. But today? I don’t want drama. So don’t make me regret inviting you, alright?”

Yamcha gave a humorless chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. I won’t ruin your big day. You deserve to be happy, Bulma.”

“Thanks, Yamcha. I mean it.”

Bulma opened her arms, and Yamcha followed through with the request, hugging his ex-girlfriend.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

“She had a modeling thing to attend to today.”

“Oh. Fun.”

“Yeah.”

They pulled back, and Bulma arched an eyebrow. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Yamcha. Models, strippers, high schoolers, guess you like trouble.”

“What can I say? I don’t exactly make life easy for myself.”

“Well, maybe try finding someone who doesn’t blow off your wedding invites next time. It might work out better.”

Yamcha winced playfully, but he couldn’t help smiling. “Still giving advice, huh? Some things never change.”

“Exactly,” Bulma said, straightening her posture. “And since some things never change, let’s not pretend this hug makes us a thing again. We had our time. Now we’ve both moved on. Right?”

Yamcha nodded, though his eyes lingered on her for a moment too long. “…Right.”

“Okay… What’s bothering you, Yamcha?”

“It’s noth-”

“Spill it.”

He exhaled through his nose and straightened his shoulders, “Guess I thought I was over everything, y’know? But standing here, seeing you like this… part of me realized I never really pictured you with someone else. Not seriously, anyway.” He shook his head. “I mean, I knew it would happen eventually. Just didn’t think it’d hit me this hard when it did.”

Bulma's hands rested on her hips. “Yamcha…”

He waved her off before she could dive into sympathy.

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to make a scene. You look happy. That’s all that matters. I’ll deal with my junk later.”

She studied him for a moment before replying. “Good. Because I can’t let you sabotage this day—for me, or you. But there is a question I have to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“Why did you take my husband to an underground club and let strippers touch him? What were you thinking doing that to Goku, for his bachelor party?”

“Bulma… it wasn’t like that. I wasn’t—” He stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, maybe it was stupid. But I wasn’t trying to hurt you. Or him.”

Bulma crossed her arms, her brows pinched. “Then what were you trying to do?”

He hesitated; the usual confidence drained from him.

“…Honestly? I thought… maybe if Goku saw that side of things, he’d realize how messy love can be. How… complicated it is. That it’s not just… fairy tales and fighting tournaments.” His voice cracked slightly. “Maybe a part of me wanted him to mess up. To make the same mistake I made. So I didn’t feel so damn left behind.”

“That was selfish, Yamcha. Goku isn’t you. He doesn’t think that way, and he doesn’t need… that garbage shoved in his face. He trusts people. He trusts me. And he trusts you.”

Yamcha looked down, shoulders slumping.

“I guess… It’s not just about Bulma,” he muttered. “It’s… everything. I see you two together, and I know he’s happy. And I’m glad for that, I am. But at the same time…” He trailed off, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

Bulma waited, arms crossed but silent.

“…I feel like I don’t have a place anymore,” he admitted. “Back in the day, I was part of all this—fights, adventures, the whole gang. But Goku… he’s always moving forward. And now you’re with him. And I… I’m just… here. We don’t communicate as much as we used to.”

She understood, in her way, even if she didn’t like it.

“Yamcha, you’ll always be part of this group. You’re a fighter, a friend, and… you’ve got your own life to live. You’re not erased just because someone else is happy. But that doesn’t give you the right to try to ruin my happiness, my husband’s happiness, because you’re still sulking about the past.”

“Yeah… I know you’re right. I just didn’t think it would hit me like this. Seeing all of you, celebrating… It’s like I’m a spectator in a story I used to be part of.”

“Then maybe it’s time to write your next chapter. Don’t get stuck wishing for the past. Waiting around for me to come back to you. Man up. Take responsibility. Stop denying accountability and stop cheating on women who loved you.”

“Yeah… maybe you’re right.”

The commotion at the banquet table got louder, and Bulma could see that it was time for her to go back as her Sister was eyeing the late Tien with beer in her hand.

“Well,” Bulma said, letting out a sigh, “looks like my presence is required before someone spills beer on my guest.”

“Go on then. Don’t let me hold up your… fun day.”

“Fun day? That’s an understatement. But thanks, Yamcha. For… well, you know.”

He nodded, eyes lingering for a moment before he finally turned back toward the quieter side of the garden. “Yeah… I know.”

With that, Bulma let herself glide back toward the banquet where she had a new situation to handle, namely, Tights harassing her late-arriving guest.

“Tights leave Tien alone, and why are you walking around with beer in your hand?” Bulma called, striding toward them.

Tights blinked, caught mid-laugh, and waved the bottle innocently. “He’s new! I’m just showing him a good time!”

Tien, standing stiffly with a polite but wary smile, tried to gently take the bottle from her.

“Uh… it’s okay, really, I—”

“Absolutely not,” Bulma interrupted, swooping in and snatching the beer from Tights’s hand. “This is my wedding, and I won’t have my sister making you uncomfortable.”

“I’m fine, Bulma,” Tien said.

“See, he’s fine, Bulma,” Tights said.

“You sure?” Bulma said.

“Yeah. I can handle it, but Goku over-”

Bulma followed Tien’s words to her husband, who was still stacking plates of food, before shaking her head and going to sit beside him. Between Yamcha, her friends and family, and husband, all she could do was enjoy herself.

“GOKU! Sit still before you topple the whole table!” Bulma called, rushing over.

“I’m eating, Bulma! It’s tradition!” Goku replied, shoveling another bite in without missing a beat.

Krillin groaned from across the table. “This is insane. He’s going to burst before the cake even comes out.”

Launch, meanwhile, had returned from blond to blue, as she clung between cuddling her Krillin and being a part of the antics of the table.

Oolong was hovering near the dessert cart, muttering about the “perfect heist” to grab a whole chocolate fountain for himself without anyone noticing.

Roshi was ‘taking in the sights’ of all the women that caught his hidden stare.

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose, but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “I can’t believe this is my wedding. My husband is… eating like an ogre, and everyone else is acting like children.”

The music paused, and Mrs. Briefs stepped onto the podium with a mic in hand.

“All right, everyone!” she called. “It’s time for the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the newlyweds’ first dance!”

Bulma froze mid-bite; she hadn’t had a chance to eat anything yet.

“Wait—what?”

Goku, still holding a dumpling in one hand and a plate in the other, blinked. “Dance? Oh! You mean… like fighting, but… with music?”

Mrs. Briefs chuckled, glancing down at her daughter in her pristine white dress. “Not quite, dear. But I promise, if you follow Bulma’s lead, it’ll be fun. And everyone will be watching, so you two better not trip over each other!”

Bulma groaned, sliding down in her chair.

“Mom! I did not need to hear that.”

Goku grinned, oblivious to her embarrassment. “Okay! Lead the way, Bulma!”

Mrs. Briefs’ eyes sparkled. “Oh, honey, you’re going to love this. And don’t worry, Bulma, I’ve made sure the music is… very appropriate.”

The band struck up a slow, lilting tune. Bulma took Goku’s hands and led him to the dancefloor as she moved Goku’s hand to her waist. For a moment, it was awkward, clumsy, two mismatched steps, his foot nearly landing on the hem of her gown. She glared up at him.

“Don’t step on me, Goku. Take your time, as we practiced, remember?”

“I won’t, promise!” he said quickly, his grin sheepish but earnest.

And then, surprisingly, he found the rhythm. It wasn’t perfect, not even close, but the sincerity in every step, the way his black eyes looked into hers, made the imperfection comforting. Bulma leaned close enough for her head to rest on her husband’s chest, the day’s thrill lessening, and just the heat of the moment between them was all that mattered.

“See?” she murmured. “Not so bad.”

“I think I get it,” Goku said. “It’s like sparring, only instead of trying to win, we’re just moving together.”

“Trust you to compare a wedding dance to sparring.”

The husband and wife kept their monument, swaying side to side, in a slow motion like waves that hugged the shore’s surface. Goku and Bulma were in sync; the clumsy movements long since faded had been replaced with sentimental and careful steps for one another.

“I never thought… I’d end up here with you,” she whispered to the man who had finally become her husband.

“Me neither. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not even food.”

He spun her, careful not to rush, not to stumble, letting her gown flare like a ribbon caught in the wind. The movement was fluid now, effortless, as if every misstep earlier had been practice for this perfect moment.

The crowd faded even more as Goku rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the dearer space between the notes. Bulma’s hand pressed against his chest, feeling the familiar strength beneath, not just his muscle, but the unwavering heartbeat that pulsed against her hand that she had come to trust completely.

“Everyone’s staring,”.

“I don’t care,” Goku said. “I only see you.”

She didn’t know where this newfound sweetness from her husband was coming from, but she couldn’t complain. It was so unlike Goku that it was a real surprise every time something like this came from him.

“I only want you, Goku. Only you. I promise.” Bulma’s words were an affirmation that she needed to say aloud, to look the man she loved in the eyes and tell him directly that she wasn’t going anywhere. The conversation with Yamcha only made her more protective of her peace, her safe space.

“Guess that means we’re stuck together forever, huh, Bulma.”

“Yes, it does, Goku.”

Bulma wanted nothing more than to cuddle up and watch a movie with her husband, but they had gifts to open and photos to take; a long evening was ahead of them, and she couldn’t wait to see where it took them. All that mattered was their happiness and what would sprout from it. And the fun they would have on their honeymoon getaway.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Yajirobe waved from behind his plate. “Roshi wants to make a speech before you two disappear on us!”

“Yajirobe, are you seriously just going to ruin my moment? You’re lucky-“ Bulma’s rant was cut short when the feeling of Goku’s hand squeezed hers. The tenderness of it calmed the annoyance that she had for the annoying slob.

“Let’s hear what Master Roshi has to say, Bulma.”

She didn’t know how, but something was changing in Goku, and she liked it.

The two held hands, gathering around the stage where her Mother once had the mic. Roshi was surprisingly serious, his shades gone, and his perverted attitude had faded.

“Friends and family,” Roshi began, his voice wobbling before he cleared his throat, “we are gathered here today for something even rarer than Dragon Balls. A wish comes true… the kind you can’t undo.” A ripple of chuckles broke the tension, even from the lazy Yajirobe in the back who crossed his arms, smirking despite himself.

“In all my years as the Master of the Turtle School, I never quite met a friendly knucklehead that is as stubborn and strong-willed as Goku, who has a way of pulling people toward him. Students, friends… even enemies. And now a lover.”

Bulma’s cheeks warmed, her grip on Goku’s hands tightening. Goku blinked, a little puzzled but smiling all the same, the significance of Roshi’s words registering in his heart.

Roshi straightened his back, “And Bulma, a fine woman like yourself, has to make sure he doesn’t go running off for the next great fight without a full stomach.”

Puar, who was sitting beside Yamcha, had half the mind to transform into a frying pan and whack Roshi in the back of his head for his comment about his Bulma.

The old master laughed, ignoring the floating red, Paur, from the seats below.

“Now, I’ll admit when you put a genius and a martial artist with an empty stomach together, I thought it was a recipe for disaster.”

The crowd chuckled again, especially Yamcha, who muttered under his breath, “Still might be…” before Puar elbowed him.

“But today,” Roshi went on, “I see something unshakable. A bond not forged in contracts or convenience, but in battles fought side by side, in wishes shared, in dreams carried forward. This isn’t just a marriage, it's a joining of two worlds that have been brought together, even when they didn’t notice the rhythm. And I have to ask the two of you a question now.”

“What?” Bulma blurted out.

“Give me a chance to say it, woman!” Roshi shook his hand.

“Calm down, Old Man.” Bulma rolled her eyes.

“You be good up there, Bulma!” her mother shouted from her seat, waving a handkerchief as if she were at a parade. The tears in her eyes were coming down in droves as she latched onto her husband. “Don’t give Mr.Roshi a hard time!”

“Don’t encourage her, ma’am!” Roshi huffed, cheeks puffed, while the sunglasses slipped down his nose. “This is supposed to be sacred business!”

Bulma sighed, turning back to Roshi with mock patience. “Fine, fine. Go ahead. Ask your big, important question.”

Roshi adjusted his shades and cleared his throat again, clearly trying to pull the moment back under his control. “As I was trying to say—” his eyes went to Bulma, “—this is the moment where I ask. Goku, Bulma, do you two plan to have many beautiful daughters for me to train up?”

Bulma’s face turned red; the jokester was back at it again.

“Yeah,” Bulma said boldly, “But you’re not seeing any of them, perverted old man!”

The whole crowd burst into laughter, some whistling, others clapping. Roshi adjusted his shades nervously, sweat rolling down his bald forehead.

That’s when Puar snapped.

“You dirty old turtle!” The little blue cat puffed up and launched himself into the air, claws bared. Roshi yelped and darted to the side as Puar zipped after him across the stage, swiping at his head. The audience roared as the old master ran in circles, hands flailing.

“Hold on now, I was just joking! Mercy, mercy!” Roshi cried, tripping over the microphone cord and nearly tumbling off the edge.

“Serves you right!” Puar shouted, tail bristling like a bottlebrush.

Even Goku laughed, though Bulma was too busy pressing her hand to her face, mortified. “God, why did we let him talk?”

Before the chaos could escalate further, Bikini waltzed back up with the microphone in hand, smiling brightly as though nothing were amiss. “Alright, alright, let’s settle down! Mr.Roshi’s comedy act will resume later!”

The audience chuckled as Roshi scurried off, still chased by an irate Puar.

“Now, my beautiful daughter and her new husband,” Bikini announced proudly, gesturing toward the decorated table on the side, “have a mountain of gifts waiting for them from all of us who love them. So let’s get to the fun part, shall we?”

The guests clapped in agreement, the noise rising again as Goku and Bulma were ushered by Bikni down the steps of the stage. Goku scratched his head, laughing nervously as Bulma squeezed his arm and whispered under her breath, “We’re going to have to save Roshi from Puar later, aren’t we?”

“Eh, he’ll be fine,” Goku grinned, eyes on the pile of brightly wrapped boxes stacked almost as high as he was. “But wow, look at all that!”

Bulma could make out the names on most of them; her parents’ elegant handwriting was impossible to miss, and a few bore the crude, bold scribbles of Goku’s friends. Before she could point out which ones were safe to open first, her mother was already nudging them forward, snapping picture after picture as they tore through shiny paper and elaborate bows.

Most gifts were practical, some heartfelt, and others ridiculous in the way only their friends could manage. But the last box, a long, flat one wrapped in shimmering silver, had both of them pausing. Inside was a thick envelope, tied shut with a delicate blue ribbon.

Bulma’s brows lifted as she slipped it open. “Plane tickets?” she muttered, holding them up to the light.

“Not just tickets, dear,” Bikini beamed, posing proudly beside them as though she’d planned it all herself. “Your Father and I thought you two deserved more than gadgets and cookware. You’re going to Kamehara Isle! Only the best for our baby girl and darling son. You deserve a perfect honeymoon.”

“Kamehara?” Goku asked, clearly never having heard of it before.

“It’s a private island south of the tropics,” Dr. Briefs explained. “Crystal waters, white sand, no laboratories, no inventions, just the two of you. A week away from the world.”

Bulma had heard of the island before, but her Father must have pulled some serious strings to ensure they had a spot on the island.

“Mom, Dad… this is incredible.”

Goku’s grin spread wide as he pointed at the postcard tucked in the envelope, showing a turquoise lagoon. “Wow! Look at that! It’s like a giant bathtub.”

“Only you would describe a world-class island like that.” Still, she couldn’t deny the spark of excitement in her mind. After all the chaos of wedding planning, a week on Kamehara Isle sounded like exactly what they needed.

“Now, now, you two have a plane to get on and an island to reach; your sister and I will handle putting all your gifts away for when you return. Isn’t that right, Honey?”

Tights smirked and pulled Bulma into a hug, “Yep, Mom and I will handle all of the little details before I go home, Sis. So you two love birds have fun and take lots of pictures for Mom to send me.”

Bulma didn’t fight the hug; it had been years since she last hung out with her sister, and there was no telling how long it would be until they saw each other again. Life just sort of happened that way.

“You’re not giving us any choice, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Bikini said, already snapping another photo as she herded them toward the door. “Smile! This is the departing newlyweds shot!”

Amid cheers, whistles, and a few teary waves from their friends, Bulma and Goku were ushered outside. Their bags were already packed and loaded into the capsule car waiting to take them to the airport.

Bulma leaned into Goku’s side, the envelope pressed to her chest, her heart the heaviest it's been all that day.

“So… Kamehara Isle, Husband.”

“Our first adventure as a married couple. I can’t wait to see it with you.”

She followed Goku’s lead as they made their way to the car, the crowd growing smaller behind them once they made it inside and drove off. This time it wasn’t about the Dragon Balls, tournaments, or saving the world. It was just the two of them and the vacation that awaited them.

Chapter Text

Goku wasn’t the smartest when it came to figuring out social cues and understanding what it was like to live a normal life, but ever since they landed on the island last night; he couldn’t stop thinking about how to be better about it.

Piccolo wasn’t causing any ruckus and there wasn’t much for him to worry about for now, so all he was Bulma and training. The former of which was taking a shower and getting ready for the first of their activities, a biking trail.

The sound of the running came to an end from the villa’s bathroom, where Bulma was finishing her shower. She’d insisted their first morning together as husband and wife should start with something relaxing, not just lazing around indoors. That’s why she had mapped out a biking trail along the island’s coast, a winding path through palm groves and open beaches.

Goku sat on the edge of the bed, tugging absently at his wristband while he thought. He wanted to make her happy, but figuring out how to do that without accidentally messing up wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Fighting was simple—you win or lose. But Bulma? She was complicated, and that was part of what made him kinda worried not to screw things up.

The bathroom door creaked open, and steam spilled into the room. Bulma stepped out, toweling her hair, a pair of fitted shorts and a sleeveless top already picked for the ride. She caught him staring and smirked.

“What?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Goku smiled. She was beautiful. “Just… you look ready for an adventure.”

“Good,” Bulma replied, tossing the towel onto the chair. “Because you’re not leaving me behind on the trail if you get carried away, mister.”

“Then you’ll just have to keep up.”

“Or, you’ll just slow down, hm?” Bulma said, sliding her hands onto her hips.

“How else are you going to reach your max potential then, Bulma?”

It was going to take a while for him to realize that his potential far exceeded hers. Or maybe she was underestimating the idea that Goku just wanted to share his hobby with her. Martial arts and training was practically his life, if he did nothing else, he was going to warm up with stretches or train. 

“You know I’m more of a thinker than a fighter, Goku.”

“But you have a lot of potential? Don’t you want to learn how to fly? It’s amazing!”

Bulma didn’t answer. She preferred the safety of being inside a vehicle than outside of one. One hit from the likes of that monster Piccolo and she would be unconscious,  seriously injured, or dead before she realized what even happened. 

“I’m perfectly fine how I am, but-” she reached into her beach tote and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen and a smaller one of lotion. She pressed them into his hands. “You can start by rubbing these on me, please.”

“Uh… both of them?”

“Mm-hm,” Bulma hummed, already turning her back to him as she plopped down on the bed. “Don’t just stand there gawking. You’ve got a job now, Hubby.”

Goku squeezed the bottle of scented lotion down her back, which made her shiver at the sensation

“Whoa, sorry! Did I use too much?” he asked, his fingers hesitating midair.

Bulma leaned forward on her elbows. “It’s fine, just spread it out evenly. It’s just lotion, not ki blasts, you don’t have to go all out.”

“Right, right…” he muttered, his hands starting to move over her shoulders and down her back. He worked slower than she expected, almost cautious, his calloused palms surprisingly soft.

Bulma’s lips curved in a smile she tried to hide. She’d expected him to be clumsy with this sort of thing, but there was an odd tenderness in the way he touched her like he was trying to memorize every detail without realizing it.

“You’re pretty good at this,” she teased, tilting her head to glance back at him.

Goku grinned, a little proud of himself. “Guess I’ve got potential here too, huh?”

Bulma rolled her eyes but didn’t correct him this time. Instead, she let herself relax into his hands, thinking that maybe this honeymoon was going to feel different than she imagined—less about the activities she’d planned and more about moments like this.

“Can you go lower? I need this ache in my back gone before we go biking.”

“Yeah it’s no problem, Bulma,” Goku hands traced down from Bulma’s shoulder, down the ridge of her then before stopping right at the base of it, which gave him a peek of her black panty line that signaled the end of back.

“I know he doesn’t know it, but he’s turns me on when he’s so careful with my body. And he’s trying so hard not to mess this up. Cute, really. I’ll have to reward him, well.”

Bulma arched her back, “Right there, Goku. It’s tense so be gentle with me.”

“Got it.” His thumbs pressed into the muscles just above her waist, working with care. It wasn’t like he never gave his wife massages. She preferred it to be her feet and shoulders usually which meant her back was a new form for him to train on. Every breath she made, he adjusted to knead it enough for her posture to relax; a good sign. Meanwhile, she was melting like butter from the touch of Goku. 

It wasn’t a thing in the world that he would deny her, no matter what, he did his best to achieve it. No hesitation, no doubts, he just did it. The actions that a man like him were capable of put any prince to shame that she could think of. Four years apart and he was still 18 and just learning what it was like to be in a relationship, but he was doing a great job. A better job than any person she had ever dated managed to do.

“Keep it up, just like that, Goku.”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Don’t call me ma’am! I’m not old. But you can call me Love or something like a cute nickname?

“Bula?”

“That’s not half-bad, Goku. You’re better at nicknames than I thought.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I just might let you name our first child.”

Goku’s hands paused for the first time, hovering at her waist. “Wait—you mean… like… for real?”

She looked back to catch his expression, amused at the way his wide eyes seemed to search her face for confirmation. They had the birds and bees talk a while ago, in which she had explained where babies come from and all the things Roshi neglected to teach him about sex. 

“Of course for real. Why not? You’ll be their dad, after all.”

Goku’s grin spread like wildfire, like a kid given the world’s best prize. “Heh… I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.”

Bulma’s chest warmed at his reaction. She hadn’t planned to bring up kids yet, she thought she’d be the one panicking if the topic ever came up. But the look on his face told her everything she needed: he wasn’t scared, just happy at the thought of a future with her. A sneak peek into the idea of their family unit.

“Once you finish this up, we can begin the bike trail. I recall you telling me last week that you promised to give me the best massages as well?”

“I’m on it!”

The enthusiasm of her husband was infectious, she couldn’t help but to be happy when she was in his presence. He was her anchor. An unbreakable chain that tied her down to the world, grounded her when her thoughts made her dissonance from the world outside and be stuck in the world within her mind. 

Such a moment was coming along now, when she thought and lingered on the word family. A moment with Yamcha, when they were in her room all those years ago.

Flashback: Age 755: Bulma’s Room

“That party was pretty crazy right, Bulma?”

“Yeah, it was. You were doing all sort of tricks to impress everyone, I would have thought that you were single the way those girls were ogling at you.”

Her head was rested on her boyfriend’s chest, she had switched to her pajamas once they made it up to her room and was finally able to decompress.

“Can you blame them? I’m pretty handsome after all.”

“Excuse me, don’t you have a girlfriend, right in front of you, Yamcha?”

“Well yeah,” Yamcha’s laugh was awkward because he was trying to avoid angering Bulma.  But that downtrodden expression was forming and he knew needed to cheer her up.

“Hey.” He raised her chin up, so that their eyes could meet again. “Don’t be sad, okay? You know I only want you. Don’t be like that.”

“You make it hard… You’re so flirty with every girl that looks your way. It’s hard not to feel insecure…”

“Bulma Briefs, insecure? No way?”

“Yamcha, I’m not-“

She couldn’t finish her sentence when she felt his lips on hers, shutting down any attempts of arguing she was about to start. And while it did little to make her feel any better about what had happened just a few hours ago, it did make her think of something else that had been on her mind.

A family.

When they broke apart, Bulma knew she had to ask. It was a question that had been bugging her for the past few weeks.

“Yamcha.”

“What’s up, Babe?”

“Have you thought about us starting a family soon? Maybe after the big tournament next year? We can settle down and pick out names, and-“

“I’m not ready for all that yet, Bulma. Being tied down, responsibilities… I mean, we’re still young. There’s so much I want to do. There’s so much we still need to experience before we think about kids.”

Bulma’s smile faltered, though she tried to hide it. She wanted to argue, to tell him that she didn’t mean tomorrow, just someday. That they didn’t have to rush a child into the world. But his eyes had already turned away, unfocused, as if the very thought was a chain he didn’t want around his neck.

“Maybe someday, but what you said is too soon, y’know?”

“Maybe someday.” She repeated the words in her head. Sighing as she thought over their conversation; an argument about the topic would be a waste, so she would concede for tonight. They were only 22 after all. 

“Yeah. I’m just overthinking.”

“Yeah, you’re. But you know what’ll help?”

“What?”

Yamcha reached into his pocket before finally pulling out a bunched up condom, dangling it in front of her.

“A good time.”

At some point, Bulma came back from the memory and she could feel Goku’s hand caressing away the tears that had formed. His hand on top of her head. 

“You okay, Bulma?”

She blinked, trying to shake off the lingering ache from the flashback. “Yeah… just memories. Nothing to worry about.”

“Memories, huh?”

“Please don’t say anything stupid.” Bulma thought. She was surprised how sensitive she still was about Yamcha.

“You know… families don’t have to happen all at once. We can take our time. But when it does happen, I’ll be there. All the way. No matter what.”

Somehow. Some way. He inexplicably knew what was bothering her. Maybe he could read minds?

Bulma’s chest tightened, the feeling of relief was like an explosion of happiness inside of her. His voice was so earnest, so free of pretense. At that moment, she realized the difference. Yamcha had avoided the weight of responsibility; Goku simply accepted it, not as an obligation, but as a joy.

“You’d really… be okay with that?” she whispered, letting herself lean into his hand.

“Of course,” he said. “I don’t have to think about it too much. I just know I want it with you. That’s enough for me.”

She let herself sigh, relief and happiness washing over her. The tension of old doubts melted away, replaced by the certainty of his presence, his care, and the promise of the life they could build together.

Bulma tilted her head back, letting her lips brush his hand. “Yeah… I think I can be okay with that.”

Goku chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her temple. “Good. Now, enough heavy thoughts—let’s get outside. The island’s waiting, and I want to show you how fast I can ride on the biking trail!”

“Okay, Goku.”

Chapter Text

“There goes the lovely couple!”

Bulma turned at the sound of the voice, her hand instinctively slipping into Goku’s. 

“Hey,” Bulma greeted the man with a wave from her free hand.

“Hiya,” Goku added after, eyeing their guide to gauge his strength. 

“My name is Pilo and I’ll be the one guiding you two on this experience.” The man gave a quick bow. “First, I’d like to congratulate you both on the wedding. Secondly, welcome to Kashmere Island! And third, are you two ready to experience our world-famous biking trail?” 

“ Well, he’s certainly enthusiastic.” Bulma thought to herself. His positive attitude certainly came off as fake to her, but maybe she was just used to the mainland. Or her husband, who was always upfront with everything he said.

While Bulma was thinking to herself, Goku was all too ready, “Yep. I’m always looking for an opportunity to train.” 

“It would be nice to get a change of scenery. My Mother told me that it’s one of her favorite things to see when she and my Father vacationed here.

“That’s right,” Pilo continued proudly. “It’s a special route that winds along the cliffs and cuts through hidden groves. The flora here is exclusive to the island and can’t be found anywhere else in the world. And the sights?” He spread his arms wide, as if the whole horizon furthered his happiness. “Unforgettable.”

Bulma raised a brow, glancing at Goku. “Well, what do you think? Up for a little ride?”

“Are you kidding?!” Goku bounced on his heels; his boyish grin spoke for itself. “I’ll race you to the end!”

“Careful what you wish for. I designed half the bikes that Capsule Corp ships to this island. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Pilo flailed his hands as if trying to slow down two runaway cars. “You two are supposed to be in love and cozy, not so… so…” His words trailed off helplessly.

“Competitive?” Bulma offered dryly.

“Um, wild?” Goku added.

Pilo blinked, utterly defeated. “…That too.”

“My husband and I do things differently than what you’d expect from a regular couple, Pilo.” Bulma squeezed Goku’s hand. “So, you'd best keep up on the trail. Because you’re a part of the race now, too.”

“W–wait, what?!” Pilo stammered, his professional façade cracking as he looked between them. “I’m not supposed to—this isn’t—that’s not how—”

“Sounds like he’s scared,” Goku said with a grin that only widened when Bulma laughed.

“I am not scared!” Pilo explained, puffing out his chest, though his voice cracked in the middle. “I just… don’t want you two lovebirds to forget that the trail is meant to be enjoyed at a leisurely pace.”

Bulma leaned closer to Goku. “What do you say, Hubby? Should we show him what leisurely looks like, our way?”

“You bet! The last one has to carry the winner’s bike back!”

“Deal.” 

Bulma separated from Goku once they arrived at the bike station, and she set herself on the first bike that caught her eye. “Better start stretching, Pilo. I’m sure you don’t want to carry one of our bikes back, no matter how strong you look.”

Pilo groaned, muttering something about never getting paid enough for this job, as he, too, got on the bike that was used for the guides.

Bulma adjusted the helmet to fit snugly on her head as she looked over to her husband, who had just sat on the bike without any sort of head protection.

“Goku, put your helmet on.”

“I don’t need one, Bulma. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Okay, I trust you.” 

Goku tightened his grip on the handlebars, eager and waiting for Pilo to give the signal. It was fun doing things like this because he didn’t have to worry about anything except having fun. It was kinda a relief just living in the times of peace. 

“I’m ready!” Bulma biked past both Goku and Pilo, taking her free head start onto the trail. 

“W–wait! Not yet!” Pilo yelped, fumbling to mount his own bike before pedaling furiously after them. Dust kicked up behind Bulma, and eventually Pilo as Goku raced after her up the winding trail like they’d both been born to race.

“This is amazing!” Goku shouted over the wind, grinning ear to ear as he pulled ahead.

“Don’t get too happy yet!” Bulma called back, pedaling faster as Goku was gaining on her. The Capsule Bike barely wobbled. “You’re not the only one who knows how to ride!”

Pilo, meanwhile, was already panting, his guide’s sash flapping wildly behind him. “Y-you’re supposed to—huff—take in the—wheeze—majestic cliffsides!”

“Nice view!” Goku yelled, ducking under a low-hanging branch without even breaking pace. “Okay, your turn, Bulma!”

“Show-off!” Bulma giggled. “Pilo, you keeping up back there?”

“J-just fine!” Pilo lied, his legs moving furiously, voice breaking between ragged breaths. “A-and, uh, to your left, you’ll notice—the rare—exclusive—ahhh!” He swerved to avoid a tree branch.

The trail dipped, sending the trio sailing down a slope with the distant ocean glimmering off in the distance. 

Bulma, for her part, was in her safe space. The breeze that flew through her hair, and suddenly, she was reliving the joy that she had once experienced as a kid. Fresh air and giggles with people that she couldn’t even name anymore. And that was all a part of growing up, where friends grew distant, went their own ways, their own lives.  

It was a feeling that she didn’t think much about, because why did it matter? 

“Yamcha. You idiot.” His bringing up the feeling of being excluded and left out just brought back memories that shouldn’t have been resurfacing. It was her honeymoon, and yet she was dealing with feelings that existed outside of him, instead the sinking nostalgia that waved over her. The times when girls at her high school saw her as a golden ticket, when she just wanted real friends.

“Don’t get all depressed over memories, Bulma.”

She had to remind herself that those were just how school days were; that the Summer Break she met Goku was the only experience that mattered. Even if the people she told about him didn’t see much benefit in her talking about a hill billy, kid.

“The look on their faces, I can imagine now, I bet.”

Pilo was a full ten feet behind, his legs pumping like pistons, his voice bouncing between wheezes and forced cheer. “T-to your right—rare Kasmerian blossoms —ah, they bloom only once— Gahhh! ”

“Yeah, yeah, flowers, very pretty!” Bulma yelled back; she would put those thoughts away. It was time to live in the moment. To enjoy her honeymoon. “Try not to eat dirt back there!”

“I’m— huff —a professional guide!” Pilo protested.

“Bulma, look!” Goku called suddenly, standing on his bike pedals to point ahead. The path leveled into a wide clearing, framed by sunlight and trees.

“Ha! Told you the sights were worth it!” Pilo had finally caught up just enough to be heard. “This is—”

His words were cut short.

All three screeched to a stop, tires skidding in unison as dust billowed around them.

There, right in the middle of the path, stood a massive goose, wings outstretched like a warrior warding off intruders. Behind it, a neat line of fuzzy yellow goslings waddled casually across the trail, completely unbothered by the trio.

The goose let out a deep, threatening honk .

Bulma blinked. “…You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“That’s a big bird,” Goku said. “Think it wants to race too?”

“HONK!”

Pilo went pale. “…Oh no. That’s the Cliff Goose . Local legend says no one gets past it without—well, uh… let’s just say we may be here a while.”

The goose lowered its neck, feathers ruffling, eyes locked on the intruders. Another low, guttural honnnnk rumbled out like a challenge.

Before Bulma could open her mouth, Goku had already hopped off his bike. “Hey there, big guy!” he said cheerfully, padding toward it as if it were just another person.

“GOKU, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” Bulma screeched, clutching her handlebars. “That thing’s practically a dinosaur!”

“Relax, Bulma.” Goku got close enough for him to have a stare-down with the dino-goose. “It’s just protecting its kids. Aren’t ya?”

The goose hissed, taking a menacing step forward, wings snapping open with a WHUMP . The goslings paused mid-waddle, peeping curiously.

Pilo flailed behind them. “S-sir, I must advise you—these birds are extremely territorial! They’ve chased entire tour groups off the cliffs!”

But Goku didn’t flinch. He simply grinned, scratching the back of his head. “Heh, you’re pretty tough, huh? I like that.”

The goose hissed louder, lifting itself as if it were about to launch.

Bulma covered her face with her hands. “ This is how I become a widow. On my honeymoon. Because my idiot husband decided to fight a goose.”

One of the goslings suddenly broke away from the little flock, its tiny legs wobbling as it tottered straight toward Goku. It gave a weak peep, peep , struggling to keep up.

“Oh, hey, little fella.” Goku crouched down, his eyes softening as he scooped the gosling into his hands. “What’re you doing all the way back here?”

That’s when the mother goose let out another earsplitting HONNNNNK! and charged, wings flaring like a pair of battering rams.

“GOKU!” Bulma shrieked.

But Goku didn’t move. Instead, he raised the gosling carefully, holding it out in front of him. The bird skidded to a halt mere inches away, chest heaving, beak snapping in warning.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Goku said. “He’s hurt, isn’t he?”

The gosling’s tiny wing was bent awkwardly, feathers ruffled. Closing his eyes, Goku let a faint warmth glow at his fingertips, his ki pooling and flowing like a lazy river into the bird. The gosling chirped, then stilled, its wing straightening as the glow faded.

“There,” Goku whispered, setting the little one down. “All better.”

The gosling gave a quick, happy peep! Before waddling back to its mother, who lowered her head slowly, her feathers smoothing. Instead of honking louder, she gave a quieter honk, almost approving, before nudging her baby close under her wing.

Pilo’s jaw dropped. “I… I’ve been guiding this trail for seven years. No one has ever gotten that close to the goose and came out unharmed.”

 “…And my husband does it on his honeymoon.” Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose. “Unbelievable.”

Goku just grinned, dusting off his palms. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.”

Bulma stood with crossed arms, watching the goose and her goslings shuffle off into the forested brush. The warmth in her chest caught her off guard. She had seen Goku fight a lot of bad guys, topple monsters, and save her life loads of times, but the sight of him cradling a fragile, injured creature and healing it with such tenderness… that stirred something different.

“If he can care like that…I can only imagine how great a Father he’ll be to our baby.”

The thought settled into her mind, the fatherly instinct and protective compassion that he had for all life made Bulma kinda horny. It wasn’t just about him helping the goslings. But that idea of him breeding her and caring for her was its part of stretching out her fantasy, by a lot.

“That was incredible, Goku.”

Goku stretched his arms with a grin, as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. 

“Guess we should probably let Pilo do his thing, huh? Show us the rest of the sights before we scare off the whole trail.”

Pilo straightened instantly, almost snapping to attention. “Yes, yes, of course! I’d be honored. Please, follow me! There’s so much more to see!” His earlier defeat had evaporated, replaced with the thrill of being useful again.

Bulma stood her bike back up and got seated before they all took off again. Except this time, there was no racing, and Goku and she were just biking side by side, as they let Pilo lead.

Pilo’s voice floated back to them as he pointed toward a grove of swaying palms.

“These trees have stood for hundreds of years! The islanders believe they’re guardians of the cliffs, protecting the land from storms…”

Bulma half-listening, as as her focus was drawn more to the fantasies of her husband pedaling beside her. 

“ Maybe we can try for one while we’re here, and if not, once we’re back home.”

She thought back to the goose, to the way Goku had cupped its baby with so much care. The idea of family, of something more than just adventures, inventions, or even battles, lingered more than she expected it to. He probably didn’t even realize what he showed her in those moments, and how it meant she loved him even more.

The time passed, and their bikes slowed as they finally reached what she presumed was the main attraction of this trail. Her legs were aching, and she wasn’t sure how much biking she was up for now; instead, a nice soak in the ocean or pool would be much better. 

Pilo raised a hand, signaling them to stop. “Here we are, the crown jewel of the trail! It’s said to be a gift from the gods!”

Bulma propped her bike against the guardrail and followed the others on foot. The path opened up to a rocky ledge, the view stretching wide and endless before them. Below, the resort glittered like a jewel against the shoreline, its white structures framed by turquoise water and strips of golden sand. From here, everything seemed impossibly small, like a toy world resting in the palm of the island.

“ So this is what Pilo meant by a gift from the gods.”

Beside her, Goku crouched near the edge with no fear of accidentally tumbling off the edge. 

“Wow! You can see everything from up here!”

Bulma let her eyes linger on him instead of the view. The way his enthusiasm radiated—it was infectious. But more than that, it was grounding. She thought of the goose again, of his hands, of the life she wanted to pursue once this vacation was long over. She thought of her family, the infrequent visits of her friends, Yamcha’s desires, and now this man who somehow kept tying her back to earth, even when her thoughts wanted to drift away.

Pilo cleared his throat, “Well… you two have earned a moment. I’ll give you some privacy to enjoy the view, just the two of you. Don’t worry—I’ll be over here, and when you’re ready, I can take a photo to capture the moment.”

Bulma turned, her eyes shifting from the horizon to Goku. He grinned back, eyes sparkling with that simple, unshakable joy that always made her heart flutter.

“Thanks, Pilo,” she murmured.

“Just let me know when you’re done soaking it all in.”

As he stepped back, giving them space, Bulma let herself sink into the serene atmosphere of the cliffside. The resort below, the endless ocean, the sunlight catching Goku’s hair, it all felt like a world made just for them.

Her hand found his again, squeezing gently. She didn’t need words. But the touch of the man that made her life so complete.

“Did you have fun, Bulma?”

“What’d ya think? 1-10.”

“I would hope for a 10! But a 9 would be great too!”

She couldn’t help but giggle at his antics; standing on her toes, she placed a kiss on his nose first, then his forehead, and finally his lips.

“You used to be so much shorter than me. Then you came back for the tournament, and you weren’t that little kid anymore that I was trying to find the Dragon Balls with.”

The words of his wife appeared to have quite the effect on Goku, as his tail wrapped around them. An instinct he wasn’t sure why he did, but he just did because it felt right; it felt natural, like this was what he was supposed to do.

“Yeah… I guess I grew up. But you’re still the same Bulma. Still bossy, still smart, still amazing.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, though her heart thumped like an impending bomb was counting down inside of her. 

“Hmph, smooth talker. You weren’t like this when you were a kid.”

“I didn’t know how to say it back then,” he admitted, as if it were the most obvious truth in the world. His thumb brushed across her hand, admiring the delicate skin of one he loved. “But I always liked being around you.”

Her giggle faltered into silence at that, caught between memory and honesty. The little boy with the tail who once thought marriage was some weird game… now a man, her husband, looking at her as though she’d always been meant to be here.

Bulma leaned into him, resting her head against his chest, letting the wind tug at her long hair. 

“You’re not so bad at this whole romance thing after all, Son Goku.”

He chuckled, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “Guess I’m learning from the best, Son Bulma.”

“I like it when you say my name.”

“You do?”

“Mhm, and you’re so strong; I feel safe when I’m in your presence. You’re like my super teddy bear that I always have around.”

“A teddy bear, huh? I like that! Though I don’t think I’m all that cuddly.”

Bulma tilted her head up just enough to look at him, her lips quirking. “Trust me, you are. Especially when you don’t even realize it.”

Goku's face was piqued with genuine curiosity. 

“I don’t?”

She shook her head, amused at his confusion. “No, you don’t. That’s what makes it so special. You’re just… you. Pure, uncomplicated, and exactly what I need.”

“That makes me happy. I’m not good with the emotions and everything else that people do. When I visited Master Roshi and the others at his island, I saw how Krillin was with Launch. He even gave me some tips on how to be good for you.”

Bulma was now curious herself about what the man could have possibly told her husband. Even more so, she had found out Krillin and Launch had somehow coupled up. 

“What tips did he give you?”

“Well, he told me when women are angry, it’s best to give them space and come back with food.  Never ask how old they were. Or say that you look fat. And he also told me to never say that I’m right in an argument. Also, he said I should never touch another woman, or you’ll be really mad at me.”

Bulma couldn’t help herself, but burst out laughing, startling a few seabirds that nested on the cliffside. 

“Oh my god, Krillin,” she muttered, shaking her head. “That sounds exactly like something he’d say.”

“He said it’s worked so far with Launch, though sometimes she still yells at him. But then she smiles again, so I guess he’s doing something right.”

Bulma looked up at him, a warmth spreading in her chest that she hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just the fact that he’d taken Krillin’s advice seriously. It was that he wanted to try for her. For them. 

“You big goof… You don’t have to follow some playbook to make me happy. Just you being here, trying, means more than any tip Krillin could ever dream up.”

Goku’s hand brushed down her arm before curling back around her fingers. 

“Still… I’ll keep the food part in mind. I know you get cranky when you’re hungry.”

Her jaw dropped, half-indignant, half-serious. 

“Excuse me? Did you just call me cranky?”

Goku’s eyes widened, already flustered. Realizing he broke another rule.

“Uh—no! I mean—you’re not cranky, you’re just—uh…” He fumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Cute?”

That did it. Bulma burst out laughing again, burying her face against his chest as her shoulders shook. 

“You are so unbelievable, Son Goku.”

Bulma was still giggling into Goku’s chest when a polite throat-clearing sounded behind them. She turned her head just enough to see Pilo standing a respectful distance away, camera in hand, and his usual courteous smile on his face.

“Apologies for interrupting,” he said with a small bow, “but I thought now might be the perfect time for that photo. The light is wonderful, and… well, you both look very happy.”

Bulma glanced up at Goku, who gave her that same boyish grin that always made her insides melt, no matter how much she saw it. She felt herself blush, something she rarely did with Yamcha towards the end of their relationship.

“Alright, alright,” she said, brushing a windblown strand of hair from her face. “Let’s give him something worth capturing.”

“Like… a fighting pose?”

Bulma smacked his arm.

“No, you silly. A romantic pose. Just hold me, and smile.”

Goku wrapped his arm more securely around her waist, pulling her close, while Bulma leaned into him naturally, her hand resting against his chest. 

She was this man’s wife, standing beside the only person in the universe that made her feel whole, made her feel wanted, and made her entire being radiate like a black hole in the center of a galaxy.

“Perfect,” Pilo said, raising the camera. The click of the shutter echoed against the cliffside, freezing the moment in time.

The shutter finished, and Bulma thought that was it, the moment captured, memory sealed. But then Goku leaned down toward her ear and whispered, almost sheepishly, “Hey… think we can take some silly pictures too?”

She pulled back just enough to see the hopeful sparkle in his eyes, and she couldn’t deny that face. Of course, he’d want to do something goofy; it was so him.

“Can you take us some more photos, Pilo?” 

Pilo, ever the professional, caught the exchange and smiled. “If that is your wish, Bulma, then I will be happy to oblige.”

Before Bulma could protest, Goku was already crouching low, flexing his arm like he was about to launch a Kamehameha. 

“C’mon, Bulma! Do the pose with me!”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” she muttered, but her grin betrayed her. She slipped into his side, one hand on her hip, the other mimicking his dramatic stance. The camera clicked again.

They did another with Goku crossing his eyes and sticking his tongue out while Bulma pretended to swoon in his arms, and one more where he lifted her clean off the ground as if she weighed nothing, her startled laugh breaking through the moment.

Through it all, Pilo indulged with a patience that surprised her, snapping away without so much as a sigh. This was much better than chasing after them on a bike. And when he finally lowered the camera, he bowed once again. “I believe these will be very memorable.”

Bulma was breathless and her hair messy from the wind and from Goku spinning her once, but she felt lighter than she had in years. Maybe even since the day they first set out together, chasing Dragon Balls.

Still, there was so much to do. So much to experience with her husband. And as Pilo lowered the camera, Bulma found herself staring at Goku—the man holding her hand now, the man who had just kissed her like she was his whole world, and she couldn’t stop her mind from flashing back to the very beginning.

The silly poses, the laughter, the way he’d spun her around… it all reminded her of that clueless, wide-eyed boy she’d stumbled across in the woods. The boy who didn’t even know what a girl was, but who followed her anyway, no questions asked, as if trusting her was the most natural thing in the world.

Back then, she’d been chasing Dragon Balls for adventure, for excitement, maybe even a bit of selfish glory. But somewhere along the way, that wild little kid had become her anchor.

And now here they were, standing on a cliff with the whole resort spread beneath them, acting like fools for the camera but somehow—somewhere—making it feel just as magical as that first journey.

She squeezed his hand tighter, a smile tugging at her lips. 

“I guess some things never change.”

The rumble of Goku’s stomach took her from her thoughts. 

“Someone’s hungry?” Bulma said, knowing all too well what her husband’s appetite consisted of. 

Goku was rubbing his stomach, trying to stop the hunger ache. “Haha. Yeah. I’m starving, Bulma. All that biking has surely built up my appetite.”

“We’ll go get some lunch now. You can fly us back to the resort, since it’ll be faster.”

“But there’s no plane up here. How would you two fly?” Pilo’s disbelief was apparent as Goku scooped Bulma up into his arms and started floating upwards.

Bulma let out a small squeak as Goku lifted her with ease, the world shrinking beneath her feet until the cliff, the ocean, and poor Pilo’s stunned face were all far below. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, hair whipping in the wind as they rose higher.

“Goku!” she scolded, attempting to sound serious. “You could’ve at least warned me.”

He only grinned, carefree as ever. “But then it wouldn’t be as fun.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, though her heart fluttered in the way it always did when he carried her like this effortlessly, like she weighed nothing, like she belonged nowhere else but in his arms. She watched the focused expression as he scanned the area below for the resort’s dining area.

Behind them, she could just faintly hear Pilo calling out in disbelief before fading into the distance. She smirked. Well, he’ll get used to it. This is Goku, after all.

She rested her head against his chest, letting the thrum of his heartbeat mix with the rush of the wind. For a moment, she thought about how different her life would’ve been without him. No flying through the skies, no adventures, no wild stories. Just… ordinary. And ordinary never suited her anyway.

“Never change, Husband.”

Chapter Text

The day of fun had ended, and Bulma had plans to make her and Goku’s night special. Everything from today’s turn of events had culminated into this sudden idea, and since it was their first night at the resort, she wanted to make it very special. And the first thing she had to do was get her husband preoccupied for the next two hours, which was easier than done when she had a staff member guide him to the gym to train.

For herself, she was on a time limit, and the first thing she’d do was get the room prepared.

“Hm. Think, Bulma. How should I arrange these petals on the bed?”

Different patterns ran through her mind, ranging from a giant heart with mini flowers surrounding it to a simple I love you, before her mind finally settled.

“Son Family.”

She pulled the basket of red rose petals closer to the bed and began laying them out carefully. It was harder than she thought, petals had a way of sliding out of place, and she had to adjust them again and again until they finally resembled the neat lettering she imagined.

“There,” she had her hands on her hips as she admired her work. Son Family. The words sprawled across the center of the bed in bright red petals, surrounded by smaller white blossoms like little bursts of starlight.

It wasn’t flashy like her usual style, but it was them. Their name, their bond, the family they were going to start. Her heart gave a squeeze at the thought.

“Perfect. Even that knucklehead can’t miss the message this time.”

She giggled to herself, moving on to the next task. Anything anymore obscure, and she would have to spend more time explaining it to him than getting manhandled and pleasured by him. Which wouldn’t be the case, as Goku’s stamina far exceeded anything she had ever experienced. If her past relationship was a university race, then he was an Olympic champion.

More often than not, she was sore, but tonight she wanted to go out of her comfort zone and try something new. Something less vanilla than what they usually did.

She set up a couple of candles here and there—nothing too fancy, just enough to set an inviting mood. She pulled the curtains open halfway, and the moonlight mixed with the candlelight. Maintaining their privacy while enhancing the mood.

“Maybe he’ll hold me and fuck me on the balcony like in those movies…”

Bulma’s face turned bright red at what her mind had conjured up to herself. The idea of exhibitionism was kinda hot, but actually doing it terrified her. Maybe on the beach and they were hidden in a cove or something like that, but outside on their room’s balcony would stay a fantasy. A steamy one, but a fantasy nonetheless. She wasn’t shameless.

The air soon took on the scent of the candles and the tropical flowers she had set in a vase near the bed, wrapping up part one of her preparations.

“Now, for me…”

She slipped out of her robe and went to the bathroom. It was time to freshen up with a boiling shower; she had already shaved, and now it was time to scrub and wash the day’s grime away. Which she, of course, made Goku do before he went off to the gym.

Steam quickly filled the bathroom, curling around the edges of the mirror until her reflection blurred. Bulma stepped under the spray, hissing at the heat before sighing as it melted into her skin. Every muscle in her body relaxed. She tilted her head back, letting the water drench her hair, and reached for the bottle of body wash she’d brought, a jasmine and vanilla blend that she had been using lately.

“Mm… better,” she massaged the suds along her arms and down her legs, scrubbing until her skin tingled. This was her ritual, her reset. She wanted to feel brand new when he came back, not just clean, but glowing, irresistible.

Bulma couldn’t stop smiling to herself. Ever since this morning, she couldn't help it. The reassurance, the caregiving attitude of her husband, it was all too much, and her mind couldn’t handle it. She needed an outlet for all the happiness she was feeling, and this was going to be one of many.

“Not that it takes much with him… he looks at me like I’m the most beautiful thing in the world even when I’m in pajamas.”

That thought both warmed and frustrated her. Sometimes she wanted him to see her the way men did in those sweeping romances she liked, sultry, magnetic, impossible to resist. But Goku wasn’t the type to be scripted. He was simple, honest, and she loved him for that. Tonight, though, she’d make sure the setting did half the work for her.

After a thorough rinse, she stepped out and wrapped herself in a thick towel. Her skin flushed from the heat, her cheeks already pink as if she had been caught in her own fantasies. She wiped the fog from the mirror and met her own gaze.

“Alright, Bulma…You can definitely pull off one unforgettable night.”

With that little pep talk, she padded back into the room, leaving little damp footprints across the polished bathroom floor, drying them before she reached the bedroom’s carpet. Where the candles wisped invitingly, petals still perfectly in place, and the room now felt like it was hers.

The clock ticked again. Her time was running short.

She went to the wardrobe and slipped the towel free, skin drying from the room’s air conditioner.

“What to wear?”

Her hands sifted through the handful of fabrics she’d tucked away in the wardrobe, her fingers trailing over lace, silk, and satin. Each piece carried a memory: a night, a reaction, a moment that made her smirk even now.

“Mm, not this one,” she muttered, holding up a red thong and immediately grimacing. “Nope. We both hate those. Ugh, I don’t know why I packed it. Dumb.” She tossed it aside and reached for something else.

Her hand settled on a midnight-blue set trimmed with silver lace. That one had been custom-made during a Capsule Corp collaboration, which was elegant, tasteful, but still daring. She remembered the way Goku had gone wide-eyed the first time she’d worn it, confusion quickly replaced by raw need. She, of course, made him wait for such an opportunity, and now he would get the chance to not only see it again, but also fulfill that primal desire that she saw.

“Perfect. This one works.”

She slipped into the bra, the silk cool against her still-warm skin, and adjusted the straps so it lifted her just right. The matching bottoms hugged her hips perfectly, emphasizing her curves without being too skimpy. She gave herself a little spin in the mirror, tilting her head back so her long hair was no longer in her face.

“Sexy, but not overkill. He likes it when I look… hm, natural, I guess.” Her cheeks flushed. “But still, a little flash won’t hurt.”

To finish, she added a sheer robe with barely-there fabric that floated with her movements and tied loosely at the waist. It wasn’t about hiding anything, just teasing the reveal.

“Okay, Goku… let’s see if I can’t knock you out in a whole different way tonight.”

Bulma got on the bed, sitting on her knees and running her hands over the petal arrangement one more time, making sure the “Son Family” was still perfectly visible. The candlelight made it shimmer like something out of a dream.

Her robe slipped down one shoulder, and she tugged it back up, her heart already thumping faster than she liked to admit.

“Ugh, why am I nervous? He’s my husband. We’ve done this like a hundred times at this point.” She bit her lip, staring at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “But… not like this. Not with me obsessing over every detail.”

She smoothed her hair again, checked her face for the third time, and the dark ring around her eye was finally gone.

“Be calm, Bulma. Be calm.”

She couldn’t stop imagining his expression—the way his brows would furrow at first, like he wasn’t sure what she’d done to their room, before that warm, innocent grin would take over. That goofy, clueless charm of his that never failed to undo her.

And then, when his eyes would finally land on her…

Bulma pressed her thighs together and groaned into her hands.

“God, I’m acting like I’m seventeen again. Get a grip.”

Still, she couldn’t shake it. The endless butterflies in her stomach, the way her skin buzzed with anticipation. She glanced at the clock. He’d be back any minute now, hopefully not sweaty or asking what was for dinner, completely unaware of what she had in store.

This wasn’t just about sex—it was about them. Their history, their bond, their first night at this resort. She wanted it to mean something more.

Bulma sighed and scooted off the bed. “Okay. No chickening out.” She untied the robe and let it fall just enough to tease her shoulders, then tied it back loosely. Her pulse jumped at the sound of footsteps in the hall.

He was coming.

Soon, the footsteps stopped and the metallic click of the keycard sliding into the lock. Her heart jumped straight into her throat.

“Already?!” She said under her breath, scrambling to check her reflection in the mirror one last time. “Is my hair okay? Do I smell like those stupid candles or the shampoo?!”

The handle jiggled. She rushed to the bed, almost tripping over her own feet, and perched on the edge, trying to look casual, only to realize she was sitting way too stiff, like she was about to pitch a business deal instead of seduce her husband.

“Relax, Bulma, relax. You’ve got this. Just… smile. No, not like that, you look like a maniac!”

The door creaked open a little, letting in the muffled sounds of the hallway. Her stomach twisted into knots.

“What if he doesn’t even notice the petals? God, what if he laughs?!” She smacked her forehead. “No, no, he won’t laugh. He’s Goku. He’ll… grin that dumb grin, and—oh god, he’s really opening it—”

The handle turned all the way this time, the door swinging inward. A faint draft fluttered the curtains. Bulma’s breath caught. Her entire body went rigid.

“This is it.”

The door swung fully open, and there he was. Goku stepped inside his hair, slightly damp from a quick rinse at the gym showers. He looked clean, fresh, just like she had asked him to; more so, he looked like he’d walked straight out of some fantasy she’d cooked up in her head.

“Whoa…” His eyes widened the second they landed on the room. The petals on the bed, the candles, the faint floral scent mixing with the salty sea air—his whole body seemed to pause mid-step.

Then his eyes went to her.

“Bulma…” he said, almost breathless, scratching the back of his head in that sheepish way he always did when words failed him.

“Did you do all this? For me?”

There was no teasing, no confusion in his tone, just pure wonder, like he couldn’t believe she’d gone to this much effort just to make the night special.

He took a few slow steps forward, his eyes never leaving hers, until he was close enough that the candlelight highlighted the strong lines of his jaw and smile even more.

“You’re… beautiful.”

Bulma’s heart thudded against her ribs so loud she was sure he could hear it.

Beautiful.

He’d called her that before, sure, but the way he said it now, with the candles glowing in his eyes and that awe, that admiration that said I love you in a thousand different languages in his voice—made her legs feel like jelly.

She tugged at the strap of her lingerie without thinking, body acting faster than her brain could compute, fingers fumbling for something to do, anything to ground herself.

“God, he’s actually noticing. He’s actually looking. Don’t blush, don’t shake, don’t—”

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered, her throat suddenly dry. “I mean, of course, I did all this. We’re, uh, at a resort, first night, figured we… y’know… should make it special.”

Goku’s smile didn’t falter; if anything, it made her more nervous, like her nervousness wasn’t already fumbling, but it only made the moment sweeter for him. The way he was studying her with those dark eyes that were usually so carefree but now carried a desire that made her squirm.

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from him. “But… I’m glad you did.”

Bulma forced a laugh, though it came out more awkward than she intended. Her knees brushed the bed as she shifted a tiny step back, the petals shifting under her.

“Great. Real smooth, genius. You’re supposed to be seducing him, not backing away like a nervous schoolgirl.”

Yet the way he was looking at her—like she was the only thing in the room, like she was the only thing that mattered—was almost too much to bear.

Goku closed the gap between them in just a few paces, the warmth of his body immediately surrounding her. His hand brushed her hip, the bare skin tingling at his touch that was so delicate, tentative, almost like he was worried he’d spook her if he touched.

She hadn’t expected him to be so…him. And then her eyes went down without meaning to, and she noticed it. The obvious swell in his shorts, the way it pushed insistently against the fabric as if it had a mind of its own. That its only desire was to pierce the boundary that stopped it from securing its prize.

Her face burned scarlet.

“God, he’s hard already. Just from looking at me?”

Goku must’ve caught the way her eyes darted, because he chuckled, realizing how nervous she actually was. “Heh… guess I really like what you’re wearing.”

Bulma groaned inwardly. Trust him to say something so embarrassingly straightforward. At the same time, though, her stomach fluttered.

“He means it. He actually means it.”

She pressed her palms against his chest, meaning to keep just a little space between them, but instead found herself tracing the ridges of his muscles through his shirt. Her lips parted before she could stop herself.

“Idiot… you weren’t supposed to notice that so quickly…”

Goku leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear, his other hand sliding around her waist with more confidence now. Undoing the loose knot that kept the robe on her, which was shed from her faster than she could blink.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be so pretty tonight.”

Bulma felt her chest tighten at his words, the simple honesty of them breaking through all her careful planning and nervous second-guessing. She had spent hours arranging petals, candles, every detail… but none of that mattered when Goku was looking at her like she was the only thing in the world.

Her resistance melted. She slid her hands higher, curling them into his shirt and tugging him closer until her lips crashed against his. The kiss was clumsy at first, teeth brushing, breaths quick, but the taste of the other’s saliva was clear, although it ignited something raw between them. Goku made a low sound in his throat—half a groan, half a growl—as if the contact startled even him.

His hands roamed instinctively, one splayed at the small of her back, the other dragging up along her side to cup her ribs just beneath her breast. The passion of his touch seared through her nerves, and the bare skin caressing was thrilling her beyond reason.

“He’s burning me up already… Bulma thought, dizzy, her heart pounding so hard that she was sure he could feel it against his chest. The lingerie she wore was getting soaked, and he hadn’t done more than kiss and touch her.

She pulled back only enough to breathe, her forehead resting against his. Her lips glistening from their makeout session, her hair falling out of place, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“You have no idea how much I wanted this.”

Goku’s thumb brushed along her cheek, strangely tender for how tightly his body pressed against hers.

“Then don’t stop.”

The way he said it, almost pleading, made her shiver all over again. She kissed him harder, and this time his mouth moved against hers with hungry urgency. Tongues exploring the others, the taste of each other’s being was more than enough to thrill the other. Their bodies molded together, her fingers tangling in his hair as his hand finally cupped her breast, squeezing it before his palm slid down her stomach to grip her hip.

Bulma moaned into his mouth, clutching at him, her nerves gone, replaced by heat that pooled low in her belly. That burning sensation that screamed to be doused by the cock of her husband, whom she had no intentions of him pulling out. She wanted to feel it. She wanted to feel the way his semen was going to flood her, how her walls would squeeze his cock as it throbbed inside of her pussy. How he was going to moan and beg her to stop as she kept riding his cock, until it would reharden and they would do it all over again.

Goku ended the kiss, taking in oxygen for his lungs, as he pulled off his t-shirt, shorts, and boxers, revealing his body, which was sculpted from hard work and training to protect everyone he cared about. And to Bulma, no man in the universe could compete with her husband and the proportioned physique that he obtained naturally.

“You’re so fucking sexy, Goku. I need you inside me, Baby; please!?”

Every part of her ached for him, for the touch of him, for the way he would fill her until she forgot her own name. She wanted to feel him lose himself inside her, wanted his seed to spill deep, wanted to take everything he gave her until she was trembling and begging for more. She was his slut, his whore, his bitch to use as he pleased in any manner that he wanted her in.

His fingers hooked into her lingerie, tearing the delicate fabric apart in a single motion. Before she could even gasp, her legs were lifted onto his shoulders, spreading her open beneath him.

Bulma’s back was pressed deeper into the mattress as Goku’s weight settled above her, his chest brushing against her bare skin, every muscle taut with restrained hunger. His hands roamed her curves gradually at first, savoring, palms sliding over her sides, fingertips tracing the dip of her waist before rising to cup the swell of her breasts through the torn lace. She gasped, arching into his touch, her legs instinctively tightening around his shoulders, pulling him closer, begging without words.

“Goku…” she whispered, the name slipping from her lips like a plea. Her body burned, each nerve ending alive, trembling with the need for him to claim her finally.

His lips descended again, kissing a path down her throat, nipping at the soft spot where her pulse fluttered, then lower, until his mouth teased the top of her breasts. One hand slid down, spreading across her hip before gripping her thigh, guiding it higher along his shoulder. Bulma’s breath hitched, her core aching with the need that pulsed between her legs.

When his hips pressed forward, she felt the heat of him, hard and throbbing, sliding against her entrance, making her moan aloud as her nails dug into his back. Her entire body jolted at the sensation, anticipation building to a fever pitch.

“Please,” she begged again, voice breaking as her eyes locked with his. Every emotion was there: desire, trust, the wild intensity of love that only grew stronger when they were like this.

Goku groaned in his throat, positioning himself with deliberate slowness, savoring her squirming beneath him. The blunt head of his cock nudged her folds, parting them, slick heat wrapping around him. Bulma trembled, seeing the world more vivid than she ever envisioned. She clutched him tight, heart racing, waiting for the inevitable moment he would push deeper inside and fill her.

“Are you ready, Bula?”

Even in the heat of the moment, he asked if his wife was ready; that she wanted this moment to happen as much as he wanted it to.

“I’m always ready for you, Goku.”

The final barrier was finally broken, and with it, Goku’s cock penetrated the tight, slick pussy of his wife, which made her whine and moan that neither cared nor worried for what the outcome of such a moment could lead to.

Bulma’s breath came in uneven bursts, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him.

She arched her back in response, urging him forward, her body pleading where words couldn’t. Every second stretched into eternity, each pulse of her heartbeat echoing in her ears. She wanted him, needed him, the wait a sweet torture that made her nails dig into his skin.

When he thrust forward again, the girth of him made her gasp, her body yielding inch by inch. Goku’s jaw tightened, a shudder running through him as her walls closed around him.

Bulma’s legs tightened around his shoulder, hips tilting instinctively to take more of him. Her head fell back against the pillow, a feeble moan leaving her lips as he sank further in, filling her in ways that made her whole body twitch.

“God, Goku…” Bulma whispered, half-broken, her nails raking down his back. Every inch that stretched her only drove her higher, and yet she wanted more, craved the final push when he’d be fully inside her.

He lowered himself, chest brushing hers, and kissed her hard—hungry, unsteady, as though he was pouring all the unspoken things he didn’t know how to say into the press of his mouth. “You feel… incredible,” he rasped against her lips..

When he finally bottomed out, their bodies flush, he stilled, both of them trembling with the overwhelming intimacy of it. For a moment, he just breathed her in, the closeness, the warmth, the way her heart hammered against his chest, the smell that was uniquely hers.

Bulma’s eyes shimmered, caught between desire and tenderness. She cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb along his cheek, grounding him.

“Move, Goku… please.”

Her plea snapped the last thread of his restraint. He drew back, the drag of his cock making them both moan, before thrusting forward again, deeper, faster. The rhythm began like a slow tick at first, then grew stronger, their bodies finding a sync as natural as breathing.

Each thrust made the bed creak, a whimper of its own, while Bulma’s voice mimicked it in forms of whimpers, moans, cries, and gasps. Goku moved as though he wanted to memorize every sound, every twitch, every tightening of her body around him. And as Bulma clung to him, every stroke carried more than lust; it brought the unspoken connection between them forward, a bond that surprised her with its depth. She had always known him as a warrior, a fool, a friend. But here, now, she felt the significance of being chosen, desired, needed. To be fucked like no other could match.

“I want you to fuck me until I’m unconscious, Goku.”

It was vulgar, blunt, and needy, but she needed this. She needed to be pounded and fucked until he left her imprint in this bed, marked her body with his bites, and imprinted inside of her pussy until her body could only recognize him as the only substance she needed.

Goku, for his part, didn’t say much; instead, he latched on to Bulma's breast, kissing and suckling on the exposed skin. Tongue trailed around her areola, which led to her nipple, which he nibbled with his teeth.

The whimpers of Bulma were all the encouragement he needed as the ever-present tightness grew. It wouldn’t be long before he finished; his cock was throbbing so much, so soon, and he didn’t want it to end.

“I-I love you.” She meekly said the words out before snatching his wrist from her waist and putting it near her mouth.

“Bulma, what are you—”

His question was answered when she opened her mouth and tongue trailed his thumb, before closing in on it with her lips. Sucking on the finger, eyes locked with his, as the salvia pooled in her mouth and onto his finger. He was spellbound by the actions of his wife. While she enjoyed the taste of her husband’s skin that now lingered on her tongue, the vigor of his groans made her more aroused.

She released his finger with a wet pop, her eyes lost in the passion of fire and desire, “Harder.”

Something snapped in Goku; his tenderness transformed into dominance. He pinned both her wrists to the mattress, holding her down with a grip that promised no escape. Her legs, still hooked around his neck, the beauty of her arched showcased her body so perfectly that her abs from their new shared hobby flexed with each thrust. She looked powerful, yet completely his.

“I feel so close to finishing, Bulma.” his voice was no longer that of a man; it was more akin to a growl, to a beast made man that wanted to dominate the woman beneath him.

Her lips curved into a delirious smile. Words blurred, the room spun, but all she could think, rather feel, was him. Lost in a world of bliss, she wasn’t even sure if she responded when the feeling of the sudden penetration struck her again. The anxiety, the feeling of being wanted, the overthinking; it all went out of the window. There was nothing left but the desire between them. Nothing but the name that tumbled from her lips in cries of worship. And the only coherent idea she could formulate was the name of the man fucking her.

“Goku! Goku! Goku!”

He was the sole man who fought with her body as though it were his battlefield. And right now, he fought her into the mattress, punishing her with every brutal stroke like she was the naughtiest girl in the world.

Her tongue lolled out, drool spilling over her lips and chest, shameless in her surrender. “Don’t stop… don’t you dare cum yet. N-not yet—ahh! Right there, yes, yes, yes!”

Her body writhed, pussy spasming around him, pulling him in deeper, tighter, as if her orgasm was trying to devour him. The walls of her heat milked his cock with desperate hunger, begging for his seed even as she screamed for more.

Fuck—Bulma—you’re so tight—I—can’t—” His voice broke into a snarl.

His body, trembling with the effort of holding back, gave in. He slammed her down hard, making the bed rock, and her eyes went to the back of her head as the raw force of him consumed her.

Pinned, overpowered, worshipped—she could feel him claiming her. His cock throbbed violently as the first hot ropes of cum surged into her womb, thick and heavy, filling her until she gasped at the sheer flood. He kept grinding into her as he released, as though determined to breed her until she couldn’t walk. That tonight, he made sure there was no escape until the rise of the morning Sun.

“Bulma—ahhh, Bulma!” His roar shook against her skin, mouth buried at her neck as his hips jerked through the aftershocks.

She clung to him, legs locked tight, body still twitching from her orgasm. The scent of sex, sweat, and love was overpowering in the room.

When the shudders finally slowed, Goku remained inside her, cock still buried deep, his weight pressing her into the mattress. Neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to.

But the feeling went, and Bulma let her legs slide off his shoulders, her chest breathing in and out as she struggled to catch her breath. Her skin glistened, strands of her turquoise hair plastered against her damp forehead. She lay her head back and stared at Goku.

“Well, look at you…” she teased, “…all serious and sweaty now. My big, strong husband, leaving me parched.” She swatted at his chest, but it came out more like a caress than a push. “Can you grab me a water bottle before I melt into this mattress?”

Goku hopped off the bed and brought her a bottle in record time, like fetching water was part of some intense training routine. Bulma opened it and sipped the water, refreshing herself from the workout. But not before letting a few drops spill down the corners of her mouth on purpose, catching his eyes as his gaze followed the trail down her neck and between her breasts.

“You sure are thirsty, Bulma.”

He climbed back into bed and sat beside her; the sex filled adrenaline was wearing off.

“Mmm, and not just for water.” She trailed her finger down his chest, tapping it against his abs before looking up at him. “Tell me something, Goku… do you have any kinks?”

His brow furrowed, while his mind tried to process what that meant.

“Kinks?” He repeated it like it was some strange new fighting technique. “Like… knots in your back?”

Bulma snorted, then laughed so hard her body shook, making her breasts bounce in a way that immediately caught his attention again. She wiped a tear from her eye, catching her breath.

“Not knots. Kinks. Desires. Things that, you know… get you hot. Something beyond the normal. Something that you imagined doing with me and liking it.”

Goku’s expression shifted to something between curiosity and confusion, his cheeks tinged pink. “You mean… like training but for… this?” His hand gestured toward the bed.

“Exactly like that.” Bulma rolled onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. She could feel his semen leaking out of her.

“Everyone has something. A fantasy. A thing that drives them wild.” She traced lazy circles on his chest with her finger. “So, what about you? Anything you secretly crave?”

Goku’s brow furrowed as he thought about her question, like he was trying to recall a fighting stance. His hand rested over hers on his chest, thumb absentmindedly stroking her knuckles.

“Well…” he started, eyes wandering away before returning to hers, “I kinda liked it when you were… you know…” He hesitated, cheeks darkening. “…sucking on my fingers.”

Bulma’s smirk widened instantly. She slid her tongue across her bottom lip, savoring the admission. “Ohhh, so my husband likes having his fingers in my mouth, huh? That’s a cute kink.” She lifted his hand again, slipping two fingers between her lips and sucking slowly, deliberately, her eyes locked on his. When she let them go with a quick pop, she grinned.

“See? That’s not so hard to admit.”

“Yeah… I liked that. A lot.”

Bulma leaned closer, rising from her lying position as her body pressed flush against his, whispering in his ear. Allowing her tongue to trace his ear. “And what else? Don’t hold back on me. Because whatever you want, I’ll give it to you; I promise.”

He hesitated again, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.

“There was this one time… you were working in your lab… wearing that white coat, with your glasses.” His face grew hotter by the second. “I thought… you looked really… um, amazing. And I kinda wondered what it’d be like if you wore it when we… you know.”

Bulma pulled back from his ear just enough to look at him, her jaw dropping before a slow, wicked smile formed on her lips. “Goku…” She straddled his waist, grinding against him just enough to feel the stir of life between them again. “Are you telling me my scientist look turns you on?”

He gave a small, sheepish laugh, but his hands found their way to her hips.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

“Guess so?” She leaned down, biting his lower lip before letting it slip free. “Hubby, that’s a full-on kink. Roleplay, costumes, the whole nine yards.” She giggled, brushing her hair back from her face. “I can work with that.”

Bulma grinded her hips against him, watching his flustered expression with the smug satisfaction of a wife who had her husband exactly where she wanted him.

“Well, since you’re being honest, I guess I should share one of mine.”

“You have kinks too?”

“Oh, Honey…” She brushed her lips over his ear once more, making sure her voice was as sultry as possible. “…I’ve got plenty.”

His hands gripped her thighs a little tighter. “Like what?”

Bulma bit her lip, debating whether to say it, before deciding the look of raw curiosity in his eyes was worth it. It was embarrassing to say it aloud in her mind, but Goku didn’t judge, at least not in a harsh way like her former boyfriend would.

“I’ve been thinking… about trying on a collar. You know, with you holding onto it.” She paused, gauging his reaction before she continued. “…controlling how much I can breathe.”

“Wait… you mean, like… I’d be in charge of that?”

Her hand cupped his jaw, forcing his eyes back to hers.

“Exactly. You’d have that power over me. I’d be yours to… play with. To push. To control.” Her voice dropped lower, almost trembling with how much admitting it turned her on. “I trust you, Goku. That’s why it excites me. And I’ll say a safe word if it hurts or I don’t want to keep going.”

“Safe word?”

“Yeah. It’s to keep us safe. So like I’d say hotel and you would stop immediately, understand?”

Goku nodded his head.

“Good boy.”

“Well, I don’t really get it all, but if it makes you feel good, Bulma, I’d try it.”

“We’ll test that out soon enough. But for now…” She tapped his nose playfully. “…the lab coat kink is on reserve. When we get back home, I’ll give you the full show. Glasses, heels, a clipboard, and all.”

Goku pulled her closer, though his body betrayed him with another twitch of arousal. The erection was gaining strength again.

“That… sounds like training I can look forward to.”

Bulma trailed her nails down his chest, stopping just above his navel.

“You know… we don’t have to wait until we’re back home for some fun experiments.”

Goku raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

She leaned over to her nightstand, pulling open the drawer with a click. From inside, she produced a slim black collar that read Son Goku’s property. With a leash coiled neatly beside it, and… a turquoise, fluffy tail that matched her hair. She dangled the collar between two fingers, letting the metal ring gleam in the low light.

“You see this?” she purred. “I’ve been saving it. Figured the honeymoon was the perfect time to test out my pet kink.” She placed the collar against her own throat, buckling it but leaving the leash for him to take. “You’d have me like this… your little toy to command.”

Goku’s eyes darkened, his body reacting instantly. Bulma smirked, noticing the way he was pressing up against her thigh again. “Don’t bother denying it. I can feel how hard you’re getting, Goku.”

Her hand fondled his now fully erect cock.

“You want more… and so do I.”

With her free hand, she picked up the faux tail, swishing it teasingly before draping it across his chest.

“So, tell me, Husband, do you want to play? Do you want to see what I’m like when I’m your pet?”

“Sure do.”

His casual response made her giggle before she got back in character. She buckled the collar snug around her throat, the leather kissing her skin, her pulse fluctuating just beneath it. The little sound of the clasp snapping shut sent a shiver down her spine, her lips curling in a knowing smile. She held out the leash to him like an offering.

“Go on. Take it.”

Goku reached slowly, his fingers brushing hers as he gripped the leash. He gave a tentative tug, and the sight of Bulma’s head rearing forward at his pull made his cock throb with excitement.

“Mmh… see? Easy. You pull, I follow.”

She crawled forward, her breasts swaying with each shift of her hips, until she was kneeling between his legs, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Your pet, remember?”

Goku’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and then his instincts kicked in. He tightened his grip, giving the leash a firmer pull. Bulma gasped, her spine arching, hands settling on his thighs as her body reacted to the control. Her arousal was high, her pussy dripping their combined fluids onto the sheets beneath her.

“You like this, huh?” His voice was deeper now. That playful attitude was all gone for the time being.

“Yes, Goku,” she moaned, her tongue inching out to tease his fingertips before sucking two of them deep into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered shut as she bobbed her head, drool slicking his knuckles, while his other hand held the leash taut.

“Bulma…” His breath was ragged now, hips shifting forward as her tongue wrapped around him.

She pulled back just enough to speak, lips glistening.

“Mmh… You can use me. Train me. Tug this leash, make me crawl, make me beg.” She gave the tail a playful swish, then pressed it into his palm. “Even… fuck me while I wear this, if you want.”

The leash went taut again as Goku yanked her up, pushing her back onto the mattress with a surprising roughness that made her yelp in delight. He loomed over her, leash still in hand, cock straining against her thigh.

“That’s it… don’t hold back, Goku. Make me your pet tonight.”

Bulma tugged the leash out of his grip and let it slide teasingly across her chest before handing it back.

“You’re holding it too stiff,” she purred, brushing her lips over the tip of his cock without warning, making him jerk. “Relax. Think of it like… reining me in, not choking me. I’ll show you.”

She placed her lips around his cock, slow, wet, and deliberate. Her tongue traced his veins, her cheeks hollowing as she swallowed him, and her mouth taking every inch with every bob of her head.

Goku’s fist tightened instinctively on the leash, pulling it just enough to make her chin up as she sucked his cock.

Her moan vibrated around it, and she pulled back, licking her lips.

“See? Even that little tug made me wetter.” She dragged his cock across her cheek, then licked from base to tip, eyes locked on his. “Don’t be afraid to pull harder when you want me to go deeper.”

Goku’s nostrils flared, and his grip firmed. He gave a testing tug, guiding her head back down. Bulma obeyed eagerly, letting his cock slide past her lips again, drool slipping down her chin as she swallowed him until her throat clenched around his tip. The sound of her gagging made his hips buck forward, and she moaned like it was her reward.

Being face fucked like she had bills to pay wasn’t at the top of her expectations when she gave Goku this leash, but she wasn’t complaining. He was getting into it and still making sure he wasn’t actively hurting her.

When she surfaced again, strands of spit clung from her mouth to his cock. She wiped it with the back of her hand and grinned. “Good boy… learning fast.” Her fingers toyed with the base of the leash, stroking his knuckles. “But this isn’t about me serving you yet. It’s about you using me however you want.”

She pushed herself onto all fours, her ass swaying, the faux tail she had tied on as a belt wagged with her movements. She looked back at him, “So… you gonna keep me on my knees? Or bend me over and fuck me?”

“Both.”

Bulma’s lips glistened as she worked him deeper, each stroke of her mouth wetter than the last. She had both hands wrapped around the base, twisting in opposite directions while her tongue swirled over his swollen tip. Saliva dripped freely down her chin, coating his cock and balls in a sheen that made her strokes slicker, filthier.

She hummed around him, that low vibration making his thighs tense. When she pulled back for air, a long strand of spit connected her lips to his tip. She smirked, catching it with her tongue before licking a broad stripe up the underside of his shaft. “Mmm, you taste even better when I can’t breathe.”

Goku’s chest rose and fell, his grip on the leash tightening until his knuckles went white. The way she kept looking up at him, collar snug around her throat, drool spilling past her lips—it made something primal stir in him.

Bulma guided his cock back into her mouth, taking him deeper this time. She gagged when the head of his cock hit the back of her throat, tears pricking her eyes, but instead of pulling back, she moaned around him, squeezing his thighs as if begging him to hold her there.

That was it.

With a low growl, Goku grabbed the leash and yanked her head back, his cock slipping from her lips with a messy slurp. Bulma gasped, spit glistening across her chin, panting like she’d just run a mile.

“Goku—” she started, but he cut her off, hauling her up with one hand on the leash, the other on her arm.

“Off the bed,” he said, voice rough, commanding in a way that made her thighs clench.

Her heart thudded as she scrambled down, hair sticking to her damp face. He guided her by the leash, pulling until she was standing in front of him, flushed and eager.

“Bend over,” he growled, tugging her toward the floor. “Now.”

She obeyed, her palms pressing against the hardwood while she arched her back, ass high, the tail swaying with the motion. “Good boy,” she whispered, shivering at the sound of his authority. “That’s it… take what you want.”

Bulma wiggled her hips in the air, glancing back over her shoulder with a grin that was both daring and inviting. The collar sat snug around her throat, the leash still in Goku’s grip. She licked her lips.

“Well? You gonna just stand there, staring at me like some kind of animal?” she taunted, giving her ass a slow sway. “Or are you gonna use that leash the way I know you want to?”

Goku’s jaw flexed, eyes going from the curve of her back to the sway of the little tail clipped above her ass. “You’re makin’ me feel all kinds of things I don’t got words for, Bulma,” he muttered, tugging the leash until her head tilted back.

She gasped, the collar tightening just enough to steal a bit of her breath. The sound turned into a throaty moan, and she arched for him even more. “That’s it, baby… mm, you feel that? Every time you pull, it’s like you own me. Makes me wet just thinking about it.”

Her fingers curled against the floor as she panted. “I want you to make me yours tonight, Goku. Use me. Train me. Don’t hold back just because I’m your wife.”

He gave another sharp tug, pulling her head back farther until her gasp broke into a moan that shivered through her whole body.

“You like that?”

“Y-Yes—” she stammered, the collar pressing tight against her throat, cutting off just enough air to make her dizzy. “I love it. Do it again… choke me with it.”

Goku bent down, pressing his chest to her back, his cock brushing against the slickness between her thighs. His breath was hot in her ear. “You sure you can handle me like this, Bulma? ‘Cause once I start, I don’t think I can stop.”

Her answering moan was desperate, needy. “That’s what I want. Don’t stop, don’t think—just take me.”

Goku’s hands gripped her hips firmly, tugging the leash so that her body pressed just right against him. Bulma’s chest heaved, collar tightening with each shallow breath, her moans rattling in her throat.

“You like being mine like this, don’t you, Bulma?” he growled. “On your knees, all spread for me…”

“Y-Yes… Goku! Please, don’t stop!”

“You feel so fucking tight… every little inch of you wants me inside, I can tell.”

Bulma’s hands pressed to the floor, but she didn’t resist—she wanted every tug, every commanding motion. “Pull me closer… harder… make me yours, Baby,” she moaned, trembling with anticipation.

With a careful motion, Goku pressed into her from behind, slowly at first, letting her adjust to the stretch. Bulma shivered, letting out a strangled cry, collar tight around her throat, tail swishing with every small new movement.

“You’re so wet for me… so ready,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter, pushing deeper.

Bulma’s moans came in ragged gasps, every nerve alight. “Y-Yes! Goku! Fill me! Don’t hold back! I’m yours!”

He gave another firm pull on the leash, and she arched, every movement a sign of her surrender and their lust. Her breaths were short, each one a whine of need, and Goku moved with deliberate power, pressing her into the floor as he began a slow, crushing rhythm from behind, the intensity building with every stroke.

His hands never left her hips, pulling her closer with every push, every thrust. Bulma’s chest heaved, her moans muffled by the collar, each breath ragged and stolen.

“God, you feel so good… so tight. You like this, don’t you? Being under me, letting me control you?”

“Y-Yes… please!” she whimpered, tail swishing wildly, every nerve ending on fire.

Goku’s rhythm increased, deliberate and punishing, each stroke fully penetrating her pussy before retreating. “You love it when I do this, don’t you? Want me to fuck you harder, take all of you?”

Bulma’s hands dug into the floor, her voice a ragged mix of praise and begging. “Yes! Yes! Fuck me, Baby! Fill me! Make me yours! I’ll do anything for you!”

“Anything for me, huh? You're gonna be my good little pet and take every inch?”

“Y-Yes! All of you! I’m yours, Goku!”

Each thrust became harder, more insistent, his body perfectly in sync with hers. She trembled, every moan vibrating through her chest, while her ass bounced against him; swallowing his cock and taking it, begging for it to return to penetrate her again and again.

“You feel so fucking amazing, Bulma… my pet… so tight, so wet… gonna make you scream for me.”

Bulma shivered, trembling with need, eyes half-closed in ecstasy. “Yes… G-Goku! I’m yours… all yours! Don’t stop! Please!”

She didn’t know how well he would play into this fantasy of hers, but tonight she was experiencing an entirely new man.

Goku was lost in the rhythm of her body, the leash secured in his hand, Bulma’s voice breaking into gasps and moans with every thrust. Her body arched beautifully beneath him, surrendering, begging, taking everything he gave.

“Good girl,” he groaned, hips slamming harder. “You’re perfect like this…Bula.”

Bulma cried out, fingers clawing the floor, lust flooding her veins as she pushed back against him, greedy for every inch.

“Yes! Harder! Please, Goku, harder!”

His hand slid down, gripping her hip, then lower—instinctive, exploring in the haze of lust. His thumb rubbed at her slick folds, teasing her clit in messy circles as she screamed his name. But as his hand slipped back, one thick finger pressed against the tight ring of her other entrance—then slid in halfway by accident.

Bulma gasped, the shock making her whole body jolt. “Ah—! G-Goku!”

He froze, eyes wide, “Bulma… I—didn’t mean—”

But her moan cut him off, high and trembling. She shuddered, body clenching around both him and his finger, voice shaking with lust. “N-No… don’t stop… it feels… dirty… but so good…”

Her admission caused something primal to awaken inside him.

“Bulma… you’re driving me insane… You like it, don’t you? My fingers… filling you up while I fuck you from behind…”

“Y-Yes!” she cried, drool slipping from her lips as her body writhed under his. “God, Goku—yes! I want it, I want all of you—fuck me harder, choke me, use me!”

His finger worked in time with his cock, the double sensation making her scream louder, her body trembling on the edge.

“Bulma… you’re mine. My pet. My mate. No one else gets to see you like this… no one.”

Her whole body convulsed at his words, her voice breaking as she begged for release.

“Yes—yes, I’m yours, only yours! Please, Goku, don’t stop, I’m gonna—”

The leash was still in his hand, her body pulled back against him, every thrust echoing through the room with a sharp slap. Bulma was trembling, her nails scraping the floor, her voice breaking into cries that were half moan, half scream.

“Goku—I can’t—fuck—I’m gonna cum!” she sobbed, drool spilling down her chin as her body quaked.

His finger pushed deeper, curling inside that forbidden tightness while his cock pounded her soaking heat from behind, stretching her, filling her. He could feel her clench around both, her body squeezing him like she was desperate to keep him inside forever.

“Do it, Bulma,” he growled, yanking the leash so her head snapped back against his chest. His teeth grazed her ear as he snarled, “Cum for me. Let me feel you lose it.”

Her scream ripped out, high and cracked, as her whole body seized. Her pussy convulsed violently around him, wetness spilling down her thighs, soaking his cock, while the tight clench of her other hole trapped his finger. Her vision blurred white as wave after wave crashed through her, her legs giving out until she was dangling by the leash, trembling in his grip.

“Goku—oh god—fuck—it’s too much—it’s too much!” she babbled, her body spasming as she came hard, tears streaking her face.

But he wasn’t done. The sight of her wrecked, begging, and broken with pleasure, sent him spiraling. His thrusts grew ragged, animalistic, the sound of his cock slamming into her drenched folds filling the room. “Bulma—fuck—you’re mine—you’re all mine!”

The leash pulled her back flush against him as he buried himself to the hilt, his hips jerking wildly. His roar tore from his throat, low and guttural, as he spilled deep inside her, hot spurts flooding her until it dripped down her thighs, mixing with the mess of her orgasm.

They collapsed forward together, tangled and panting, Bulma’s face pressed to the floor, Goku’s body heavy over hers. The leash was still tight in his fist, their sweat slicking their skin, both of them trembling from the sheer force of it.

“F-fuck… remind me… not to ever ask you about kinks again unless I’m fully ready for them.”

Goku, still panting hard, buried his face in her neck, pressing a shaky kiss there. “Then don’t… ‘cause I don’t ever wanna stop.”

Bulma’s cheek was still pressed to the floor, sweat dripping from her bangs, her body quivering from the aftershocks. Goku had finally let go of the leash, while his breath was still against the back of her neck.

“You know…” she whispered, voice hoarse, “I completely forgot to tell you… you didn’t spank me.”

Goku blinked, his dazed body twitching. “Spank…?” He lifted his head, his brows knitting in that curious, innocent way that almost made her laugh.

“Yes, you big oaf,” she giggled, tilting her hips back against him. “I was hoping you’d smack my ass while you were pulling my leash. That would’ve ruined me.”

He groaned, cock twitching inside her despite them both being spent. “Bulma… you’re crazy… I don’t think I could’ve handled that.”

“Oh, you could have handled it,” she teased, looking back at him with half-lidded eyes. “You’d love the sound it makes. Next time, Goku… I expect red handprints. Maybe I’ll even get your name tattooed somewhere on me, hm?”

Her smirk softened when she saw how lost he looked between exhaustion and satisfaction. She shifted, crawling forward until his cock slipped free from her pussy, then rolled onto her back, tugging him down with her.

He collapsed beside her, face pressed into her chest, his arms wrapping around her tightly. His big, calloused hands still trembled against her skin. Bulma ran her fingers through his wild hair, pressing kisses to his damp forehead.

“There we go…” she cooed, her voice laced with that tenderness only she gave him in. “You were amazing, Goku. You always are.”

He hummed into her breast, eyes fluttering shut. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Not one bit. You gave me exactly what I wanted.” She kissed his temple, then gently brushed sweat off his face with her thumb. “And don’t worry… we’ll pace ourselves. We’ve got a lifetime to try all my dirty ideas.”

Goku let out a little laugh, relaxing completely against her, his breathing evening out as her hand kept stroking his hair. She hugged him tighter.

“Next time, spank me till I cry. Then hold me like this after. Deal?”

“Deal,” Goku sleepily said.

“You know…” she purred, fingertips going through his hair, “when your finger slipped… back there…”

“You mean—? Oh… I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Mm, I know you didn’t. But… I kinda liked it.”

“You liked it? Really?”

Her legs curled around his hips, pulling him flush against her again. She whispered, lips brushing his cheek. “Mmhmm. Felt dirty, in the best way. I wouldn’t mind you trying again sometime. Maybe just the tip… to start.”

The way his cock twitched at her words told her everything. She giggled. “Oh, look at you. The mighty hero, getting hard again already… all because I said I want you in my ass.”

“Bulma… you’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” she shot back. “Don’t look so scared, big guy. I’m not saying right now. But I wanted you to know… It’s on the menu.”

“It is?”

“Don’t give me that look, Goku. I can tell you want to. You’re twitching against me like crazy.”

“Bulma… I don’t know if—”

She cut him off with a sultry kiss, rolling her hips against him until he groaned. “Shh… we’ll take it slow. Just a taste. Just the tip.”

“You’re sure?”

Bulma nodded, brushing his hair back and giving him that smile he could never resist. “I want it. And you’ll stop the second I tell you to. Got it?”

Her boldness sent a thrill through him, and he shifted lower, one hand squeezing her ass as he lined himself up. The new angle made her anxious; this would be her anal virginity, and the anticipation curled low in her stomach.

The blunt head of his cock nudged against her tight entrance, and Bulma gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Goku…” she moaned, her body tensing and trembling all at once.

He froze instantly. “Bulma? Did I hurt you?”

“No… no, you didn’t. It’s just… intense.” She kissed him again, rocking back slightly to press herself against him. “Push a little more. Just a little…”

Goku obeyed, sliding just enough for the pressure to flare. Bulma cried out, her back arching, toes curling. She panted against his lips. “Fuck… you’re huge. Even just the tip.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough for now,” she whispered. “We’ll save the rest for another night. Don’t want to break your poor little scientist.”

He chuckled, still breathless, kissing her forehead as he eased back. “You’re silly, Bulma…”

“And you love it,” she teased, giving his cheek a playful slap before nuzzling against him. “Next time… we go all the way.”

“Yeah.”

Bulma let her head fall against his chest, both of them slick with sweat, still catching their breath.

“We’re a mess…”

“Yeah… the bed too.”

“We’re definitely gonna need new sheets after this. Maybe a few new sheets.”

“Heh… guess I got carried away.”

“Come on, big guy. Shower. We both need it. And trust me, after all that, I really need it.”

Goku’s eyes followed her sway as she rose from their embrace and went toward the bathroom, still wearing the collar and leash draped loose around her neck. She glanced back over her shoulder, catching his stare. “Well? Don’t just sit there staring—help me wash off, or I’ll start without you.”

He was up instantly, scooping her into his arms with a playful growl that made her squeal and laugh.

It was bathtime, and that was the best aftercare.

Chapter Text

“I love food.”

Bulma sipped on her morning after sex coffee, watching as Goku refueled himself from last night’s fun. Her body was sore, much more so from the early morning fun they had before he dragged her off here to get a good meal.

“I love you too, Goku.”

Goku, quickly realizing what ticked Bulma off, added her to his statement. 

“I love you too, Bulma. Lots more than food.”

Bulma blew him a kiss, watching as the staff and robot staff worked together to serve breakfast to the guests. It was always surprising to her that more places hadn’t begun using robots instead of human staff to help out when they had loads of work like this in the restaurant. 

These specifically were created by MechaCo; she could spot that stupid wrench logo a mile away. Dr. Tek and his team have been working on these personable, friendly robots for years now. The Ark Project, if she recalled it right. She had seen a few prototypes at the expos she and her Father attended, but didn’t know they were out like this at full force.

“Whatacha looking at Bulma?

“Those,” tilting her coffee cup toward the robot staff gliding between tables. Refilling cups, bussing tables, and taking orders while working with human staff.

“MechaCo’s handiwork. Looks like Dr.Tek finally got his Ark Project off the ground.”

Goku looked at the nearest robot before stabbing a sausage link. 

“The shiny waiters? They seem polite.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. 

“Polite now. Give it a few years, and they’ll be doing more than carrying trays. That project was supposed to be about integrating robots into daily society, making them indispensable to everyday life. Tek always had this big vision about humans “sharing the load” with machines.”

She huffed, blowing steam off her coffee.

“Sounds good in theory, until you realize he may be trying to outdo Dr. Gero’s operation..”

The potential of another Red Ribbon Army was far from Goku’s mind. The idea that these robots would one day be up to no good sounded like barely a problem. He was training everyday, well not much with them being here. But he had loads of training to catch back up on when they made it back home. Because the food here was too good to ignore.

“Guess that means I’d have put them back in line. I’m sure it won’t be hard for me to knock out some robots.”

The said robot appeared as if it had just been summoned. Like they were all listening to the guests to ensure they were properly served.

“Mr and Mrs. Son, I have a fresh tray of hash browns and other foods as you have requested to be prepared.”

The robot settled the plates into a flower arrangement, while Bulma eyed it with suspicion. She was a scientist, of course, she knew robots didn’t just glitch out and start attacking people, but if they were programmed to do otherwise… And with Tek, that was always a possibility.

“And now I’m sitting here being served hash browns by one of Tek’s toys.”

The robot’s visors blinked as if it took offense to the words,  dropping the utensils with an attitude before continuing with its job for the day.

“I think you made it upset, Bulma.”

Bulma scoffed, for her part, it made sense somewhat in her head, “Robots cannot be upset, Goku.”

“Hash browns are good, though.”

Bulma buried her face in her hands. “Ugh, Goku, sometimes I wonder why I even bother explaining these things to you.”

He grinned, reaching across the table to nudge her wrist. “Because you love me more than food.”

She peeked at him from between her fingers, trying not to laugh. “Touché, mister.”

“Are we going to the beach today?”

“Yep. We have surfing lessons later, so we can stroll and relax in the sunlight until it's time for us to go learn how to do that.”

“Surfing?”  

The confusion in his voice made Bulma already figure out a short explanation of how it worked,  “Riding the waves, I’m sure you’ll get it quicker than me.”

“So… it’s like training on the water?”

Bulma nibbled on the hashbrown. “Sure. Training. Except instead of punching and kicking, you’re standing on a board, trying not to fall into the ocean.”

“That sounds fun!” His grin spread wide, and Bulma had to fight the swell of happiness in her chest at his enthusiasm. He was impossible sometimes—simple, goofy, but impossible not to love.

“Just promise me you won’t try to fight the waves, Goku.”

He blinked at her, dead serious. “But what if they start it?”

Bulma groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Kami help me, you’re going to embarrass me in front of the instructor…”

“I promise I won’t!”

“I’m trusting you, Goku.”

Breakfast was a success and Bulma had successfully managed to get Goku to the beach without any detours. They passed a lot of shops and people that were trying to haggle them, basically her, into paying for frivolous things like souvenirs that she was sure wouldn’t last a day after they left the island.

It was one thing to be wealthy, Bulma enjoyed that, but Goku wasn’t much of a material person. She just wanted to make him happy, and there was no money in the world that would do that. Just a good meal and quality time and he was happier than most people would ever be in his situation.

She looked at the clear waters from their spot on the sand and couldn’t help but think of what came next for them. How long would this honeymoon phase last before arguments happened? Would it happen? She couldn’t really recall a single time where she and Goku genuinely were angry at one another. He never raised his voice at her, he never said anything truly hurtful, or really anything that would make her upset.

Bulma continued to watch the waves, but couldn’t help but notice that women had side-eyed her when they saw her husband massaging her back. Goku was a looker, had a body practically most would never even come close to achieving, and an aloofness that added to his boyish charm. The tail was really the only thing about him that would make someone look thrice.

“Hey,” the voice of a beach goer came into their purview. “Me and my buddies saw you two from across the sand. We need one more hot shot for our volleyball game, either of you down?”

Bulma could tell his eyes were more on Goku than her, this interest in her way insignificant to how much he was staring at her husband like a piece of meat.

“We’re actually in the middle-”

The feeling of his hands off her back made her stop mid sentence, “Here we go.” Bulma just knew that something in some way was going to ruin her massage. They still had an hour or so before their lessons with the instructor. 

“I want to play!” Goku was already on his feet, anxious at the chance to work out.

“Great man, you look like you do some serious training.”

“Haha, it’s nothing really.”

“You're fine with us stealing him away, Miss?”

Bulma looked back, knowing she didn’t want to make Goku sit, “Sure. I’ll watch you play from here.”

“Perfect. You ready pal?”

“One second,” Goku shrunk down close to Bulma’s laying form. “What’s volleyball?”

Bulma smiled, “Hit the ball with your palms, and watch others play. You’ll be good, I promise.”

Goku nodded seemingly pleased with the short explanation, “I’m ready!”

The group cheered, ushering Goku toward the makeshift court drawn in the sand. Bulma propped herself up on her elbows, slipping her sunglasses down over her eyes, already picturing how this would go. Goku didn’t know the rules, but that didn’t matter, he had the instincts to pick up just about anything like this. The kind that would make a casual game of beach volleyball look like the finals of a world tournament.

“Only you, Goku.” Bulma thought to herself.

The first serve came flying toward him, and Goku’s eyes lit up like a child handed his first toy. He smacked it with such force that the ball rocketed over the net, slamming into the sand on the other side. The opposing team scrambled, mouths open in disbelief.

Bulma winced. 

“Well, there goes the casual part of the game.”

The guys cheered, rallying around Goku like he was their secret weapon. The stares from nearby beachgoers grew, admiration and shock. A few women whispered behind their hands, eyes lingering far too long on Goku’s body as he laughed and rubbed the back of his head in that sheepish way of his.

Bulma folded her arms, the sting of jealousy prickling under her skin. He wasn’t trying to draw attention. He never was but God, if he didn’t make it impossible not to.

Still, she couldn’t help watching him, muscles shifting under his skin as he dove, leapt, and grinned like he’d just discovered a brand new kind of training.

He’s having fun, she reminded herself, letting her body relax back onto the towel. That’s what matters. But she already knew she’d tease him later about how every single person on that beach would be dreaming about her husband tonight.

The game carried on, and Bulma watched the chaos unfold like it was her own private comedy show. Goku was unstoppable. Every serve, every spike, every dive into the sand—it was like watching a martial arts tournament disguised as a beach game. The poor guys on the other team were already drenched in sweat, groaning every time the ball came anywhere near Goku’s side of the net.

“Man, this guy’s a monster!” one of them said after Goku sent the ball spinning so fast it left a pop in the air.

“I’ve never seen anyone jump that high!” another shouted, shading his eyes as Goku soared up and slammed the ball downward, kicking up a small sand cloud when it hit.

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose, groaning into her tumbler. 

“He’s going to kill someone at this rate. Why did I let him play again?”

Sure enough, it only got worse. The next serve came flying, and instead of a normal bump, Goku wound his arm back like he was about to throw a Kamehameha. He clapped the ball so hard it whistled as it soared through the air—slamming right into the opposing captain’s chest. The poor guy went tumbling backward, landing flat in the sand with a thud.

The whole beach went silent.

Then Goku scratched his cheek, sheepish. “Oops… I think I put a little too much strength into that one.”

Bulma got up, waving her arms. “GOKU! This is a game, not the World Martial Arts Tournament! You’re supposed to be having fun, not giving people concussions!”

The guy Goku had flattened gave a weak thumbs-up from the sand. His friends chuckled and groaned, hauling him upright like he’d just survived a hurricane.

“Bulma,” Goku called back to her with that boyish grin, completely unbothered, “I am having fun!”

She pressed a hand to her forehead. “God, help me.”

Finally, she stood and stormed over, heels of her sandals digging into the sand. Sliding her sunglasses down just enough for Goku to see her eyes, she grabbed his wrist.

“Alright, hotshot, game’s over. If you keep this up, someone’s going to need a hospital instead of sunscreen.”

The guys all looked relieved, one even muttering, “Thank you,” under his breath.

Goku tilted his head, confused. “But Bulma, I was just getting warmed up!”

Bulma smirked, tugging him back toward their towel. 

“Trust me, I know. Save it for our surfing lesson. At least then the only thing you’ll crush is a wave.”

“But I wanna play some more.” He whined and Bulma knew he didn’t mean to harm anyone, but he was in a league of his own when it came to playing with regular people.

Krillin and others were perfect candidates for Goku’s roughhousing, but not some random college dudes that would be one hit away from a hospital if Goku even went slightly too overboard.

She stopped pulling his wrist, and turned to face him.

“I know you do, Goku. But you have to better gauge people’s strength. You know how you get when you’re excited? And you’re very competitive.”

Goku didn’t argue, his tail swishing back and forth as he thought of what Bulma was telling him. 

“Yeah. You’re right, Bulma. I probably should ease up. It’s just I’m kinda used to people being able to keep up with me somewhat.”

“I know.” Bulma kissed his nose, the red on his face everytime she did never got old. “How about we get to our surfing lessons, and that’ll give you something to do?”

Goku nodded, scooping Bulma onto his back and she squealed in surprise. 

“You direct me and I’ll carry you, Bulma. It’ll be faster and you won’t have to worry about hurting your feet in the sand.”

Bulma was going to ask what had gotten into him, but the initiative he was showing was more than enough to convince her of otherwise questioning it.

“Okay, Goku.” She pointed past his shoulder, straight ahead to those red and white surf boards.

“Gotcha!” He reared back, holding Bulma’s legs closer, before jetting off as she clung to his neck like a life long. The boards were once barely visible, now quickly coming into view as he ran and avoided every one, and everything that could be considered an obstacle to avoid.

It didn’t take long for the sight of the presumed instructor to show up, who’s face was almost horrified, losing the easy, relaxed expression that he presumably always had.

“The Son family is here,” Bulma said from Goku’s back. A smirk on her face could only match what she was thinking on the inside, “My husband is-”

“Your husband is awesome!”  The instructor said, finishing Bulma’s train of thought.

Bulma slid down from Goku’s back, brushing sand off her legs with as much dignity as she could muster. “He’s also a handful. Don’t let the smile fool you.”

The instructor blinked between the two of them, still a little wide-eyed. “Uh, right. Well… let’s get you both started. First lesson’s balance, paddling out, then catching small waves. Don’t worry—no one’s expected to stand up on the first try.”

Bulma smirked knowingly, already imagining how quickly Goku was going to blow through that disclaimer. “You hear that, Goku? You’re not expected to be perfect.”

“Perfect?” Goku tilted his head. “But I’m just supposed to ride the wave, right? That doesn’t sound too hard.”

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering, “Kami help me…”

The instructor clapped his hands. “Alright, boards down in the sand! Let’s go over form.”

He demonstrated, lying flat on his stomach, paddling with his arms, then springing to his feet in one smooth motion. “This part takes some practice. Most people stumble or fall when they’re first learning—”

“Like this?” Goku dropped down on the board, copied the movements, and popped up in one swift, flawless motion. Not a wobble.

The instructor froze mid-sentence. “…Y-Yeah. Exactly like that.”

Bulma smirked and crossed her arms.

“Hotshot.”

Goku grinned and scratched the back of his head. “Heh, guess it’s not so different from balancing on logs during training.”

The instructor recovered quickly, glancing at Bulma like he was hoping she’d reassure him her husband wasn’t about to completely break the class. Instead, Bulma just shrugged. “Told you he was a handful.”

“Alright then…” The man coughed into his fist, trying to keep professional. “Let’s get you two in the water and see how you do.”

Goku hoisted his board under his arm, beaming. “This is gonna be fun! Race you to the waves, Bulma!”

“Oh, you’re on.”

The water was cool against their legs as the waves rolled in, foam tickling their ankles. Bulma let out a breath, clutching the board under her arm. 

“Okay. Remember what the instructor said—don’t just dive in like it’s a battle.”

“I know, Bulma.”

Goku grinned, eyes sparkling as he looked at the rolling horizon. 

“But doesn’t it feel like the ocean’s challenging us? Like it wants us to play?”

Bulma sighed, only her husband could talk about the sea like it was a sparring partner.

The instructor led them out waist-deep, showing them how to mount the board and paddle. Bulma struggled a bit at first, her arms weren’t made for endless training the way Goku’s were, but she was determined not to look helpless in front of her husband.

“Alright,” the instructor called over the crashing surf. “Bulma, we’ll start you small. Goku, you too. Just remember—no one stands up right away.”

But Goku was already watching the swell forming behind him. “Here it comes!”

“Goku, wai—!”

Too late. He paddled with the speed of a motorboat, caught the wave, and popped up on his board with impossible ease. For a second, he was just there, balanced, poised, riding the crest as though he’d been born to do it.

The other surfers stopped to watch, half amazed, half irritated.

“Unreal…” the instructor muttered, slack-jawed.

Bulma shielded her eyes from the spray, shaking her head but unable to hide her pride. “Show-off.”

When Goku finally coasted back to shore, he was beaming, tail swishing excitedly. “Bulma! You gotta try it—it’s awesome!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” she muttered, paddling out again with renewed determination.

This time, when her wave came, she remembered his words. Don’t overthink it. Just play. She paddled, let the swell lift her, and with a shaky push, stood up. The board wobbled dangerously, but she kept her balance, her hair whipping around her face as she slid toward shore.

“YES!” she shouted, triumphant, even before the wave fizzled and she tumbled into the surf.

When she came up, coughing and pushing wet hair out of her face, Goku was already there, holding his board under one arm and offering her a hand. His grin was pure sunshine.

 “You did it, Bulma! That was amazing!”

She laughed, taking his hand. “Not bad for a beginner, huh?”

“Not bad?” He shook his head. “You were awesome!”

Bulma leaned in, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. 

“Flattery will get you everywhere, mister.”

Behind them, the instructor muttered under his breath, 

“These two are going to make me look like I don’t know how to do my job…”

Bulma’s confidence grew with every try. At first, she fell almost immediately, sputtering and swearing as the waves smacked her around. But little by little, she got the rhythm—paddling, catching a swell, pushing herself upright. The wobbles lasted longer. Her falls were less frequent.

“You’re doing great, Bulma!” Goku called from farther out, effortlessly riding across another wave like he’d been surfing his whole life.

She smirked, brushing dripping bangs from her face. 

“Told you I’d catch on. Genius, remember?”

The instructor, watching from his board, raised a brow. 

“Don’t get too confident, Mrs. Son. The ocean doesn’t care how smart you are.”

Bulma waved him off and paddled out again, determined to try something more challenging. This time, the wave behind her was bigger than the others, rising up like a wall. She felt the rush of it, the sheer power, and instead of hesitating, she grinned. “I’ve got this!”

She popped up smoothly, knees bent, arms out. For a second, it was perfect—the board cutting through the water, the wave lifting her higher than before.

Then the curl of the wave folded, collapsing faster than she expected.

“Mrs. Son!” the instructor shouted, panic flashing across his face as he started paddling hard.

The wave swallowed her whole. The board and her body disappeared into the churning froth.

Goku didn’t think—he moved. In a blur, he dove straight into the surge, the leash of his own board snapping as he cut through the water. His heart pounded, eyes scanning wildly under the surface.

Bulma was tossed like a ragdoll, bubbles burning her lungs as she tried to figure out which way was up. The water was pulling her down and soon she would drown.

“Goku!”

When she was scared he was always the first thing she thought of, he was her anchor to stay calm. But just as the panic set in, a strong hand closed around her wrist.

Goku pulled her free of the current with a kick that sliced through the undertow, dragging her toward the light. They broke the surface together, Bulma gasping for air as he kept her tucked safely against his chest. Sea water coming up from her throat as she choked, fighting to breathe normally and remove the water that had found its place unwelcomed in her body.

“I got you,” he said, more serious than she’d ever seen outside of a battle.

The instructor reached them seconds later, relief flooding his face. “That was close. She could’ve been dragged under—”

“I said I got her,” Goku interrupted, all his focus on Bulma as he kept her afloat.

The husband and wife soon made it back to shore, where he they stayed for a moment. Bulma was still shaken up from almost drowning, and Goku wasn’t in a playful mood when his wife was hurt.

“Guess I got a little too cocky, huh?”

Bulma tried to smile to diminish the danger of what just had happened,  but Goku didn’t smile back. Instead, he reached out and touched her cheek, brushing away the saltwater with his thumb.

“You could’ve… you almost didn’t come back up. If I wasn’t there…”

“But you were. That’s all that matters, Honey.”

The doubt in his eyes made Bulma frown, she caressed his cheek forcing him to make eye contact with her.

“It’s not your fault, Goku. It’s mine.”

Her words did little to stop that look on his face, the look that screamed that he was disappointed in himself, but didn’t want to say it.

“Goku.”

Bulma knew she’d have to soften the blow.

“You saved me,” she said. “That’s what happened. Not what could’ve, not what almost. What did. You were there. You always are.”

Goku’s lips parted like he wanted to argue, but no words came out. 

Bulma leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for me being reckless. I’ve survived crazier things, Red Ribbon, Piccolo, that crazy guy in the woods. But you know what all of those things had in common?”

“What?”

“You. You were there to pull me out of it every single time.”

That finally pulled the corner of his mouth upward, just a little. A faint, reluctant smile, but it was enough to make Bulma feel better.

“I trust you, Goku. Always. So trust yourself too, okay?”

Goku nodded, “ I love you, Bulma.”

She kissed his lips, “ I love you too, Goku.”

The instructor appeared with towels in hand, “Are you okay, Mrs. Son? Would you like a towel?”

Bulma shook her head, “We’re ready to continue our lessons. Do you have anything you can teach us for two people on one surfboard?”

“Two on one surfboard? Uh… that’s not exactly standard practice.”

Bulma finished wringing out her hair with her hands. 

“Standard’s boring. Besides, I think I’ll do better if I’ve got my husband with me.”

Goku perked up, already back to his easy grin now that she was smiling again. “Yeah! That sounds fun. Like riding Nimbus, but on water.”

The instructor hesitated, glancing between them, but one look at Goku’s unshakable confidence and Bulma’s insistence told him he wasn’t winning this argument. He sighed and brought over the largest board they had.

“Alright, but if you wipe out, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Bulma winked at Goku, “Don’t worry. I’ve got the strongest lifeguard in the world.”

That earned her a blush from Goku, who picked up the oversized board like it weighed nothing. “C’mon, Bulma. Let’s show him what we can do.”

The instructor muttered something under his breath about “married daredevils,” but followed them back toward the waves anyway, resigned to see just how far the Sons were willing to push things.

Goku carefully helped Bulma onto the board, positioning himself behind her so that every movement she made would be balanced by his presence. The waves were calmer now, but unpredictable enough to demand full attention.

“Ready?” he asked, his hands resting on her waist.

Bulma nodded, taking a deep breath as the board wobbled beneath them. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

They pushed off together, the ocean carrying them forward. At first, Bulma clutched the sides of the board, the remembrance of what had happened prior still in the back of her mind, which made her focus on not falling, while Goku’s hands reminded her that she didn’t have to do everything on her own.

With each wave, she began to trust him more, his intuition, his timing, his ability to anticipate the water’s pull. Slowly, she loosened her grip, leaning into him, moving as if they were a single organism riding the rhythm of the sea.

“You’re doing amazing,” Goku murmured. “Just follow me.”

Bulma let out a breath, feeling a rare sense of surrender. The board tipped and swayed, yet she didn’t panic; every small imbalance was corrected by the man behind her. The experience became less about staying upright and more about trust, about relying on each other in ways neither could do alone.

As they glided along, the instructor watched silently, noting the unspoken connection forming between them. The surfboard wasn’t just a lesson in balance, it was a metaphor for their marriage, give and take, support and trust, the willingness to lean on each other without losing yourself.

It was the first of many signs that Son Bulma and Son Goku were meant to last for what seemed to be an eternity.

Chapter Text

“I know you'd rather be training right now than spending time with me waiting for some bioluminescent algae to show up, Goku.” 

The last few days of their honeymoon, Bulma and Goku just took time for themselves. How could they not? The island was beautiful, and everything was a change of pace, but Bulma’s thoughts always found a way to creep back onto her.

She kept her arms crossed around her propped legs, looking out to the dark waters for the attraction that she wanted to see the most. Being sentimental with her husband was always a weak spot for her; telling her feelings about what she had in mind to someone who wanted to actually listen to her rambles was a relieving feeling.

It wasn’t always that you got to know what it was like to feel safe in your vulnerability. To know that your ideas, your aspirations, weren’t just leaving the ears of someone that you wanted to care as much as you did.

She peeked from her hideaway in her legs. Goku still had his arm around her, like what she said mattered. He didn’t know how to always respond, but he was always there. 

“That’s okay, Bulma. As long as I’m with you, I’m pretty much happy to do whatever you wanna do. Besides, I'm still looking to get stronger to fight the next bad guy that wants to mess with my wife.”

She couldn’t help but budge a slight smile; he was sweet. Fighting and protecting were practically Goku’s love language. He was her husband after all, she knew he meant well and meant everything he actually said. Her husband, no matter how much she reflected on that word, couldn’t help but be thankful. And sheesh, that word made her thank herself more than once for fessing up to him and making her his, but he always knew how to make her smile. Even if it wasn’t as big as it usually was, the consideration did more than any cheesy love novel words would have done. 

That brought her back to her thoughts, Yamcha. Why was he sending messages to her phone when he knew she was on her honeymoon? They ranged from just ‘hey,’ to questions about what she was doing, to wanting to call for a ‘quick five’ to ask her about a problem that he wanted her advice on.

She hadn’t answered. Not once. Not even a halfhearted emoji to ease him off. And yet, each time she saw his name, there was a tug in her chest, a reminder of how things could’ve gone, of how long he had been part of her life before she’d finally chosen Goku.

Chosen. 

The word steadied her. She hugged her legs tighter, sneaking another glance at her husband. Goku wasn’t scrolling through anyone’s messages and wasn't holding on to any maybes. He was just here, eyes bright with wonder, watching the ocean finally light up as though it was putting on a show only for them.

She felt guilty that her overthinking mind was on a subject that she thought would have been buried weeks ago, but here she was.

The ocean’s water shimmered brighter, a wave crashing and scattering sparks of blue upon the shore. She almost laughed at the symbolism—it was like the ocean itself was telling her to wash away the doubts and let them sink into the dark.

“Bulma?” Goku squeezed her shoulder, sensing her quiet. “You okay?”

“I’m okay, Goku. Don’t worry. Just sad we’re catching our flight back home in the morning.”

Lying was the last thing she wanted to do to her husband.  And while technically it was more of a half-truth than a full lie, because she really was going to miss this place. 

The staff were always very accommodating and pleasant, she and Goku had a lot of fun with everything, and it was a perfect time for her to learn more of what made Goku, Goku.

But the ugly truth was that she was thinking of an ex that had no business meddling with her marriage. Even if he wasn’t direct with what he wanted, Bulma knew that Yamcha wasn’t the type to let go. After so many breakups and makeups, it won’t happen again, I’m sorry, and fights that sometimes got physical, Bulma was tired. Tired of trying to make something work that was as shallow as the business partners that approached her for deals. 

Why was it that when you were at your happiest, that was when a man wanted to show up in your life again? She shouldn’t have invited him to her wedding; the insistence of her Mother and somewhat of Goku led her to little choice but to save face by inviting him, of all people. Then, what he did to her husband for his bachelor’s party, she was still pissed off about that. 

She moved closer to her husband, resting her head against his chest. The new foundation to her new life, the protector of her heart. If Goku died, she didn’t know where she would be without him. 

How would she be able to sleep without feeling his touch? 

How would she be able to look at herself in the mirror and not cry?

How could she be able to be herself in a life where he wasn’t in it?

Bulma sighed, while the glow of the algae painted them both in shifting hues of blues and greens.

Goku didn’t press her, didn’t pry. His arm just tightened around her, as if to wordlessly remind her of what she already knew: she wasn’t alone, not anymore.

Bulma kept her eyes on the spectacle she had waited so long to see, burying the thoughts of what could have been for the present that was in front of her. She was Son Bulma now, and that’s all she would ever be to a man that didn’t stake his heart to where it should have been.

“I love you.”

There was no response, and she was about to get mad when she realized that the glowing water had started forming a whirlpool, and it deepened, spiraling down into an abyss that hadn’t been there a moment ago. The glow of the algae bent and warped with it, casting the ocean’s surface in a shimmering dance of radiant blue. 

Bulma instinctively clutched at Goku’s arm, while his expression remained curious more than alarmed.

From the center of the vortex, a shape rose, tall, slender, the edges of its body indistinct until the last of the water peeled away.

It was humanoid, yes, but unmistakably not human. Skin like polished sapphire, streaked with faint, bioluminescent patterns that trailed in rhythm with the water’s current. Fins arced from its arms and calves, and its eyes—wide, reflective pools of silver, locked onto them with the glare of a predator’s focus.

“Goku… that’s not a fish.”

The figure straightened, its voice resonant, as though carried not through air but through the water around them.

“You humans have violated the sacred depths of Neraja for too long. Few surface-dwellers find their way directly here. Fewer still leave with their hearts intact. But you all will pay the price for the disappearance of Princess Syrene Oceanus, under the law of King Thaloros.”

“Cool! You’re like a water person, huh?”

“I am Drevos, Fang of the Deep.” His voice reverberated like a tolling bell underwater. “Executioner to the House of Neraja. Where I tread, mercy has already drowned.”

Bulma felt a chill race up her spine. “Executioner? W-wait, hold on— we didn’t—”

But the warrior didn’t let her finish. His hand lifted, fingers curling like talons, and the algae’s light bent toward him, pulled by his ki. The glow flared into a trident of pure energy, glowing with deep-sea pressure.

Goku eased Bulma gently aside, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite the tension in the air.

“Guess talking’s not really your thing, huh?”

Drevos leveled the trident, his silver eyes unblinking. 

“Surface-dwellers trespass where no light should reach. The King has no use for your words… only your silence.”

The beach shook with the force of Drevos’s trident as it slammed into the ground, sending ripples of displaced water surging outward. Goku planted his feet into the sand, eyes gleaming with anticipation rather than fear.

“Alright then,” he said with that boyish grin Bulma both adored and hated in moments like these. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

Before Drevos could respond, the whirlpool behind him widened. Shadows flickered through the glow, more figures, dozens of them, sleek and armed with coral-forged spears, their eyes reflecting like silver lanterns in the dark. Neraja warriors flew into the resort, their movements eerily silent, water clinging to them like armor.

Bulma’s stomach dropped. They weren’t just here for her and Goku. She could hear the distant sounds of screaming, high-pitched, panicked cries coming from the resort above.

“Oh my god… they’re—”

The nearest Neraja soldier dragged a thrashing tourist down through the whirlpool, the body swallowed in an instant. Another appeared with a limp worker slung over his shoulder. One after another, civilians vanished into the depths, their voices cut short as water closed over them.

“Goku!” Bulma screamed, pointing frantically as more were seized.

But Drevos stepped between them, trident raised, his glare cold and unyielding. “Your surface kin are taken as offering. Their fate is sealed. Focus on your own.”

Goku glanced at Bulma just long enough to reassure her with a nod before cracking his knuckles.

“You picked the wrong place to start trouble, Pal. I’ll give you one warning: bring all those people back, and we can have a good fight. Innocent people shouldn’t be getting hurt for something they haven’t done.”

“You have no say rites, surface-blood,” Drevos pointed his trident directly at Goku, the rush of ocean’s waves surged like a hungry beast, a manifestation of its wrath made physical. 

Others on the beach tried to run away, shrieking and screaming as the rushing waters moved closer, tearing apart the dock and other buildings on the beach. Some were swallowed in an instant, while others made it to higher ground just before it could reach them. 

Goku sprinted forward, feet slamming into wet sand, and met the wave head-on, not to block it with raw power, but to punch through its torrent, arms streaking through water as if it were air. The water exploded around him; he came out the other side and charged the nearest Neraja warrior, trading blows that sent sand and water into the air. Each strike he threw reverberated like a drum, each dodge a demonstration of why the beaches had just become a battlefield.

Bulma was already moving as fast as she could think. She wasn’t going to sit idly while Goku dealt with the Sea People. She yanked her tablet from her bag, barking orders to the resort staff in rapid-fire bursts. 

“Elevator two—lock down the North wing. Move guests to the conference hall, now!” Her voice left no room for hesitation. 

A dozen staff snapped into motion, ushering stunned tourists away from the area, while children clutched to the chests of shaken parents.

She didn’t ignore the whirlpool. 

Bulma’s fingers flew over her handheld tablet, accessing the resort’s maintenance grid. “Robots, lifeguard protocol — override.” She keyed in a command and sent it out to the MechaCo units. 

“These better be useful, Tek, or I swear…”

The polished wait-staff stilled mid-step as their visors blinked, then they pivoted, trays forgotten, transforming into lifter-units: armrests extending, buoyant panels deploying from under sleek panels. They surged into the water in coordinated arcs, a line of unfeeling machines becoming a human-saving chain.

One Neraja warrior lunged with a coral spear toward a struggling tourist. Goku intercepted, catching the spear between his hands and tossing the warrior aside with a twist that sent the spear clanging uselessly on the sand. A spray of seawater blew Bulma’s hair into her face. She ignored it and ran toward the water, not to fight, but to help the robots haul the last of the swimmers to shore, directing each unit by voice commands and quick hacks as she patched their routines. Her hands moved like a conductor’s.

Drevos didn’t engage Goku directly at first. Instead, he called to his forces in an ancient language that thrummed in the bones. The warriors moved with terrifying fineness, taking down the MechaCo units one by one, not with brute force, but by ripping the life out of circuitry with coral blades that conducted a foul, briny energy. Sparks and steam hissed where new age tech met sea-forged weaponry. Bulma cursed and rerouted power through auxiliary nodes to keep a rescue line going.

Goku, for all his grin and bravado, fought like someone who would rather destroy an opponent than hurt the innocent. He tossed rescuers clear, shoved collapsing beams aside, and hauled a bleeding worker to the sand with one hand as Drevos’s warriors surged. Each time the Neraja attackers regrouped, Goku stepped into the breach. He moved with the mastery that a student from the Turtle School should have.

Finally, Drevos advanced. He waded forward until the water clung to his plated calves like armor, the bioluminescence reflected off his skin into a halo of cold light. “Enough,” he boomed. He planted the trident, and the sea answered. From the vortex rose a column of water that coalesced into a cage of pressure around a cluster of hostages already dragged beneath the surface, tourists and staff, translucent with terror, held suspended like offerings.

“No,” Bulma said. Without thinking, she dove forward, but Goku’s hand clamped her wrist.

“Bulma, stay—” 

She yanked free. “Those are people!” She slammed her palm into the tablet and shoved a final packet of commands into the robots: sacrificial routing, shielding protocols—anything to buy time. MechaCo units formed a human chain again, pushing into the waters even as Neraja spears tore through their joints.

Drevos laughed a sound like a shell struck hollow. 

“Your machines cannot touch what belongs to Neraja.” He lifted a hand, and the trapped hostages were jerked downward like marionettes. A torrent of water snuffed the rescue units’ glow; several robots imploded, metal crumpling, their visors going dark. 

Goku’s face hardened in a way Bulma had only rarely seen. He cracked his knuckles, then launched himself into action with a power that made her remember he was the strongest person in the world. He struck Drevos with a series of blows that would have felled most beings, and Drevos staggered. The trident clanged, dented, but did not fall. Neraja warriors responded, more numerous now, converging like a hunting school.

Drevos’s silver gaze split between the bride and the warrior.

“Surface-dwellers will learn the cost of theft.” He raised the trident once more. The pressure cage tightened around the hostages, their faces pale and terrified.

Goku planted his feet, muscles rippling under his skin. He met Drevos eye to eye. 

“Let them go,” he said. “Or I’ll make sure you never come up for air again.”

For a moment, the ocean itself seemed to hold its breath. Then Drevos smiled disdainfully. “Very well. Take them if you can.” 

He thrust the trident into the sand. The whirlpool widened, and with it a sound came up from the deep like a chorus of whales.

Goku roared and leapt. This was no mere sparring match, and so the fight detonated outward. 

He moved with a warrior’s spirit, cutting a path toward the pressure cage, flinging aside Neraja who dared to intercept. He struck them with the force of his fists, the sea hissing with steam where his blows met Drevos’s pressures. The hostages shook and blinked; slow at first, the MechaCo units that still functioned dragged them free one by one, relays of hands and servos handing trembling humans up onto the sand.

Bulma stayed with the reserves, directing survivors to dry blankets and medical attention. She watched Goku fight like a storm incarnate, every punch carved with love as much as fury. Each time Drevos forced the battlefield back, Goku would answer by pushing harder, until finally, after a flurry of blows that sent showers of luminescent algae into the air, Drevos stumbled.

He did not fall. Instead, with a sweep of the trident that carved a crescent of water lit like a noon-day supernova, he ripped a corridor open and stepped into it. His warriors gathered, taking hostages that still clung to consciousness, and one by one, they were pulled into the vortex. Drevos turned his head once, his eyes like knives.

“This is not over,” he intoned. “Return what was taken, and leave Neraja’s borders. Fail, and you will drown the world for your arrogance.”

Then, with the whirl of water and the screaming of the wind, Drevos and his warriors vanished into the deep, the vortex collapsing in a thunderclap that flung sea and sand into the air.

Goku stood in sweat and algae, chest heaving. Around him were broken MechaCo units, shaken guests, nurses, and staff who had become heroes by necessity. The sand at his feet was torn and trampled, littered with straps and ruined umbrellas.

Bulma moved to him and wrapped her arms around his waist so hard he huffed a laugh. 

“Goku,” she said into his chest. “Are you—” she didn’t get to finish the words, as he squeezed her back like an anchor.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I hate that someone hurts people because of something I can stop.” His hand found hers and closed. “We’ll find out who took this Princess Syrene. We’ll get them back.”

Bulma’s mind was already racing, equations and possibilities scattering across her brain like flotsam. Drevos’s mention of a princess. Neraja. Coral-forged spears. The way the MechaCo units had been targeted, like they had already known their weak spots, was all pieces of a larger puzzle. And Tek’s logo had been on a tray only hours before.

“We will,” she agreed, the scientist in her switching on like a beacon. “But first—help me round up the survivors. Then we go home. Because we need to find out who Princess Syrene really is. And maybe work with my dad on a submarine to find out just exactly where these Nerajas are located.”

“And then?” Goku asked.

“And then,” Bulma said, “we make them regret ever showing their faces.”

Chapter Text

“Come on, Goku, I’m sure our luggage isn’t that heavy.”

He was the hauler and she was the caller. They had touched down just as the morning Sun was coming up, and Bulma was ready to investigate the incident and uncover more on Tek’s involvement and the Nejeras that terrorized the resort.

Meanwhile, Goku was hauling their luggage, which was by no means ‘small’ as Bulma put it. He had suitcases, bags, roped around him like a suit of armor.

“I’m coming, Bulma. Y’know? Why did you pack so much stuff in the first place?”

“Well, because I like having the choice of what to wear. And I like making my husband stylish too.” 

She looked back at Goku. He had the hoodie that she bought for him; it made him so cute in her eyes, and the ending of her words was emphasized to make sure he knew what she meant. 

“Whatever you say, Bulma.”

She opened their front door and held it open, “That’s exactly right, Goku.”

He grumbled something about her shopping habits, lumbering past Bulma with the luggage in tow. It wasn’t really heavy, but the idea of training was all he could think about. Krillin and the others were probably constantly improving, and he didn’t want to be left behind.

Bulma closed the door behind them and took in the scented air of their home. The cleaning staff she employed were good at making sure of that, and somehow they managed to make the smell of polished wood and fresh linens float to the living room, which made it feel like the house itself had missed them.

“Home sweet home.”

She slipped her shoes from her feet, stretching them onto the heated floor, which was most certainly the right call when construction was being done on the house. 

Goku set the luggage down with a thud, before he stretched his arms behind his head, grinning.  

Freedom at last.

“Man, it’s nice not to be on a plane anymore. Feels like forever since I could just… y’know, breathe.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Bulma said, already kicking into gear as her mind turned. “We’ve got work to do.”

Goku blinked. 

“Work? We just got home.”

She spun on her heel, pointing a finger at him with a spark in her eye. “Don’t play dumb, Mister. That thing at the resort wasn’t just some freak accident. Drevos and his Neraja people—there’s a bigger picture here. And I’d bet everything Tek’s mixed up in it somehow. I just know it.”

Goku nodded, making sense of his wife’s logic. Which was all well and dandy, but the growl of his stomach alluded him from thinking too much about it. 

“Can I go eat first?

Bulma waved him off, “Be my guest. Im go check on my parents and see if they can help with this.”

“Okay, Bulma.”

She watched as Goku disappeared into the kitchen, “I swear he’s like a black hole.

If her guesses were right, then her Mom would probably be watching some sappy love movies in the living room. And her dad was probably in his lab working on something new.

Times like this made her glad that they had enough space to be close to her parents, but also enough space to be very far away at the same time. They had the entire left compound and she and Goku had the entire right compound to themselves. 

“Hm. Do I really want to leave the kitchen in Goku’s hand for the time being?”

It wasn’t like she was going to be gone for too long and he wasn’t a baby. She taught him the basics of what he needed, and her Mom probably left lots of leftovers in their fridge knowing that they would be back today.

“I’ll be back in no time Goku! Just don’t destroy the kitchen m’kay!”

She shouted as she slipped back on her shoes and headed outside.

The distant, “Okay!” From her husband who clearly had his mouth full was enough to settle any doubts that she had with leaving him here for the time being.

Bulma walked the pathway to her parent’s compound and it was just her luck that there was an envelope on the door addressed to her.

Dear Bulma.

If you’re reading this then you made it home from your honeymoon! Congratulations and I hope you two had lots and lots of fun. Oh. Speaking of which, because of your marriage ceremony I decided that me and your Father needed to go freshen up our relationship. So we’re on vacation for next two weeks, I can’t wait to tell you all about it when we’re back. It’s a lover’s retreat, so your Father won’t have that pesky phone with him and I, of course, won’t either. I left a lot of leftovers in fridge for my darling Son-in-law too. You better make sure he is always getting fed or else! Oh right this is going on a little long, so I love you two, and see you when we’re back!”

~ Love Mom <<33

“Great…” 

At all the times her parents had to choose to refreshed their relationship; it was exactly when she needed her Father who was now out of reach for the time being.

Bulma sighed and headed back down the path she came, this just meant that she would have to do some investigating herself. Starting with researching the ocean area of the resort, there had to be some kind of news about the area before the resort was built on that island. 

Dr. Tek on the other hand, would require a more hands on approach. A lot of files, phone calls, visits, and girl persuasion to get what she needed. Those robots had features she wasn’t aware of until she had hacked into them out of necessity, a lot of features that were available from a soft hack. If she spent more time going through them and somehow getting access to the source code then maybe she could get a better idea of what exactly he had planned with them. Which wasn’t exactly necessary in the grand scheme of things, but hey? She was a curious girl and if the opportunity presented itself, she was going to peek for reasons.

Once Bulma made it back inside their house, she peeked around the kitchen’s door to see Goku eating, but also had set her a plate out with the food already hot.

“You made me something too?”

“Mhm.” Goku said in between bites, “I figured if I’m hungry you would be too, Bulma.”

The cue of his words made her stomach growl and she embarrassingly covered it with her hand.

“See. I knew you would be hungry too.”

Bulma blushed, taking her seat right next to Goku. The food did look surprisingly good for him to have made it, then she remembered this was her Mom’s leftovers and he just warmed them up.

“Thanks, Goku.”

He was always dependable in the most unexpected ways. She would have gambled against her better judgement that he would only make himself something to eat, but it seems she should have known better. Goku wasn’t selfish, he always shared no matter how little or too much they had.

She said a quick prayer, before using the chopsticks to eat the fish. Thoughts wandering back to the game plan for her objectives:

1st: Gather intel on the island. If that whirlpool wasn’t some random freak of nature, there had to be a history of shipwrecks, disappearances, old legends and the resort buried under glossy ads.

2nd: Track Dr. Tek’s involvement. The Neraja didn’t just stumble into human affairs overnight. His bots had design quirks that felt too specific to be coincidence. If she could break deeper into his source code, maybe she could find the missing link between tech and ocean.

3rd: Protect Goku. She sighed, glancing sideways at him. Not because he needed it, he was the strongest man on Earth, but because when he was focused on fighting, he sometimes forgot the why behind it. She’d keep his feet pointed toward the bigger picture.

4th: Get a submarine and diving suit. They would have to do some surveying of the waters, which would certainly mean searching near the bottom of the ocean. The biology of Neraja looked like it was fitted for the darker depths of the ocean and not anything remotely close to the surface based on her quick assessments from last night.

She chewed slowly, letting the plan settle in her mind like puzzle pieces aligning.

“Bulma,” Goku said around a mouthful of rice, “you’re doing that thinking thing again.”

She snorted. “That’s what separates us, Honey. You eat, I think.”

“We make a good team, huh?”

Bulma smirked, hiding the edge of determination in her eyes. “The best. And Goku?”

“What’s up, Bulma?”

“My parents are out, I forgot to tell you that they’re on vacation. A romantic one, but they’ll be back in two weeks.”

Goku was registering her words while he ate, finally reaching a stopping point before he spoke.

“Why didn’t they just come on vacation with us? It would have been great.”

Bulma had no choice but to give her husband a deadpan stare, the idea of parents, vacationing with her, on her honeymoon was just out of the question completely.

Goku saw that stare and couldn’t help but break into a nervous laugh, the pressure of the air changing as Bulma’s aura grew.

“Haha… Maybe that wouldn’t have been a good thing, huh?” 

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head with an exaggerated sigh. “No, Goku. Not on our honeymoon. That’s supposed to be just us.”

He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, grin wide. 

“Right, right. Guess I didn’t think about it that way. I just thought it’d be fun.”

“Fun?!” Bulma threw her chopsticks down, though her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile. “You really don’t get it sometimes, do you?”

“Not really,” Goku admitted, his laugh awkward but genuine. “But that’s okay—‘cause you do. You always explain stuff to me.”

Bulma felt the irritation fizzle. He had this way of turning her mood around without even trying, and it annoyed her just as much as it melted her heart. She leaned over, her fingers against his arm.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Son Goku.”

His grin turned boyish, the kind that hadn’t changed since the very first day she met him. “I’m lucky I’ve got you, Bulma.”

Bulma rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest was impossible to ignore. She leaned back, letting herself relax for the first time since they landed. “Two weeks without my parents means we’ve got all the privacy we could ask for. Don’t make me regret it.”

Goku’s eyes widened, confused for only a moment before his grin grew wider. “Heh. Guess I’ll have to train extra hard to keep up with you then.”

“Maybe so.” She smirked back at him. “With that being said, feel free to train. I’m going to be doing a lot of boring research and analysis, so if you want to train then feel free while I do because eventually we’re going to confront the Nerajas again. But right now, I need to get everything in order to do that and without my Dad here it’s going to take a bit longer.”

Goku nodded, chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth. 

“Got it. You do the smart stuff, I’ll do the strong stuff. Then when we go face those Neraja guys again, we’ll both be ready.”

Bulma giggled, shaking her head. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is simple,” he said, grinning with that stubborn optimism of his. “We’re together. That’s what makes us stronger, right?”

She brushed her bang back from her face, eyes catching his. “Yeah, Goku. That’s exactly right.”

For a moment, it was quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock and the sound of Goku’s chewing. Bulma already felt her mind turning toward data files, coordinates, ocean maps, but it was hard not to linger in the comfort of his certainty.

Finally, she pushed back her chair and stood. “Alright. I’ll head to the lab and get started on the research. Try not to break the training room while I’m gone.”

He gave her a mock salute, mouth still full. “No promises.”

Bulma smirked, leaning down to kiss the top of his head before she left. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Chapter Text

One thing about Son Bulma was that she was a workaholic. It was a trait passed on to her from her Father, and she just exacerbated the problem by also inheriting his inability to not stop working. It’s been a couple of hours since she started creating a database on the incidents in the Eastern Ocean. Nothing stood out so far, and she wasn’t an oceanographer.

It felt like searching for a needle in a haystack without a single light to guide her. The reports online she dug up told half-baked stories: ships dragged down without warning, vanishing without distress calls, as if swallowed whole. Sailors spoke of phantom waves, of whirlpools that appeared and disappeared in seconds, but there was nothing tangible, nothing she could pin down with proof or math.

“How would an entire ship sink without anyone noticing?” she muttered, tapping her pen against her lips.

Her eyes remained fixed on the 3D projection floating above the lab table. The rendered surface rolled in blue waves, pulling her eyes down into layers of depth until they reached a yawning blackness—the deepest point of the world’s known ocean.

The Dragon’s Trench.

Bulma zoomed in on the projection, and the hologram responded in rippling motion. She’d heard the name before, back when it was nothing but folklore tossed around at conferences, dismissed as sailors’ myth. But the more data she compiled, the more everything pointed back to it.

And that… was a problem.

She rubbed her temples, sighing. If there’s even a sliver of truth here, it means something is living down there, and it’s not just unknown species of marine life but possibly the Neraja. 

Her eyes went back and forth between her notes and the hologram. “But why would they be so interested in the surface? Why kidnap those people?” The questions spun through her mind like an unending formula she couldn’t balance.

The deeper she thought about it, the worse the contradictions became. The pressures at that depth were enough to crush steel. The temperature dropped to freezing, and the darkness was absolute. 

“How could any human survive down there without being mashed into paste?”

Her pen stilled over her notes. Unless… the Neraja had found a way?

That thought alone made her push back from the desk, pacing. She hated speculation without data, but her gut told her this was no longer just an academic exercise. This was a survival problem. And right now, she was the only one asking the right questions. 

Bulma’s pen hovered over her notes when suddenly the television in the corner clicked on, its automated timer set to cycle through news networks. 

“—developing story from the Eastern Ocean. Our correspondent has confirmed the tragic incident at the Reef Resort. Survivors report what can only be described as fish-like humanoids emerging from the sea, dragging guests into the water. Authorities are still investigating, but eyewitnesses claim dozens of victims are either missing or presumed dead.”

The screen shifted to shaky cell phone footage, grainy but undeniable. People screamed as dark shapes darted from the waves. Some figures, scaled, hunched, inhuman, lunged at fleeing tourists. And then, clear as day, Goku.

Her husband was in the thick of it, hair wild, tail whipping behind him, fighting off the attackers with bare hands.

The anchor’s voice returned, “Several witnesses have described a man with a tail defending the Capsule Corporation heiress, Bulma Briefs, during the attack. Sources close to the investigation suggest this man fought relentlessly against the mysterious assailants, saving countless lives. However, questions are being raised about his identity, his connection to Capsule Corp, and whether this was an isolated event or the beginning of something much larger. Something that may be occurring in the same way the Demon Piccolo once terrorized our world. We will be right back with more on what the authorities are doing for this situation, after we go on about today’s weather.”

Bulma leaned back in her chair and looked out the window, where she could see her husband shirtless, doing one-handed pushups in the yard. 

His tail swayed lazily with each rep, a rhythm as casual as breathing. The sun was on his back, sweat gleaming off muscle that didn’t even seem strained.

“The world probably thinks you’re some terrifying anomaly,” Bulma thought. “But all you care about is training and protecting the people you care about.”

She exhaled, torn between exasperation and admiration. Goku wasn’t worried about politics, about PR disasters, about the Capsule Corp name being tied to “mystery fish-men” and “the man with a tail.” He was focused, as always, on strength, because to him, strength was all a part of his journey.

Her eyes shifted back to the dark screen of the TV.

“Piccolo once terrorized our world…” The anchor’s words rang like a curse. If they were already drawing parallels between the Nerajas and that monster, then the clock was ticking faster than she wanted.

Bulma rubbed her temples, then muttered under her breath, “We don’t have the luxury of time, Goku. Not this time.”

She looked back outside. He was upside down now, balancing on one hand, grinning like it was all a game.

“Idiot. If only they knew.”

Planning the best time to do this was tricky; she had no idea what exactly she was looking for in the water, and after hours of research, there was zilch to be found.  So her next strategy was to pay a visit to Dr. Tek, who was having a seminar today about his robots, and she was going to go say, “Hi.”

Bulma got up and went to the machine they used to store and organize capsules; her finger scrolling through the digital library sections before it landed on the capsule section labeled transportation.

“Helicopter, nah. Too noticeable.” 

Her eyes landed on a newer model motorcycle that he had been working on, and since he wasn’t here… That meant she would be testing out the prototype. 

She tapped the digital image of the bike named X-23-M-P, and the whirling sound of the machine popped before it dispensed the capsule into its shoot, free for her to take and use on the road. Because she wasn’t leaving without letting Goku know, he definitely wasn’t going to sit still, and he would draw too much attention. He was already on the news and would probably make Tek run off before he answered anything. And if she didn’t tell him and just left, he would sense her ki and come flying down the sky like a superpowered, overgrown guard dog looking for its person.

With that thought in mind, she popped her lab’s window open and called out, “Hey, Goku!”

Goku fell on his head, Bulma’s voice spooking him from his handstand. Once he corrected himself upright, he finally managed to look up at her, “Yeah, Bulma?”

She had to suppress a giggle at the silliness of his antics, “I’m heading out for a bit. Research. Don’t follow me, okay? And no blowing up the house.”

Goku formed a grin, a little too eager after the accusation.

“Want me to come with? Just in case?”

“Nope.” She shook her head fast enough to whip her hair over her shoulder. “You’re already on the news, Mister. The last thing I need is Tek spotting you and running for the hills. Let me do the talking first.”

Goku rubbed his chin, thinking far too hard about her words. 

“...So I stay here?”

“Yes. Train, eat, nap, I don’t care, just don’t show up. Got it?”

The nod he gave was enough for her—for now.

Bulma slipped her shoes back on, heart already drumming with the thrill of what came next. She hated politics, hated the press, and hated all the stupid tightropes she had to walk. But a mystery with wires, secrets, and machines? That was her turf.

She palmed the capsule and smirked. “Your move, Tek.”

By the time Bulma pulled up outside the convention center, the plaza was buzzing. Reporters, scientists, investors, and curious onlookers filled the steps leading up to the massive glass doors. Paparazzi flashes bounced off the polished building, catching glimpses of executives in expensive suits.

Bulma parked the X-23-M-P, earning a few impressed stares before she casually popped it back into its capsule and slipped it into her pocket. 

“Works like a charm. Dad really outdid himself on the design.”

Inside, the atmosphere changed. The air was charged with excitement, like everyone had just been promised a glimpse of the future. A large banner stretched across the atrium, bold letters spelling out:

    “Dr. Tek Presents: The Next Step in Human Innovation.”

Bulma muttered under her breath, “Yeah, yeah. Let’s see what kind of snake oil you’re selling today.”

She found a seat near the back, crossing one leg over the other, tablet in hand. The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight hit the stage.

Dr. Tek stepped out in a pristine suit, his black hair combed to perfection. He raised his arms like a conductor ready to direct an orchestra.

A genius, rich, philanthropist, playboy, and most importantly in Bulma’s mind, an asshole that didn’t care what his mouth said, as long as the checks were cashed.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Dr. Tek began, “today marks not just a breakthrough—but a rebirth. For centuries, humans have strained against their limits, but those days… are over.”

The stage shifted, panels opening like mechanical petals. Out from the center, three figures emerged.

Gasps rippled through the audience.

They weren’t his usual robots—not in the obvious sense. They looked human. Too human. Skin that reflected the lights naturally, eyes that scanned the crowd with unnerving clarity, movement fluid enough to pass for flesh and bone.

Bulma raised an eyebrow as Dr. Tek spread his arms toward his creations.

“I give you the future. Humanity perfected. I give you all my greatest creation, my biggest dream, Synthetics. The unity of biomechanical engineering and robotics research purposed by MechaCo, with partnership from many, many great minds that unfortunately aren’t here today. But we all have grants to pursue and stakeholders to keep off our backs, am I right?”

His words gained some chuckles from the crowd of scientists who knew all too well what that was like. 

“These are not machines pretending to be human,” he continued, pacing slowly before the three figures. “They are not human. Or rather, the next tool that humanity can use. Designed with precision, guided by data, an AI to respond to needs, questions, and wants, and engineered with resilience. They think, they adapt, they grow in our linked network.”

Bulma’s pen froze mid-scribble. 

“Grow?”

 Her mind replayed the word like a scratched record.

The three Synthetics stepped forward in unison, their movements so natural it sent a ripple of unease down her spine. Their eyes were vacant; from a distance, it looked real.

Too real.

“Through the fusion of organic tissue and biomechanical innovation,” Tek said, gesturing toward them, “we have crafted things that can survive in environments where ordinary humans cannot. The deepest oceans. The coldest tundras. The vacuum of space, possibly. Where you cannot go—they will thrive.”

The audience was hooked, hanging on every syllable. Investors whispered feverishly to one another, others already calculating stock shifts in their heads.

Bulma, however, narrowed her eyes at the mention of: deepest oceans…

Her mind went back to the resort. To the Neraja. The way Tek’s Synthetics had moved as if they were truly human. He wasn’t just building bodyguards. He was preparing something else.

Tek’s grin widened as he placed a hand on one Synthetic’s shoulder. “And, of course, with their capacity for loyalty hardwired into every fiber of their being, they will serve faithfully, without hesitation. The perfect worker, the perfect soldier, the perfect companion.”

“Narracist, much?” Bulma sighed internally, scribbling away into her tablet’s notes.

Tek clasped his hands behind his back, strolling with the arrogance of a man who knew he held the room in his palm. The Synthetics stood perfectly still behind him, the glimmer of their eyes catching the stage lights.

“Now, I’m sure many of you have seen the recent news reports,” Tek said. “The attack at the resort. The… creatures that surfaced from the ocean, stealing lives, spreading chaos.”

The murmurs began immediately, the audience shifting uneasily. Camera shutters clicked faster, reporters readying their soundbites.

Tek raised a hand, silencing them with the practiced ease of a conductor. “You see, ladies and gentlemen, these tragedies are exactly why we cannot afford to stand still as a species. We must evolve. The world grows more dangerous by the day—monsters hiding in the depths, threats emerging from shadows. Humanity as it is cannot withstand these trials.”

He gestured grandly toward the Synthetics. “But with them? We are not helpless. These can endure pressures that would crush an ordinary diver. They can resist toxins, extremes, and yes, even enemies who come from the sea.”

A round of impressed gasps rippled through the hall. Investors were nodding, their fears carefully molded into awe by his words.

Tek was being too specific. Too damn specific. Bulma tapped her pen against her leg, pondering on what else he was going to say. He hadn’t mentioned Neraja by name, but she could hear it. He knows more than he’s letting on.

And then Tek smiled like he was the world’s greatest triumphant. 

“In a world where humanity is threatened, I intend to provide not only protection but perfection. No one will have to fear the unknown again.”

The applause thundered through the auditorium, but Bulma barely noticed. Her eyes narrowed at the Synthetics, studying every detail. The way one tilted its head ever so slightly, if it was alive, a living being with a conscience.

“What are you really building, Tek?”

She knew all too well what the makings of a madman looked like. They weren’t always old geezers high on the idea of power and control, but instead younger people with brilliant minds, charismatic words, and a penchant for making millions. And as he continued, she knew which archetype he was.

“These are not just machines. These are companions, protectors, even extensions of yourself. No two units are alike; each one is tailored, unique, irreplaceable.” His voice lowered into something softer, coaxing, almost intimate. “They can simulate the birth of a child. They can replicate the touch of a former lover. They can be the friend you always wished for, or the child that never grows up.”

The crowd was silent, then erupted into murmurs, equal parts wonder and unease. Tek let it wash over him, smiling as though he had expected nothing less.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the age of loneliness is over. The age of fragility is over. Today marks the beginning of something greater. For the first time in history, humanity can transcend its limits not with weapons, but with love, connection, and an eternal helper.”

He gestured to the rows of Synthetics behind him, “Pre-orders begin today. Ownership of a synthetic isn’t just a purchase—it’s an investment in a better version of yourself, in a future where you are never alone, never weak, never forgotten.”

The applause swelled, though Bulma couldn’t tell if it was admiration or unease driving it. Her grip on her pen tightened. 

“Simulate the birth of a child… the touch of a lover… What the hell are you making, Tek?”

It wasn’t just a leap in robotics or bioengineering—it was a moral labyrinth, and Tek seemed to be walking through it blindfolded, dragging the rest of the world along with him. A Synthetic wasn’t just a machine; it was a mirror for desire, grief, loneliness, and obsession. And he was selling it like candy.

“If these things end up in the wrong hands… if Drevos’ kind, or anyone with ill intent, gets a hold of these…”

The kidnapping at the resort flashed in her mind again. The sea people, the trident, the hostages. Tek’s creations were meant to be companions, but in the wrong scenario, they could be tools or weapons.

Bulma blinked, forcing herself to focus. 

“No. Right now, I need to understand everything about them. Every line of code, every genetic manipulation, every interaction they can have. I can’t let this spiral out of control.”

She sighed, forcing calm into her features before jotting a single line in her tablet: 

Synthetics, investigate fully. Potential threat and opportunity.

Tek’s words carried on. 

“These Synthetics aren’t just companions. They will elevate quality of life, friends, children, lovers, all crafted with the care and precision science demands. Unlike others in our field, those who focus on war machines, control, or domination,” he said, “we are creating for life, not destruction.”

Bulma’s mind immediately drew the comparison, and the name Dr. Gero popped into the back of her mind. She didn’t need Tek to say more; she already understood. There were scientists whose “advancements” were excuses for killing, for manipulating, for power. Tek’s words were intentionally vague, but she felt the weight of the implication.

Her eyes went to Tek, who stood there radiating confidence, unaware that one of the most brilliant minds in the room was already planning how to dissect every last detail of his “lifesaving creations.”

As Tek’s applause-filled conclusion faded, the crowd surged toward the demo units set up along the perimeter of the seminar hall. Bulma’s mind, however, was elsewhere, already dissecting every word Tek had said, every nuance in his tone, and every possible flaw or hidden feature in the Synthetics.

She approached one of the humanoid units, a sleek model with neutral features and a calm, almost unnervingly natural expression. Its eyes followed her as she walked around it, limbs fluid as though it were alive. Bulma crouched, her fingers hovering just above the synthetic skin, careful not to trigger any sensors prematurely.

“Let’s see what you’re made of,” she murmured, eyes scanning for seams, micro-joints, and access points. She discreetly pulled out a small tablet from her bag, connected to her portable scanner, and began reading the unit’s bio-kinetic outputs. The data streamed quickly, displaying subtle energy readings, micro-motor calibrations, and neural network activity.

Her brow furrowed. “Okay… interesting,” she whispered. “It’s simulating… actual heartbeat patterns. The tactile sensors are far more advanced than I expected. And these… emotional response algorithms—they’re sophisticated, but I’m seeing minor delays in synaptic feedback loops. That could be exploited… or optimized.”

The Synthetic tilted its head as if curious, voice calm when it spoke. “Hello. How may I assist you?”

Bulma smiled, her mind racing with calculations and possibilities. “You’re impressive… but let’s see how you really function when someone tries to push your limits.”

With a subtle flick of her wrist, she activated a hidden subroutine in her scanner, starting a low-level diagnostic that wasn’t part of the public demonstration. The Synthetic responded as expected at first, mimicking human gestures perfectly, but Bulma’s eyes narrowed as she detected an unusual spike in energy flow beneath its synthetic skin.

She made a mental note to get her own hands on a unit later for research purposes. For now, she needed answers, and she intended to get them before anyone realized she was poking through the inner workings of Tek’s so-called “perfect creations.”

An anomalous energy spike, not the even output she’d been monitoring. It was like a pulse appearing on the scanner.

“That’s not standard. That’s a surge capacitor?”

Before she could dig deeper, the Synthetic’s pupils dilated unnaturally, its gaze fixing on her tablet. Its voice, calm as ever, repeated: “How may I assist you?” But the tone was flatter this time, almost like it was suppressing another line of code trying to break through.

Bulma’s heart raced. She subtly switched her scanner to a narrower frequency, peeling back the system’s layers. The interface revealed what looked like… secondary protocols. Not public-facing companion functions, but buried subroutines tagged with ominous labels: Defense Override. Combat Readiness. Target Acquisition.

Tek wasn’t lying about the quality-of-life improvements, but he left out the fact that these things are packing combat-grade infrastructure.

The Synthetic twitched, its fingers flexing. For just a moment, Bulma saw the smooth, humanlike facade falter, the skin shifting to reveal faint outlines of reinforced plating beneath.

She quickly killed the scan and slipped her tablet back into her bag, standing upright with a forced smile. “Nice demo. Very… realistic.”

The Synthetic blinked, its expression smoothing over. 

“Thank you for your feedback.”

She knew what she’d seen. And if Tek was publicly dressing these things up as companions while secretly slotting in combat functions…

“Impressive, isn’t it?”

Bulma turned around at the familiar voice. That practiced voice slipped in just over her shoulder, low enough that it was meant only for her. She turned and found Dr. Tek himself, smiling warmly like an old friend, though his eyes carried something more observant.

“You’ve got the look of someone who’s not just impressed by the skin-deep spectacle.” He folded his hands behind his back, posture loose, casual. “Most people here see the miracle. But you—” his eyes went to her tablet, which was hanging out of her bag, then back to her face “—you see the gears turning underneath, don’t you?”

Bulma forced a giggle, “I’m a tech girl, what can I say? Always curious about the nuts and bolts. You put on quite the show.”

Tek’s grin widened, but not in a way that comforted her. 

“Curiosity is healthy. Dangerous, sometimes—but healthy. And you’re right, of course. These aren’t just products; they’re possibilities. Different faces for different needs. Whatever someone longs for, they can provide.” He leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “It’s… personal, in a way, isn’t it? The dreams you put into them.”

Bulma kept her expression neutral, even playful, but her stomach was still knotted from what she’d scanned.

“Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

“Almost.” His eyes lingered on her for just a moment too long, as if he were testing her, before he straightened and clapped his hands together softly. “I’ll leave you to your exploring. Enjoy yourself, Miss Briefs.”

The way he said her name made her skin prickle. He hadn’t needed an introduction.

She hadn’t introduced herself, she hadn’t even signed in under her real name for this seminar.

“How do you—?” she started, but Tek cut her off with a soft chuckle, raising a hand as if to calm her.

“Please. Capsule Corp's prestige doesn’t just wander into my events unnoticed. Especially not days after such… troubling headlines. How is Dr. Brief these days?”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me.”

“On the world,” Tek corrected. “Patterns, movements, anomalies. You’d be surprised how much easier it is to connect the dots when you know what questions to ask. A woman of your intellect would understand that better than anyone. Your Father does, so I’m sure you’re not too far from the tree.”

“I should mingle,” Bulma said.

“Be sure to tell your husband I said hello.”

Bulma had pivoted halfway back; the mention of her husband made her feel forced to see what he was talking about. 

Tek went on, folding his arms as if he were merely musing aloud. “A man like that… People say he fought those creatures with nothing but his own strength. No weapons, no armor, no machines. That’s… rare. And remarkable. Science thrives on rarity.” He crossed his arms, as if picturing the possibilities. “I imagine someone like him could open doors most of us don’t even realize exist.”

Bulma wasn’t sure if he was marveling at Goku like a scientist staring at a new specimen, or dangling the idea of Goku as some recruitable ally in his schemes.

Either way, it made her skin crawl.

Tek gave her a smile, the kind meant to seem harmless. “One day, I do hope we can sit down together. Him, you, me. I have no doubt it would be… enlightening.”

And just like that, he was already drifting back into the orbit of other guests, leaving Bulma rooted in place, her pulse thumping in her throat.

It was time to go. She slipped out of the exhibition hall, Tek’s words still needling the back of her mind. The chatter of investors and journalists trailed behind her as the glass doors hissed shut, muting the voices inside. Cool air hit her face, a welcome relief after the suffocating tension.

She dug in her purse for her capsule case, eyes on the ground, replaying Tek’s smile, the glint in his eye when he mentioned Goku.

“Recruitment? Research? Or both? Either way, I need to warn him before Tek makes another move—”

Her thoughts snapped apart as she smacked hard into someone rounding the corner.

“Whoa. You okay there, Bulma?”

Bulma blinked, catching herself before she fell to the ground. Her eyes went wide as she got a good look at the guy with whom she was about to have words.

“…Yamcha? What are you doing on this side of town?”

“I had to buy some things.” He rubbed the back of his neck, half-grimace, half-smirk. “But. Didn’t expect to see you here either, Bulma.”

She looked at the man, then her mind went back to a few days ago at the resort.

“I got your text, all of them.”

“Yeah, I saw you read them, but no dice on a response to any of them. What’s with that?”

“Why are you texting me things like, ‘I miss you’, ‘How do we work things out again?’, ‘Are we still friends?’, ‘Come over,’ because you know that isn’t right. It isn’t fair to Goku or me when you’re sending messages like that to my phone. You know I’m married. You were there. You were invited. You had a Bachelor’s party for Goku. So why?”

“Well, because-“

“You think Goku and I aren’t going to last? Don’t you have a new girlfriend to worry about rather than stalking me?”

Yamcha scoffed, “Come on, stalking you? Be serious, Bulma, nobody is stalking you.”

Bulma crossed her arms, unconvinced in the slightest, “You’re downtown, in the business district, ‘shopping’ with no bags in your hand yet. And you just so happen to be near the seminar and bump into me right as I leave.  So, yes, you must be stalking me.”

“I’m not stalking you. It’s just a coincidence.”

“Okay. Coincidence. Where is your girlfriend then?”

“Koi? She’s at my place.”

“Why are you texting me all that crap when you have a girlfriend? Don’t you respect her? Or even yourself, for that matter?”

“It’s not like that, Bulma. Koi’s… Great. But she isn’t you. She doesn’t get me like you did.”

“That’s because I put up with your crap for years. I’m done with that. I’ve moved on, Yamcha—you should too.”

Yamcha grabbed her wrist, doing his best to cut Bulma off from just walking away. “You think I don’t see what’s happening? You and Goku—it’s not built to last. He’s not like us. One day he’s gonna walk off into some fight and not come back, and where does that leave you?”

“It leaves me with a man who actually loved me. I would rather mourn my Husband until he gets wished back by the Dragon Balls than spend another day as your girlfriend, Yamcha. That’s more than I could say for you.”

Bulma snatched her wrist away; the faintest sign of a red bruise had formed on it.

Yamcha’s hand twitched like he wanted to reach for her again, but he stopped himself. “You’re making a mistake, Bulma. And when it all comes crashing down… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Jealous, much?”

“You’re such a pretentious bitch… I swear.” 

“What did you call me?”

“Nothing.”

“No, I heard you under your breath. You called me a pretentious bitch.”

“You’re just hearing what you wanna hear. I’m just glad Koi is way easier to get along with than you.”

“Then maybe you should focus on her instead of sniffing around me.”

Yamcha’s jaw tightened, but he forced a laugh. “You think you’re so much better now, don’t you? Wife of the so-called strongest man on Earth… pretentious as ever.”

“No, Yamcha. I think I’m finally happy. And that burns you up inside, doesn’t it?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Just stood there, fists clenched, before stepping aside. “Enjoy it while it lasts, Bulma. Nothing perfect ever does.”

She walked past without looking back, but her heart was pounding, not from fear, never from him—but from the nagging sense that Yamcha’s bitterness was going to lead him somewhere dangerous.

Yamcha stayed there longer than he should have, reflecting on the fuckup he just did, before a voice drew him back to reality.

“Some woman she is, am I right?” 

He looked over to see the man who was plastered on the billboards standing off to the side.

“You’re-”

“Dr. Tek,” the man finished his statement. “And I’d just so happen to overhear your conversation. Would you mind having a chat with me?

“About what?”

Dr. Tek grinned as if he already knew the man’s reluctance, “About our future partnership, if you’re interested in becoming wealthier than Son Bulma and getting back at her.”

Apprehension crossed Yamcha’s features. “Back at her? What are you talking about?”

Tek’s grin widened, unsettling in its disguise. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean. That fire in your chest when you see her happy… you’ve been holding onto it for years. Imagine channeling that into something… profitable. Something that could give you leverage, control, even satisfaction you can’t get otherwise.”

Yamcha swallowed hard, his instincts warring with his ego. “And why the hell would I trust you?”

“Because,” Tek said, “I offer tools, resources, and… opportunities that you don’t even realize you’re missing. You want a piece of what Bulma has? Or do you want to finally prove to yourself that you can rise above being just the guy left behind?”

Yamcha’s hand tightened into a fist, half in anger, half in thought. The temptation was there—and he needed the money. Seeing Bulma come here made him wait to talk to her, but he was actually supposed to get a pregnancy test for Koi. 

“I’ll be home in no time, Koi. Just one more thing to do.”

Tek knew he didn’t need to push harder; his words alone were enough to plant a seed that could spiral the man in front of him.

“You’ve got my attention,” Yamcha muttered, though the hesitation in his tone betrayed him.

“Excellent. Let’s talk about plans, shall we?”

The quiet ride home for Bulma was far from it in her head. All she could think about was the conversation she just had with Yamcha, not the Synthetics or anything involving Tek. Just that bastard who always knew how to get under her skin in the fastest way possible. 

“Pretentious bitch?” 

She repeated his criticism of her as if it were a language that had never been spoken. Sure, she had her moments and wasn’t the easiest person to be around, but being called a bitch? Now that was too far gone for a man whore who was trying to once again cheat on his current girlfriend with her.

“Classic fucking Yamcha.” 

Bulma grumbled to herself, speeding her way home. All she wanted to do now was be babied by her husband and decompress from the day. Because tomorrow, she needed to make sure the submarine was ready for the search. 

Chapter Text

“Work hard, study well, and eat and sleep plenty!”

Goku grinned as he shifted back into his fighting stance, feet firmly planted on the metal flooring of the Capsule Corp training chamber. The words echoed in his head, something Master Roshi used to tell him and Krillin all the time during their training. And for Goku, it was still the simplest, truest path.

Before him, three humanoid robots, Bulma’s handiwork, designed more for durability than raw firepower, clanked into motion. Their mechanical joints whirred, glowing optics tracking every twitch of his muscles. Bulma had thrown herself into upgrading them these past few days after the resort incident, making sure they could at least try to keep up with him.

“Alright! Let’s go again!” Goku shouted, his grin widening.

The first bot lunged, swinging a heavy fist like a battering ram. Goku ducked low, the air splitting as the punch missed him by inches, and countered with a jab to its torso. Metal groaned, circuits sparked, but the bot kept moving, grabbing at him with surprising strength.

The second came from behind, arms snapping out like whips, sparking with energy that crackled over Goku’s back. He winced at the sting; it wasn’t much compared to real ki, but Bulma was getting better at simulating attacks that could push him, even just a little.

The third bot stayed back, a projector flaring from its arm as it launched a rapid series of energy blasts. Goku twisted, weaving between them, the beams exploding against the chamber’s reinforced walls.

His heart was thundering now, not from fear, but from exhilaration. He thrived in this, in pushing himself past limits no one else could see. No matter what, he wanted to get stronger and test his limits before he could break them again.

He knocked one bot back with a spinning kick, sent the other sprawling with a double palm strike, then blurred forward in a series of afterimages to dismantle the last with a flurry of rapid punches.

Sparks showered the room as all three crashed to the floor in a heap of smoking metal.

“Whew!” Goku exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, sweat gleaming on his skin. “Not bad! Bulma, you’re getting really good at making these things tough.”

While she wasn’t there, he knew she had cameras in the room. So he grabbed a towel he left on the bench, wiping his face from the sweat of today’s training before giving the camera a thumbs up. 

The camera went up and down as if it was nodding, almost smug like Bulma’s personality transcended through the camera’s lens.  

“Guess that means I did good, huh?”

The speakers crackled—Bulma’s voice had been pre-recorded, probably to taunt him whenever she wasn’t around. “Don’t get cocky, Goku! There’s still room for improvement.”

“Sheesh, she even yells at me when she’s not here.” The grin that formed from her voice made him happy all the same. Bulma just made him happy. Hearing her voice made him happy, even if she was busy with her work; there was always a way she made for him to have her around in some fashion.

Goku stretched his arms back, working out the kinks in his muscles as he walked over to the capsule fridge, cracking open a water bottle Bulma stocked for him. He gulped it down in a few seconds, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

His eyes went back to the camera, his smile softening just a bit. “Thanks, Bulma. You always look out for me.”

The lens light blinked, like she was right there watching him more closely than any machine should.

“Now that I’m rehydrated, it’s time to get back to training. I should try out those new robots, Bulma was telling me about.”

Goku pressed the button labeled, experimental, and from the floor emerged two larger robots, with much more plating and weaponry than the former ones he had just gotten through with it.

“You guys look strong.”

The robots spoke in unison, “Son Goku. Target. Threat level: Unstoppable.”

“Unstoppable? Come on, guys, I’m not that strong, trust me. Let’s just have a good fight.”

The two robots looked at each other, then back at Goku.

“Objective: Defeat Son Goku.”

The experimental bots stomped forward, the floor shaking beneath their heavy frames. Their eyes glowed red, scanning him, then they rushed him down.

Goku crossed his arms over his shoulder, blocking the combined strike of his two opponents.

“That’s the spirit!”

Goku forced them back with a flux of his ki, gaining some distance as he backstepped with the robot labeled EX-1 on its head, rushing him immediately.

The two traded strikes as Goku easily dodged everything the robot was attempting to hit him with.

“Come onnn. I know you've got more tricks up your sleeve?”

The Robot named EX-2 raised its arm, the plating folding back to reveal a built-in cannon. Charging up a beam of energy that it was prepared to unleash on Goku.

“Lock-on-acquisition successful.”

A whining sound echoed in the training chamber as the cannon on EX-2 glowed brighter, heat waves bending the air around it.

“Whoa, that’s new!” Goku laughed, vanishing with a flash of speed just as the blast tore through the space he’d been standing in. The beam slammed into the far wall, rocking the entire chamber. Bits of plaster and smoke rained down from the ceiling.

“Bulma, you really went all-out this time, huh?”

But he didn’t have time to admire the destruction. EX-1 had already closed in, driving a piston-powered punch at his ribs. Goku twisted, letting it scrape by him with sparks, then countered with a heel kick that sent the machine skidding across the floor.

EX-2 swiveled its cannon toward him again, systems locking on with robotic precision.

“Two-on-one, good teamwork, higher output than the last batch…” Goku’s blood pumped faster with every thought. “If I can keep up with them, then if I ran into Piccolo again, it’d push me even further. Heh, I bet he’s training just as hard right now.”

The second beam charged, louder this time. 

“Guess it’s time I stop playin’ around.”

Goku got into the stance to perform a quick Kamehameha, firing it as a small wave that surged from his palm, colliding straight into the cannon’s blast. The two beams clashed, the collision blooming into a thunderous shockwave that forced both EX units to recalibrate.

Smoke filled the room, but Goku’s silhouette etched through it, smiling, alive with the rush of battle.

“Alright, your turn.”

The smoke shifted just in time for EX-1 to launch itself back into the fray, servos screaming as it blurred forward with surprising speed. Goku caught its fist mid-swing, the force causing his heels to slide across the floor.

“Not bad… but you’ll have to try harder than that!”

He twisted its arm, spinning the robot like a top before flinging it into the wall. EX-2 fired immediately, a second beam erupting from its cannon. Goku vanished in an instant, reappearing above the blast, but EX-1 was already back on its feet—eyes glowing brighter, its plating shifting into a new formation.

“Ohhh, a transformation! Bulma, you’ve been watching me too much.”

The robot’s arms split apart into dual blades, whirring with an electric hum. EX-1 slashed at him relentlessly, each strike snappier, faster, more calculated than the last. The data they had on Goku was showing its merit, but analytics weren’t everything.

Goku weaved through them with a grin, his forearms sparking as he blocked. But EX-2 joined in, shoulder plates opening to reveal micro-missiles that lit the air with trails of smoke.

“Two on one, huh? Heh. Okay then!”

He powered up, a blue aura of ki flaring around him, swatting aside several missiles. He blurred between the explosions, closing on EX-2 in a heartbeat and slamming his fist into its chest plate. The robot skidded back, dented but still functional, its systems already repairing the damage with self-adjusting nanoplates.

“Whoa… you’re tougher than I thought.”

The two synthetics regrouped, moving with frightening coordination. EX-1 lunged low, blades aiming for his legs, while EX-2 fired another barrage from above. For the first time, Goku had to push harder, flipping into the air and unleashing a wide Kamehameha to clear the field.

The blast rattled the entire training chamber. When the smoke thinned, both robots were still standing—scarred, but adapting. Their voices overlapped, cold and synthetic:

“Son Goku. Battle output: rising. Response: escalate.”

Their frames shifted again, plating sliding back to reveal deeper reserves of weapons and power sources. Their ki-sensors sparked like they were trying to copy his energy output.

Goku’s grin widened, sweat dripping down his temples. His heart hammered in his chest, not from fear, but from pure excitement.

“Now we’re talkin’! Let’s go all the way, you guys!”

Goku blurred forward, fists like lightning, slamming into EX-1’s chest plate with a strike so heavy it bent metal inward. Sparks flew. The machine’s optics flickered, its movements glitching for the first time.

“Guess you can’t keep up forever!”

Before he could celebrate, EX-2 dropped in from above, cannon aimed at his skull. Goku smirked, flipping backward as the blast tore past him and smashed into the wall. He landed lightly, ready to counter—only to see both bots jerk unnaturally, their movements stuttering.

“Uh-oh…” Goku scratched his cheek. “Did I break something important?”

Their voices came back in a distorted chorus, overlapping, screeching, almost like static tearing through speakers.

“So-on G-Goku… tar-rget… malfun-nction… elim-ynate… eliminate…”

The red optics flared brighter, more erratic. EX-1 swung wildly, its blade-arm crashing into the floor and carving out a molten trench. EX-2’s cannon began overcharging, the light inside sparking violently, uncontrolled.

“Hey, hey! That doesn’t look good.”

Goku dashed in, disabling EX-1 with a heavy chop to its neck joint, but the robot kept moving, swinging blindly, like it didn’t even register the damage anymore. EX-2 turned its cannon toward the entrance of the chamber, sensors malfunctioning—just as the doors hissed open.

Bulma stepped in, tablet in hand, her eyes narrowing as she prepared to scold Goku for pushing the prototypes too hard—only to freeze as the unstable cannon locked directly onto her.

Goku’s stomach dropped.

“BULMA!”

The cannon shrieked as it discharged, the beam exploding forward like a lance of pure fire. Bulma froze, eyes wide, the tablet slipping from her hands.

But Goku was already there.

He vanished from where he stood, an afterimage reappearing in front of her just as the blast hit. The blast detonated, filling the room with blinding light and heat. The shockwave rattled the walls, blew sparks from the consoles, and sent Bulma stumbling back.

When the light died down, Goku was still standing, steam rising off his skin, gi shredded across his torso. 

He wasn’t playing anymore.

“Go-ku?” 

He glanced back at Bulma, giving the smallest grin despite the smoke curling off his body. 

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

The robots spoke with corrupted, distorted audio, charging their weapons again. Goku’s aura flared, the white-blue glow around him as he dropped into his stance, dead serious now.

“Alright, no more messing around.”

The corrupted bots powered up again, red optics burning as they locked onto their target. Both cannons hummed, ready to fire.

Goku’s aura ignited in an instant, flooding the room with pressure that made the air itself feel like it was being weighed down by a thousand anvils. He blurred forward before the machines could release another shot—one moment across the room, the next a blur of fists and feet.

EX-1’s head twisted backward under a single blow, sparks spitting from its neck. Goku spun, slamming a heel into its chest plate, caving it in and launching the machine into the far wall.

EX-2 managed half a charge before Goku’s palm ripped through its cannon, tearing the arm clean off. He followed with an elbow strike that split its torso, wires whipping out like severed intestines.

Both bots collapsed in twitching heaps of metal before Bulma could even take another breath.

Goku exhaled, brushing soot from his arm, his ki dimming back down. He turned to Bulma with that sheepish grin, like he’d just accidentally knocked over her favorite vase.

“Guess I hit ‘em a little too hard, huh?”

Bulma stomped, her heels clicking furiously against the floor. “A little too hard? Goku, you fried two prototypes that cost me weeks of work!”

Goku scratched the back of his head, his grin never faltering. “Aw, sorry, Bulma. But they were acting weird—like, really weird. They tried to blast you.”

“That’s because you broke their targeting systems!” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “You’re supposed to test them, not smash them to pieces the second they get tricky!”

“But I didn’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Unbelievable! Do you know how many sleepless nights I put into those bots? And you—you turned them into scrap in five minutes!”

Goku laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. “Heh… maybe less than five.”

Her eye twitched. “Not helping!” She threw her hands up, groaning. “Ugh, fine. Whatever. Now I just have to make them stronger so you don’t break them like cheap toys next time.”

“That sounds fun! I’ll fight them again when you fix ‘em!”

Bulma muttered under her breath as she stalked back to her console, “Yeah, yeah. At this rate, I’ll have to build a whole army just to keep you entertained.”

“That’d be awesome!”

She rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched like she wanted to smile, because she wasn’t mad, but she wanted to baby him.

One of the wrecked robots sparked, its head swiveling with a glitchy crackle before croaking out, 

“Taaar-get… too… dumb… for analy—”

It fizzled, let out a puff of smoke, and collapsed with a pitiful clunk.

“Great. Now my machines are roasting you too.”

Goku blinked. “Wait, was it calling me dumb?”

Bulma sighed, half-smirked, and patted his arm. “If the shoe fits, honey.”

“But my shoes do fit.”

How literal Goku took things always made her giggle; it was hard to be serious with him. The robots were all for him anyway, and she knew there wasn’t much in terms of material that could tank the damage her husband could dish out.  Maybe if there was something stronger that wasn’t known to man, or better than what they were using now to create the robots, it would help him get stronger. 

“I’ll bring you a meal, Goku. Just make sure everything is deactivated when I come back, m’kay?’

“Okay, Bulma.”

She gave him a quick peck on the lips and headed out of the training chamber with a specific meal for her husband in mind: ramen.

Chapter Text

“Maybe I should add some more safety protocols to the training chamber?” Bulma muttered, glancing at the monitor where Goku was already warming up with the older robots she had designed. Yesterday’s close call with the experimental units was still fresh in her mind, and the thought of another misstep made her fingers itch to type out code modifications immediately.

This was her life. Do some investigating, tinker on inventions, and build robots for her husband to destroy. Then, at the end of the day, unwind and spend time with her teddy bear.  Because she was a simple wife, living a simple life, with a happy life.

“What if that Chi-Chi girl had gotten married to him, instead of me?” Bulma mused on the idea of  Goku marrying that country girl; he didn’t even know what he had agreed to. “Life wouldn’t be all that different, would it?”

Bulma couldn’t help but think about these past few months and how everything had seemed to shape up this way. And while she was always reflecting in her head, it was the opposite of Goku, who was always in the moment, it seemed like. Even now, he didn’t make much mention of what happened at the resort besides small comments here and there referencing the things they did; not even the people who had been Neraja had kidnapped complexity was alien to her; what triggered him and what didn’t hadn’t aligned with anyone she knew personally. 

“What if I told him Yamcha called me a bitch? I wonder what he would do?” Bulma rubbed her chin, while the memory of yesterday’s conversation with Yamcha was stuck in her head. “He doesn’t even know what that means, Bulma.” 

Goku wasn’t the type to hold a grudge, much less attack someone over words he didn’t quite understand. She had very high doubts that he would fight over Bulma’s honor, unless she was actively in danger at the time, especially not someone he considered a friend. Her petty streak wasn’t that bruised, but if he had tried that again, then there were going to be words.

She stood up from her chair and stretched out; it was really time for her to start moving around before she got too stiff from sitting down. Her eyes landed on a portrait of her in her graduation dress, with her parents and Yamcha.

“What could have been, huh?”

There were a lot of times, a lot of opportunities that Yamcha had to marry her if he wanted to pursue that route. So many nights where they would just talk about what kind of relationship they even had. What their goals were down the line, and how far away everything seemingly was. But time flies. She wasn’t going to be a woman raising a baby in her older years; she wasn’t going to wait all night wondering where her boyfriend was, either. There had to be boundaries; there had to be expectations and limits set between both of them. 

Yamcha was a party animal. She didn’t mind it at first; if he was happy, she was happy. The thing was that he loved the money that came with her, the limitless activities he could splurge and gamble with, which she happily funded at the time. It was exciting, she wouldn’t lie. Sneaking into clubs, gambling, drinking, and just partying without worrying about anything. But that was a different time, a different her being influenced by the bad boy in her life. 

“You just never understood, did you, Yamcha?”

Bulma laid the portrait down so that her eyes couldn’t wander back to it when she got back to working. She got sidetracked easily, and that’s all he really ever was to her, a distraction; a different norm from the sheltered life her Mother and Father provided for her and her sister. 

Everyone strayed from their normality at least once; that’s how her Mother ended up with her Father. The bubbly, airheaded woman with the reserved man was a match; she didn’t understand how it was possible until she finally understood what she was feeling for Goku.

Life was kinda crazy like that; a blur of uncertainty and forks in the path that made you stray from where you thought you would be. She was Son Bulma, a name she never thought would belong to her. To the little boy she encountered all those years ago.

Bulma took a glance at the digital clock, and it was just fifteen minutes past noon.

“I should get back to work.”

She walked back to her chair, taking a seat, as her body seemingly agreed with her assessment of sitting, not because her mind was ready to work, but because she was tired and she hadn’t even done much. A pattern that has been recurring since yesterday evening. 

“Ok. Focus. Focus on what you need to do, Bulma. No more distractions.” 

Her vocal affirmations only made it harder to resist. The idea of visiting Goku and watching him train was super high on her list of temptations, but for right now, she figured she’d stay put in the lab; at least she could see him on the camera. Out of sight, maybe, but not out of mind. Her eyes went between the live feed of Goku’s sparring and the scattered windows of schematics, research articles, and social media updates.

The submarine schematics she’d finalized, her father’s work, polished with her own tweaks, were the main thing on her main monitor. She had mapped out the diving point, calculated optimal entry angles, and run stress simulations on the hull integrity. In theory, everything was ready. In practice… Well, she assumed it would be okay.  

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

Bulma didn’t doubt herself when it came to mechanical engineering, and the only difference between this and the submarine that was already in use was the size and extra hands on it, so they wouldn’t have to get out to place the beacons. And there were now drones that could be deployed to produce light and provide video feedback. Ok, maybe a lot more, which she was certainly proud of adding onto the vessel.

Her eyes went back to the ocean data. Currents, tidal patterns, and historical shipping records all pointed to potential Neraja activity, yet nothing concrete emerged. Social media feeds blinked in the corner: eyewitness accounts from the resort incident, videos of a man with a tail, Goku, fighting off what people were calling “fish people,” and frantic speculation from armchair experts.

Bulma pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing.

“Great. So not only do I have to worry about an undersea mystery, synthetics, and a husband who doesn’t know when to quit, but the entire world thinks he’s a superhuman.”

A beep drew her attention to the monitor. Goku had landed a combo on a robot, and for a split second, his grin appeared even through the camera lens.

She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Idiot,” she muttered, shaking her head. “But at least he’s my idiot.”

Turning back to her screens, Bulma pulled up the latest ocean survey data.

“Time to see where the real trouble is hiding…”

There were several indications of activity originating from the Dragon Trench, like tsunamis from earthquakes that seemingly happened out of nowhere. 

She looked closer, eyes narrowing as she traced the lines of data across the 3D map of the ocean floor.

“That can’t be natural,” she muttered, tapping her stylus against the glass. The disturbances weren’t like typical tectonic activity; the quakes were localized, almost targeted, as if something, or someone, was moving deliberately down there.

She zoomed in on the Dragon Trench, the deepest point on the map. There wasn’t much to work with because she needed devices down there to track and gather more data. And that meant she would need her husband and herself to place said devices in that darkness. Who, of course, was pretty much carefree about the whole ordeal. 

Bulma looked at the monitor again, which showed Goku in the training room. Just as she summarized, he was focused entirely on the bots she had made for him. 

“Maybe I should drag him into this sooner rather than later,” she sighed, already imagining how he’d treat the submarine like a toy. The last time she’d crammed him into one, he’d been a chubby-cheeked kid. Now he had muscles and appetite, and not just for fighting. And when this was all over, she still owed him that lab coat fantasy.

Her face blushed at the thought of her husband ravishing her right on her work desk, and just having his way with her as she crumpled under that body of his that was becoming an Adonis.

Bulma tucked the capsule into her jacket pocket. What came next was work. It wasn’t going to be fun, but work was work. The sooner they got through this hurdle, the sooner she could be back to her routine, tinkering and shopping. 

“Now all I need to do is get him ready.”

Bulma pressed the intercom button, “Goku, go get dressed. We’re leaving in 10 minutes.”

From her point of view, Goku was moving faster than the camera could pick up until he seemingly heard her voice. One minute, he wasn’t on screen, the next, he reappeared, and the robots fell to pieces. 

The thumbs up he gave the camera before he walked out let her know that he had heard her, and that she wouldn’t have to drag him out of there.

Bulma shut down her console and headed for the helipad. No way was she letting Goku carry her all the way there; the Eastern Ocean’s salty air would destroy her stylist’s work in five minutes flat.

The flying vehicle easily muffled the strong winds that were blowing on from what would be assumed to be the upcoming thunderstorm in a few days, if the news was right.

Bulma adjusted her headset, eyes locked on the navigation screen in front of her.

“Alright… we’re almost at the drop point. Coordinates match up. Once we’re there, I’ll deploy the sub.” She flicked a switch, the capsule case sitting snug beside her seat, ready for use.

Goku leaned against the window like a kid on a field trip, eyes wide as he watched the waves crash far below. 

“Man, it looks huge from up here. So that’s where those Neraja guys came from, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bulma replied, double-checking the readouts. “Dragon Trench. The deepest known depth in the ocean. And if they’ve been making quakes on purpose, then we’re going to find proof down there.”

“Sounds like fun!” Goku grinned, sitting up. “When we go in, can I fight one if it shows up?”

“No, you can’t just ‘fight one’ like this is some tournament, Goku. We’re gathering data, not throwing punches.”

He rubbed the back of his head with that sheepish grin that usually melted her irritation. “Heh. I’ll try to remember that.”

“But if they try to attack us or something, then I’ll need you to protect me and the submarine.”

“I can do that, Bulma.”

“I’m counting on you, Goku.”

Their transport dipped as the autopilot adjusted course. A beacon on the display pinged, and Bulma leaned forward. 

“That’s it. Pinpoint location reached.”

She unbuckled, grabbing the capsule. Her expression shifted into pure concentration. “Okay. Time to put my baby in the water.”

“Capsules always amaze me. Is it going to be different from the one from years ago? That one was kinda small.”

Bulma smirked, palming the capsule. “Yup. Watch and learn.” She pulled the side door open, ocean wind rushing in and whipping at her hair. With a dramatic toss, she hurled the capsule downward.

Poof!

A cloud of smoke erupted just above the water’s surface, clearing to reveal a gleaming, reinforced submarine bobbing in the waves below. The vessel loomed as stabilizers extended, riding the swell like it was alive.

“Not bad, huh?” Bulma grinned, brushing her hair back against the wind.

“Whoa!” Goku leaned out the door to get a better look, practically bouncing in his seat. “That’s awesome! You really built that all by yourself?”

“Of course I did. Who else could?”

He laughed, and she felt the sound ease some of the tension in her chest. But only some. Because somewhere beneath those deceptively calm waters, something was waiting.

Bulma glanced at the trench marker on her screen. The signal lines traced straight down into the dark.

“Alright,” she set the helicopter to auto-land on the ocean’s surface. “Let’s see what’s hiding in the dark, Goku.”

The cabin shifted as the transport eased down, the distant horizon now changed into an endless spread of blue. When the landing skids finally touched the water, the transport rocked, bobbing with the swell.

“Whoa… we’re really just… sitting on the ocean now? That’s so weird!”

Bulma rolled her eyes, “Yeah, it’s called ‘buoyancy,’ Goku. Science makes weird things possible.”

Goku just nodded along like he understood exactly what she meant, “I dunno about science, but this is cool. Feels like we’re on a big ol’ raft!”

Bulma grabbed her capsule briefcase and strapped on her utility belt. Her expression turned serious as she glanced out at the waiting submarine. 

“Alright. This is the easy part. Getting in.”

The disturbed waves slapped against the sub’s hull, a hollow metallic thoom echoing each time. The sound made the hair on the back of Bulma’s neck prickle. The trench was still far beneath them now, just waiting to swallow anything brave or stupid enough to dive in.

“Ready?” 

“Yup!” Goku was already unbuckling, grinning like a kid about to dive off a pier. “Let’s go see what’s down there!”

“Leave it to you to sound excited about going into the literal darkest pit on Earth.”

Bulma had let him take the lead toward the vessel’s hatch. He was excited, and she couldn’t blame him for that, because science was always interesting. There were so many different theoretical possibilities that could technically be possible, but plausible? That was a different matter. 

Once she was inside, Bulma spun the hatch shut and sealed it with a hiss of pressurized locks. The air inside the sub was crisp, recycled through the filters she had triple-checked back at Capsule Corp. She brushed her palms across the control panel, each button and lever responding with a neat click or hum, a symphony of engineering she knew by heart: depth control, steering, sonar mapping, emergency ballast release, navigation arrays. Everything gleamed, state-of-the-art—her father’s vision, perfected under her hands.

“How long will it take for us to get down there, Bulma?” 

Goku asked, squatting by the viewport like a kid peering into a fish tank. His breath fogged the glass, his nose nearly pressed against it.

She settled herself into the captain’s seat before strapping herself in. “Not too long. All you have to do is be patient. Once things get very dark, you’ll know we’ve made it.”

“Dark, huh?” Goku backed up from the glass. “Guess that means I won’t be able to see the fishies after a while.”

Bulma turned on the sub’s interior lights as she started up the engine.

“Trust me, Goku. Whatever’s down there, it’s not the kind of thing you want to see swimming right up to the glass.”

That earned her a laugh, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he plopped into the co-pilot’s chair, spinning it lazily before settling sideways. His eyes followed her every move as she toggled switches and guided the vessel into its descent.

With a lurch, the submarine slipped under the waves. Outside, sunlight fractured into ribbons, fading fast as they sank deeper. The rhythmic ping… ping… ping of the sonar filled the cabin, each blip a heartbeat coursing through the deep.

Bulma adjusted the thrusters, her eyes on the 3D map that traced their descent.

“Dragon Trench, here we come.”

Time passed, and the submarine’s hull creaked as the pressure mounted, the vessel slipping past the point where sunlight still dared to reach. Outside, the endless blue dimmed to a muted indigo, then darker still, like ink bleeding through water. Strange shapes flitted at the edge of the now on floodlights—thin, alien silhouettes with translucent fins that vanished as quickly as they appeared.

Goku was amazed at what he could catch glimpses of; there were these anomalous creatures, and every so often, a pod of whales could be heard. He hadn’t ever seen anything like this; he never knew the ocean went this deep.

“Bulma, it’s like a whole other world down here.”

Bulma smirked, adjusting the depth gauge. “Welcome to the Twilight Zone. The sunlight is beginning to reach its limit, so it’s all survival-of-the-fittest once we descend further down these depths. Which is exactly why we’re here, because the Neraja are even further down in the Abyssopelagic or Hadalpelagic Zone if my theory is correct.”

“Huh?”

“Basically, we still have to go way further down because the region we are looking at isn’t even close to the bottom. The Dragon Trench is in the Hadalpelagic Zone, which basically means pitch black, lots of pressure, and a lot of unknown factors at work.”

“Okay.” Goku went back to looking at the visor, which was just like Bulma said. The water was getting darker, and the number of fish he could see had dropped drastically. “So what’s the plan again? You’re droppin’ those beacons you mentioned, right?”

“Not just dropping them.” Bulma tapped a button, pulling up a schematic on the side monitor. A wireframe image of a capsule unfolded into a compact drone with stabilizers and floodlights. “These devices are specialized—pressure-resistant, self-powered, and they can emit both sonar and light. Once we place them along the Dragon Trench’s walls, they’ll map the area, track movement, and send all the data back to Capsule Corp. Think of them as little spies that never need to come up for air.”

“Cool!” Goku leaned closer to the screen, studying the drone like it was an opponent sizing him up. “So we just put ‘em down there and wait?”

“Basically. But here’s the tricky part.” Bulma crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair as the sub descended deeper. The sonar pings grew slower, through the chamber like the beat of a giant heart. “Dragon Trench isn’t like any regular ocean trench; it’s unstable. Seismic spikes, unexplained currents, weird readings that don’t add up. The quakes aren’t natural, Goku. Something’s moving down there, and I want to know what before it decides to move up.”

As if on cue, the sub jolted, swayed by a current that came out of nowhere. Goku sat up straighter, instantly alert, but Bulma’s hands flew over the controls, stabilizing their descent.

She didn’t even flinch. “And that’s why I built this sub with thrusters instead of just ballast tanks. With those little surprises? You’d be smashed against the trench wall in a regular model.”

Goku chuckled nervously. “Heh, good thing you’re smart.”

“One of a kind, I’d like to think.”

The submarine’s lights outside struggled against the dark now, swallowed more and more with each meter. Bioluminescent dots flickered in the black, like stars scattered across an abyss. That was until one winked out. Then another. Then three more in a row, as though something enormous had drifted past and blotted them from view.

Bulma frowned, fingers tapping across her console. 

“That’s strange. I’m not getting a reading. Could just be interference, but…” 

Her observations didn’t get to finish, as something slammed onto the submarine.  The sub lurched violently, metal groaning as something slammed against the hull. The lights flickered, sonar spiked into a shrill screech, and both of them were nearly thrown from their seats.

“Wha—!?” Bulma gripped the controls, steadying the vessel. “That wasn’t a current!”

Goku was already braced, eyes narrowing toward the viewport. 

“Bulma… something’s out there.”

The hull shuddered again, this time a dragging sound scraping along the side as if claws—or something like them were testing the sub’s shell. Bioluminescent dots scattered in every direction, disturbed by the unseen presence circling them.

Bulma’s heart hammered, her mind racing through engineering specs like a lifeline. “The hull’s reinforced, it should hold, but if it keeps ramming us—”

A low, resonant thunk echoed through the cabin again. 

“Bulma. I think it knows we’re here.”

She was half tempted to say, ‘Of course I know that sweetie,’ but there were bigger things to worry about than sassing her husband about the obvious. 

The submarine had finally steadied after the last shudder, the unseen assailant slipping back into the abyss. For a moment, only the hum of machinery and Bulma’s breath filled the cabin, while Goku kept his gaze on the viewport. Whatever it was, it had moved on for the time being.

“No way I’m sitting here blind. I’m sending out a recon drone,” Bulma said.

A panel slid open from the submarine’s outer shell, releasing a fist-sized drone into the water. Its thrusters hummed as it swam out, lights blinking against the black abyss. The feed appeared on the console, and Bulma adjusted the resolution as it panned across the seafloor.

At first, nothing. Just drifting particulates, a barren stretch of rock and silt that had been dug up from whatever had attacked. Then the drone’s camera tilted down along the side of the sub’s hull.

“Look at that…” Bulma muttered.

Across the reinforced plating ran deep, sprawling marks, long streaks that coiled and twisted like tentacles had gripped the metal. But their shape was all wrong. The suction patterns, if that’s what they were, didn’t match any squid or octopus she’d ever studied. They were too irregular. Too serrated. And most importantly, way too large for it to just be a giant squid or something.

“Bulma,” Goku said quietly, eyes narrowing at the image. “What could make that?”

The feed distorted for half a second, static blooming across the screen, before it righted itself. Nothing else appeared. Just the occasional sonar ping of movement in the dark, far beyond the reach of the lights.

Bulma sighed, unsure of what it was herself. 

“Whatever that was, it wasn’t from any catalog I’ve ever read. And it knows we’re here.”

“Then it’s only a matter of time before it comes back.”

The drone glided further into the dark, its small halo of light swallowed almost immediately by the endless black—nothing but drifting particulates and the same dull outline of rock formations.

Then the feed stuttered again. This time, a distortion crawled across the screen.

“Hold on…” Bulma adjusted the signal, biting her lip. The image cleared just enough to reveal a shape on the edge of the visible light, something so large it didn’t register as part of the terrain.

One massive tentacle drifted into view, each ridge along its length catching the drone’s light for only a second before vanishing again into shadow. It wasn’t smooth like a squid’s limb. The surface looked armored, ridged, and jagged, like muscle fused with stone.

The drone’s sensors spiked, warning lights flashing across Bulma’s console.

“God, that thing’s bigger than the sub.”

The tentacle shifted, twisting in unnatural manners, before retreating once again into the abyss. The screen fuzzed with static once more, and the last thing the drone caught was a ripple—like the water itself was bending around something impossibly huge.

“That’s it, pulling it back. If it notices the drone, we’re done for.” Bulma just about had enough of these shenanigans, and whatever the creature was doing, it had some intelligence behind it or someone instructing it.

The feed snapped to black as the drone was recalled, leaving only their reflections in the viewport and the new awareness that they weren’t alone.  But they had to keep going, Bulma hadn’t done all this just to turn around right as they were possibly at the location of the Neraja’s home.

She checked the depth gauge, muttering under her breath. “Ten thousand, nine hundred… almost eleven thousand meters. We’re right on top of the coordinates.” 

The numbers ticked downward, each meter dragging like the hand of a clock in a silent room.

“Are you sure this is safe to keep going, Bulma?”

Usually, it was her questioning him about the logistics of safety, but even her husband wasn’t immune to the idea of fear, or rather the insanity that was his wife’s ambition to pursue trouble at the sake of it all. 

This journey, in a way, was similar to what drove her to find the Dragon Balls, and look what that led to. Bulma knew she wasn’t going to quit, not when that gut feeling was telling her to keep going. 

So she didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes locked at the screen, watching the reading pulse, then flatline, pulse again, as if the instruments couldn’t decide what was real. Finally, she said, “If it is, then it’s only a piece of something bigger. The trench itself is the real key. Whatever’s down here, it’s hiding there.”

The submarine descended further. Outside, the floodlights illuminated sheer rock walls plunging deeper still, like the throat of the world yawning open. The Dragon Trench was finally in sight, a vast gash in the seafloor, darker than the water around it, an abyss within the abyss.

The silence pressed on them. Even the distant swishes of that creature and the crackle of underwater currents they had heard earlier were gone. Nothing moved outside now, no bioluminescent traces, just silence.

“Almost at the drop point. Stay sharp, Goku. This is where things get… unpredictable.”

The sub’s frame groaned as if in protest, and the trench below waited, swallowing their light as if it had never been. The submarine quietly pressed on as Bulma eased the vessel forward, nose dipping toward the abyssal mouth yawning beneath them. The Dragon Trench swallowed their floodlights almost immediately; beams that stretched meters above shrank into dull cones, suffocated by the void.

“Alright…” Bulma said. “We’re here.”

“It’s like flying into a cave that never ends.”

“Exactly. The trench walls are so steep that it’s practically vertical. Think of it as threading a needle while blindfolded.” Her fingers tapped quickly across the controls, stabilizers firing in delicate bursts. “Good thing you’ve got the best pilot around.”

The sonar pulsed, a lonely note that bounced and returned from the jagged cliffs around them. It almost sounded like something living.

“Here,” Bulma said, pulling up the schematic on her console. “First beacon drop point, halfway down this section.” She pressed a switch, and one of the capsule-sized drones slid into the deployment tube.

With a faint hiss, it released. Outside the viewport, the device ignited, stabilizers flickering as it sank toward the rock face. It clamped itself neatly against the trench wall, lights blinking to life. Within moments, Bulma’s screen filled with data: sonar mapping lines sketching out the trench contours in ghostly wireframe.

“One down. Four more to go.” She smirked, her confidence returning. Things were getting better. The situation was returning to normal. 

Goku leaned closer to the monitor, watching the lines trace the dark. “Wow… It’s like drawing the ocean’s insides.”

“That’s the idea. Once these are all in place, we’ll have a complete picture of the upper trench—every current, every quake, everything moving down here. I could sell the data to some inquiring scientist once we wrap this all up.”

The sub continued deeper. The second beacon launched, locking onto a rocky ledge further below with a metallic click. Then the third, further into the darkness. But as the fourth was being deployed, the sonar stuttered. A new shape appeared on the wireframe, long, sinuous, stretching across the trench wall before fading again.

Goku stiffened. “Bulma… did you see that?”

Bulma’s fingers froze on the console. Her voice was calm, but her eyes were locked onto the screen. 

“…Yeah. I saw it.”

The shape hadn’t been random. It wasn’t a random trick. It was something that had moved with purpose.

“Could be the Neraja,” she said, almost to herself. 

The beacon locked into place, its lights flaring. For an instant, the trench wall lit up and faint grooves became visible in the rock. Parallel marks, deep as wounds.

“Bulma… those look like claw marks.”

“We've got to ignore it right now, Goku. We need to reach the bottom, which isn’t too much further down.”

“Okay, Bulma.”

The trench floor soon came into view like a graveyard, a barren stretch of silt broken only by jagged spires of rock jutting from the seabed. The sub’s lights struggled to cut through the murk, illuminating just enough to remind them of how much they couldn’t see.

“Last one,” Bulma muttered, steadying the vessel’s descent. It was an extra beacon she had stashed just in case, and boy was she glad she brought it.  “Once this beacon’s down, we’ll have a full mapping grid.”

The capsule clicked into the loading chamber. With a hiss of pressure release, the bonus drone was ejected. Its lights cut a bright halo through the trench, the stabilizers whirring as it descended toward the floor.

“Go on, baby, lock in.” Bulma’s fingers hovered over the console, ready to confirm.

But before the beacon reached the seabed, the sonar warped. The steady ping fractured, bending around a shape that wasn’t there a second ago. The monitor shivered with static, then drew a massive, curving line across the wireframe.

The beacon’s floodlights swept the trench floor, illuminating the wide, winding, cut-through path as though something massive had meandered through there. Then the light caught something else. Far in the distance, deeper in the trench, a silhouette shifted. That same tentacle lazily against the sea bed, dragging up silt, before vanishing back into the dark.

The beacon’s lights flashed. Then, suddenly, its feed was cut out entirely.

“Dammit,” Bulma slammed the console. “It’s gone offline!”

“What do we do now, Bulma?”

“If the beacon’s fried, we’ll use recon. Let’s see what we’re actually dealing with. Because I just about had it with this stupid squid.”

The launch chamber cycled again, releasing a smaller, sleeker drone into the abyss. Its stabilizers adjusted instantly, feeding a clearer image back to the console. Goku leaned in beside her, eyes glued to the flickering screen.

Something slid out of the black like a ghost.

The camera focused, auto-correcting the blur, and Bulma’s breath caught in her throat. The thing wasn’t like any fish, squid, or whale. Its skin was nearly translucent, stretched thin over wiry muscle that rippled as it drifted forward. The flesh shimmered faintly with the drone’s light, veins faintly glowing beneath the surface as if lit from within.

Then its face turned toward the drone.

A humanoid face—if “human” could be stretched into something alien. The gills or fins that framed both sides of its head certainly were far from anything human. Its eyes were the most jarring: sclera black as the abyss that they were in, and pupils glowing white in the darkness, unblinking.

The drone hovered, its light trembling as the creature drifted closer. Closer. Until the camera feed was suddenly eye-to-eye with the thing.

“Wha—whoa!” Goku jerked back, as if the thing could see through the screen.

Bulma froze, her heart hammering. She could see her own reflection in the monitor, staring back at those impossible eyes.

Then the thing’s jaw flexed, rows of sharp teeth catching the light for just a second before the feed went to static.

Bulma slammed her fist on the console, “Dammit! It destroyed the drone!”

Goku clenched his fists, his grin tight. “…Guess we found ‘em.”

Bulma ran both hands through her hair, “Great. Just great. They’re stalking us. And if you think I’m opening this hatch, forget it. The pressure out there would crush us flatter than a soda can.”

Goku kept his eyes on the viewport, his ki instinct humming like a warning. He couldn’t see anything, but he felt it, something circling. Watching. “They’re fast. I can’t even track ‘em properly,” he muttered. “Like they disappear when they move…”

The sub rocked ever so slightly, as if brushed by a current. Only it wasn’t current—it was deliberate. A shadow slid across the external floodlights before darting away again.

Bulma’s fingers tapped furiously over her console, pulling up defensive protocols. “I didn’t build this thing to fight kaiju knockoffs! If they breach the hull, we’re done, Goku. Pressure at this depth is—” she stopped herself, biting down on the rising panic.

“Bad?” Goku finished, trying to keep the mood light.

“Try instantly fatal! Even for you, if you stepped outside.” She slapped a panel. “The whole point of the submarine is not dying horribly in the deepest part of the ocean.”

Another jolt, harder this time. The hull groaned under the stress, the noise rattling through the cabin like a growl.

Goku glanced at her, his grin gone now, replaced with focus. “Then we gotta keep ‘em from breaking it. You got any tricks?”

Bulma chewed her lip, scanning through her systems. 

“Drones are toast, but I still have the beacon prototypes. They give off bursts of light and sonar… maybe I can use them as decoys? Draw those things off while we try to get out of here.”

“Whatever you’re gonna do, Bulma,” Goku said, bracing himself as the sub rocked again, “do it fast. They’re getting bolder.”

“Come on, come on…” She slammed the execute key, and one of the beacons shot from the vessel’s side hatch, igniting with a flash of sonar pulses and blinding white light.

For a moment, it worked. The shadows scattered, shapes darting in the gloom. Bulma exhaled, relief flickering across her face.

“Ha! See? They’re just like moths—distract ‘em with the shiny toy and—”

The beacon’s light suddenly cut out. A crunch vibrated through the water, intense enough to register on the sonar as a distortion. The next moment, the monitor showed the beacon drifting lifelessly, casing crushed like a tin can.

“No… no, no, no…”

Then came the sound. At first, a chorus of clicks and groans, like whalesong twisted into something more guttural. It reverberated through the sub’s hull, setting Goku’s teeth on edge. The clicking grew louder, closer, until the sounds honed into a deliberate cadence.

And then—words.

A voice, guttural yet clear, seeped through the comms like it was inside the water itself: “You land dwellers are outside your domain.”

“Bulma… did you hear that?”

“Yeah… yeah, I heard it.”

Another thud hit the hull. Not testing this time. Pressing. Asserting. T

The voice came again, this time more forceful, like an order: “You will drown.”

The submarine shuddered as another massive silhouette drifted into view. Bulma’s hands tightened on the console, fingers brushing over every button like a pianist trying to hold the melody together. Through the front viewport, a Neraja pressed its face close, skin nearly translucent, veins and muscles moving beneath in mesmerizing patterns. Its eyes—black sclera, white pupils—locked onto Goku.

Then something changed. Its gaze went lower, and a click sounded through the water, echoed by several others. The creature recoiled slightly, tilting its head as if trying to understand what it had just seen.

Goku shifted in his seat, noticing the reaction. “Uh… Bulma… do they see my tail?”

“Yeah… I think that’s exactly what they saw.”

The Neraja raised a hand, slender, webbed fingers splayed, then spoke in a melodic cadence. The words were unintelligible to human ears. The clicks and guttural chatter of its companions intensified, a chaotic symphony of warning and command. Shadows shifted rapidly outside, shapes moving as if the trench itself had come alive in response to the recognition.

“They probably know you’re the one that fought with Drevos, Goku; whatever happens next, just stay calm, don’t provoke them.”

Goku adjusted his posture, tail twitching involuntarily. 

“Yeah, but if they try something, I can’t just sit here.”

Outside, the form hovered, staring, while the rest of the trench seemed to stir, responding to the Neraja’s ancient summons.

Before Bulma could respond, the water around the submarine seemed to thicken, swirling violently as if the abyss itself had taken notice. A resonant rumble vibrated through the hull. The lights flashed briefly, and then the vessel lurched violently to one side.

“What the—?!” Goku shouted, gripping the edges of his seat as the submarine tilted sharply.

Bulma’s eyes widened, fingers flying over the console. “I’m not touching anything! Something’s—pulling us!”

Through the viewport, a shadow moved in the darkness, colossal in size. Tentacles, massive and rippling with an otherworldly strength, coiled around the submarine. The vessel groaned under the pressure as the leviathan, clearly the pet of the Neraja forces, dragged them down, deeper into the abyss.

“Whoa! That’s one big sea monster!”

“It’s… It’s not just a sea monster. That’s the one who has been harassing us. And it's taking us now!”

The lights of the submarine’s floodlamps reflected against the creature’s armored skin, revealing bioluminescent markings that pulsed in rhythm with the clicks and guttural calls of the surrounding Neraja. They were watching, coordinating, guiding their leviathan as if it were an extension of their own will.

“We have no idea where it’s taking us, or how deep we’re going,” Bulma muttered, her voice tight with both fear and fascination. “At these depths, even a single mistake could crush the hull.”

Goku gritted his teeth, gripping the console. “Well… I guess we’re not just sightseeing anymore.”

The submarine shuddered again, pulled faster now, descending into the shadowed maw of the trench. Outside, the darkness deepened, save for the eerie, pulsating glow of Neraja eyes and the leviathan’s scales, guiding them ever downward.

Bulma’s mind raced through calculations and contingency plans, but nothing came to mind; there was no out. All they could hope for was a quick death, and they would be brought back with Dragon Balls once they were off cool down. Well, if their friends thought of their absence or her parents called Roshi. 

She looked at her husband as tears formed in her eyes. If this was the end, she was happy it was with him. No matter how stupid her idea was, Goku hadn’t complained once. In their last moments, she got to spend it with the man she loved most in the world. His black eyes brought some solace to her fear of what waited on the other side for them, death. 

Would it be cold? Would he be there? What was beyond? Those questions didn’t bring any comfort to her fears.  

“Sweetie.”

Goku grabbed Bulma’s trembling hand in his, then he saw her tears. Death didn’t cross his mind as something that scared him, but seeing his wife so terrified and crying made him sad. It made him want to be as close as possible to his wife. 

“Please, don’t let me go. I don’t want to die alone.”