Merry Christmas everyone, here's a little present from me to the Dragon Ball universe. This is the start of a series of canon-compliant, inter-connected one-shots regarding certain overarching character developments I see or extrapolate. This first one focuses on everyone's favorite perverted old master. I don't own Dragon Ball. ~Iggy -
Master Roshi was, after some three-hundred odd years of living, a person of habit. First, he would take a moment to bask in the light of the rising sun, his rounded head gleaming in the dawn every bit as bright as his first Kamehameha Wave. After his morning aerobics "workout" he would have a brisk meal of eggs, toast, fruit and rice meant to maintain his vast stores of strength. Following this he would meditate out under the palm tree to focus his spiritual energies just as his master had once taught him and ensure they would not decrease. He knew well that by now his power could no longer compare, not to gods, demons, aliens from nameless galaxies, not even to his former students. The reality of the place of humans in the universe and the vast power his students had obtained while still wearing the symbol of the noble Turtle School had weighed on his mind plenty, but such knowledge was not enough to draw him away from his basic exercises to maintain his skills.
After all, what was he, once known the world over as the greatest martial arts master alive, without that power? An old man with nothing left to give the future he would surely live in.
He knew that, one day, his friends and students would seek to pass on their own ways, perhaps to their children if not students of their own, and his teachings would merge with all the power and innovations to fighting that they'd developed without him.
And after that, they would die.
The next generation that would follow might maintain their parents' and teachers' ties to him—and he might even be able to teach some basics to them again as he once did—but eventually that new generation would go the same way as the last, until another came to take its place. So the cycle would go.
It was a pattern he was more than familiar with by now, and he knew better than to fight it. While his students would live, teach, and die as was meant to be, Master Roshi would simply go on with his same routine, with or without them.
He knew that dwelling on this would lead him to the same trap that Master Shen had fallen in many years ago in which the past and the promise of strength beyond measure were too much to bear, so he would avoid objects of nostalgia—trinkets and pictures, old friends and memories, visits to the graves that still remained of all the people he'd ever known and outlived. It did not do for a man who would live for as long as fate demanded to dwell on the past. He would simply live, day by day meditating and doing a thousand push-ups as he was now, grasping his gnarled staff as he puttered about his island hideaway, avoiding contact with the outside world, not giving in to the burden of coming to know someone only to watch them wither away.
They didn't call him 'the Turtle Hermit' for nothing.
Still, sometimes the past couldn't help but get to him. Sometimes he'd give in and pull out one of his old photo albums that he kept hidden in a floorboard under the south-facing bookshelf so as to avoid temptation. Carefully stored according to length and significance, Roshi would further attempt to choose only the most recent trappings, where the color of his students' orange gi and the bright blue sky in the backdrop were modern. Failing this, he would at least pick something containing dim pictures of him and Master Shen, who was after all, still alive and present.
Today, as he against all of his hesitations reached for the very first album, he knew that he must have felt different. Following the incident with that Garlic Junior character, Krillin had broken up with his incredibly, impossibly attractive girlfriend and gone off to train by himself somewhere. Though himself grieving the loss of that sinfully innocent expression and those valleys of curves that Maron had been, he still knew better when Krillin had brushed off the parting. The old master saw through the nonchalance, the sudden departure of the blue bombshell, the tear in the corner of his eye. Who would be at ease with losing such a catch without fight or fanfare?
He told himself that this was simply circumstance. That Turtle gone on vacation was just an opportunity, that Krillin's situation was familiar to him somehow, that he'd gotten too used to having people and events around to distract him from the widening abyss of his memory. It was simply circumstance that he found himself cracking the oldest, most carefully concealed photo album in his library out on his favorite beach chair.
He was thankfully saved from these whispering ghosts, for just as he'd reached the critical page the whirring of a jet copter came to descend on his island. It would, in all likelihood, salvage his lapse.
At least, until Bulma stepped out, as young and beautiful with her tight jeans and wavy, exotic hair as she'd been in that precious scene where he'd met her and Goku on the shore.
While Bulma's presence had always been a fine, oh-so-enticing distraction for him the last several years, showing up now caused him worry. Bulma had a tendency to nose about—he supposed it had to do with her scientific curiosity—and, according to her downward eyes and scrunched up lip, was on some hunt for solace.
"Oh, hello Master Roshi," she stepped down the rung, her slightly formal greeting confirming his suspicion. He couldn't hide the album now without drawing her attention to it, but perhaps he could distract her…
"Oooooh, Bulma!" he said as he all-too-quickly hopped up to her. She immediately drew back in suspicion.
"So, pretty lady, what brings you to my humble pad?" His hands reached out, squeezing the air in front of her suggestively. "Come to… sample my goods?"
He did nothing to block the incoming smack over the top of his finely tanned head. Bulma's sweet sting always had a way of bringing him back to his senses. If he was lucky he would manage to know the sensation of her soft body before her retribution came down on him with a crack like lightning.
Today was not that day, sadly.
"ARRRAGH! WHY MUST YOU ALWAYS RUIN ANY NICE THING A GORGEOUS WOMAN TRIES TO DO FOR YOU!?" She ground out, her reddened face livid and her nostrils puffing as if she were a bull intending to lay waste to a china shop. The temper on that girl could pass for a Super Saiyan.
Master Roshi glanced up to her blazing blue eyes carefully from his position on the ground, making sure his sunglasses would conceal his attempts at observation. Good, she would surely be incensed enough not to notice him slip his album away once he got her inside the house. He propped himself up with his staff as fast as his heavy turtle shell would allow.
"Perverted old geezer… you'd better say quick where Krillin is if you want to live another year," she threatened, tenderly rubbing her sore hand.
"Oh you know, he's just off training, probably won't be back until tomorrow at the earliest!" he said jovially. If Bulma noticed his unusually upbeat demeanor, she said nothing. Everything was going well so far.
"Oh, I see…" she muttered petulantly. His words must have brought her back to whatever was bothering her. He'd have to provide another distraction to gain enough time to lift the bookshelf and re-bury his album.
"Well Bulma I'd hate to have had you come all the way out here for nothing, so…" she narrowed her eyes at him again as he trailed off, wagging his eyebrows, "…how 'bout a nice cuppa tea?"
She lowered her fist, looking mildly surprised.
"Well, now that sounds nice Master Roshi."
As she followed him inside, he mentally calculated if he had enough time to sneak upstairs and out the window using his unnatural speed before going through the pain-staking process of re-concealing his album. In the kitchen he quickly put the water on and got the cups along with grounds of Bulma's favorite strawberry black tea ready once he was sure.
Not a moment after he looked out the upstairs window, he face-faulted straight down to the sand as he saw Bulma holding his album curiously. He bemoaned his luck; how could he have mispredicted her actions so much? Bulma turned quickly, startled by his crash.
"Uh… what are you doing, Master Roshi?" She was a fine one to talk, he thought, standing next to the porch obliviously with his cursed album cradled in her arms.
"N-never mind that! What are ya doin' back outside? The weather's been hot today you know!"
"What's your problem? Can't I walk around a bit if I feel it, gracious and wise master?" she scowled at him. Of course—she was too on edge; he should have known there was a danger of her wandering back outside with her current attitude. Kids these days had no patience, Master Roshi grumbled as he stood himself up again, slowly this time. He was resigned to his fate.
"You're acting weird today. Well, weirder," she scrutinized his bowed head while she pointed to the page he'd been on. Without looking, he knew exactly which picture she gestured to.
"Anyway, I was wondering who this was? Was this Baba as a young woman?" He cringed.
"Of course not! Why, the very thought…" he went off, but she did not drop her focus, waiting for him to finish.
"She was…" he began, but was interrupted by the whistle of the kettle from the kitchen.
"…Well, come back inside. Let's get that tea going first." Bulma looked at him curiously, but complied. He knew that he could not sweep this under the rug now, nor would it do him any favors in the future to lie about it. That would only give him more trouble later.
Seated upon the rug in the living room with two steaming mugs and the spread album on the table, Master Roshi thought to first see if he could at least do something right in the world today.
"Before I get started, I need some time to collect my thoughts, so I'd like to know why you stopped by today. I can see without even needing to read your mind that something troubles you," he nodded his head towards her gently.
Bulma looked away, having no doubt expected that question to crop up.
"Well… I seem to have this problem… after all the fuss from Namek and bringing everyone back with the Dragon Balls, I noticed—well, that is I mean—you remember that Vegeta was staying with me while the Dragon Balls were recovering, right?" she cautiously met his shades with shame in her eyes.
Oh. He certainly hadn't expected this.
"You… developed an… interest in him?" he slowly stroked his beard. She rapidly stirred the tea in her cup, having not yet brought it to her pink lips.
"How could I? He was directly responsible f-for killing everyone in the gang! He's a monster, a murderer, he's destroyed countless planets full of people and he's proud of it! Yamcha died because of him!" Bulma's shaking hands reached to down half of her tea in a gulp. "How could I do such a thing to Yamcha? I always get mad and accuse him of flirting with other women, but I know he wouldn't really… and here I am, considering… considering…!" he lost sight of her face as she wiped her eyes.
Master Roshi had a feeling that the result of this discussion could be very important. Not just for Bulma, but for everyone. This pivotal moment was all that was needed to shape the course of Earth's history. He considered his words as he took more measured sips of his tea. Bulma's breathing, which had accelerated considerably, started to calm down a bit.
"I wanted to ask Krillin more about the things that happened on planet Namek. I need to know more about Vegeta, about what he was like. They kept me away from most of the fighting, especially once that Frieza creep showed up." She perked her head, as if preparing to stand up to her own words. "It was really weird you know? First we get to Namek and find out that Vegeta's there, and he's learned to sense ki like the guys can. Then when some guys fly by our cave with some Dragon Balls, Gohan says each of them was even worse than Vegeta! And then that the guy in the middle—Frieza—was like a hundred Vegetas!" Bulma reached up to her forehead, trying to remain composed, and let out a chuckle.
"It was supposed to be a great adventure, you know? Like in the good old days, travelling around, hunting Dragon Balls, meeting all sorts of people… Instead the next thing I know little Gohan's up and getting ready to fight for his life—he's six—and Krillin has this super serious look on his face that I'd never seen on him, and of—course—big bad Vegeta swoops down with them! All of a sudden he's on our side, all because he's scared shitless by this Frieza guy! Him!"
She sighed and leaned back.
"I thought that it could be my last adventure." Bulma looked up wistfully towards youthful days with her friends. "I'm not getting any younger, and I thought that we could go on a hunt for the Dragon Balls like we used to, bring back Yamcha and everyone else, and maybe he and I could finally get on with our life together after everything that's happened these last two years…"
Master Roshi felt, for once, that he could say something with impact. If there was one thing he knew he could do, it was give a good speech. As Bulma leaned back with her hand over her eyes, he cleared his throat.
"It's not my place to question your relationship with Yamcha, Bulma. But let's examine what we know about Vegeta, eh?" He took a measured sip of tea as Bulma returned her attention to him. "First, he's a Saiyan like Goku. More than Goku, he actually knows what that means. He's a proud warrior who's fought his entire life under the most evil, most powerful creature he or anyone could ever imagine. To a man like Vegeta, who considers himself to be the pinnacle of his people's strength and legacy, being a slave to Frieza should have fractured any moral standing he might have had." Master Roshi took a pause for effect; his shades making him appear serious as a statue while Bulma listened, her eyes hard and intent.
"Now, consider this," he offered, "Vegeta finds himself in a situation where there might possibly be a way to escape this yoke. The Dragon Balls. He believed these objects could save him by granting him the strength to destroy Frieza as he'd always dreamed of. I wonder if he'd ever thought there could be such a chance, knowing Frieza's strength. Things don't go as he planned, and even gaining strength he'd never imagined he could, he finds himself alone and utterly defeated by Frieza in the end, entrusting his people's last, desperate hopes to someone he considered to be inferior to him: Goku." Master Roshi reclined with his staff after drinking the last of his tea, Bulma's eyes containing the sort of desperate understanding he imagined they had when confronted with a difficult scientific problem.
"So I'll tell you this Bulma. I've known many men like Vegeta before, even here on Earth. What happens when an oppressed or abused warrior gains the freedom they'd craved their entire lives? Just look at him now, chasing after Goku's now-enormous shadow out there by himself. Without Frieza being the ever-present, impossible enemy, I'd say he's looking for some reason to continue existing. It's clear that he has no interest in taking rule over whatever's left of Frieza's Planet Trade Organization; the only thing that matters right now to him is proving his strength, becoming a Super Saiyan like Goku, whose image no doubt haunts him. If he succeeds, he'll go find either a way to put an end to his life, or another struggle to pit himself against."
Bulma stared hard at the cold remains of her tea.
"So… so you think I should just give up on him? On the idea of going after him?" Master Roshi found himself craving for his pipe.
"That's for you to decide Bulma. First, ask yourself if it's possible; that is, if you can change him. If you want to learn to love him, you must first accept who he is and what he's done. The second thing would be to stand firm, be the unwavering tree in a storm, and persist in being the exception to his own personal rules. You must stand before him and be the better person. Only then would he be able to change his ways. He must want to change, and you must create that want through example." He groaned as he stretched out his body from the position they were sitting, his part finished.
"Like Goku," Bulma whispered. Roshi returned upright.
"Eh?"
"Have you noticed?" Bulma intoned. "Almost all of us who know Goku were first against him in some way…" she looked down in guilt. "Even me…" Roshi leaned forward carefully, without ill intent, to pat her hand.
"And despite that, you're his best friend. You know him better than anyone, yes?"
"Well… maybe…" she blushed slightly and looked away.
"Just think about what you can do for Vegeta, then. If you stay strong, like Goku, I'd say you have a shot, if that's what you really want," he assured.
"…Okay, Master Roshi. I'll think about it." She returned his shaded gaze with bright eyes.
There was a pregnant pause while Master Roshi made sure that Bulma would benefit from no further counseling. He then sighed and pulled the open album to the side of the table so that Bulma could see.
"She was a woman I knew well in my younger days, while I was myself a student. Master Shen and I hadn't yet put aside our petty teenage differences, and I still had much to learn from Master Mutaito. It was a different world then, lacking a great deal of the prosperous technology—such as the things you and your father made—that exist today. She was a local girl from the village where our dojo was situated, and was very popular with young men like, say, Shen and I." Bulma offered a knowing smile.
"The picture is grainy and still black and white. About how long ago were these youthful years of yours?" Master Roshi leaned back, considering going to get another cup of tea. It would only get harder from here.
"I'd say a bit over three-hundred years, yep. Sometime before the Golden Age of Piracy." Bulma gawked.
"I knew you had some crazy immortality water or something, and I'd thought it suspicious that you know so much about that pirate treasure from way back, but that's still…"
Master Roshi guffawed, delighting in her incredulous face.
"Ho ho! Oh I'm sure I'll die of sunburn before old age at this point!"
Bulma retracted a bit, suddenly reminded of the brief time he'd been just that: dead.
"Anyway," he quickly back-pedaled, "yes, the girl—FanFan was her name—was an only child, whose mother had died young. It was not such an uncommon thing at the time, and her father put up a tough front to raise her by himself. I could see from observation that she'd grown up as an earnest and hard-working girl, but her troubled circumstances meant she wasn't very receptive to any advances from boys. Loving marriages and complete families were another thing that didn't always happen back then. I think she'd felt repelled by the boys, not wanting to deal with such trouble. She never showed, but my young and handsome self did suspect." Master Roshi's sunglasses glinted magnanimously, and Bulma snorted.
"Sure, suspected that you had no better shot than anyone else."
"Indeed." Bulma face-faulted.
"Say what?"
"I came to learn that she would rebuff my advances the same as anyone else, so I restrained myself, only admiring her from afar and paid more attention to my training. I had great respect for my master, and didn't want to shirk his teachings," Master Roshi stroked his beard softly. Bulma looked amused.
"So you were too proud to lose out to Shen, right? Obviously he wouldn't get her either, and if he wasted his time then you'd be ahead of him in training."
"I… suppose you could put it that way…" he said petulantly. "In any case, though I retained focus on my training, I couldn't stand to see times when others' admiration towards FanFan would go too far. I painstakingly kept my distance, but you must understand, this was a different time. Many did not feel the same respect. Soon, I started defending her from wrong-doing more often than directing my attention towards her."
"How upstanding of you, if only you felt the same way about women today," Bulma raised an eyebrow.
"That's only…" Master Roshi stopped, and shook his head. Bulma scrutinized him, but did not press.
"Well, one day, Shen took things too far…" Bulma gasped.
"You mean he…"
"No!" Master Roshi fumbled with his sunglasses "No. I don't think I would have ever forgiven him if he had done such a thing." He regained his composure. "One day, Shen had some of his small-time partners-in-crime take FanFan hostage in order to goad me into challenging and submitting to him. Contrary to his plans, however, my additional training gave me just enough edge to hand him defeat."
"Sounds like fun. I could totally see his face," Bulma smiled, and Roshi nodded.
"If only Shen's foolishness had ended there, but he was young, and as young people often do, he didn't think clearly before his actions. He took a burning torch and set the field around myself and FanFan aflame."
"That's crazy!" Bulma exclaimed furiously, "how could he put your lives in danger like that?"
"It was impulsive. He only intended for me to get caught in the blaze, but FanFan was tied and helpless nearby, and the field was very dry. She was quickly surrounded before I could reach her, while Shen's little underlings retreated in fear. Shen knew his wrong-doing, but was upset by the loss and did not try to intervene. He would learn to do better, but it is not time for that story yet." Master Roshi adjusted himself on the cushion. "If I'd run in the opposite direction, I could have escaped but FanFan was still unconscious, so I went into the flames after her." Bulma fidgeted her cup as if she wanted more tea, but could not bring herself to pull away from the story. "I remembered my master's teachings about controlling one's spiritual energy, how he used his to cut a waterfall."
"Did you try to do that with the fire?"
"Yes, but my control was too untrained. I made it to FanFan and cut her free, but afterwards the blaze had grown too strong. Though I tried with all my might, I could not clear a path for us. FanFan was fully awake by now, and with my own youthful impulse I thought that if I could not save her I could shield her from the inferno with my body and give her more time for outside help to come." Roshi sighed. "But in the back of my mind, I didn't have much hope that anyone could come soon enough."
"That's terrible…"
"Such was life then… but I'm still here aren't I?" he laughed. Bulma squirmed.
"Well hurry it up then, what happened?"
"Right as I started to feel nothing but the burns on my back, Master Mutaito came and used his ki to carve a path in the fire. He never did seem to miss anything that went on…" Roshi gazed upwards in remembrance. "Well needless to say my back was uncomfortable for quite awhile, but FanFan was almost entirely unharmed, at least in body. If she wasn't interested in men before the fire, she must have surely hated them after. Meanwhile, Master Mutaito was furious. He had Shen restart his training from the basics, and we did not talk for a long time after what happened. Our conflict before was just boyish rivalry, but it was different now. This had crossed a line."
"Who wouldn't hate that guy? Scum of the Earth, that one…" Bulma growled, "how'd you even manage to be friends after that?"
"That came later. First, while I was recovering in the dojo, FanFan came to the temple of her own accord. She'd always avoided the place. She thanked me for protecting her and Master Mutaito for saving her, saying she owed her life to us. Shen, to his credit, did not dare show his face that day in shame."
"Sounds like the act of a coward if you ask me," Bulma sniffed.
"Hmm…" Roshi chose his words carefully. "When I saw her, bowed and expressing true gratitude towards fighters due to the actions of other fighters, I felt a deep pain in me."
"Huh?" Bulma swiveled her head to face him. "What do you mean? Didn't you believe what she was saying?"
"Certainly. But I remembered how she'd felt about being pursued by men, and I remembered why her gratitude had to be expressed at all. So no sooner had she looked up than I'd prostrated myself. I hadn't been particularly humble in my days, and I'd tried to sneak a peek on her in the springs at least once—" Bulma didn't miss the opportunity to roll her eyes—"but I could not bear the thought of how the actions of my own brothers in arms would now set her worldview against us. I begged her forgiveness, not on behalf of Shen, but for our dojo and entire kind. I begged her not to hate martial artists, and I begged her not to hate men. From my very being, I wanted her to know that the true goal of martial arts was to protect the innocent. I told her that I'd failed her, that the Martial Arts Society had failed her, and that even if she hated us I refused to act like them, that I would bloody my fists defending the weak and slowly destroy my soul through combat until the world was free of that hatred and we were forgiven."
Bulma was quiet for a moment, trying to picture the Master Roshi she knew in such a pitiful state.
"What… what did she say?" she asked tentatively. The corners of Master Roshi's beard rose slightly.
"Gently, FanFan reached out and put her hands on my shoulders. She said, 'look at me'. I did, and saw no malice in her eyes. 'It's okay, Roshi,' she said, 'you did your best to save me. I know you're a good man. Train hard to become a great martial artist, and when you do, I'll be there to wipe the sweat from your face.'"
Bulma clasped her hands and squealed a little. Master Roshi leaned his staff in his elbow in fond remembrance.
"Master Mutaito told us on our first day of training 'it is not our abilities that determine who we are, my brothers. It is our choices.' I did not see, but I sensed at that moment that he was proud to have me as a student. That moment was, I think, the greatest of my life."
"And, and? What happened after that?" Bulma said impatiently. Master Roshi enjoyed her eager face while it would last.
"I continued my training for another couple of years. During that time I suppose you could say that FanFan and I became close friends. I still could not muster up the will to act on my feelings, though I'm sure she was aware by then. Even so, we shared good, companionable times. I think she was glad to have a friend. Perhaps she'd never had someone she'd personally trusted aside from her father. Eventually my master felt that there were no more techniques he could teach me. He told me that from now on only I could decide how to train and improve my strength and ki, so I set off, intending to learn about the world and discover new techniques."
"So nothing happened between you?" Bulma asked. Master Roshi gave a light cough.
"Just one thing. The day I left she kissed my cheek and told me that I had to make sure to come back, because when I did she would have something for me."
Bulma giggled.
"I spent about two years going around the world, doing my best to solve trouble and find new challenges. It was sometime during this when I got the idea for the Kamehameha Wave. Of course, I would spend much longer creating it. My travels brought me to a place called the Land of Korin, where I learned of Korin Tower."
"Korin Tower? What was that?" Master Roshi chuckled lightly.
"You may recall during that whole Red Ribbon Army affair, Goku received training at that tower."
"THAT tower? You mean you climbed all the way up that thing?"
"Hm, did I never mention it? Silly me," Master Roshi said immodestly, "yes like Goku I climbed the tower in search of the Sacred Water said to drastically increase ones' strength. Unlike Goku, however, it did not take me three days to get it, though it was three of something."
"So, what, like three weeks?"
"Oho no," Master Roshi paused for dramatic effect. Bulma sure made for a good audience. "Three years."
"…Wow, how lame…" Master Roshi face-faulted.
"Y-you impertinent—only a handful of people have ever succeeded in obtaining that water for as long as humans have been alive!"
"Uh-huh. How old was Goku? Twelve?"
"Fool! After reaching the speed and ability to gain the Sacred Water Goku was able to demolish the Red Ribbon Army single-handedly!" Master Roshi wiped his face and composed himself again. "In any case, I had grown much stronger and refined my techniques more from training atop Korin Tower than I'd even thought possible. Not knowing what else to do, I returned to the dojo, and discovered that while I'd been gone, Shen had whole-heartedly dedicated himself to training and made vast improvements, particularly to his ki. I was still a bit stronger, I would say, but I lacked Shen's gift for using ki. He would later go on to pioneer many applications of ki that I did not, such as the Flying Technique. We'd both done some growing up, and it was then that we became friends. We were still quite competitive, though.
"What about FanFan? Was she… glad to see you?"
"Well…" Master Roshi reached over and turned the album on the table to the next page.
"EEE~" Bulma let out a cry like a tiny squirrel as she caught sight of another grainy and old picture showing the young Roshi with an embarrassed grin being held by the serenely smiling FanFan, both garbed in what could only be wedding kimono.
"It was about a year after my return," Master Roshi said slowly.
"She looks so happy," Bulma said sweetly, "she'd had problems with guys, but there she is, smiling, with you." Master Roshi chose to ignore her inflection on the last bit.
"Well," Roshi coughed, "Shen was a bit sore, certainly; I don't think he ever quite got over that particular defeat, but he grudgingly became the best man." He straightened his shades as he plumbed his memory further. "The days that passed were idyllic, like something out of a dream. It's hard to remember now…" his brow furrowed, "I don't much recall the things that happened during that time, only that we were happy." He perked up suddenly. "Ah, there is one thing I remember clearly. After another year into our married life, it was discovered that FanFan was pregnant."
A pause. Master Roshi hesitated. Bulma's intuition left her with an ominous feeling, like there couldn't be a happy ending to the story.
"Did..." she spoke softly, "did she die in childbirth?" Master Roshi sighed.
"No… she did not die in childbirth." Bulma breathed a sigh of relief. "It was King Piccolo." She froze. Master Roshi set his staff down slowly. "It was then, probably, that Piccolo had separated from Kami. Piccolo's uprising was sudden and swift; the few years he'd begun his conquest were not enough to impress the reality of his power and cruelty upon the outlying populations. Piccolo did not target them, but they were razed by his forces all the same as they traveled between the large cities." Master Roshi grasped his staff again uneasily, as if trying to prop himself up from the weight of his own words.
"No communication… no warning..." Bulma whispered.
"I was out in my normal training routine one day, focusing my ki on the waterfall, when I smelled smoke. I looked over, to see the village in flames. I… I ran back as fast as I could, but..." Bulma sniffed. "I blasted the remains of our house aside to find my wife mortally wounded. I grabbed her… and then she said… "It's okay, Roshi… we'll… see you again… live… and be… strong," his words wavered, and vanished altogether. He brought his staff against his shoulder and sat hunched.
This was the true face of the once-vaunted "God of Martial Arts". In that moment, he truly was the Turtle Hermit. Bulma was silent for several moments, then her trembling hands jolted and quickly grabbed the teacups.
"I'll—just—go and… and clean this..." she scampered to the kitchen, sobbing quietly.
Master Roshi sighed once more and got to his feet, intent on stepping out into the breeze.
The sun began to drop low by the time Master Roshi came back to the present. A scent of potatoes with fish and rice wafting through the screen of the door brought him out of his more bitter memories. He trudged back inside and followed the scent into the kitchen, where Bulma set the last platter on the table. Master Roshi sat down. He wanted to thank Bulma for staying and cooking dinner, but he was too afraid of how his voice might sound. Bulma, on the other hand, said nothing, poking her food with her chopsticks. Her eyes were still slightly red. He decided that he'd continue talking if she continued asking.
"Do you think about her?" she eventually brought up.
"...I avoid doing so," Master Roshi said.
"Why?" There was that inquisitiveness again.
"I have known a great many people who have since passed, Bulma, not just… FanFan." He wiped his brow furtively. "I am much older than a human ought to be. I cannot afford to sink into despair over the past when I will continue to live for untold generations." He prodded the last of the rice in his bowl into his mouth. "Master Shen could not bear it himself. It is why he turned to the ways of power, forsaking human love. I won't do the same."
Bulma's gripped her chopsticks nearly to the breaking point.
"If she was killed by a demon, then her soul never went to the afterlife, right?"
"...Yes," he said, remembering that he'd told her this the first time Krillin had died.
"Do you think she's still here, lost?"
"...Perhaps." Bulma looked at him, her eyes something narrow and fierce.
"Well, don't you think something could be done about it?"
Oh dear…
"...What do you imagine could be done?" Bulma's face contorted.
"Have you asked Piccolo about it? Or Kami? Isn't King Kai the reigning deity over this part of the universe, couldn't we ask Goku to talk to him about it? What about the Dragon Balls?"
"Bulma… it has been almost three-hundred years… the Dragon Balls would have brought her back after Goku defeated King Piccolo, if they could have."
"So that's it then?" she ground out, her eyes watering slightly, "you'll just give up? Like you gave up fighting to protect the Earth with Goku and the others?"
"I know what I am capable of, Bulma, and this is the limit of the great Turtle Hermit." Master Roshi felt apprehensive of this turn.
"Oh you do, huh?" she said, tossing her chopsticks into the sink, "you think that just because you're a washed up old man—a human—that you can't do anything?"
"Time has proven me weak. It is Goku who's spirit will endure, not me."
"Oh you're such a typical male!" Bulma's eyes flashed at him, "like it's all about fighting and who's stronger! I was the one who found Goku in the woods and brought him out into the world! Yeah, I had selfish reasons for doing it back then, but you know what? I got the best friend of my life, and the Earth got to live because I did that! The same goes for you too! You taught Goku more than how to beat the bad guys' faces in, okay? Where would anyone be without people like you or me to know what to do?" Bulma's blue strands whirled about her, and Master Roshi stayed quiet.
"I know what I can do," she huffed, "and it's not about fighting. I'm a genius. I made the Dragon Radar. I made the capsules that kept your bodies from decomposing so they could be brought back to life. I fixed the spaceship and flew it to Namek! And you—you're more than a martial artist, and you're more than a feeble old man! So you're three-hundred whatever years old—use your head! How do you think that could be an advantage, instead of some pitiful disability?" she plopped back into her chair, having gotten up to make herself known. "Look I'm sorry about your wife, okay? But see, your age gives you a different strength; experience. That's what the cause needs. Your resources, your knowledge! It doesn't need your body, or your life." She took a gulp from her glass of juice. "Kami, I thought you knew that. FanFan obviously did." She breathed slowly, calming herself.
There was several moments of silence.
"I can't remember her face, Bulma… the only hope I have left is that her soul's been reincarnated and lives on somewhere..." Master Roshi sounded broken. Bulma's eyes softened, but then widened in sudden realization.
"That's it, isn't it?" he glanced up at her. "Your pathetic slobbering over women—it's all because you're looking for her—or at least someone who looks like her!" She really was too smart for him, sometimes. "Kami, pull yourself together, Roshi, is that really the only way you think you'll see FanFan again?" It only took a moment to lose control.
"LAY OFF IT!" Bulma cowed back, her blue eyes stunned at his outburst. Her frightened face immediately returned his senses. "Oh… I'm sorry Bulma, I shouldn't have yelled..." he shook his head and stood up without his staff. "You can leave the dishes, I'll take care of them later… Krillin should be back tomorrow, feel free to spend the night." He exited the kitchen in shame and went back outside, where the sun descended into the horizon.
He sat under the palm tree until well after the sun had set. Stars had appeared in the sky, but he took no notice. He was fully absorbed in his memories for the first time in what had to be at least a hundred years. It was not meditative; his spirit was far too troubled for that. He focused hard, trying to pierce the hazy memories he still had. An image began to form in his mind. First was the glow of flames. Then, yes, the glow against a pair of sandals and white socks.
Blood appeared on the white socks, but he pushed further. A blue and purple classic dress. Wide hips. Protruding stomach. Bloodstains. A gaping red maw across the chest. Soft, familiar hands kept against the wound while red continued to seep between the fingers.
A pale neck led to short, violet hair. A face went with it, but it was featureless and blank. He struggled harder.
Her brow was furrowed in pain. But there was something more. He tried to remember.
Ashen cheeks. The corners of her eyes were wet with tears. A dark trickle ran down her chin. Something was still missing, what was it?
"Live… and be strong."
A soft voice echoed, and it came to him. Her bloodied mouth was smiling at him and her eyes were crinkled and at ease.
His heart churned upon the sight of her face. How long he'd wished to see it! How much he had forgotten!
"Roshi..."
What? A voice…
"I'm here, Roshi..."
He knew that voice! Yes!
"Can it be you?" the younger, forgotten version of his voice spoke in his mind. He dared not expect a reply, but he heard a bell-like laugh that he knew. Yes, he knew...
"Of course it's me, silly…" her voice flickered slightly, but did not fade. "I'm glad I finally got through to you. I've been here for awhile, you know." Master Roshi did his best to still his mind, not wanting to lose focus on his wife. For it could only be FanFan's voice, he knew.
"Then, was Bulma right? Your spirit remains in this realm still…?"
"You bet she was, she's a smart girl! I mean, things were pretty bad for me for a long time, but… that changed when Goku killed King Piccolo. I guess it was too late for the Dragon Balls to bring any of us back, though." Master Roshi willed his heart not to burst from his chest, fearing for the loss of her presence.
"But his son, the junior Piccolo..."
"Yeah, about that… he's not so allied to the demons like King Piccolo anymore, and it's brought me and the others out of their grasp. Some of them have gone to the Other World now, I think, but something about him still remains that's keeping us here. He's still got something to do before the rest of us move on. Dunno what it is though..."
"But you will be able to pass on soon..." he spoke aloud, and stood up.
"Hey, none of that now! I'll be around for awhile, I think, but after I go to the Other World, you're gonna do what Bulma said and get stuff done, so don't go lazing about, y'hear? You're a man, aren't you?" He snapped at attention with her scolding the same as he'd done long ago. "You can still fight and you can still teach, so you'd better get to work! Consider it punishment for looking at me in the bath house that one time." Master Roshi nearly fell down to the dark sand.
"You, uh, heard that, did you?" He heard her laugh again.
"Sure did mister! So I'm tellin' you to make sure things for Bulma and Goku go okay, understand? You've done a lot in fostering those two, extraordinary people, and neither you nor they are done with their jobs yet."
"Bulma and Goku, yes… those two are truly extraordinary… they and the two Dragon Balls that led them on this path. I've been a poor excuse for a Master. Forgive me, FanFan..."
"Consider it done. Now, I'll be here for a few more years but don't worry about me once I'm gone. You'll come up there with me when you're good and ready, immortal or not, so don't fear the future, Roshi..."
He basked in her presence for awhile, then straightened his back. He came back to the world and began doing some preliminary stretches. The door to the house creaked behind him.
"It's getting late, you should come inside," he heard Bulma say quietly behind him.
"Not to worry, Bulma, not to worry..." he said cheerfully and looked back to her, at which she appeared surprised and perhaps concerned. "Say, d'you remember that time you cut your hair and forgot to dye it again?" She worked her face in confusion for a bit, then spoke carefully.
"Uh, yeah... I hate people telling me how I look like my dad, so—" Master Roshi cut her off.
"I remember thinking how much you looked like her, for a moment. FanFan has almost the same shade of violet, you know." He popped his shoulders as Bulma's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. "Ah, your eyes are definitely different though, yes." She said nothing in reply. He unbuttoned his shirt and brushed it aside. "You needn't worry, Bulma, I'll be along in a bit." Master Roshi grunted and expanded his muscles as he brought out his maximum power. "I have training to do." His hand motioned for her to take a few steps back while he moved out towards the shore. He brought forth a well of ki, wondering when he'd ever truly tested his limits after the last two-hundred years of soft training. He took in the wet coolness of the sea lapping around his feet, and brought his hands up as he'd done countless times.
"Ka..." He pushed his heel into the sand, feeling the grains that dug into his foot.
"Me..." The night air was balmy around him as it began to heat.
"Ha..." He heard Bulma gasp as the winds whipped about, energy coming off his his body in swirls.
"Me..." He coiled his muscles and adjusted his stance. Every motion was carefully planned to combine for maximum impact, as if performing a finger punch or a sword draw. Ki at it's fullest. He felt a warm presence beside him as he poured forth his famous technique.
"HA…!"
Bulma covered her eyes as the Kamehameha blasted across the ocean, sending waves towards the far reaches of land and spraying the small island with foam.
Master Roshi breathed deep, but did not allow his energy to power down. He could still feel more ki flowing through him, and would find out just how far he could take it.
Bulma smiled to herself and went back inside for the night.
It would be hours before Master Roshi eased himself back into the house, his staff clopping against the wood softly. His body hadn't ached so much since he'd used the Evil Containment Wave against King Piccolo, but it was a good feeling. Upon opening the front door he found Bulma messily spread out in one of the futons across the floor. Taking in the sight, Master Roshi gingerly knelt down and patted her head while she snored obliviously. He slowly went upstairs and got dressed for bed. He lay down, the symbol of the Turtle School on the wall greeting him as always. In the corner of his eye, he caught something unusual on his dresser. The first blurred, ancient photo of FanFan was propped proudly in a small frame. Yes, Master Roshi thought, Bulma was every bit as extraordinary as Goku. Vegeta had better keep his guard up.
"You got that right!" he heard his wife's spirit say.
Well that's a wrap for chapter one. It came out longer than I'd expected, forgive me. On this, if anyone points out FanFan's resemblance to Colonel Violet, it only occurred to me after I was well under way, and decided it would be too much trouble to make anything out of that. FanFan, from a filler episode while Goku was training with Kami in DB, was a re-used character design, so I felt I'd just leave it at that. This idea came about due first to the impression that I have about Bulma's true importance to the series as a character, and because I'd always wanted to see more of Master Roshi being someone who mattered. There's not much left for Roshi to do until Resurrection F, but expect to see a lot more of Bulma. So I re-watched that episode carefully and tried to figure out how things would have gone without Goku around in the Pendulum Room, and this is what I came up with. Next chapter will feature Yamcha and how he gets on with life without Bulma.
~Iggy