It had been a hard day for Roshi. Most of all he had not planned on dying.

No longer was he as nimble as he was at twenty, or even at seventy. No, at the ripe age of ninety-nine, being able to walk was a luxury in itself. Roshi was grateful that he still could and he did so every morning, given the opportunity.

Today was no different. While the weather wasn't looking too fantastic, Roshi refused to be held back by a spray of rain or a blanket of snow. That was another thing that age had taught him. Sometimes it's better to face obstacles and overcome them. It made the hot cocoa he drank as a reward so much tastier.

Determined, Roshi dressed himself in his warmest clothes. The sky had a grey colour to it and the early morning light was reflected back into the air; a fine layer of frost had stolen over the sidewalk. Roshi re-evaluated and added his snow boots to his ensemble. He also stuck one of his magazines into his pocket to read while he enjoyed his cocoa later at Popo's diner.

The walk itself was not too bad. The cold tried very hard to get into his clothes. but Roshi was no fool and had come prepared. He walked through a chunk of West City's suburbs at a good pace. He may have been old, but his legs worked just fine. Some people stopped by him and asked if they could be of assistance, perhaps in an attempt to help a poor old man cross the street without dying, but Rosh brushed them off. One of them, a particularly young fellow with an arrogant smile and little brain capacity, grabbed him by the elbow before Roshi got a chance to protest. Ten seconds later the kid was hopping on one foot. Roshi had brought his cane down on his unsuspecting toes.

Popo's was as warm as always. Upon entering Roshi gave a happy sigh. Once seated at the table with hot cocoa in hand, he contemplated how to further spend his day. He had gotten an invitation for coffee and biscuits, courtesy of his sister. While the woman was a genius in and out of the kitchen, Roshi was not in the mood for it. Baba, bless her heart. had a habit of complaining. It was a common thought that all old people enjoyed a good complaint every now and then and Roshi was apt to believe this. Baba could enter a contest for it and win, only to point out how cold it had been in there, or how the announcer got on her nerves. The thought made Roshi laugh into his mug.

He decided that he would see where his feet would take him. There were a few places downtown where they knew his face. Most of them were happy to see him, although the aerobics studio was an exception. Why that was the case, he didn't know. Perhaps they didn't appreciate the way he always stopped upon passing it so he could sneak a glance inside. They thought of him as a pervert. Roshi disagreed. He was just a fan of the female physique, that was all.

With a set plan in mind Roshi left the diner. Popo wished him good luck with the weather and Roshi assured the man that he would be quite alright. He walked towards the center of the city. This was where his spree of bad luck began.

At the intersection where Rodeo Drive and Maroon Road came together he was almost swept off his feet by some young lady in a blue convertible. It was no surprise that she had the top up (in this weather no less) and it did not come as a shock that she had a cellular phone squeezed against her head. Roshi barely had enough time to shake his head at her carelessness when another car, this one a horrible green van, came speeding around the corner. It barreled through the puddle of water by the side of the curb and Roshi got the full blast.

Once done cursing, Roshi shivered against the cold. He had to get someplace warm and dry; even his beard was sopping. His eyes darted over his surroundings and relief struck him when he noticed the red sign with the yellow letters. It was like coming home.

Roshi knew the owners of this place. They were brothers and had been running the store for a little over a year. Of course that wasn't a whole lot of time, especially when you took into consideration that Roshi knew their entire family. Decades ago, when cars were still a rarity and people actually greeted each other in the streets, Roshi had been a teacher. And he had taught the grandfather of the boys who ran this little shop. He had been quite the handful. Roshi was glad that that particular gene had not survived the generations.

The sign above the display read "Son and Sons: Thrift Store and Antiques."

A bell tinkled overhead when he entered. It was one of those old ones that made a lovely brass sound, like the cash registers that he had known before everything had become robotic and boys knew how to treat a customer.

The inside was cramped but cosy. The right wall was covered with bookcases, so much of them that Roshi couldn't see the wallpaper. They were stuffed to the brim with paperbacks, but even so it was all organized and alphabetized. Doilies, blankets, covers, sheets and ponchos had been draped over a large table right by the cash register. Like the bell above the door the register was an old one and a good one. Roshi's beard twitched with his smile.

Otherwise the store sold furniture both antique as well as somewhat new. Roshi knew that the boys kept things like records and toys upstairs, and while Roshi could walk around like a man half his age going up stairs wasn't something excelled at.

Roshi heard shuffling coming from behind the open door behind the cash register. Through it he could make out a few dozen binders full of papers, the store's administration. The older brother was good at that, keeping things in check and never losing sight of the numbers. He wasn't back there though, judging from the banging noises and cursing that followed.

Seconds later a young man emerged with a broom in his hand. His black hair was a mess and sweat was rolling down his reddened face. This man was Goten Son, one of the proprietors and the younger brother.

Upon noticing Roshi Goten threw the broom aside and forced a smile on his face, which in turn made Roshi laugh. Goten was a good kid, fresh out of school and ready to keep the family business up and running. Yet he wasn't so good with obstacles and complications; they got on his nerves and more often that not they resulted in something akin to a temper tantrum.

"Hello Master Roshi," came Goten's greeting. Everyone in his family addressed Roshi in the same way; their grandfather had insisted that they used it as a sign of respect.

"Hello there, Goten!" Roshi walked towards the counter. "It seems like you were in a bit of a bind there, huh?"

"Tell me about it," Goten said. His eyes, dark like the rest of his family's, shifted to the copper plate on the cash register. Goten's brother made a job out of keeping it squeaky clean and that allowed the younger brother to spy his reflection. "There was a rat back there, but it seems to have gotten away. I chased it around the entire afternoon hoping to swat it, but no such luck." As he spoke he brushed his hands though his hair to make sure it once again looked meticulous.

"Have you laid out any traps yet?"

"Yeah. Got one of 'em stuck on my toes, so I threw 'em away. Gohan says I can turn everything into a safety hazard."

Roshi's moustache bristled when he chuckled. "It does look like you have a talent for it. Where is that brother of yours anyway?"

"He's upstairs alphabetizing records. I keep telling him that nobody is going to care, but he doesn't believe me. He's always going on about how we need to have order in the store or else we'll go under. I think he's a little obsessive."

"You have your mother to thank for that," Roshi said.

"Don't let her hear you say that," Goten said, laughing. "So is there anything I can do for you?"

"Not really, I was in the neighbourhood and I thought it would be nice to show my face again. I wouldn't want you to forget this handsome old mug."

Goten smiled. "I wouldn't. Unfortunately neither does the lady who runs the aerobics class across the street."

That had Roshi laughing so hard he had to lean on his cane to not fall over. After a bit more small talk he left Goten to chase the rat that he swore was taunting him. Roshi took a stroll through the store, taking his time to admire items that he hadn't seen on his previous visit. The Sons had a good eye for second hand furniture and at times they managed to get a hold of some real beauties. Baba had a china cabinet in her living room that the boys had found on a flea market in town. After having it appraised it turned out be a genuine Korin, the work of a master dead for a hundred and fifty years. Baba never shut up about it.

Roshi was just studying the studded inlays on a beautiful armchair when he met Gohan, who was coming down the stairs with his arms full of records. Gohan, like his younger brother, had black hair and dark eyes, telltale signs of being a Son.

"Hey there, Gohan, need a hand with that?" Roshi offered.

"Oh Master Roshi, I couldn't ask you to," Gohan said. "I see that you're enjoying our newest cache?"

"Definitely," Roshi said. "Say, may I ask you something?"

Gohan's eyebrows went into the air. "By all means."

"Would you mind helping an older gentleman like myself up the stairs? I always hear you and Goten about the clothes that you keep upstairs and I would like to see them for myself. Perhaps I can find something a little flashy and take your example."

Gohan's cheeks flushed at the compliment. "Oh sir, this is nothing." He gestured to the black suit he was wearing. Gohan was very much about presentation. "Besides, what's wrong with your own clothes? You look just fine, Master Roshi."

Roshi waved his comment away. "Sure, but the moths keep getting in them. I was hoping that you might have something lying around that will make me look snazzy. Or at least something that will make the lady from the aerobics class forgive me. What's her name again?"

Gohan laughed. "It's Hyuna. And I don't want to walk all over your happiness, sir, but I don't think you have a very big chance of getting her forgiveness. But let's see what I have in store. Shall we?" He offered Roshi his arm and made sure that the older man made it up the stairs in one piece. He pointed Roshi towards the clothing section and went back to the records.

It took Roshi a long time to sort through the clothes. In the end he took two shirts with him to the fitting room. They were bright and colourful and suited his tongue-in-cheek sense of humour. Or at least that was what he thought. Baba would probably laugh at him if she saw him in them, but it wasn't of any matter. He always laughed at her failed attempts to conceal her grey hair, so an eye for an eye.

The first shirt fitted like it was made just for him. Roshi wished he had his sunglasses with him. Or a pair of shorts. Or flip-flops. Preferably all of the above. Satisfied, Roshi took the shirt off and hung it on the nail next to the second, which he took down and studied in the light of the overhanging lamp.

That's a beautiful shade of red, was the final thought that passed through his head.

And then the heart attack struck him and Roshi was no more.


Master Roshi's funeral was a small event. The Son family was there, standing around Baba to make sure that she would get through the day. Not that they needed to; the first thing she said upon seeing their little huddle move towards her was "Oh great. Company."

Other friends and old students were also in attendance. They stood around a frost-bitten grave as Mao, Gohan and Goten's grandfather, read the eulogy. Mao was a large man with emotions even larger. He sobbed and hiccoughed through most of his speech and broke down entirely when Baba muttered a small thanks under her breath.

Coffee and cake was obligatory. Gohan and Goten stood by the drinks table and looked over the crowd, glad to see everyone mingle and smile. Their grandfather had been served a helping of cognac to calm his nerves and now even Mao was laughing. Despite the sadness, today had been nice.

Goten was telling Gohan this, when his older brother interrupted him, his eyes moving over something in the corner behind Goten. The younger brother raised his brows and turned to look.

Baba was sitting at one of the tables. She had half a cup of coffee and an untouched slice of cake in front of her. She was beckoning them to come over.

Gohan and Goten went over to her and seated themselves opposite of the old lady. She graced them with a smile, something she hardly ever did. Gohan was curious why she wanted to talk to them.

"First of all, I want to thank the both of you, as well as your parents and grandfather." she moved a frail hand towards her cake, but it never made contact. "I know that I'm not very good with showing my gratitude, but your help these past few days has been very welcome."

"No problem, Baba," Goten assured her. "You guys are family too."

Baba smiled wider. "Yes, I was thinking the same. And as it turns out, so did my brother."

She was wearing a long robe, black of course, and retrieved something from within the sleeve. It was an envelope and it looked heavy.

"While it isn't surprising that Roshi had a will, what does strike me is who he left most of his belongings to. My name is in here, mostly when it comes down to money or things that used to belong to our mother and father, but a lot of it will receive a new home." She pulled a letter out of the envelope and handed it to Gohan, who read it with care.

His eyes widened when he got to the end. Goten picked up on this and tried to glance over his shoulder, but Gohan put the letter back in the envelope and turned to Baba.

"He's leaving us all of that?" Gohan asked, feeling somewhat stupefied.

"He's leaving us all of what?" Goten asked.

"It seems to be the case," Baba replied.

"What seems to be the case?" Goten asked.

Baba sighed and tapped the envelope with a bony finger. "Roshi has decided to leave about eighty percent of his worldly belongings to the two of you."

"...Why?" Goten asked, now finally grasping the nature of the conversation.

"He seemed to have thought that you boys can provide proper accommodation for these items. As you well know, Roshi had a strong love for everything weird and one of a kind."

Gohan nodded. "That was why he liked to swing by our store so often."

"Right, and to respect the ladies who do their workouts across from you." She laughed and pocketed the envelope. "Anyway, I have already arranged for a moving company to bring everything over to you first thing in the morning. I'd advise you sort through it carefully, because there might be buried treasure." Her grey eyes twinkled as if she were hoping she was allowed to join them on this epic quest.

There was a bit of a silence then and Baba used this to address different matters. "How is your mother doing?"

Gohan had hoped to avoid this question. He stole a look over his shoulder and found his mother by the little shrine that had been erected in Master Roshi's honour. She was talking to a woman he had never seen before, and thankfully she was smiling. She didn't get around to a whole lot of that. She had a doily over her thighs and a thick jacket over her shoulders, but she still looked pale.

"She's..," Goten started. "She's managing."

Gohan nodded his agreement. "That's a good way to summarize it. She's still in a lot of pain a lot of the times, but she never complains about it. The only thing she does nag us about is when we will allow her back into her own kitchen."

That made Baba sigh. "And the doctors still have no idea what it could be?"

Gohan shook his head. "Unfortunately not. All they know is that her muscles are slowly failing on her, but they can't trace it back to anything. They've never seen anything like this."

"Dad has been working overtime to pay the bills," Goten confessed. His eyes fell onto his hands and didn't move away. "We've been trying to chip in too, but the hospital bills just keep piling up."

"One of the doctors advised us to take Mom to a specialized facility on the other side of the country," Gohan added. "They think they might be able to help her there, but we can't afford it."

Much to their surprise, Baba pulled a wide smile across her gums. "But luckily the two of you are now sitting on treasure."


The following Monday saw a turnaround in the weather. The sun graced the city with its luminous embrace and all around people could be seen basking in the warmth it provided. Some even dared to bare their arms and soak in every ray. Children were laughing and running through the streets. Their shouts mingled with the rush of traffic in a strange but soothing harmony.

Goten observed all of this as he stood in front of Son and Sons. The weather wouldn't go sour today and for that he was thankful. Most of his schedule consisted of working outside. A flogging or rain wouldn't help him there. Even so, as he waited for Gohan to come into the store, the sun crept higher along the horizon and soon enough it began to sting at his eyes. He shielded them with his hand just as Gohan came running around the corner.

And why he was running Goten couldn't tell. Gohan wouldn't run if his prized collection of non-fiction books were on fire.

"Morning." Gohan managed to breathe once he had come to a stop. He placed his hands on his kneecaps and stretched, panting and turning red in the face. It was pretty amusing, actually.

"Morning," Goten replied. "Any reason you look like you've just finished a marathon?"

"Uh-huh," Gohan said, holding up a hand in a 'I'm-getting-to-it' gesture. He wheezed a final time and wiped the sweat from his brow. " Uh-huh. Sharp just called. He said traffic was light and that he should be here any minute now."

This didn't surprise Goten. Sharpener could be trusted to deliver anything anywhere, at any given time. And it didn't hurt that the man had little regard for the rules of traffic. As long as he didn't wrap his moving truck around a stop sign, he'd consider it a good day.

"Any idea what he might bring?" Goten asked to kill some time.

"Not a clue," Gohan said. "I guess some of his books and furniture, and maybe some jewelry, although I guess most of that goes to Baba."

"What do you think she mean when she said we were sitting on treasure?"

"Well I guess some of his stuff could be worth a pretty penny. Although she might have have been overreacting. It could be that he just had a lot of stuff."

"Please don't let it be the latter."

"I can't help but agree," Gohan said. "Though we're about to find out." He pointed at the intersection that divided Maroon Road and Rodeo Drive. A yellow moving truck started away from the traffic lights and headed towards the thrift store. Goten had never liked that ugly thing, even when his grandfather used to to take him out for rides around the city. Sure enough, they matched the font in the window display, but they didn't have to park their window in front of people's houses.

Gohan had assured him that they would do something about it when Gramps kicked the bucket one day. It almost made one wistful.

Sharpener stuck his arm out the window and saluted the brothers. Goten waved a reply and Gohan groaned; the usual. Once parked, Sharpener jumped out of the cabin and gave the door a good slap after he closed it.

"Guess that's it for me and this baby today." He shook his head as if it were a pity that he couldn't take that canary-coloured monstrosity out for another spin. He probably thought it was. "Anyways, you guys have your work cut out for you. That old geezer had more stuff than I have hair on my head."

"Which isn't saying much," Goten joked. His eyes traveled over the bald spots that had begun to appear between the long blond hair that Sharpener so prided himself with.

"Shut it, you little brat," Sharpener said. "Now come along with Uncle Sharp and see what I've got in store for you."

And when he pulled up the shutters Goten almost had to pick up his jaw. The truck was crammed from the front to the back. Much like expected it was littered with furniture. Goten spied what was likely Master Roshi's entire wardrobe as well. A few paintings had been crammed in between the leftover spaces. This was gonna be a hell of a chore.

"Now you might think that I feel like helping you guys unload this puppy," Sharpener said. He gave the truck another one of his love taps. "but guess what, I don't. I spent the entire morning trying to fit all of this junk inside and I ain't getting it out." He gave them a look as if to challenge him on that idea.

"No worries, Sharp," Gohan said. "I've got Goten and that's all I'll need. And should we need a pair of extra hands, I'll call our dad."

"No you won't," Sharpener replied. "You ain't going to bother that man, even if you're missing two arms and a kidney. You know damn well that he can use his sleep a lot better than a lung full of dust."

Gohan lowered his eyes at that. Goten was glad he did; he found himself agreeing with Sharp. Goku worked his butt off every day of the week. There was no need to add more pressure. Any more and he'd pop.

"We'll be fine, Sharp," Goten said. "Now go enjoy the rest of your day off. If I see that ugly mug of yours around here today, I'm making you clean the closets with your tank top. Sharpener loved his tank top almost as much as his hair.

Sharpener put two fingers to his temple and shot the brothers another salute before making his exit. Once he was gone, Goten took a cautious step into the back of the truck. He could hardly get a foothold. He peeled a painting or two aside and gave a firm shove to a heavy rosewood cabinet and now he could somewhat stand.

He didn't like the feeling of this. He thought Sharpener may have been right. This was all junk. Yeah, they could get rid of the furniture. The paintings could be sold too, granted they found the right old biddy to pawn them off to. But the clothes would only gather dust, much like the books and the records and the other little trinkets that he spied among the banana crates. They had bought into a huge pile of crap.

There was an urge to tell Gohan this, but when Goten turned around, Gohan was staring into the truck with eyes full of wonder, like a child seeing the leaves on the trees for the first time in his life. He touched a few of the things, lifted some blankets, rifled through some of the books. Goten watched all of this with fascination. Gohan was able to see the magic in things that appeared dull and lifeless to Goten. He himself didn't have much of an eye for what sold and what didn't. No, he was all about the sales talk. Butter people up and get them to empty their wallets.

"Like what you see?" Goten planted his butt on the cabinet and let his feet dangle. This was gonna take a while so he might as well make himself comfortable.

"Very much so," Gohan said. "I know it doesn't look like much, but thrift store goods hardly ever do."

"Whaddaya reckon will earn us something?"

"That depends on how well you sell it, I suppose, but we can sell the paintings easily. The furniture will almost fly out of the store, cause it seems that Master Roshi took care in matching everything. It's all rosewood, so we basically have an entirely furnished living room in here."

True to his point, this was something that Goten hadn't even noticed yet. His enthusiasm spiked. So maybe Baba wasn't full of it. It still wouldn't pay the trip to Wukong Hospital just yet, but it was a start.

"Let's get crackin'" he finally said, grasping the cabinet with both hands and nudging for Gohan to come and help him. Sharpener might be crazy enough to haul this stuff on his own, but Goten appreciated his back a lot, thank you very much.


They removed the furniture first. It took them the better part of three hours to hoist everything out of the truck and into the thrift store. Thanks to Gohan's structured mind almost all of it got a place in the actual shop right away. Only a few of the lamps had to be put out back and after having lifted more than his muscles could stand, Goten tossed the things into storage without any sense of grace. He then sat down with a grand gesture. No more dragging stuff around for Goten, it said.

Gohan on the other hand felt vivid. He lived for this job a lot more than Goten did, though his little brother very much loved his occupation. For Goten it was the chance to mingle and have fun and talk with people. For Gohan it was a dream job because he could organize things all day and appreciate objects that had a history to them you could almost feel. Gohan could see beauty in a chipped noodle bowl as well as a painting.

He went about giving the furniture a place as well as he could. Master Roshi assembled a very beautiful collection. Gohan could envision this set gleaming proudly in a new home soon. He hoped it would; it would honour Master Roshi's wishes.

The old man crept into Gohan's thoughts as he brought a rag down on the rosewood, cleaning everything he could reach with wood polish. The smell that arose from it was sweet and a smile pulled at his lips. Master Roshi would be happy to hear that Goten and him were taking such good care of his belongings. The old man had really loved them all, down to the last cufflink in his jewelry case. Gohan remembered times when Gramps would take him along to Roshi's to see if there was anything worth taking down to the thrift store. They never left empty-handed, but Roshi had been stubborn every single time. No, that couldn't go. And this just had to stay.

Gohan understood that sentiment well enough, having inherited it from his grandfather and his mother before him. Searching for these items was an emotional quest in itself. Obtaining them gave a feeling of satisfaction that couldn't possibly be measured in numbers or figures. Parting with them could even be painful. It was like giving away a part of your soul. Both Goten and his dad thought of this as stupid, or incomprehensible at least. What was so good about a rotten, old shaving brush they would ask him.

And Gohan's answer would always be the same: Everything.

Goten walked across the shop floor every few minutes, carrying in paintings and dumping them by the door (this was where Gohan hung them with care) or trying to move stacks of books as tall as himself. It made Gohan shake his head. Goten would get himself killed one of these days.

The prize piece of furniture was Master Roshi's vanity desk. Like the others this one was also made of rosewood. It stood on clawed feet. Decorative cutting lined its legs and edges, but the surface was as smooth as a baby's behind. Roshi had taken particular care of this desk, Gohan could tell. There wasn't any need to clean to top, but just for good measure he slid open the top drawer. There might be some dust collected inside after all.

What he did not expect was to find a box made of the same material as the desk. It was about the size of a rabbit cage. The handle and the slot for the key were gilded. Gohan whistled between his teeth in appreciation.

So now all he had to do was find the key, cause the darn thing was locked. Gohan thought hard for a moment. In this space of time he heard Goten step in behind him.

"Whatcha doin'?" Goten asked.

"I'm trying to get this box open," Gohan said. "I found it in that vanity desk over there. It feels like something is inside, but there is no key."

"Did you check it if has a false bottom space?"

Gohan's eyebrows went up to express his puzzlement. "Why would Master Roshi want to do that?"

"Oldest trick in the book."

"And you know that because..."

Goten shrugged. "Parents."

Gohan could've asked a million more questions -what Goten might want to hide and why-, but decided to let it rest. He sank a fingernail behind the bottom of the drawer and wriggled. And he'd be damned if the thing didn't come loose. He lifted the cover off and saw the key beneath.

Behind him Goten said " Called it!"

Now Gohan felt tense. This had been one of Master Roshi's secrets, private enough for him to keep it behind lock and key. Gohan wasn't sure whether what he was about to do was disrespectful, but he couldn't help himself.

He stuck the key in the lock and turned it.

The box popped open. Goten stepped in closer and tried to look over his shoulder. Upon seeing the content he uttered an anticlimactic "Oh."

Inside was a long chain of golden beads. And at the end of this chain rested a small orange orb about the size of a tennis ball. It appeared to be made of some kind of crystal, but when Gohan tapped his fingers against it, it felt as hard as stone. The orb sparkled, almost hypnotizing the two brothers with its sheen of mystery. In the center of it four red stars resided.

"What is it?" Goten asked.

Gohan thought long and hard. Then he said "I have no idea."