I do not own DragonBall Z or any of the characters.

This is another shortish chapter. This time it's split into three small scenes involving Goku and Bulma all within the same afternoon. There'll be more action from here on out. Updates from here on out will probably be once every two weeks.


Son Gohan's hut was spartan in the strictest sense of the adjective if not the noun. There was only one floor and the roof was covered in thatched together shrubbery. Wood was neatly stacked to one side on a stone platform a few centimeters high. To Bulma the stones looked as if they had been hand cut, not being quite square enough to be machine made.

She reminded herself that this may be literally true. If the stories about Goku's grandfather were to be believed at least.

Inside there was a single space for cooking, a small fire pit in the center of the room with a large pot suspended over it. Blankets lay neatly stacked over a bedroll close enough to stoke the flames if you sat upright in them. All around the one small room hung various herbs and plants, some from nets but others just suspended in the air by a single thread. One in particular, which hung over the door, had smelled familiar. Bulma couldn't place the scent but it reminded her of the perfumes her mother used and the incense her aunt would burn at night. It had made her feel at ease, enough so that she didn't mind that there was no furniture for her to sit on. Like anywhere else she went, Bulma first sought out comfort and then books. The room was so small they weren't hard to find. Goku had laid them all out beside his bedroll.

"Wonder what the super he-man boywonder has been reading." She walked around the fire and to the bedroll Goku slept in. There was a pungent smell around his sheets only not the kind she normally associated with a boy's room. It wasn't nearly as unpleasant either. Bulma found she didn't need to ignore it to feel comfortable. "'Romance of the Three Kingdoms,'" Bulma read the title aloud. "This looks like a really old copy. And I can see from the spine it's been used a lot. Maybe it's one of Goku's favorites? Really weird reading for such a small kid. What else has he got? 'Art of War' in keeping with our theme of really old martial arts shit. This stuff belongs in a Shaolin temple. Book on Taoism…Oooh 'Beowulf.'" Bulma smelled the cover. "You're the youngest thing here, aren't you? Hmm…You also seem to be breaking the theme. You sure you're in the right place?"

"Who're you talking to?" Goku was standing in the doorway. Over his blue tunic was a bloody smock and in his righthand a thick meat cleaver. After reminding herself that she had heard no banjos playing and that Goku really was preparing their meal, Bulma smiled at him from where she sat.

"The books. You read way above your age group, Goku."

Goku walked over to the large pot in the center of the room and grabbed it with his free hand. "They were my grandpa's. He made me read them as part of my training." After placing the pot on the floor Goku jumped up. Bulma saw him grab something that's been hanging in a net.

"What's Beowulf got to do with martial arts?"

"What to do with power." Goku dropped the small plants into the pot. "Beowulf is stronger than anyone else but he never tries to hurt them. Inside he's always looking for more battle but he never lets that make him do something wrong." The boy nodded and Bulma smiled.

"Your grandfather taught you a lot, huh, Goku?"

"Everything."

Bulma watched him leave. She thought about her father and her mother. He had been 53 when she was born. Not a blue hair on his head even then. Her mother wasn't a scientist nor could she follow what her father was talking about half the time. But she would stay up with Bulma into the long hours of the night stowed away in his study or one of his many lab rooms just to listen to the man. In those hours right after he had finally been able to settle every phone call and problem West City had for him. Could the man talk! Theorems, horror stories of mismanaged labs, unethical experiment sites, whatever would come to his head. Even with her father's formulaic sage advice those were good evenings.

"What was it you said, dad? 'Don't mistake science for truth. Every theory and law in those books are wrong. Perhaps not by as great a degree as what we believed centuries ago but wrong nevertheless. My colleagues in biology cannot go a year without updating their taxonomic groups, supergroups, and supgroups. To this day there is no good definition for 'species' despite its prominence both within the common and scientific lexicons. In my own field, we cannot reconcile the dominant theories upon which all our equipment and society is built upon. As a scientist, your duty is to propose explanations for phenomena and to craft paradigms to better fit these explanations. Science is a reliable wrench, one that can handle most problems. But most is not every and you can ruin a job by using the wrong tool, can't you?' Same damn thing you say at almost every commencement ceremony."

Back when she was barely older than what she imagined Goku to be now, Bulma would need to be told when to leave. Her mother would wriggle in Dr. Brief's lap until her husband smiled at her and then Bulma would be sent off to bed. To her shame, it'd taken Bulma until puberty to realize why that was. Or why her mother told her that while they both liked to sit on the old man's lap, Bulma would outgrow her love of it while Panchy would be doing it until he croaked. "Like I hadn't already sat through all those biology classes. I guess hoeing is a thing you need to see firsthand before you get it. No offense, mom." Panchy had been nineteen when she'd given birth to Bulma, a May December romance with all the baggage that brought. "I wonder how many times you got called gold digger. Not that you aren't but… none of those people ever saw you two together. The way he takes care of you or the way you touch him when he's asleep. Love is love."

"You still talking to yourself- I mean- to the books?" Goku was back with the pot. He hung it over the firepit and dropped some fresh kindling into place. He then went to grab a strange bow like tool from the corner of the room. "Didn't know they were such big talkers." The boy grinned up at her as he went about his work.

"Cheeky brat. Where's this dragonball your grandpa left you, anyway?"

Goku blew on the embers encouraging them to grow into something bigger. "Behind you. In that box." He didn't need to watch to know what would happen so he continued to stoke the fires until satisfied with the heat. Bulma would stand and walk over to the box. She'd feel the dragonball's aura and be compelled by a power she didn't understand to hold it in her hand. In the ball she would see herself staring back, an image that would mesmerize her. It'd been the same with Goku.

"What the fuck are these?!"

"Huh?" Goku looked across the fire to see Bulma clutching his grandfather's magazines. In tribute to the man, Goku had laid them next to his most valuable possession; the mystical artifact Son Gohan had devoted the last years of his life to protecting. "What's wrong?"

"What the fuck are these musty old porno mags doing next to a dragonball."

"Hey, easy with those. They were my grandpa's!"

"Yeah I bet. You are too young to have these, Goku. I'm confiscating them."

"Confu-what?"

"Confiscate. To take away from someone who isn't allowed something." True to her word Bulma gathered up the stack of magazines and dropped them into a safe she'd materialized from one of the capsules in her pocket book. "I'm putting them away in this safe. They'll be right next to the dragonballs." Bulma reached for Goku's four star ball to place besides her own three star ignoring that the boy was staring slack jawed at her. "You can't be looking at magazines like this, Goku. You're a child. Even grownups shouldn't look at them. At your age- Oh wow! Goku, come look!"

"You just said not to!" Savior or no, Goku was finding this much craziness in one person hard to cope with.

"Not the magazines! The dragonballs. Look! They're reacting to each other."

Inside Bulma's safe the four-star ball and the three-star ball had begun to glow. Together they emitted a low hiss as if some great lizard were trying to speak to them. But it only lasted a moment. Soon both balls had returned to their still, beautiful state. Bulma turned to Goku beaming. Goku turned to Bulma and did the same. Both felt the magic, heard the low hiss, and neither needed to say it aloud for the other to know it. As Goku rested a hand on the safe to say a silent prayer, Bulma fell backwards laughing.

"This is… really gonna happen," she said.

"Yeah." Goku thought of the last night he'd spent with his grandfather. Age had finally worn the mighty martial artist down but he left without regret. Afterall, he'd found an apprentice to carry on his legacy. Years ago, the old man had found a baby in a strange capsule out in the mountains in the dead of night. Like the Monkey King of legends, he'd come out of a rock awakening to a great emptiness. And so, Son Gohan had named the boy 'Goku.' Thinking of how it also fit his appetite made Goku smile. He would soon be leaving this mountain behind to unite all seven balls and rid the world of that evil so great even his grandfather wouldn't challenge it. This filled him with dread and fulfilment in equal measures. The task his grandfather had set would be accomplished and he, Goku, would no longer have that connection with him. He considered telling Bulma all this but instead said "Food should be ready in a bit." and went back to his memories.


After their meal, Bulma was regaling Goku with stories of her home in West City. She spoke with a passion that Goku found endearing even if he wasn't sure what a streetlight was or did. "When we get home, I'll have to buy you something to wear. We'll have to do it before we see my parents otherwise dad will have you running around in my old shorts. 'Clothes are clothes, Bulma! It's not like I'm giving the boy your mother's g-strings.'" Goku giggled. He didn't know what a g-string was and thought Bulma's father sensible but her impersonation was too silly not to laugh. From the finger she'd placed over her upper lip and the way she scrunched it when she spoke, Goku figured the man's most distinguishing feature had to be a mustache. "I'll get you something nice. Maybe not a suit since I don't think a he-man wonderboy like you is up for sitting still at a tailor's. Definitely something outdoorsy but what? Hmmm." Bulma finished the last of the meal in front of her. She let out a small yelp.

"Literally everything you made was delicious! When you grow up, Goku, that's gonna be a big selling point for your girlfriend." Bulma sprawled herself out across the floor, using Goku's many blankets and sheets as a cushion. Despite the heat outside and the fire inside, the draft going through Goku's little shack kept them both cool. To Bulma it was almost as good as air conditioning. "God, I think I'm about to burst."

"You eat even less than my grandpa." Bulma raised her head to see Goku popping another of those fried wing wrapped things he'd made into his mouth. "I dunno how you can eat so little and keep so much fat on you."

"I am not fat and don't talk with your mouth full!"

"Whadd'ya mean you're not fat? Look at those! That's not muscle."

"Breasts are supposed to be made up of fat and women- everyone deposits fat around their thighs." Bulma had sat up and was pointing at Goku as a way to add emphasis to her words. "And I'm 92 58 91. You hear? Ninety-two centimeter bust, fifty-eight centimeter waist, and ninety-one centimeter hips. That's the kind all the boys want! Ok, so maybe it isn't exactly at my mother's level yet but I'm only sixteen! I have time to grow into it." Goku made a noncommittal noise. Something between a 'Hmm' and an 'Ahh.' "I am not fat," Bulma repeated. The two sat in silence for a moment. After the meal and laughter of earlier it was an unwelcome silence to both but it was Goku who broke it first.

"What's the big deal anyway?" he said in a way that made Bulma think he meant to ask something very different. "It's just fat."

"It's- ugh. I really don't think I can explain it, Goku. You grew up too far away from people to get why the things- why we're the way we are." It wasn't an answer and both knew it. "You'll be fine, Goku," Bulma said when she felt that unwanted silence returning. "Most people aren't as… you know… extra as me. You'll get along great back home."

As she spoke Goku sipped his tea. He'd made it too hot, something Gohan had always told him to look out for. He waited a moment before finally answering. "I don't know if I want to," he said finally.

"Well… alright."

The draft going through the small shack rustled the many plants and herbs hanging over them. Bulma fidgeted where she sat. Somehow they made her itch even though none of them had touched her nor had anything fallen onto her skin. She started shuffling the sheets on which she sat but then stopped suddenly as if seeing something she didn't like. She stood up and made for the door. "I'm going to sleep. We can figure out what to do tomorrow. I need to run some scans anyway. Triple check that no drones are sending signals through this area."

"Huh?" Fast as he was, Goku didn't catch up to Bulma until she was already outside. "The sun hasn't set yet. Bulma. Bulma, you can stay in my place You don't have to sleep out here. I have plenty of blankets and another bedroll. There's-" A huge puff of smoke interrupted him. There was so much he couldn't see Bulma or any part of the place where she had been standing. "Bulma!" he called out. "Bulma!" Relying on his other senses, Goku rushed into the smoke, placing himself and his Nyoi-bō in front of whatever was coming for them. "Get back inside. Nyoi-bo! Extend!" In keeping with its name, the staff grew until it was double Goku's height. He swung it through the smoke shoving it away from the clearing. After the second stroke, he was left standing in the late afternoon sun in front of a circular two story home. "Eh?"

"What're you doing?" Bulma's hands were on her hips and her face was made up in a scowl. "Relax, Don Quixote, it's just a house. It's not about to gobble you up. Trust me. You can go ahead inside and see for yourself. It's got power, running water, ac, all that good stuff. There's even a fridge with ice cream in it."

"For someone who's not a witch, you sure do make things appear out of nowhere a lot. What's ice cream?"

"It's… ice cream. You take milk and… you know I don't actually know how ice cream is made? Anyway, it's cold and you eat it before it melts in your mouth."

"So it's like ice?"

"Yeah but, y'know, creamy."

"I guess that makes sense." The two stood across from each other, arms folded over their chests. Then each burst out into a fit of laughter that left them doubled over. "Lemme clean up around here and then I'll join you inside."

"I can't promise you I'll save any ice cream so make it quick."

"No problem!"


The tiles of Bulma's bathroom felt weird to Goku's toes. He had once seen white tiles like these in his grandfather's magazines and tried to imagine what sorts of sensations they'd create against his feet. He'd imagined polished rock, like that which sat on a river bank. Instead the small slabs felt as if smaller tinier rocks, all smooth, were embedded throughout them. Normally it would suit Goku fine, the floor had remarkably good traction. Were he to run here (something Bulma had told to not do) he was certain no turn would be too sharp or sudden for him. But the floor in this room was not natural. It was a testament to the power of West City that his toes would not let him ignore. Although the forest was all around them Goku was no longer in it. His hand traveled to his shoulder instinctively forgetting his staff was not there. He was nude except for a small white towel tied around his waist.

"Come sit." Goku looked at the blue haired girl to see she was pointing at a low stool in front of the one she herself sat on. "We haven't got all day, Goku." There was nothing left to do but as Bulma asked. Goku nodded removing his towel as he did so. There would be no brisk wind to worry about at the end of this bath and Goku caught himself missing it. Cold was many terrible things but after a bath it jarred the senses forcing him awake. The boy shook his head and went about folding his towel. It was then he heard Bulma squeak "Goku, how old are you?"

"Thirteen by what grandpa figured," he answered looking up to see horror creeping across Bulma's face. "What's wrong?"

"You can't be in here!" It was a loud shrieking declaration. One that, like much of today, left Goku completely unsure of how to respond.

"I- what?!"

"You have hair down there! You can't be in here."

"That doesn't make any sense. You have hair too!"

Bulma snapped her knees together. She was standing in what Goku thought the most awkward thing he'd ever seen. Her body was angled to the side with one arm over her breasts. The other was reaching frantically, almost blindly, for any towel on the rack behind her. If there was so much as a moderate breeze Goku was sure she'd topple over. "Yes, Goku, which is why you can't be in here. Geez. I thought you were ten or eleven maybe twelve but thirteen! Look, when boys and girls start growing hair in those places it means they can't just bathe together." In one motion Bulma managed to grab a towel, slip it over herself, and then prop both hands on her hips. The feat impressed Goku who whistled. "And that's why! Now cover up and get out."

Speaking in what he likely imagined was a very patient voice, Goku let Bulma know that he had always 'had hair down there.' That it was in fact her idea that they bathe together in the first place. That he was done with her craziness. And that since the water was already hot he wasn't going to let it go to waste. Bulma's rebuttable was only two points. The first, that she wasn't going to share a bath with a thirteen-year-old boy. And the second that if Goku did not immediately make tracks she was going to hose him down like the disrespectful little monkey he was. True to her word Bulma reached for a shower hose and began firing at full cylinders when Goku refused to budge. Surprised by the sudden burst of cold, Goku put both hands up to protect himself.

"Gah!"

"You were warned, Son Goku! Now my fury will be unleashed!"

"Crazy witch!" As he had predicted, even with all the water, the bathroom's floor provided perfect traction and Goku was able to close the distance between them in half a moment, coming to a stop when he was directly between her legs. Whether he used the moment from his sprint when he took hold of her ankle and sent her soaring into the air, Bulma did not know but she let out a high-pitched laugh regardless. Bulma fully expected him to catch her and it wasn't every day someone tossed her into the air as easily as she might a newborn. If nothing else it was an interesting experience. Of course, once he had caught her, Bulma was treated to the boy's mischievous grin. And once she saw that he was eyeing the bathtub her own intelligence filled in the rest

"Goku, no!"

"What's that, Bulma? Put ya down, you say? Ok!" With total ease Goku jerked Bulma over his head so that her back was resting on the palms of his two hands. Realizing all she could was stare up at the ceiling, Bulma prepared herself for the inevitable plunge. Being a gentleman, Goku let her down easy. She slid into the bathtub as smoothly as if she had gone in of her own power and it was only Goku's speed that prevented her from realizing the boy had taken the shower hose for himself. "Got your magic scepter!"

"Goku, no!" said Bulma forgetting how well her protests had worked before. "Oh my god, that's really cold!"

"Isn't it?!"

"I'm sorry!" Bulma managed somewhere in her fit of laughter.

"Oh, you will be!"

"Ahh! Being in a hot bath just makes it worse!"

"Hahahahaha!"

"Please, Goku. I need to finish my bath." When the hosing stopped Bulma put her hands down and sank into the water so that little aside from her head was visible. She fished out the towel that'd fallen into the tub with her and held it out for Goky. Still laughing, he eyed the soaked towel before reaching out to grab it. "Thanks. Now take this towel and the one you left on the floor and toss them in the dryer. It'll be the metal box in that room with the mop and broom. Remember it?" Goku nodded. "Turn the left dial to medium and set the right dial to forty minutes. I don't have any bathrobes in your size but you can grab one of my plain white T's out of the dresser. Not like it's a bra or anything." Goku smirked and made his way out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

Like the bathroom floor, the carpet was another thing alien to Goku's feet but this one he liked. It was as if someone had thought to spread a thin bedroll across the whole of the house. He could sleep in any corner of this place and that pleased him. So much that he was tempted to forget the bath all together, curl up into a ball outside the room Bulma had told him was the kitchen, and sleep until morning. Goku wouldn't. He would do as Bulma had asked but that he could was what really mattered. There was a freedom in it. A lack of resistance he wasn't accustomed to. No effort needed on his part at all. He need only lay down and a comfortable sleep would be his. A life of carpet and sleep was right here under him and that realization made him want to sprint across all of Mt Paozu. He wanted to force fire into his legs and hear his own heartbeat- to feel it like a drum through his whole frame.

But that would have to wait. Now he needed to dry these two towels. There would be time for it after.

Goku placed both towels in the dryer and set it to forty minutes like was asked of him. He listened to the machine hum unsure if that meant it was functioning properly. He would have to trust that it was. There was no way for him to know. Worrying would only lead to him forgetting what else he would need to do. From beside the dryer, Goku grabbed a mop. He'd seen Bulma use it to dry milk she'd spilled making the two of them this delicious snack called 'milkshakes.' The bathroom being wet as it was, Goku would do the same there. Still nude, he made his way back towards the stairwell pausing to marvel over the machines wedged away into a corner of the living room. Bulma had peered into the glass of one and been able to tell him that the Red Ribbon Army wasn't within two hundred kilometers of their location except for a band of a few dozen. All Goku could see was green dots and strange swiggly lines.

It was magic as secret to him as the dragonballs and the beams of energy his grandfather could create. Bulma at least had promised to teach him how her own magic- science as she'd insisted on calling it- worked. He realized, given how long his own training under Son Gohan had lasted, Bulma would hardly be able to train him properly while on the road. But he hoped to master enough to be of help to her in working these machines. Together they had decided to intercept the nearby Red Ribbon stragglers. Bulma had said they would have information on the larger forces and that information could make their trip much safer. Goku saw the wisdom in this but in truth he wished to test the power of their war machines against his own.

Outside a wolf howled under a waning moon. It was not yet a crescent.

There would be another twenty-five days before a fullmoon.


This version of Goku never had the brain injury as a child. I'm trying to work out just how much of canon Goku was Grandpa Gohan and how much was trauma. We see with Vegeta that it's possible for a Saiyan to not be blood thirsty and that was with a full grown adult. This make me inclined to think if Gohan had had to deal with 'Kakarot' he'd have managed to raise something not too different from the Goku we got in the manga.

Let me know if the humor worked/was cute or if it was grating and obnoxious.