43.

He'd often taken his pupils here when they'd been knee-high, eager little squirts who'd gladly move piles of stone from one end of the island to the other in the name of exercise and discipline. Back then, he'd called it Training Island, but Bulma shrugged and said they should name it something different.

"We're not just training here anymore," her voice carried, loud and bossy. She bent over to inspect her handiwork and he caught an excellent view of her cleavage. So caught up in the view, he forgot to argue. So the others discussed what to call the second island and Krillin cleared his throat in an attempt to be polite.

"Master Roshi," his pupil said, a scolding look in his eyes. Roshi exhaled and shook his head. He wouldn't be reprimanded by Krillin, so he replied, "Yes?" with as much innocence as he could muster. Krillin looked away, quickly, and Roshi followed his gaze to where the blonde who had a number for a name came from the woods with her arms crossed and her demure nose lifted high in the air. Roshi thought he caught the faintest sign of flush on Krillin's cheeks before it was gone. He grinned.

"You've got good tastes, boy." Sure, the blonde wasn't as well-endowed as some of the other women on the island - he looked over to Mrs. Brief who was laughing, jugs bouncing with each shoulder-shaking giggle - but the firm blonde was a sight for sore eyes. His island had never been graced with so much talent; he almost rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.

"Krillin," Maron called, holding a chicken against her breasts. Roshi knew from the few exchanges he'd had with the woman that the chicken was the smarter of the pair. "18 said you were going to build a chicken coop here."

Over the course of the next few days, they made trips to the island. Bulma set up the start of a complicated heating system he didn't understand, but apparently it required bits of his small appliances and Bulma had gone so far as to take apart his television set. Not that he had any reception, but one day… maybe…

Bulma had growled under her breath that she'd buy him a new one if that day came, and Krillin calmly explained that she'd been testy since her boyfriend had disappeared without so much as a note.

18, Tien and Piccolo had found a pack of wild boars and pinned them on the island. The stall was a sturdy little structure with a wire fence big enough to house a dozen or so hogs. They rolled around happily in the muck as Roshi tossed them their food. He didn't much like looking his food in the eye, but it beat not having -anything to eat, so he followed directions. Apparently he'd been put on feeding-the-animals-with-Maron duty. Not the worst task, actually. She bounced and giggled and chattered about who knows what.

It was far better than farming duty with Chichi, who spent the long, hot days on the island instructing Goku and Raditz the proper way to plow a field. Even though Goku spent most of the time whining.

"Focus Goku," Chichi shouted. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, strands of dark hair that had freed themselves from her bun plastered against her neck and forehead. Her cheeks were delightfully red with exhaustion. Her chest heaved in her blouse. Roshi thought he might get a nose bleed.

"But I don't want to focus," Goku replied. "Vegeta and Nappa are out there, getting better at killing Walkers than me."

Chichi blinked. Frowned. Roshi thought he spotted a vein throbbing on her forehead. With a tone far calmer than Roshi thought possible given her demeanor, Chichi replied, "There aren't any Walkers here. Why would you need to be good at killing them?"

Roshi knew the answer even as Goku fumbled for a response. Goku had always had that competitive spirit, that drive to be the very best. It was one of the things that made him his star student. That and his super-human strength and knack for always, despite all odds, finding a way to win.

When the sun began its descent, they boarded the two boats and made the short trek back home.

"Son of a bitch," Bulma muttered as the island came into view. Roshi squinted and found the source of her anger. On the shore the third fishing boat set in the very place it'd been days before.

When they landed, Bulma was the first off the boat. Roshi watched as she frowned at the pair of men lounging onshore. Nappa opened his mouth, but his words died at his lips when Bulma shot first,

"You look terrible."

Their clothes were soiled with dust and blood stains. Looking very much like they had the first time they'd come ashore.

Vegeta grunted. Roshi thought that might be his only form of communication, until he opened his mouth and said, "We've had a long day."

"I bet. Idiots. We weren't coming after you."

"Hn. We didn't require your assistance."

"Or our permission, apparently." Bulma's eyes were narrowed, but Roshi didn't catch the same level of heat from earlier when Goku had spilled some of their long bean seeds. In fact, she looked… relieved. "Come inside and we'll get you washed up. You'll be happy to know I've got the hot water running, ungrateful asshat."

He followed her in dutifully and everyone stood in silence for a moment until the door slammed back into its frame and Nappa sighed. "Dinner ready?"

"Not yet," Mrs. Brief replied with a grin. She climbed down the ladder from the boat and clapped her hands together. "But there's some salt pork in the fridge, and Chichi's whipping up some of her famous fried rice. We just ate lunch, but you poor boys must be starving."

Dende and Chiaotzu hopped ashore and took of running, laughing and chasing one another, clearly unfazed by the events of the day. Roshi cracked his neck and wondered how this had become the new normal.

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GUYYYYS. Farmer Goku! It's my new favorite thing. Well, besides Vegeta sitting in the back of a kid's train. I am dying with excitement for episode 2 of Dragon Ball Super. I hope you're all watching! (subbed episodes are on youtube, so check it if you haven't yet)

This isn't quite what I planned for this chapter, but - eh - hopefully the next one will clear some stuff up.