My brother's prospective peer set one foot on the bow of his rowboat.
"Hyah!"
He leapt into the air; we all craned our necks back to track his ascent; he hung briefly at his apex, performing textbook gymnast flips all the while as he came rapidly back down.
Bosh!
And landed neck deep in the sand.
"…"
No one said anything for a beat, just watching the kid flail and kick his feet.
"Kiddo."
"Goku."
"Pull him out."
"Ossu."
Goku plucked the kid up out of the sand.
"Koff-hack-gah!"
He coughed and spat, still frazzled until he noticed he'd been freed. He dusted off his bald head.
"Ahem," he said, clearing his throat, muttering. "Thanks."
He turned to the old master; with perfect posture, six Shaolin marks on his forehead, hands at his side and garbed in his yellow and orange monk uniform, he looked the ideal student.
"Ah, you must be Muten Roshi-sama!"
"Indeed," Roshi said. "I am."
"I have traveled from a village far to the East to train under you! My name is Kuririn!"
"Hm," Roshi nodded. "You've got good resolve to come all this way. But I'm afraid it's not quite so easy to be my pupil." He turned his head. "You better head home."
Kuririn's eye glinted. A responding light glanced off of Roshi's shades.
"Please," he said, holding out a blatantly pornographic mag. "Accept this humble gift by way of greeting."
"Ooh!" Roshi snatched the magazine from Kuririn's hands. He turned away and squatted down, eying the contents intently. "Let me think about it."
"I'm glad you like it."
Kuririn turned his head and side-eyed my brother and me. He did not maintain his polite smile for us.
"… So, who are you two supposed to be? His pupils?"
"I am!" My brother said, blissfully unaware he was being scrutinized. "I'm Son Goku!"
"I'm not," I said, ruffling Goku's hair. "But I am his brother and his keeper. I'm Son Mirin."
"Brother?"
Kuririn's eyebrows jumped; his eyes darted back and forth between us.
His disbelief and incredulity weren't totally misplaced. People hadn't questioned it much so far, but fact was, Goku and I didn't much look alike. Any similarities in our appearances ended at skin tone and hair color.
Goku's height could've let him pass for a much younger kid; I hadn't yet filled out my lanky teenage frame. His hair naturally fell into a recognizable, spiky style; mine couldn't defy gravity and only ever came in varying degrees of unkempt. His eyes were wide, black and round; mine were blue and just a hair too close together. All told, my brother's face was pretty symmetrical; my nose hadn't healed quite right after Goku broke it in his excessive eagerness to spar years ago.
Bulma had accused me of being ugly that first day–in reality, I was just an average human in a world of characters who'd been drawn to look appealing.
"Well," Kuririn said. "Anything's possible. Although, neither of you look much like martial artists."
'And you ain't got a nose, runt. Chill out.'
"Your head's like a pachinko ball, huh?" Goku asked. As usual, just saying whatever came into his head.
"Snrk…" I stifled a startled snicker and tried to scold him. "Goku."
"What'd you say?!" Kuririn snapped. "It's only natural for those who pursue Budo to shave their heads and strengthen their minds! Observe Muten Roshi-sama, for example!"
"No," Roshi said without even glancing away from his mag. "I'm just naturally bald."
". . ."
Kuririn pursed his mouth, staring blankly at us for lack of anything else to say. Roshi clapped the magazine shut and stood up.
"Now, Kuririn, was it?"
"Yes sir!" Kuririn jumped to respond, smile back on his face.
"I shall train you," Roshi said. "On the condition that you bring me a pichi pichi gal." The old man failed to suppress a lecherously eager grin. "I suppose you know my preferences?"
"Heh!"
Kuririn's eye glinted again, and he prompted Roshi to lean down so he could whisper into his ear.
"Aha! You get me, boy!"
"Thank you for your kind words." Kuririn said, inclining his head.
"Hop on Kinto'un with Goku and find one!" Roshi pointed out to sea with a sweeping gesture.
"Kinto'un?" Kuririn parroted.
"C'mon, Kuririn!" Goku said, sidling up beside the monk.
"Um," Kuririn hesitated, marveling at the magic cloud. For a moment, I caught a glimpse of the child he was trying to hide. "Hm. Okay."
He hopped up, aiming butt first for Kinto'un's soft mass.
Whud.
He missed entirely.
"Huh? Wha–why'd I fall through?"
Kuririn's head swiveled up to the cloud and back to the ground.
"Hrm," Roshi grunted, stepping toward his second aspiring student. "Only those with a pure heart can ride that cloud." He frowned, looming over Kuririn. "You've come to train with impure motives!"
"That's not true!" Kuririn blurted desperately. "I just wanna become a strong martial artist so I can impress girls!"
I blinked. A beat passed.
"Like I said," Roshi said on a sigh. He shook his head. "Well, everyone starts somewhere. Get going, you two."
"Ossu!"
"Okay…"
Kuririn managed to arrange himself on Goku's back such that he didn't fall and they took off. Roshi and I watched them leave in silence.
"… You're not worried about that?"
"If that's truly his only motivation," Roshi said in his Sen'nin tone. "He won't last doing my training."
I considered that and shrugged.
"Fair."
Sweet Rice Wine
"Whoa!" Kuririn blurted. "Hey, can't you fly a little lower?!"
For some reason, Goku had them cruising as high up as the clouds. They suddenly dipped and Kuririn yelped.
"Ah! I'm gonna fall!"
"It's your fault you can't ride Kinto'un," Goku said plainly. "You've got bad thoughts."
"This and that are two different things! How're we gonna find a pichi pichi gal from that height, let alone out here?!"
They'd wandered far inland from the ocean, and decidedly not anywhere near any villages or civilization.
"Hey," Goku said, pointing. "D'you think the Old-timer would like that one?"
"Huh?"
Kuririn craned his neck to look over Goku's shoulder; a farmer gaped up at them and their cloud from his field.
"Are you blind?! That's a man!"
"Wow, you can tell just by looking?" Goku asked.
Kuririn was dumbstruck. Either his would-be peer was exceedingly simple, or some kind of master at sarcasm.
"I have to touch them and check if they've got a wiener."
"…"
Kuririn strongly suspected the former.
"Oh, but Mirin told me to stop doing that."
'Thank God.'
"Just so you know," Kuririn said slowly. "I'm a boy."
Sweet Rice Wine
In the wilder stretches of the desert, on the wall of a saloon adjacent to the bar, a certain wanted poster hung uncollected. Bounties brought in earlier that week had yet to be taken down, but one had kept its place for months. Posters just like it adorned walls throughout the country, all baring the same feared face.
The blonde, trigger-happy menace, Lunch.
Sweet Rice Wine
"Where've you taken us now?" Kuririn asked. "There's nobody out here, let alone any girls!"
"Hm," Goku glanced around. He hadn't been paying much attention; he still wasn't sure what pichi pichi actually meant. "Should we turn back?"
"Yeah."
"Kyaah!"
Someone screamed. Goku looked down; a bunch of people were grouped together in a canyon.
"What's that down there?" He asked, pointing.
"Where?" Kuririn asked. He shifted on Goku's back again. "That girl's in trouble, huh."
Goku noticed some of the guys were holding guns. He guessed the girl was the one on the ground.
"Should we help?"
"We'd look cool if we did," Kuririn said. "But… they've got guns. W-well, I'm sure they have their reasons, right? It's not our business."
"Let's help!" Goku decided, taking Kinto'un into a dive.
"Wha–AAH!"
Goku jumped to the ground; the guys with guns turned around with silly looks on their faces.
"Who're you?!"
"I'm here to help that girl!" Goku said.
Kuririn jumped off his back and ran somewhere.
"What?"
"Just to clarify, this is all his idea. I am not involved!"
"Kids or not, we'll arrest you too if you're her accomplice!"
Goku didn't know what arrest or accomplice meant, but they didn't sound strong.
"Hup!"
He jumped at the first guy and knocked the gun out of his hand. A kick in the face knocked him down. The other guy went quiet after one punch in the gut.
"Huh," Goku said. He didn't even have to use Nyoibo. "These guys were pretty weak."
"Th-thank you so much! I wasn't sure what I was going to do!"
The girl seemed nice, anyway.
"Aheh," Kuririn said, coming out into the open. "Not at all! All in a day's work."
"Hey, Kuririn," Goku said, pointing at the girl. "You think the Old-timer would like her?"
"Hm?" Kuririn blinked at him and looked at the girl. He smiled for some reason. "Yes, she's perfect."
Sweet Rice Wine
Lunch had a bunch of money in her bag again. The police hadn't told her what she'd done this time, but it couldn't have been nice. Still, hard to worry too much about that when she was riding on a literal cloud with her two small heroes.
"Um," she said, hoping she didn't sound ungrateful. "Where exactly are we going?"
"The Kame Sen'nin's house!" The spiky-haired boy said.
"Kame Sen'nin?"
The cloud zipped quickly over the ocean, cruising past islands and wide blue expanse. In the distance, a pastel pink poked out on the horizon.
"There it is!"
As they got closer, a modest house took shape with a red roof and matching shade of the words Kame House written on the front.
"Oh, how cute!"
Sweet Rice Wine
As was often the case, I heard my little brother before I saw him.
"Old-timer, we brought a girl!"
I picked myself up off the back porch and dusted the sand off my pants; I slowly made my way through the house to the front.
"… Where is he?"
"He might be using the facilities." Kuririn said delicately.
"Facilities?" Goku parroted.
"Bathroom," Kuririn whispered. "It means bathroom!"
"Oh," Goku said at his usual speaking volume; a normal person's outside voice. "He's taking a crap! I'll go get 'im."
I heard Kuririn stammer a bit as Goku ran through the house.
"Hem! Heh, sorry about him, he's such an uncouth child!"
"You're a kid yourself, runt," I said, strolling out onto the front porch. "Why're you acting like his keeper?"
"Runt?!" Kuririn squawked, indignant.
"Relax," I said, waving my hand. "It's a term of endearment."
I turned to Lunch; she regarded me with wide blue eyes that matched her hair, almost certainly fuller and softer than Bulma's; she wore sneakers, fingerless gloves, a large red ribbon in her hair, a pale green tank top and pale-yellow boy shorts.
"Lovely to meet you," I said, nodding. "Son Mirin; the spiky-haired tyke is my little brother, Son Goku."
"A-and I'm Kuririn!" Kuririn cut in, not one to be left out.
"Oh!" Lunch clapped her hands together, smiling. "My name is Lunch. Is this your house, Mirin-san?"
"Nah," I shook my head. "The Kame Sen'nin owns this place. He'll be out in a sec to introduce himself." I gestured at Kuririn. "These two are aiming to be his martial arts students."
"I see! That explains why they're so strong!"
Kuririn's polite smile twitched a little, turning slightly goofy.
"Heh."
"So," Lunch said, looking around. "Is there something you'd like me to do here? The boys did save me."
"No, nothing in particular," Kuririn assured her. "Having only men here, we are lacking a certain splendor that only you can provide with your presence."
While the excessively flowery language nearly drove me to gagging, he wasn't quite wrong.
"Well, something like that," I said. I tipped my head back toward the inside of the house. "Excuse me a second."
As I passed through the living room, I heard Goku calling for Roshi.
"Old-timer, we brought a girl, hurry up!"
"J-just a minute!" Came Roshi's voice from the bathroom.
Fwusssh.
"Keep it down, will you?!" Roshi hissed, popping out with one hand on his waistband. He'd changed back to his classic purple shell. "It's indecent!"
"Pyew!" Goku jammed his hands over his nose.
"She's a genuine pichi pichi gal this time, right?" Roshi asked, walking toward the window.
"Kuririn thinks so."
"Let's see now…"
I left them to it, slowly tracing my way into the kitchen, retrieving a pepper shaker, and very leisurely walking back out toward the front porch.
"You're an heiress, right?" Kuririn asked.
"It'd be best for everyone if I tell you," Lunch said. "When I sneeze, I"
"MAGNIFICENT!" Roshi cried, announcing his verdict. "NI~CE!"
"Yeek!"
Lunch jumped, reasonably startled by the old master's outburst.
"She's to your liking, then?" Kuririn asked.
"No doubt," Roshi agreed, nodding at him and my brother. "I officially accept both of you as my pupils!"
Kuririn and Goku looked at each other, triumphant.
"Okay," I said, taking a deep breath as I stepped outside in front of Lunch. "One more detail to address, then."
I paused in front of her.
"Sorry for what I'm about to do, just trust me, all right?"
"Eh?"
Shakka.
I tossed a waft of pepper into her face. When she realized what I'd done, her eyes went wide and horrified, nose wrinkling.
"Ah… ah…"
"What're you doing?!"
Roshi shouted, tone scolding. I ignored him in favor of glancing at my brother.
"Goku," I said in an even tone. "Whatever she does, don't attack unless I say so, got it?"
"Huh?"
ACHOO!
Sweet Rice Wine
Lunch blinked, scowling up and down the area. She didn't recognize it.
"Where am I now? Don't look like a jail."
"I can answer that."
She snapped her head around and found some scrawny brat looking at her. She whipped out her automatic, trigger finger itchy and more than ready.
"Who the Hell're you guys?!"
Another, spiky-haired brat leapt off the porch of the house behind the first–his eyes were trained on her, and he looked about as ready to fight as anyone she'd ever seen, which was saying something. Behind him, another shorty and an old man stood, looking more like everyone else Lunch met: alarmed and cowering.
"Time out!" The first punk said, hands raised. "Let's talk a minute, shall we?"
"Hah?"
"You can keep the gun out, just ease off the trigger a bit."
"You got something to say, twig?" Lunch asked.
"Okay, good news," he said. "You're not in jail, and there aren't any cops or bounty hunters who know about this place."
Lunch narrowed her eyes. She nodded at him to continue.
"Bad news, there's no immediate means for you to get off this island."
"Click." Lunch said, imitating the sound of her trigger and jabbing her gun at him.
"Grr!" Spiky growled.
"More good news," Twig said in a hurry. "You've got your gun aimed at the right person. I'm the only one here who couldn't stop you."
Lunch just lifted an eyebrow at that. She took a second look behind Twig.
"Two runts and an old man?" She scoffed. "I could have all of you tap dancing in a second."
"Probably," Twig conceded. "But even if you tried, you couldn't kill any of them."
Lunch focused on him again; his eyes were dead serious, not a shred of doubt to be seen.
". . ."
She sized him up again; still a twig, but a ballsy twig.
"You're some kinda crazy, huh. Fine, talk."
"How would you feel about an extended vacation?"
"?"
"You're wanted all over, and I know you've been harassed by law enforcement plenty, even today."
"Get to the point."
"Like I said, nobody knows about this place. You've clearly got enough cash to relax for a while," Twig said, nodding at her bag. "Stay here and take a load off. What do you think?"
Lunch blinked. However he knew about it, he was right; the cops had come after her for the train robbery she pulled that morning. She'd sneezed at an unfortunate moment mid-chase and somehow ended up here. She loved the thrill of things, but it had been a while since she had a moment to breathe.
"I am kinda sick of cops…" She mused. She realized she'd lowered her gun and corrected herself. "Hang on, nothing's free. What's your game, twig?"
"No game," he said. "Just you being here would make people happy."
Ha. First time Lunch could remember ever hearing that.
"Hell's that mean?"
"You see that old man?" Twig asked, slowly stepping to one side so she had a clear view. "He's been living out here for decades. Frankly, he's very lonely. Having some female company," Lunch scowled harder at him. "Not like that, just having you around the house would be plenty."
It sounded too good to be true. Still…
"So, I just live here with the four of you punks?"
"Yep."
"And you won't rat me out?"
"Nope."
"… I don't gotta do chores or anything?"
"Nah, I'll handle most of that."
Lunch snorted.
"Heh," she laughed, letting her gun drop; intentionally this time. "You would. Fine, I'll take a vacation."
"Excellent!" Twig dropped his hands and held out one toward her. "Shake on it?"
Lunch shrugged.
"Sure, whatever."
She clapped her hand with his. His other hand flashed up from his waist.
Shakka.
Pepper flew into her face; her nose tickled.
"You little–!"
ACHOO!
Sweet Rice Wine
"Mirin!"
Goku jumped up next to me as soon as Lunch's gun was out of sight and her hair changed back.
"I'm okay, kiddo."
"Oh dear," Lunch said, hand over her mouth. "I hope I didn't cause you all any trouble."
"None whatsoever," I assured her. "We just had a productive conversation." I looked around at the others. "Right?"
"You're mad, boy!" Roshi murmured from where he lay sprawled on the ground; likely collapsed at the sudden release of tension.
"Scary…!" Kuririn whispered from right beside the old master.
"So, Lunch," I said. "Would you mind living here for a while?"
She blinked and turned her head, slowly sweeping her eyes up the island.
"If you'd have me," she said, smiling wide. "I'd like nothing more!"
