Variables

Bulma woke up to wild rocking and her first thought was the world was coming to an end. Then she realized that the roar wasn't the sky falling but merely an engine block on its last leg.

Where am I? What happened? What the fuck is going on? The last thing she remembered was trying to rip the hair out of the bastard that killed her parents. She cracked open an eye and saw stars. As in those balls of plasma millions of light years away in space. She can't remember ever seeing this many without a telescope back home in West City.

"Oh hey! She's awake!" a chipper, unfamiliar voice declared and a familiar face eclipsed Bulma's view of the night sky.

"Can you sit up, Bulma?" ChiChi asked.

"Only one way to find out." When Bulma managed to right herself without any dizzy spells, she found herself beside ChiChi in the backseat of a desert buggy. A short, bald boy was studying her from the passenger's seat. He gave her what he must thought was a charming smile, except it made Bulma lean closer to ChiChi and whisper beneath her breath, "What's going on? Are we prisoners or what?"

"We're not prisoners," ChiChi assured her, pulling back to smile widely and point to the bald old man squeezed beside the bald kid. "Master Roshi saved us."

"The same Roshi your dad told you to find?"

"Yes! And I've asked him if he could train me." The dark-haired girl quickly added, "But don't worry, I won't start until you find Son Gohan."

"Son Gohan?" Roshi had turned around to face them, "If you're talking about the mountain hermit, you're in luck then. He's staying at our camp."

"Camp?" Bulma echoed, trying not to frown at the prospect of pitching up tents or going to bed in thin sleeping bags. She never anticipated roughing it on her journey and hoped that ChiChi remembered to collect their encapsulated supplies. "Will we be safe there?"

"As safe as anyone can be with the Red Ribbon Army still in existence," the driver grunted.

"Tone the gloom and doom down, Yamcha," the bald kid admonished.

"Maybe you should learn to take things more seriously, Krillin," Yamcha countered.

"Both of you shut up or you'll be looking at an extra five hours of water-duty!" Roshi said irritably.

"Yes, sensei," the two muttered.

The camp, the girls found out, was nothing like what they had imagined. It could have been a mountain base, once upon a time. But something or someone decided it was better off as piles of boulders and rubble. Yamcha shut off the vehicle and got out, popping open the trunk and hauling Bulma's numerous rucksacks onto his shoulders without much effort.

ChiChi and Bulma kept close to each other as the trio led them to a cluster of large rocks. The girls wondered what they were supposed to do when Krillin braced his palms against one of the boulders and pushed. The sand flowed around the massive stone as he moved it aside to reveal a hidden entrance.

Krillin dusted his hands and bowed, "Ladies first."

"It's pitch black in there," Bulma complained.

Yamcha adjusted his hold on the rucksacks to free one hand and went ahead into the cave.

From outside, the girls heard the crackle of kindling catching fire and saw the entrance illuminated in torchlight. Sheepishly, Krillin repeated, "Ladies first."

The girls cautiously trudged forward, ChiChi keeping a close eye ahead of them while Bulma watched their backs. Even though Krillin followed after them, Bulma could easily see over him. Roshi shuffled in and drew a deep breath. There came the sound of crumbling rock as Roshi dug his fingers into the boulder and with one hand, lifted it to block the entrance.

Bulma and ChiChi gulped, realizing that they were now effectively trapped. If these people were lying about their identities or about Son Gohan, Bulma didn't know what they could do to escape. Damn it, her heavy duty weapon capsules were with that Yamcha guy. The ones she had in her satchel were pistols and handguns and look how well they did against that triclops from the Red Ribbon Army.

With no other choice, the two girls continued along the cave, carefully leaning against the walls or each other for support when the path sloped down. They arrived in what Bulma guessed was a cavern, but with only a few torches lit, she couldn't tell how big it was.

"Have a seat," Roshi gestured to folded mats circling a low table.

Bulma and ChiChi sat beside each other, letting their eyes adjust to the dim light. Bulma was unconsciously designing lighting fixtures for the place. If only because it was damn inconvenient not being able to see who else could be lurking in the shadows of the cavern. She nearly leapt up because of course Yamcha chose to appear from the darkness at that exact moment with two people in tow.

Bulma assumed the old man in orange was Son Gohan because she doubted he was the squat figure in black. Especially since said black-clad figure was an old woman sitting atop a floating orb.

"About time you got back," the crone muttered. "Hand over your Dragon Balls dearie so I can go back to sleep."

"Whoa, hold up! Who said I had a Dragon Ball?" Bulma said.

"That's why you're looking for Son Gohan, aren't you?" the old woman said.

"H-how did you-"

"Baba's a fortuneteller. Best one there is. She saw you two in trouble and sent the boys to rescue you," said the supposed Son Gohan.

A lump formed in Bulma's throat as she dug into her satchel. "You're really Son Gohan, right? Y-you're not just pretending or anything?"

"I'm not sure how I can prove to you that I am."

She brought out her dragon radar and on the screen was, "The third signal. It's right here. You really are Son Gohan! But I thought you lived at Mount Paozu?"

"I did. The Red Ribbon Army forced me to have a change of scenery," Gohan said ruefully.

"You finally believe? Good. Now give me the Dragon Balls so I can get my beauty rest." Baba reached her hand out.

"What are you going to do with them?" ChiChi asked as Bulma handed over a capsule.

"I'm going to keep this with Son Gohan's ball and continue masking their psychic echoes. This way, the Red Ribbon's little tracking hound won't be able to detect them."

"But what about the great disaster the legends speak of? Shouldn't we, I dunno, keep them apart or something?" The blue-haired girl asked in concern.

Baba's cackle reverberated through the cavern and continued to do so for several long seconds. When she calmed down enough, she grinned. "Ah, youth. Don't worry about that, dearie. Fortuneteller Baba's got that well under control."

When Baba retired to her bedroom, Roshi suggested they all head to bed.

Krillin volunteered to lead Bulma and ChiChi down a long, winding torch-lit passage. He chattered excitedly until they arrived in front of a curtain. Behind it was a deep alcove carved out of the stone. They found the rucksacks of supplies resting atop two mattresses so thin they might as well have been blankets.

The bald boy lit a torch with... Bulma could have sworn he shot a beam of light from his finger tips. It reminded her of the laser from ChiChi's helmet.

"Training starts before breakfast, ChiChi," Krillin said from the doorway. "Would you like me to wake you up?"

"That would be good, thank you."

"No problem. Good night!"

When Krillin disappeared behind the curtain and they could no longer hear his footsteps, ChiChi turned to Bulma. "You've given the Dragon Balls to Son Gohan and we've found Master Roshi. What are you going to do now?"

"Fuck if I know."

A/N: The drabble-fic's muse decided it wanted ChiChi and Bulma as the main protagonists and I'm just a slave to its whims. I know I said I'd update soon after Kismet but it's been storming here and my internet turned unstable, so apologies for the delay. But thank you so much to everyone who's left a review or favorited or followed! It really means a lot to me!