Yesterday, I received a promotion at work. My new position has a lot more responsibility and a not-insignificant pay bump. To celebrate, here is a long overdue chapter of Kame Island Romance: The Article. This one is entirely from Krillin's point-of-view.


Rights to Dragonball and related properties are held by their respective owners. No infringement is implied or intended.

Kame Island Romance

By koinekid

1. The Article

Part 2

"We could bribe them," Yamcha suggested.

"With what?" Krillin said. "I spent all my cash on snacks for tonight."

As Yamcha fished his pocket for his wallet, Krillin watched his roommates help themselves to another bag of pretzels meant for his guests. All day long, Roshi and Oolong parked in front of the television, consuming their usual fare and evading questions about their plans for the evening.

The TV didn't bother him. Krillin tuned it out while he and Eighteen busied themselves in the kitchen, working through a stack of board games he dug out of the closet on Wednesday. Since partnering up, she insisted they dedicate every spare moment to "training" for game night. And because Eighteen required so little sleep, she had plenty of moments to spare. Krillin on the other hand…

Following hours of nonstop gameplay that first night, his yawning became too conspicuous to hide. Eighteen, looking abashed, rose from the table without warning. Krillin worried he had offended her, but before he could apologize, she returned and set a mug of instant coffee in front of him. Touched by her simple (and unprecedented) gesture, he wasted no time raising the mug to his lips.

The coffee tasted awful. Eighteen spooned in too many granules and underheated the water. But Krillin drained the cup anyway, and the caffeine kept him awake long enough for Eighteen to earn her first Scrabble victory. Witnessing her genuine delight at finally beating him was worth losing a few hours' sleep, and though he probably should have discouraged her gloating, he couldn't suppress a grin as she pumped her fist in celebration.

Thursday morning, he found her at the table studying the printed instructions for the games they had yet to play. He sensed her impatience to continue, but she didn't press, and he thanked her with a modest breakfast of cereal and juice. No coffee. By the time their bleary-eyed roommates joined them, Eighteen was setting up for Monopoly.

Her preemptive glare silenced any of their potential complaints—at least about the game board. Roshi finally got around to spot-checking the previous day's grocery receipt and grilled her about the purchase of a certain magazine. Eighteen cooly suggested he regard such expenses as her delivery fee.

Friday afternoon brought another interruption as Yamcha arrived to pick up Krillin for a trip to the supermarket. The two had agreed to shop for snacks and talk strategy in the hours prior to the event. Eighteen wasn't pleased and told Krillin to hurry back, taking his hand and slipping him her store discount card and a couple of capsules.

He tried to avoid reading too much into her actions: a hasty return meant more time to practice before their guests arrived; the card directed them to the market nearest the island; the capsules enabled them to fly rather than take the slower air car. And the fact that she held his hand longer than necessary with her thumb ever so slightly stroking his palm?

"She digs you, bro," Yamcha insisted on the way to the market, and Krillin was starting to believe him. At the very least, he intended to give the mystery guy she was dating the fight of his life.

Back home, while Yamcha negotiated with Roshi and Oolong, Krillin wandered to the doorway separating the living room from the kitchen. He found Eighteen as he left her, leaning against the table and shuffling a deck of cards. With a crook of her finger, she beckoned him to join her.

"I should stay close in case Yamcha needs backup." He gestured to the living room.

"You could do that." Eighteen nodded, her pearl drop earrings dancing with the movement. She had forgone her usual hoops for a pair matching her favorite necklace. "Or you could let the ballplayer handle the pervs and hang out here. Assuming you aren't sick of me."

He gave her his best you-must-be-kidding-me look. "Never."

"Are you sure? We've spent a lot of time together lately."

"And I wouldn't trade a minute of it."

A smile blossomed on Eighteen's face, and Krillin found himself struck by her beauty. Never unattractive, she had taken special care with her appearance tonight, ditching her usual blue denim and opting for a pink sweater and black slacks. It was the most overtly feminine outfit he'd ever seen her wear, and he took satisfaction that she chose it for an event he asked her to attend.

"Eighteen?"

"Yes, Krillin?" She set down the cards.

"You look—" He cataloged the words he wanted to use—gorgeous, breathtaking, perfect—before settling on— "beautiful. I just thought you should know."

She murmured a thank-you so quiet he almost missed it. But the rosy hue of her cheeks said what her voice could not.

The whole scheme of game night seemed suddenly foolish to Krillin. He should tell Eighteen how he felt and let the pieces fall where they may. What's the worst that could happen?

She could reject him, storm out, and move in with her ridiculously rich, six-foot-tall boyfriend.

No, something in that moment told Krillin that's not at all what would occur.

He opened his mouth to speak when the voices from the living room reached a new volume. Before he could stop himself, he glanced back.

Soft laughter drew his attention to Eighteen. "Sounds like someone needs backup. Better go rescue him, hero."

Krillin shook his head. "No, you were right. Yamcha can handle himself. I—"

"You would never abandon a friend, Krillin. I know that firsthand, and it's one of the things I admire most about you."

"But—"

"I'll be here when you get back. Now, go before I change my mind."

He wanted to plow ahead and reveal his feelings, but Eighteen was paying him a huge compliment. The last thing he should do was prove her wrong by leaving a friend to fend for himself—even if that friend would agree with his decision.

"Krillin," she called out as he headed for the door. "I just wanted to say that you...look good too."

Glancing down at the khakis and blue Oxford he changed into upon his return from the market, he shrugged. "Clothes make the man."

She bit her lip."I wasn't talking about the clothes."

As he blinked in surprise, she seated herself at the table and began an intense study of her deck of playing cards. He recalled one of their Scrabble rounds from a couple of days ago. During gameplay, he caught her staring at him more than once. Whenever he met her gaze, her eyes dropped to study the letter tiles on her rack with as much attention as she now gave the cards. At the time, he thought she was searching for a tell on what passed for his poker face. What if she was just staring because...?

Because...

He entered the living room with a bounce to his step. She thinks I'm handsome. She actually thinks—

Yamcha's growl of frustration interrupted Krillin's thoughts. Any progress his friend had made on getting the others out the door was apparently quite minimal.

"Come on, guys," Yamcha said. "I already gave you enough for a decent meal."

Roshi shook his head. "It isn't every day one of my beloved students declares his intent for a gorgeous babe. This demands a five-star restaurant."

"You told them!" Krillin said.

"He sure did," Oolong replied. "And we're holding a celebration in your honor. Got any singles?"

Krillin glared at Yamcha.

"Sorry, bro. They wouldn't even consider leaving without an explanation."

"It's not like it's much of a shock." Oolong snorted. "The way you two are mooning over one another lately...it's frankly disgusting."

Roshi leaped off the couch and threw an arm around Krillin. "My boy, I'm proud of you. It's about time you made a move, and you couldn't find a better girl if you asked the dragon for one."

"Master, is your hand in my pocket?"

"I, er—"

"If you're looking for my wallet, as I told you earlier, I spent all my money on those snacks you two have been shoveling in. I'm tapped."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Well, good luck, boy." Roshi hopped back on the couch.

Krillin looked to Yamcha, who sighed and over-dramatically retrieved the wallet from his pocket. Roshi stood in front of him in a heartbeat, palm extended, and Yamcha handed over a fistful of zenni. Oolong replaced Roshi a moment later.

"That was for both of you," Yamcha protested, but the pig only made a gimme motion.

"And we'll need a ride to the mainland," Oolong said. "The old man lost the capsule containing our air car."

"Fine, fine," Yamcha said. "I have to pick up my date anyway." To himself, he muttered, "And stop by an ATM." At Roshi and Oolong's excited looks, he amended, "After I drop off you two."

As Yamcha started to lead his entourage out of the living room, Krillin thought he spied a flash of blonde hair in the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, but as he entered the kitchen, he found Eighteen seated at the table exactly as he left her. She looked as if she hadn't moved a centimeter.

On his way past, Yamcha paused at the table. "Eighteen, would you mind helping Krillin set up for game night. I'd do it myself but I've been corralled into playing chauffeur."

Eighteen rolled her eyes. "Why not? I thought I was a guest, but apparently I'm a host as well."

"You're a lifesaver," he said. "I should be back before the others arrive. You two behave yourselves in the meantime."

He winked at Krillin, and Roshi offered a thumbs-up as they departed.

When the door closed, Krillin came to stand next to Eighteen. He debated asking what she overheard but figured she would bring it up if she wanted to. Forcing the issue would only lead to an awkward conversation. He also abandoned the notion of confessing his feelings. For now, the moment had passed.

"You don't really have to help set up," he said. "I can manage by myself."

Her irritated brow smoothed. "I don't mind. Kame House is my home too, and how it looks reflects on me."

"Thanks." Something clicked into place for Krillin. "Hey, you were just giving Yamcha a hard time, weren't you?"

She shrugged. "Can't have our friends thinking I've grown soft."

"You? Impossible. One of us has to be the badass."

"One of us?"

"Uh, I—I mean..."

"I like that. We are partners, after all."

He offered a hand. "Well then, partner, care to join me in whipping this place into shape?"

She placed her hand in his. "Krillin, I'm all yours."


To be continued

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