Piccolo walked casually along the streets of downtown East City, wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt , jeans and a baseball cap. He was catching plenty of confused looks, but he ignored them all with the glacier coolness of practice and genuinely not giving a damn. He glanced down at the scrap of paper Chi-Chi had given him earlier, rereading the name scribbled down: Cupper's. He didn't know if that was reference to something or not, but the address written small underneath it said that he was close by.
Scanning the storefronts he was passing, he noted the increase in teenagers and young adults populating the area. He'd been told that it was an area sandwiched between two universities and the students populated the locale like termites in a log, but it was beginning to get a little stuffy with all the youthful assurance and ego flooding the place.
The namekian stopped in front of an old fashioned restaurant, with large windows on the front that reached nearly from floor to ceiling and an iron fence that sectioned off the the tables with parasols granting some shallow shade for the patrons who sipped their cold drinks and sweated through the spring heat. The green and brown paint scheme gave it a suggestion of an appearance calling back to a village café. It was enjoying a decent business day, it seemed, but there wasn't any line and Piccolo walked on in, the interior being quite cool compared to the street.
There were about twenty tables inside in addition to around half as many booths. Several columns dotted the floor and connected with the ceiling, but he rather doubted that they were actually load-bearing. The main counter had a large chalkboard behind it listing off the food items available at extortionate prices, and next to that was the coffee counter, and there, working happily at his station, was...
"Piccolo?!" Goku started, midway through washing a stack of mugs in a sink brimming with soap suds. The saiyan was wearing an apron over adark green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a small name tag pinned near the collar.
"Your wife told me to make sure that you were actually working and not just taking the opportunity to stuff your face." Piccolo smirked and stood an arms distance away from the counter, arms crossed smugly. "Although, to be honest, I just wanted to see for myself that the great Son Goku had managed to find himself a job."
Goku grinned a tad sheepishly and rubbed his wrist against his forehead (his hands were still wet and holding a scrub brush). "Yeah, y'know, it kinda surprised me too! I kinda wanted to get back in the practice of making cappuccinos and stuff, since I haven't made any since we went to the South Galaxy, and it was pretty fun so I asked around where I could make them and people said that this place was hiring, so...here I am!"
Piccolo raised a brow. "That's quite...fortuitous. And you actually got a job here without any previous experience?"
At this, Goku looked triumphant, even as he returned to washing cups and talking over his shoulder. "At first, no. But then I said that I could make just about any kind of drink faster than anyone else and they said I'd be hired if I could beat their best." He chuckled to himself, and even Piccolo had to smirk at that. He almost felt sorry for whoever had to go up against the saiyan.
"Still though, I'm surprised that you would even want a job. Fighting and training were all you used to think about, and a normal life was just out of the question. What's different?"
Goku took a few moments to think, placing the clean mugs on a drying rack. "There's a lot of time for me to train, still, but I also want to try other things; to see stuff I never would otherwise. I won't ever stop wanting to fight, but this is actually pretty fun, and I don't mind spending a few hours here doing something that I don't mind working at and practicing."
"That's pretty remarkable growth for you, Goku." The unsaid words between the lines remained that way. "At least you're giving the rest of us a chance to catch up with your ridiculous strength."
Again, Goku chuckled. He dried his hands on a dish cloth and dropped it beside the sink. "Say, wouldn't want a coffee, by any chance? Employees can give discounts to friends!"
"I'm half shocked you even know what a discount is," Piccolo laughed, but he took a seat at the counter. "Get me something that doesn't have too much of that whipped cream all over it, but not something bitter as hell."
Goku perked up and retrieved a mug from a cupboard. "House blend coming right up!"
The snow was knee high, and the rock underneath it was angled upward, so it wasn't easy going at all. The wind wasn't helping any either - keeping a stream of frigid air and snowflakes pelting against his face. The goggles and cap helped, but visibility was extremely poor and progress was slow. It was early morning, but the sky was dark and heavy; like a volcano had erupted nearby.
This sounded pretty bad, but it was his daily commute.
There was a valley nestled between three mountains of the Southern Continent's highlands that was extremely remote and unwelcoming and had so far proven to be an ideal training location for him. He was protected from the winds and direct snowfall, but it was still pretty harsh and not a place anybody could hope to find long-term shelter. He could have flown there, but trudging up an incline was part of the training itself, so, day after day, he hiked up just after sunrise and hiked back down just before dusk.
The valley was only slightly less freezing than out in the open, but he took his coat off anyways. His cap and goggles followed after, exposing his three eyes to the muted light. He rolled his shoulders and neck before settling into his workout, exertion and determination keeping him warm.
"Thank you," Roshi said appreciatively as Chi-Chi poured out the tea. He'd never visited the Son household before so he'd never known that she actually served tea in a far more ceremonial manner than he was used to. Something about being raised a royal, perhaps, that had instilled a sense of formality when serving tea to guests. She waited until he had taken a sip first before she took her own cup, bringing it close to her lips to blow gently on, the steaming liquid rippling like a miniature storm front.
"Alright, now we can talk about whatever it was you came here about." She had fulfilled her duties as a host and could get back to scrutinizing him suspiciously. His appearance here was as weird and unusual for her as it was for him, and she wasn't above suspecting him of going to great lengths to try and cop a feel.
"Truth is, I'm worried about Goku and Gohan." Roshi took another sip of the tea (lavender, he thought, with traces of vanilla offering a sweetness it otherwise lacked) before setting the delicately painted cup down on its saucer. "They haven't been the same since the ordeal with the androids."
It really hadn't been what Chi-Chi was expecting him to say. She hid her mouth behind her cup, using the excuse of cooling the already warm tea to give her time to think of a response. She would have loved dearly to refute his statement – outright calling him wrong and leaving it at that – but she had also noticed the change in her husband and son. Nothing too drastic a shift, but there were definite moments of acting seriously unusual for them; Goku getting a job being a perfect example, and Gohan had been spending almost every second of his free time outside of the house, exploring the woods.
It was concerning, but she had to accept that they had both gone through some pretty messed up stuff not to long ago and both were working their ways through the fallout. She could help where she could, but she wasn't very knowledgeable on the subject.
"I know what you're talking about. Goku has been spending a lot more time with us and Gohan is spending almost no time with us."
"If you think about it, it does make sense for them to be that way."
"Yes, but it's been nearly a year and neither of them seem to be returning to normal!"
"This might not be the sort of change that either will just come back from. They are both strong warriors and kind souls, but they aren't used to being pushed so far or tested so severely."
Chi-Chi looked down into her tea, trying to find the answers she needed to heal her family. She wasn't some doctor or psychologist, and growing up fairly alone didn't lend itself towards interacting with other people. There was such a fine, invisible rope for her to walk; trying to balance helping with their issues with not suffocating them and making matters far worse.
She wouldn't say it, but this was pretty much exactly why she hadn't wanted Gohan to become a fighter like his father.
"I know that we'll need to be there for them, but I also think that we-"
From a room over, the sudden and shrill scream of a baby broke the tranquil quiet.
"-should give them some space, damn." Chi-Chi looked over at the clock above the doorway. "He's awake sooner than usual, I though he might nap until lunchtime."
"Eh, who is awake sooner than you'd thought?" Roshi was fittingly curious.
"Goten, of course." She glancing at the martial arts master sidelong. "...Goku didn't tell you guys about him, did he?"
Roshi chuckled weakly and rubbed his smooth head, abashed on account of his former student. "Not really, no."
Chi-Chi just rolled her eyes. "Well come on then. Might as well meet the newest addition to the family while you're here."
The yard of Capsule Corp had seen far stranger things than Bulma building a ghost-trapping device on it. She had gotten a call from Fortune Teller Baba of all people, complaining that her oasis home was being flooded by the ignorant dead and she needed some way of restoring order around there.
Sure, why not? Something to manhandle the dead. Easy-peasy.
No, really, it was.
She'd brought the mostly assembled hull of the contraption out into the sunshine so she could work on it while also keeping an eye on Trunks who was gleefully running around with a simplistic model plane and making the toddler equivalent to engine noises. He rather liked the idea of flying.
Neither of them heard the feather-light landing of Seventeen a few feet off.
He silently observed that Bulma was literally elbow-deep inside of the half-dome shaped machine she'd set on top of the picnic table, then he looked over at Trunks, who was now imitating a nose dive with his plane. Seventeen took several stealthy steps forward, putting him directly behind the two year old. He waited until the plane was just about to reach the ground, then he struck.
Bulma heard a shriek and she whipped around, screwdriver still in hand. Trunks was rising into the air, held under the arms by Seventeen who was making a loud, ascending noise like a plane would.
She all but collapsed on the bench. "You jerk! You almost gave me a heart attack!" She shook the fist with the screwdriver in it at the android as he playfully circled around the property, still making the plane noises with Trunks hollering with laughter in his secure hold. "Don't you know better than to sneak up on a mother while she's watching her child?!"
"You were hardly watching him," Seventeen pointed out casually, dipping low before arcing up further, Trunks whooping along. "Besides, he needs to learn spatial awareness eventually; might as well be when he's impressionable enough for it to stick."
"But not when he's still in diapers! And I don't need a toddler learning to fly before he can even speak a full sentence! That's just begging for trouble, so get down here before I give you trouble of your own!"
Seventeen glibly circled the yard a few more times before finally setting down, depositing Trunks easily on the grass. He'd been showing up every now and again recently, claiming he was just making sure that Trunks was growing up alright and wasn't turning into a little snot. She thought it had been weird for one of the androids, who Future Trunks had been so set against when he'd warned them in the first place, to arrive randomly to play with baby Trunks for a few hours. She'd been wary the first two times, but he really did just come to be a buddy for the small child, and he did need those as he got older.
Trunks pouted that he was no longer in the air, huffing and throwing his model to the ground where it bounced harmlessly. Seventeen scooped it up and gave it a cursory examination, tweaking the tips of the wings a bit. He nodded to himself and held it out for Trunks. The boy grabbed it and threw it back on the ground.
"Be careful about fighting the stubbornness of a saiyan. It's all I can do to get him dressed every morning, and even then..." Bulma shrugged and returned to her gadgetry. It was a wight off her shoulders to have a babysitter who was actually stronger than the toddler and could reign him in if he went into a full-blown temper tantrum - Piccolo was hard to contact, and he wasn't always willing to keep an eye on the grabby child.
"Yeah, Eighteen can be the same way. Stubborn, I mean; I don't have to dress her when she's throwing a fit."
Bulma cautiously slowed down in her tinkering, running through the right phrasing in her head. "Speaking of, how is Eighteen? I've never met her, and none of the others have seen her since, you know, you guys were wished back."
Seventeen didn't look at her as he thought about it. His sister rarely left the house they had adopted deep in the woods these days, giving no reason for it. She still had nightmares about Cell absorbing her. Hell, he still agonized over the time between when she had been absorbed and when he'd given himself up. Cell had seemed to have some of Eighteen's attributes, not just her gender, and he'd really been hoping that, by willingly giving himself up, Cell might unknowingly gain a sense of martyrdom – make it easier to kill her.
From what he'd heard about what came next, Sel hadn't really taken that bait, though she did seem to be less actively malevolent after that, and perhaps even a little human at times. If he'd had any part in that, he doubted it was a contributing factor in her ultimate death, though it was nice to believe he'd possibly helped in some small way. But Eighteen had been powerless – a victim - and if there was anything his sister deserved to never have to experience again, it was being completely defenseless and at the mercy of the merciless. She needed her time, if she was ever going to get back out in the world.
"She's coping," he eventually said with a casual shrug, trusting the genius to recognize the subtext. She glanced at him for only a moment before dropping the subject and bringing up the latest status report she'd gotten from Krillin, detailing a nebulae at an entirely different angle than could ever be seen on Earth.
Seventeen nodded along as he coaxed Trunks back into playing with his model, using his own hand as an enemy flyer for him to chase.