Morning sunlight spilled over the snowy village, its white rooftops glittering like they were dusted with diamonds. Word had spread fast that the strange boy who had driven off the Red Ribbon Army was leaving. By the time Goku stepped outside Suno's home, half the village had gathered to see him off. They clapped and cheered, their breath visible in the cold air.
Suno ran up to him, cheeks pink—not just from the chill.
"Come back to see us," she said shyly.
Goku tilted his head, thoughtful. "I'll try."
The village chief stepped forward, stroking his beard. "How will you travel now, young man?"
Goku scratched the back of his head. "Dunno. My Kinto'un got vaporized."
An old man in the crowd perked up at the name. "Kinto'un? Those clouds are resilient. Try calling it."
Goku blinked. "…Worth a shot." He cupped his hands around his mouth. "Kinto'un!"
For a moment, nothing happened—then a golden blur streaked across the sky, swooping down with a whistle. The cloud swirled to a stop in front of him, good as new.
"Ha! You're alive!" Goku grinned and hopped on, waving at the old man. "Thanks, gramps!"
Before he could take off, Suno's mother approached. "Thank you for everything," she said warmly, planting a kiss on his forehead.
Goku, flustered, just gave her a quick nod before launching into the air. The village waved until he was a speck against the horizon.
The snowy plains gave way to endless grasslands, and then—on the far horizon—a sprawl of metal and glass: West City. From above, its towers glinted in the midday sun, the streets teeming with cars, people, and noise. Horns blared. Construction crews shouted over drills. Neon signs flashed in every direction.
Goku grinned. "Damn… I missed this. Thirteen years." In his past life, he'd been a city boy. One glance, and he could read the streets—spotting the hustlers eyeing tourists, the twitchy dealer on a corner, the undercover cop trying way too hard to look casual.
He dropped out of the sky, boots hitting pavement. The winter gear Suno had given him was stifling in the city heat. He scanned the streets for a clothing shop—but he was broke.
Luckily, luck found him.
A brawler was set up on the sidewalk, challenging strangers to fight for cash. Goku strolled over.
"I'll fight you," he said.
The man burst out laughing, joined by the crowd. "Kid, I don't beat up children."
"C'mon! Play with the kid!" someone in the crowd jeered.
With a roll of his eyes, the man finally squared up. "Alright. Try not to cry."
They took their stances. The man lunged lazily, his punch so slow it was insulting. Something in Goku's pride bristled. He swayed aside, flicked his wrist—whap!—and backhanded the man across the face. A tooth sailed into the crowd.
Holding back his real strength, Goku tilted his head and smirked, letting the man process what had just happened. When realization hit, sweat prickled down the man's neck. But with the crowd watching, he had to keep his reputation.
Twenty seconds later, he was face-down, backside in the air. Goku crouched beside him, calmly counting bills.
Meanwhile…
On the other side of West City, Bulma sat slouched in the back row of a capsule-tech lecture hall. The professor's voice droned on about micro compression formulas, but her pen had stopped moving ten minutes ago.
She caught herself doodling in the corner of her notebook: a messy little sketch of a boy with wild hair and a tail. She shook her head, trying to focus on the equations on the board—but it was useless.
Why am I thinking about him now? she thought, twirling her pen. He's probably halfway across the world, punching dinosaurs or something.
Her phone buzzed with a notification. She didn't even check it. Instead, she stared out the window at the clear blue sky.
That's when she slammed her notebook shut.
"Forget this," she muttered, shoving her things into her bag. The teacher didn't even notice as she slipped out the back door.
Ten minutes later, she was on her motorcycle, racing through the streets toward home.
Goku newly equipped in black-and-gold streetwear—baggy shorts, hoodie, and fresh sneakers.

Goku asked a nearby cop for help.
"I'm looking for my friend's address. Can you point me to the municipal building so I can contact her?"
"What's her name?" the cop asked, assuming he was a lost kid.
"Bulma—uh… what's her last name?" Goku realized he had no idea.
The cop pulled out a thick, tablet-like device and started scrolling through entries. "This her? No? How about—ah." His eyes went wide. "This girl? She's the daughter of Capsule Corp's founder!"
"Oh yeah, she mentioned something like that," Goku said, rubbing his chin.
Suspicious but curious, the officer offered to give him a ride to confirm. Goku hopped on the back of his scooter.
They pulled up to the massive gates of Capsule Corp. Behind them, the roar of an engine grew louder. A sleek motorcycle shot down the street toward them.
"Oh, there she is," Goku said casually.
The cop squinted, unable to see the rider clearly. The bike screeched to a halt in front of them. Bulma yanked off her goggles, eyes widening.

"SON-KUN!!!" She leapt from the bike and scooped him up in a crushing hug, lifting him clean off the ground.
"How did you find my house!?"
"The cop helped me. Anyway, can you fix the rada—"
She didn't let him finish. "Come on, I'll show you my room!" she said, dragging him inside by the hand.
The cop just stared after them, unsure who was the kid and who was the teenager.
Inside, a cheerful household robot greeted them. Bulma asked where her father was. "Central room," the robot replied.
Goku glanced around the enormous halls. "Your house is huge. Guess that's where your princess like attitude comes from."
She flicked her hair smugly. "I'm not "like" I am a delicate princess."
"I'd say violent princess, hehe."
"I am not violent!" she snapped, yanking him along.
They reached a pair of double doors. Bulma punched in a code, and they swung open to reveal an indoor garden bursting with life—birds, monkeys, reptiles—all under a glass dome.
An old man pedaled toward them on a stationary bike. "Dad! This is Son-kun—the one I told you about."
Dr. Brief smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you. You look strong!"
"Hehe, thanks… I guess," Goku replied.
Bulma grabbed his hand again. "Anyway, we're going to my room!"
As they turned to leave, Dr. Brief called out, "So, you two kissed yet?"
"NO WAY!!!" Bulma yelled, face red.
"You sure take your time," Dr. Briefs muttered.
"Oh my god…" Bulma groaned, dragging Goku away even faster.
"We still can!" Goku said to Dr.briefs.
"SHUT UP!" she barked, yanking him through the door.
Bulma's bedroom was exactly what Goku expected—chaos. Half-finished machines cluttered the floor, tools and wires spilled out of drawers, and the walls were plastered with blueprints. A disassembled laser rifle rested on her desk like it was nothing special.
She flopped belly-first onto her bed, kicking her legs lazily in the air, chin resting in her hands. "So!" she said with a teasing grin. "I missed you sooo much—did you come running to find me?"
Goku wandered around, inspecting a pile of vehicle parts without answering. Then, suddenly, he turned toward her with a soft, almost fragile look—like a tortured romantic hero.
"I came here for…" he said, stepping closer.
Bulma's eyes flickered with surprise. She tensed as he reached out slowly, deliberately, and took her hands in his.
"…for these beautiful and delicate hands," he said, voice low and tender.
"M-my hands?" she stammered, heat rushing to her cheeks.
His palms were rough from training, but his touch was careful, almost reverent.
"Yes… without these hands, I… I can't move forward."
He traced his fingers lightly over hers, brushing each knuckle. Her shock melted into something warmer, her breath quickening.
"Those fingers…" Goku whispered, "are the only way to keep going."
"Y-yeah~…" she sighed.
"…Now, close your eyes," he murmured.
Bulma obeyed without thinking, lips parting slightly in expectation. She could feel something big and solid being placed into her hands.
Her face flushed even redder. "No… we can't—" she began breathlessly, until she noticed… it was cold.
She opened her eyes.
Goku was grinning like the devil, holding her hands around a very broken Dragon Radar. "I need your hands… to fix this."
Bulma froze, still blushing but now shaking with rage. "You… little… shit!!"
"I'm gonna use these fingers alright!!" she shouted, swinging at him as he laughed and hopped onto the bed to avoid her blows.
---
A few minutes later, after a storm of yelling and some very colorful threats, Bulma was at her desk, tools in hand, working on the radar. She still refused to look at him.
On the bed behind her, Goku sat swinging his feet. "C'mon, I said sorry already. Cheer up."
Her expression stayed icy… but a tiny, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of her lips. The bickering, the nonsense—it was exactly like their old adventures.
After a few minutes of tinkering, she finally fixed it.
"Done!" Bulma grinned, pressing the button. The screen lit up, showing two Dragon Balls in Goku's possession.
"Only two?! Why are you so slow?!" she demanded.
"A lot of stuff happened," Goku replied flatly.
"I know! I'm coming with you. I can see you need my help." She puffed out her chest, hands on her hips.
"What? No way! You can't ride Kinto'un—you're not pure-hearted, and it'll take us forever on normal vehicles."
"What do you mean not pure-hearted?! My only sin is being beautiful! And don't act like you're pure-hearted—you cheated!" she shot back.
"Anyway," she continued, "look at this!" She held up her wrist, showing a strange watch with two buttons.
"Ugly watch. What's it do?" Goku asked.
Bulma pressed one button—and instantly shrank down to the size of his foot.
"Whoa! That's crazy!" Goku squatted down, eyeing her with genuine amazement.
"Yeah! Give me more praise! Ho-ho-ho!" she laughed like a self-proclaimed princess. "This way, I can travel easily."
She was mid-sentence when a giant foot descended toward her.
Goku's hand shot out, stopping it just before it crushed her. He lifted his gaze with a sharp, ready-to-fight glare—only to see a smiling woman with her eyes closed.

"Oh my, so you're Goku! Nice to meet you—I'm Bulma's mama!" she said warmly.
Goku froze for a second. The woman was wearing a loose blue dress that showed off her curves, holding a tray of glasses, her blonde curly hair framing a beautiful, mature face.
"Hello—" he began.
Before he could finish, Bulma grew back to her normal size and shoved him aside, stepping between them.
"Why were you under my foot?" her mom asked innocently.
"YOU are the one who almost stepped on me!" Bulma yelled.
"Well, you shrunk right there in the middle of the floor—"
"Because you barged in all of a sudden!"
Her mom turned to Goku and leaned toward him with the tray. "Sorry my daughter's so noisy. Here, Goku—have some sake!"
"Are you giving sake to a kid?!" Bulma snapped.
"Oh, come on, why do you have to be so rebellious?" her mom replied, waving it off.
Bulma was already pulling at her own hair in frustration as Goku muttered to himself, Nut-job family.
Then he remembered something. "By the way—Oolong and Yamcha. Where are they?"
At the mention of Yamcha, Bulma's eyebrow twitched.
Her mom turned to Goku "They're at school. This girl got into a fight with Yamcha! See, he's handsome, right? But she doesn't like that he's popular with all the girls."
"DON'T SAY UNNECESSARY STUFF!" Bulma barked, before announcing, "I'm going off with Son-kun to find the Dragon Balls again! And this time I'm gonna find a muuuch better man than Yamcha!"
"Ooh! Can Mama come with you to find a good man too?" her mom asked cheerfully.
"HELL NO!" Bulma shot back.
Goku studied her mom. She's the airhead type… met a few like her in the past.
Bulma grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "Come on, Son-kun! We're going!"
"She's in her rebellious stage…" her mom sighed.
Goku set down the glass of sake, swirling it so the ice clinked against the sides. He shot her mom a deliberately smooth, knowing look. "Yeah… I know kids her age can be tough. You're very caring for her… big sister."
"I'm her mom, silly!" she giggled.
"What?! That's amazing! How can a mom of a teenager have such silky skin? What's your name, sweetheart~?"
"Panchy! My, aren't you quite the silver tongue," she said with a laugh.
"What about you and me tonight—" Goku began, lifting the sake to his lips in a slow, suggestive motion—
Only for Bulma to yank him by the collar, the glass slipping from his hand and shattering.
"I'll be waiting for you, Goku-san!" Panchy called as he was dragged toward the stairs.
"Not tonight, dear ma'am Panchy, but I'll keep my promise!" he called back.
They stopped in front of Dr. Briefs, who looked at his daughter with mild curiosity. "Promise of what? With who?"
"Nothing, sir…" Goku said with an awkward smile.
After grabbing the rest of her stuff, Bulma told her father where she was going.
"Oh! Going again, huh? This time, when you get all seven, bring me a fantastic gal, alright?" he said cheerfully.
"WHY are both my parents saying that kind of thing to me?!" Bulma groaned.
He called for Kinto'un. Bulma shrank back down and climbed onto his chest, slipping inside his sweater for the ride.