Master Roshi blinked in surprise. "Well, I'll be! If it isn't Gohan! Long time no see!"
Son Gohan bowed politely. "Master, how have you been lately? Still keeping healthy?"
Roshi puffed out his chest proudly. "Of course! Ever since I started my 'longevity training,' I watch beautiful women do yoga every morning. Another three hundred years of life shouldn't be a problem! But tell me—what brings you here? Shouldn't you be up on Mount Paozu taking care of that kid?"
Gohan chuckled. "Master, people do grow up, you know. The child I picked up all those years ago is twelve now—he doesn't need me looking after him anymore. A little girl came by the mountain recently. She seemed trustworthy, so I let him go down with her for some worldly experience."
Roshi nodded slowly. "Ah, I see. Time flies, doesn't it? I can't believe that boy's already grown up. So, what brings you here?"
Gohan straightened, his posture firm and respectful. "Master Roshi, I've come to ask you for a favor."
Seeing his student so serious, Roshi tilted his head. "Oh? What kind of favor?"
"I'd like to ask you to take that child as your disciple."
Roshi blinked. "Hmm? Why's that? Is the kid giving you trouble?"
Gohan sighed softly. "Quite the opposite. He's too obedient. Too disciplined. I've always pushed him to train hard—but now, he's so devoted that he's starting to overdo it."
Roshi scratched his head. "Overdoing it? What do you mean?"
"The boy's been obsessed with training ever since he could walk," Gohan explained. "That's not bad in itself. But maybe I've been too strict. He practices day and night, sacrificing his rest, his play, even his childhood. That worries me, Master. I'm afraid if he keeps going like this, he might lose his way someday."
Roshi's eyes narrowed slightly as an image flashed through his mind—the Crane Hermit, his old rival, and the students who'd strayed down darker paths.
He asked carefully, "And his potential?"
Gohan's face softened. "He's a prodigy—born with the talent of the heavens themselves. Though only twelve, his power is already nearly equal to mine."
Roshi let out a sharp whistle. "Phew… sounds like quite the genius!"
Gohan nodded gravely. "Exactly. That's what scares me most. A martial arts genius without balance can become dangerous—to himself and to others."
"I see…" Roshi stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Alright, I'll do it. What's the boy's name? I'll keep an eye out for him."
"His name is Son Goku," Gohan replied. "He's… easy to recognize. He has a tail."
Roshi's eyes widened, a jolt running through him.
The image hit him instantly—the cheerful boy from earlier, traveling with that pretty blue-haired girl.
Of course! That tail he'd seen wasn't an accessory. And that staff strapped to his back… wasn't that the Power Pole he himself had once passed down to Gohan from Korin Tower?
How could he not have recognized it!
What a small world indeed.
Still, a child pure enough to ride the Flying Nimbus was surely a good-hearted one. No question about that.
Roshi grinned. "Understood. If I meet your grandson again, I'll make sure he gets proper guidance."
Gohan bowed deeply. "Thank you, Master."
"Ah, come on," Roshi said, waving a hand. "We've been teacher and student for decades—no need for thanks. How about staying for a meal?"
Gohan shook his head. "I can't, Master. I still have a long journey ahead. I promised Fortuneteller Baba I'd work as her bodyguard. I need to reach her place before dark."
"Ah, I see," Roshi said, nodding. "Well, I had to offer. Safe travels, then."
Gohan bowed again, precise and formal as ever. "Then I'll leave Goku in your care. Take care, Master. Goodbye."
"Goodbye!"
With that, Gohan turned and vanished down the path in a gust of dust.
Roshi watched his departing figure for a long moment before turning back toward the Turtle House with a faint smile.
Meanwhile, high in the sky, Bulma's earlier accident had long since dried—thankfully, the warm summer breeze and the Flying Nimbus's open air took care of it quickly.
Not wanting Goku to notice anything embarrassing, she didn't bother to stop or change clothes. Instead, the two continued their journey through the clouds.
Bulma wasn't particularly obsessed with rushing to find the remaining Dragon Balls. For now, she adjusted their route slightly eastward—toward East City.
By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, the two were floating above the sprawling lights of the metropolis.
Though not as prosperous as West City, East City was only a step behind—its bustling markets and countless restaurants filled the streets with life.
"Hey, Goku," Bulma said, smiling as she pointed below. "It's almost dark. Let's stay here tonight."
Goku, perched comfortably on the cloud, was already fighting off drowsiness.
"Sure, whatever you say!"
Bulma raised an eyebrow. He could run all day without tiring, but half a day sitting on the Nimbus, and he was nodding off.
"Tell you what," she said playfully. "We've had a pretty good day—got the Flying Nimbus, got another Dragon Ball. How about we celebrate?"
Goku tilted his head. "Celebrate? How?"
She thought for a moment. She knew him too well—crowded events weren't his thing. The only thing he truly loved besides fighting… was food.
Her eyes lit up. "Let's check out the night market! There's a whole street full of food stalls!"
At once, Goku's posture snapped upright, eyes shining with excitement.
"Really? But, uh… with how much I eat, that's gonna cost a lot, you know."
Bulma laughed, brushing his concern aside. "Don't worry about money. Eat whatever you like—just don't waste any of it."
Overjoyed, Goku threw his arms around her arm, grinning like a child. "Bulma, you're the best! You're way too good to me!"
Bulma: "…"