Bulma kicked the bright green double doors.
"Room service."
No one answered.
She entered.
Bulma scanned the place.
It wasn't the mud cave she had expected, but it was bizarre.
To her left sat a large, enclosed bed structure. It featured a teal green wooden frame and heavy red curtains tied back to reveal simple white bedding, resembling an antique alcove.
In the foreground, there was a low, red lacquered table accompanied by a white, drum-shaped ceramic stool.
"Good grief..." She ran a finger over the tiny ceramic stool.
She looked to the right wall, where a large, circular window with a dark geometric lattice frame allowed shafts of dusty light to filter in.
Tucked in the corner were a large brown ceramic urn, a folded red umbrella, and a wooden staff leaning against the wall.
She walked to the center back of the room.
The focal point was a black, blocky pedestal serving as an altar.
Resting on top was a purple cushion, empty of its treasure, and a photo framed in cracked glass.
Black and white.
A short old man with a thick white mustache, smiling at the camera with his hand on the shoulder of a strange boy with spiky hair.
She read the inscription on the frame.
Faded ink.
To my grandson, Goku. With love, Gohan.
Goku.
Gohan.
Data for the report, nothing more.
She spun around.
Where was the source of the signal?
She pulled the dragon radar from her vest pocket.
The green screen illuminated the gloom of the hut.
The beep was continuous.
A straight line of sound.
Distance: 0 meters.
Bulma frowned.
She tapped the side of the device with her palm.
Don't start. I soldered your circuits myself last night.
She took two steps to the left.
The signal didn't vary.
Two steps to the right.
The dot on the grid remained pinned in the center.
"Distance zero..."
She looked at the floor.
Nothing buried.
Thermal reading was cold.
Then, an uncomfortable idea emerged.
Her finger slid to the side button, switching the view to the Z-axis.
The reading blinked.
Altitude: +12 meters.
It wasn't in the hut.
It was on top of the hut.
Bulma put the radar away.
She turned toward the exit, releasing the gun's safety catch with her thumb.
Bulma kept the pistol lowered, but her finger rested on the trigger.
"Okay, show yourself."
"What are you doing in my house?"
The voice came from above.
There was no threat in the tone.
There was only... curiosity.
Bulma lifted her chin.
Perched on the highest tier of the blue pagoda roof, right beside the golden finial, the boy was crouched with the perfect balance of a primate. Black hair defying gravity in thick spikes. Worn clothing.
And a furry tail swaying behind him.
He stared at her with black eyes that absorbed the light.
Bulma looked at the Tracker in her other hand.
The green dot pulsed in sync with the boy's breathing.
He was the target.
And he had the tactical advantage,
high ground.
Bulma holstered the gun.
If he wanted to kill her, he would have already jumped on her neck.
"Ah, so it's you."
The boy leaned his torso forward.
"Look, i can explain... Technically, I didn't jump on your house."
Bulma pointed to the green doors she had kicked open.
"I entered. The door was open."
"You kicked the door."
Ugh... You saw that.
He pushed off the roof.
There was no sound of impact.
He landed on the packed earth like a feather made of lead, his knees flexing slightly to absorb the fall.
He stood up, invading her personal space, and sniffed the air.
His nose wrinkled.
"You smell weird."
"That's called perfume."
"Smells like fruit that stayed too long in the sun. Rotten."
"...Right. Let's start from the beginning. I'm Bulma. And you must be… the young boy, Goku, right?"
"I am." He nodded.
"You know my name."
"...Y-Yeah. Of course." Bulma recovered quickly, masking her surprise with a confident nod.
"I was looking for you. Figured you'd show up eventually."
It was a lie, but she delivered it well.
She stared at him, her eyes dropping to the furry appendage swishing behind him.
Is that... a fake tail? Why is this hillbilly wearing a costume prop?
Does he think it looks cool?
...Whatever.
Weird fashion choices aren't the source of the energy signal.
She checked the radar again.
The blip was screaming right in front of her.
She scanned Goku, ignoring the tail this time, until her eyes locked on a spherical bulge pressing against the fabric of his belt pouch.
"That thing there." she said, pointing a gloved finger at his waist.
"What is it?"
"This?"
Goku untied the pouch without hesitation.
He pulled out an orange crystal sphere. It caught the light, translucent and smooth, with four scarlet stars floating deep inside it.
Bulma stared.
So that's the source... just an orb.
She blinked.
The shape.
The color.
The refraction.
Wait a minute.
Her breath hitched.
No... That's impossible.
The anomalous energy signature... it's actually a Dragon Ball? From the fairy tales?
"That's my grandpa." Goku replied as his expression remained blank.
Bulma, however, was spiraling into a quiet existential crisis.
The Legend. Seven orbs. When gathered, they were said to summon a dragon named Shenron who would grant the collector's wish. Each orb was numbered with stars from one to seven.
It was a bedtime story. A fable to enchant toddlers. How can this physically exist?
"Can I just hold—"
"No."
Goku shoved the sphere back into his pouch, shielding it with his hand.
His relaxed posture vanished instantly, replaced by coiled muscle tension.
Damn it, my head is spinning. Focus, Bulma. You can analyze the implications of magic later. Right now, I just need to get that sphere from the kid. How hard can it be?