The world returned slowly.
At first, it was light—soft, sterile, and unfamiliar. Then came the smell of disinfectant, clean metal, and something sweet baking in the distance. Mori's eyelids twitched before peeling open, and for a moment, everything was an indecipherable blur.
His breath hitched.
The white ceiling above him seemed to spin, and his body ached in ways he couldn't immediately place. His fingers curled slightly, then uncurled as feeling returned to them. Groggy and disoriented, Mori blinked again. Slowly, the blur dissolved, and a face appeared above him—blue hair cascading over a shoulder, wide teal eyes framed by worry.
"Bulma?" he croaked.
Her brows immediately lifted, and a radiant smile lit up her face. "You're awake!"
He tried to sit up, but his limbs trembled. Bulma quickly placed a gentle hand on his chest.
"Easy! You've been out for a while."
"How… how long?" Mori asked, his voice hoarse.
Bulma hesitated, a hint of guilt behind her eyes. "Ten days."
Mori's jaw dropped. "Ten—what?"
Bulma sighed, brushing her bangs back. "You and Goku knocked each other out cold. At first, we thought you guys would wake up in a few minutes. Goku did, actually—a few hours later."
Mori sat up slowly on the table, ignoring the faint dizziness. "Then… the tournament—?"
"He went on to the finals," Bulma said, sitting down on a nearby stool. "Fought Jackie Chun. Lost, but it was close. Real close."
Mori blinked, stunned. "So I missed the finals…"
"Not just that," she continued, folding her arms. "While you were out cold, Goku went on a whole journey. You ready for this?"
He nodded slowly, unsure.
"In just three days, he took down an army."
Mori's eyes widened. "An army?"
"Yep. The Red Ribbon Army. Crazy, right? Then, four days later, he fought some deadly mercenary—Mercenary Tao or something—and after that, he met his dead grandpa during a tournament held by a fortune teller. It was called Baba's Tournament."
Mori just stared.
Bulma smirked. "Yeah, I know. Insane."
His voice came out small. "All while I was unconscious…"
Bulma gave a dramatic shrug. "Yep. You snooze, you lose."
Mori looked down at his hands, then back at her. "Is he okay?"
"He's fine," Bulma assured him. "Stronger than ever. He left a message for you."
Mori tilted his head. "What'd he say?"
Bulma rolled her eyes with a teasing groan. "Ugh, impatient much? I was getting there."
He chuckled softly, and she smirked again.
"He said he'll be fighting in the 22nd World Martial Arts Tournament—in three years. He wanted you to know. Said it'd be awesome to finally see who's stronger when you're both at your best."
Mori's face lit up with a quiet smile. "Three years…"
Bulma stood and stretched. "You better not be in a coma again when that happens."
"I'll try," Mori chuckled.
"Good. C'mon, let's go tell the others. My mom's been freaking out since yesterday."
The warm aroma of food filled the Briefs household as Bulma guided Mori from the lab into the kitchen. Despite his lingering soreness, each step made him feel more grounded—more alive.
Mrs. Briefs was at the stove, humming a soft tune as a pan sizzled in front of her. When she turned around and saw Mori standing in the doorway, her entire face lit up like a lantern.
"Oh, my stars!" she gasped. "Mori, you're awake!"
Before he could react, she wrapped him up in a fluffy, unexpected hug that made his knees buckle slightly.
"Careful, Mom!" Bulma said, half-laughing. "He just got up!"
"Oh, hush," Mrs. Briefs said, pulling back. "He needs some love. I was starting to think you'd sleep through the whole year!"
"I… I'm okay," Mori said, sheepishly.
"Are you hungry? I've got stew, fresh biscuits, and some sweet milk tea."
His stomach growled in response, earning a chuckle from all three of them.
Within minutes, they were seated at the table. The food was warm, rich, and strangely comforting. Mori didn't realize just how empty he felt until the first bite hit his tongue.
Dr. Briefs strolled in with his usual half-lidded eyes and lab coat that looked like it had seen better days. A little black cat perched on his shoulder, lazily licking a paw.
"Well, look who's up," he said, taking a seat and eyeing Mori. "How're you feeling, kiddo?"
"I feel fine," Mori said between bites. "Just a little stiff."
"We should run a few tests later," Dr. Briefs said casually. "Just to make sure there's no lingering damage. You being out for ten days is no small thing."
Mori nodded. "Of course."
As they ate, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Bulma retold the moment she found Mori sitting straight up, blinking like he'd just time-traveled. Mrs. Briefs gushed about how peaceful he looked while unconscious—"like a sleeping puppy!"—and Dr. Briefs marveled at his vitals.
"I've never seen recovery rates like yours," he said. "It's almost as if your body knew exactly what it needed to do and just did it."
"I'm just glad to be awake again," Mori admitted.
Bulma leaned back in her chair, sipping her tea. "We were all worried. Especially me. I checked on you every day, y'know."
Mori looked at her, touched. "Thank you."
Her face flushed just a little. "Don't make it weird."
They all laughed.
Later that evening, Dr. Briefs led Mori back into the lab. The walls hummed with machinery as scanners and monitors flickered to life.
"Stand here," the older scientist said, motioning to a circular platform.
Mori stepped on, arms at his side.
A gentle whirring began as a blue light passed over him from head to toe. A screen nearby filled with data, graphs, and pulse readings.
Dr. Briefs scratched his chin. "Fascinating… no neural damage, cellular regeneration near perfect. You're in better shape than most athletes I've scanned."
Mori glanced at him. "Is that… good?"
"Better than good. Honestly, I'd love to run a few more in-depth studies, if you're open to it."
"I'll think about it," Mori said with a grin.
The older man chuckled. "Fair enough."
As they stepped out of the lab, the sun had dipped behind the horizon, casting West City in a warm, golden glow. Mori walked out to the backyard, taking in the cool breeze. The grass brushed his feet, and birds flitted across the treetops.
Bulma joined him a few minutes later, sitting beside him on the grass.
"Feeling human again?" she asked.
"Something like that."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"I missed a lot," Mori finally said.
"Yeah," she replied softly. "But there's always more to come."
He looked over at her. "You really think so?"
Bulma grinned. "Are you kidding? You think the universe is done throwing weird stuff at us? Not a chance."
They both laughed.
That night, dinner was a little quieter. The stars shone through the windows, and the soft glow of the kitchen lights bathed everything in a gentle warmth.
"Mrs. Briefs," Mori said, as she passed him another biscuit. "Thank you. For everything."
She waved a hand. "Oh, sweetie, it was nothing! We're just glad you're okay."
"I mean it. I didn't think I'd be out that long. You… all of you didn't have to care so much."
Bulma raised a brow. "Of course we did."
Dr. Briefs nodded. "You're part of the family now, like it or not."
Mori blinked. "Family…"
The word echoed in his chest.
He looked around at the smiling faces, the laughter, the warmth of the table, and for a brief moment, the loneliness that had haunted him since birth faded just a little.
"Thank you," he said again, softer this time.
Later, as everyone retired for the night, Mori found himself alone in the lab. He walked up to the same table he'd been unconscious on. It was spotless now, the sheets folded, the monitors turned off.
He placed a hand on it, then looked up at the ceiling.
"Three years, huh…"
He smiled.
"I'll be ready."
The lights dimmed behind him as he stepped out into the night, the future quietly waiting.