At last, Son Goku set off with Bulma on their journey to find the Dragon Balls.
Bulma sped along on her motorcycle, while Goku jogged beside her—carrying a heavy Turtle School shell on his back.
After some distance, Bulma couldn't help asking,
"Hey! Goku, aren't you tired? Are you sure you don't want to hop on?"
Still running, Goku shook his head. "No need! I'll just take this as training. Grandpa said there are lots of strong people out there, so if I want to get stronger, I've got to work harder!"
Bulma looked at the boy running earnestly beside her and fell silent.
With Son Gohan around, this Goku was completely different from the one she remembered—more mature, more diligent, training harder than ever before.
She thought of trying to persuade him to rest, but then images of the future flashed in her mind—one enemy after another, one crisis after another.
Instead, she let him be.
Better to sweat now than bleed later.
And truth be told, this Goku seemed to genuinely love training.
Still, one thing worried her—he might be pushing himself too far.
Even though Bulma knew that, in the future, he would swim across entire oceans after the World Martial Arts Tournament, seeing him work this hard at such a young age made her uneasy.
Could a Saiyan child's body really endure such intense training?
As they traveled farther, Mount Paozu disappeared from sight.
When the sun dipped below the horizon, darkness quickly followed.
Bulma pulled over.
"Goku, hungry? It's already dark. Let's rest here for the night."
At the mention of food, Goku immediately rubbed his stomach.
Grrr~
Sure enough, the sound was loud enough to echo.
Scratching his head, he said sheepishly, "So that's what I forgot! I was so focused on keeping up with you, I didn't even eat lunch..."
Bulma chuckled and packed her motorcycle back into a capsule. After glancing around, she nodded approvingly.
"Not bad—flat ground. Perfect spot for a house. Goku, stand behind me. I'm throwing it."
Knowing what was coming, Goku obediently stepped back.
Bang!
A dome-shaped house materialized before them.
"Well?" Bulma asked proudly. "Pretty neat, huh?"
Goku nodded with wide eyes. "Yeah! That's amazing!"
Bulma raised an eyebrow. "Huh? You're not surprised at all? You know about Capsule Houses?"
"Uh-huh," Goku replied. "When Grandpa took me to the city once, we saw some in a portable house shop. But we didn't have enough money to buy one, so we built our own back on the mountain."
Bulma blinked, then smiled in realization. "Oh, I see."
She stretched. "Alright, come in. You've been running all day—you're drenched in sweat, and your clothes are filthy. There's hot water inside. Take a bath and wash your clothes too!"
With that, Bulma stepped inside.
Goku blinked. Living with Son Gohan on the mountain, he'd long since given up on most comforts to have more time to train. But now that he was traveling, maybe it was time to stay clean again.
Before he could think it through, Bulma's voice called from the doorway.
"Hey, hurry up!"
"Coming!"
Goku nodded and followed her in.
"Water's ready," Bulma said. "I'll start dinner first, then take you to the bath."
Goku nodded again, curiously taking in the house's furniture and décor.
Knowing how much Goku could eat, Bulma didn't hold back—she didn't mind using up a whole month's supply of food in one night. Money could easily refill her stock in the city anyway.
She pulled out a pile of frozen meat from the fridge, trimmed it up, then spread it across a dozen pots with spices and broth simmering.
When she was done, she clapped her hands and turned to find Goku still standing there, dazed.
"Alright, that's done. The meat'll be ready in an hour or so. Go take your bath."
As she spoke, Bulma walked to the washing machine, poured in detergent, and said,
"Also, take off your clothes here—I'll wash them while you bathe."
Goku pointed to himself in surprise. "You mean… take them off here?"
Bulma blinked.
This wasn't like the Goku she remembered. He was so small—and yet he actually felt embarrassed?
She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on! You're just a kid. You barely come up to my waist. What's there to be shy about? Hurry up!"
Goku fidgeted awkwardly. Though he looked like a child, his soul was that of a grown man.
And while his young body hadn't developed certain instincts yet—he had no hormones urging him otherwise—he still couldn't bring himself to strip in front of a girl.
When he didn't move, Bulma huffed.
"Come on already! Your clothes stink to high heaven! If you don't mind the smell, I do! This is my house—my rules!"
Goku looked at her helplessly. "Then… turn around. You can't look!"
Bulma sighed, touching her nose with a smirk before turning away.
"Alright, alright. You're so shy. You're just a kid—you don't even have hair there yet. I don't care! Just take them off and hop straight into the bath. The water's ready."
Goku's eyes narrowed slightly. This Bulma felt different—less scatterbrained, less lovestruck than the one he remembered from before collecting the Dragon Balls.
"Then… no peeking!" he insisted.
"Yeah, yeah," Bulma said, waving a hand without looking back.
After all, this Bulma wasn't the same as before. She'd lived through two lives, once even as a mother in a post-apocalyptic world.
Even though she had once longed for Son Goku for twenty long years in that world, looking at this child now stirred no romantic feelings—only a faint nostalgia.
She just wanted him to wash up so they could eat dinner.
Still, when she thought about his future meeting with Chi-Chi, a mischievous thought crossed her mind.
Once she got a little closer to him… she'd make sure to seal the deal early.
Yes—she'd have to take him while he was still too young to understand.