"Jewel?"
Master Roshi reached up, unclasping the orange-glowing orb from around his neck.
"You mean this thing?"
Bulma nodded.
Roshi chuckled. "I found this about a hundred years ago at the bottom of the sea. Thought it looked nice, so I turned it into a necklace. Beautiful, isn't it?"
"It's very beautiful," Bulma replied softly.
As they spoke, the Dragon Ball in his hand began to shine.
The ones Bulma and Goku carried responded in kind, their soft light pulsing together—resonating across the air.
Roshi blinked in surprise. "Well, I'll be! It's glowing! I've never seen that before. Must be worth a fortune, huh?"
Bulma smiled faintly. "You're right—it's a Dragon Ball. There are seven of them scattered all over the world. Once gathered, they can summon Shenron, the Eternal Dragon, and grant any wish—within reason, of course. But a single one isn't of much use."
She paused, then added with gentle sincerity, "I've already collected three. Once I have all seven, I'm going to wish for my friend to be cured of an illness."
She took out the Dragon Balls she had collected and let him see their glow.
For a brief moment, Roshi's mischievous grin twitched—his mind flirting with the idea of demanding some scandalous "reward" from the pretty young woman before him.
But when he heard her speak about saving a friend's life, that thought died instantly.
"So, it's for saving someone, huh?" he said, his tone softening. "Well then, you can have it."
He removed the necklace and handed it to her without hesitation.
Bulma accepted it calmly, knowing exactly how to win him over.
For all his lecherous quirks, Master Roshi was, at his core, a man of honor.
She remembered all too well—in her previous life, when King Piccolo had appeared to plunge the world into chaos, Roshi had stepped forward without fear.
He'd sacrificed himself attempting to seal the demon away with the Evil Containment Wave, though he'd failed.
From that day, Bulma had understood something: Roshi might be perverted, but he carried true righteousness in his bones.
Standing nearby, Goku was equally surprised.
In the original story, Bulma's wish had been for a boyfriend.
Now, this Bulma sought the Dragon Balls not for romance, but for compassion—to heal someone in need.
It was a noble change. Yet, instead of feeling happy, Goku's chest tightened slightly.
He couldn't shake a growing unease.
'Maybe it's because I changed things,' he thought.
'Grandpa Gohan survived… and that alone might have shifted this world's entire future.'
He remembered how in the original history, Trunks traveled back in time.
He'd only killed Frieza, yet the ripple effects had altered everything.
Androids 17 and 18—once destroyers of humanity—had turned into protectors in that timeline.
And now…
'This world must already be changing in ways I can't see,' Goku realized.
'Whatever I think I know about the future—it might not hold true anymore.'
"Hey, Goku, let's get going!"
Bulma's voice snapped him back to the present.
"Oh, right—let's go!" he said, stretching his arms.
But before he could start jogging after her, Bulma stopped him.
"It's already noon," she said with a small smile. "Why don't we ride the Flying Nimbus together? We'll get there faster."
"Huh? What's wrong with noon?"
Bulma grinned. "You've got quite the appetite, you know. Yesterday, I nearly emptied my entire fridge just cooking dinner for you. We'd better reach the next city before dark, or we'll both be starving."
Goku blinked, then laughed awkwardly. "Oh, right! Sorry, I didn't mean to eat that much. Next time, I'll hunt something for dinner."
Bulma waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. Eat as much as you want. You couldn't bankrupt me if you tried—I'm Bulma Briefs, remember? We just need to restock when we get there. I've got enough Capsules to store everything we'll need."
He nodded, reassured. Indeed, as the daughter of the richest inventor on Earth, she could afford to feed even a Saiyan appetite.
So, without hesitation, Goku leapt up onto the golden cloud.
"Goodbye, Master Roshi!"
"Take care, kids! Come visit anytime!"
With a burst of radiant light, the Nimbus lifted off, carrying them into the sky.
"Bulma," Goku called over the rushing wind, "I think we can go even faster!"
Bulma shot him a worried glance. "No way! This thing doesn't even have a windshield. If we go any faster, I'll fall! You'd better keep an eye on me."
"Don't worry," Goku said with confidence. "I can feel it—the Nimbus isn't just a cloud. It has a mind of its own. Even if you fall, it'll catch you."
Bulma's eyes widened. "Really?"
The words had barely left her mouth when the Nimbus suddenly did a full backflip.
Bulma shrieked, instinctively clinging to Goku as they plummeted together.
But before they could hit the sea, the Nimbus swooped under them, catching them gently in a soft golden cradle.
It was as if the cloud were proudly saying, See? I told you so.
Still, Bulma's face had turned pale, her legs trembling uncontrollably.
And as they floated higher once more, a few tiny droplets fell through the Nimbus—vanishing into the sky below.
On the shore, Master Roshi watched their golden trail disappear into the horizon.
He sighed, a faint trace of loneliness in his smile.
"Let's go, old turtle."
"Master," said the turtle with a hint of pride, "I bet the martial arts world misses me, huh?"
Roshi didn't even look back. "Not really."
"..."
The turtle fell silent.
Just then, a booming voice called from afar.
"Master! Master Roshi!"
Roshi turned, squinting into the distance.
A familiar figure came running across the sand—
a man with a warm smile and a travel pack slung across his back.
It was Son Gohan, his old disciple.