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The mountain range loomed huge on the horizon. A giant shadow, cast by clouds that forewarned rain, drifted across the valley. Higher up the beaten pathway, the clouds descended, and soon the girl and her motorcycle were shrouded in mist.
Every once in a while, Bulma would pause and gaze into the distance, searching for signs of human activity. In the milky pre-dawn light, all she could see were trees and bamboo. It was Bulma’s second week on the road, and her food supply was running low. However, this was deep into Demon Clan territory, and if any human villages still remained, the survivors were probably world champions at hiding.
“Guess I’ll have to learn to hunt,” she thought gloomily. “And fast.”
Normally, a teenage city native like Bulma would be spending her days going to school and hanging out with classmates. But alas, times have changed, and 17 months of demons ravaging the known world had put a stop to any public education for the foreseeable future.
For now, Bulma was on a mission.
Two weeks ago, she was living underground, outside the ruins of West City, in the sprawling, hectic laboratory that her father and other survivors had painstakingly built. Her daily routine consisted of checking on the young orphans in the morning, being her father’s assistant in the afternoon, and scavenging the ruins after nightfall. It was a tedious routine, and often fraught with danger and uncertainty, but she worked diligently all the same.
At 13, Bulma was already revered among both teens and adults of the Region 28 Resistance. It was said that she had all her father, the famous Dr. Briefs’ smarts, and none of his scatterbrained tendencies. Her hard work and growing reputation finally paid off when her father received a coded message from the Crimson Sea, asking that every governing Region recruit a few resistance members to act as couriers for a hopeful cause.
“It would seem that the legendary Turtle School and their rival, the Crane School, have reconciled, and are training new recruits to actively fight against the demons.” Dr. Briefs mumbled, as he messed with the circuit of his newest invention – a compact digging robot.
“Give me another inductor, sweetie.”
“Here you go,” Bulma handed her father the coil. “But what does that have to do with me. I don’t think I’d make a good martial artist. I’m more of a gadgets and weapons girl. If they want me to go design a cannon for them, I will, but I doubt it would do them any good.”
“Well, it turns out, they’re also asking for capable men to volunteer as messengers.”
“For what?” Bulma was stumped.
“To travel around the world and get all the martial artists in contact with their headquarters.”
“I see,” Bulma pondered. “So, they want me to find a bunch of people?”
“Yes,” Dr. Briefs said from under the robot. “They actually asked for you by name, but they don’t seem be aware that you are actually a child.”
“Works for me.”
“Well, it’s totally up to you, kiddo. You can heed the call or stay here and keep helping me. It’d be tough, out there.”
“I think I’ll probably do it,” Bulma said. “It’s pretty tough here. And isn’t Tights out there somewhere? Maybe I’ll even run into her along the way.”
Bulma stopped and capsulized her bike. She needed a break, and the day was getting a bit brighter. It wasn’t wise to speed through demon-infested lands during daylight hours, though the mountain path was concealing, and a storm seemed to be brewing.
The work was gruesome, as her father predicted. If Bulma had been just a year younger, she would’ve complained about the sun, the rain, the lack of accommodations, the bodies along the routes and the constant threat of death. But as the war changed the world, it had transformed her too.
In just two weeks, she had already found two known martial artists, and directed them towards the hideout of Master Shen and Muten Roshi, far across the ocean. She had no idea how they’d get there, but she figured that martial artists must do things differently.
Bulma had never seen the two grand masters herself – it was always disciples who answered the video-phone – but she could often hear the old men screaming at each other in the background:
“Treacherous bird hack!”
“Ugly old fool!”
So far, she had met a rather serious boy named Tienshinhan, and an older instructor-type mountain-of-a-man known as Gyu-Mao.
Before she had set out for this assignment, she called again, and a softer, younger and kinder voice answered: “Um, yes. Hi?”
“Hello,” Bulma said. “This is R28-003, reporting for duty.”
“Uh, nice to meet you. Sorry, how do I get this thing to work?” The screen stayed blank.
“Try pressing the round thing on the left?”
“Oh, there it is! I got it!” A young girl’s face appeared. She had long black hair and bangs. “Hello, I’m Chichi. Sorry, everyone is busy, but I can tell you your next assignment.”
“Yea, sure. Go for it.”
“So,” the girl looked down for a moment, as she flipped through a list. “Next, you’re going to Paozu Yama, specifically the East District…to look for, um…Son Gohan. Oh, I think I know who that is! He’s Master Roshi’s student, like my dad. I’ll send you the map in a bit.”
“Ok, I’m writing this down…got it.”
“Hmmm,” Chichi didn’t hang up.
“Yea? Is there anything else?”
“Sorry. It’s just that I’ve never seen a kid on this thing before. What’s your name?”
“Bulma,” Bulma said.
“That’s an interesting name! I think it’s amazing that you’re doing this. You’re helping to save the world! I hope that it’s not too forward of me for saying this.”
“No, not at all. Thank you.” Bulma smiled. “I sure hope that I’m actually doing some good.”
“Well, I gotta go train, Bulma. Maybe we’ll see each other around!”
“Bye-bye!”
Bulma sat under a tree and wondered how many kids were training with the grumpy geezers. “Maybe after I find all these people, I’ll go take a look myself.” She thought. “Can punches and kicks really beat the demons and their Daimao? I seriously doubt it, but it’s probably a good try as any.”
The sky turned darker just as fast as it lit up. “Huh, I guess I should get going. I don’t want to be caught in the rain.”
She started climbing the mountain on foot. It was not a bad walk. The ground was soft from earlier rain but not mushy, and there was a cool breeze that rustled the bamboo. Spring had turned things wonderful in this part of the world. Along the way, she admired a waterfall. The water was white and misty. A few cranes flew passed. She thought that she would probably come back for a vacation, if peace ever returned.
From the map that Chichi forwarded to her, it seemed that Son Gohan’s house was somewhere on this mountain. Bulma questioned that he would still be there, since the other two martial artists both went into hiding. She would gather some evidence from the ruins and start the ground-search from there.
Thus, Bulma was extremely surprised when she saw the little cottage with smoke rising out of its chimney. “This guy has to be a great warrior,” she thought. “Just casually making lunch in demon-land.” It was a miracle that the house was even standing.
As she neared the door, she thought: “Wait…what if he’s dead and its demons living inside…no, that can’t be. They only destroy things and they never stick around human places for long. And they don’t need to eat, either.” She raised a finger and gently knocked.
“Yea?” Someone called from the inside. It was the voice of a child.
“Hello” Bulma said, hesitantly. Who could this be? “Is this Son Gohan’s house?”
“Just wait a moment,” She heard footsteps, and a very small boy with big, spiky hair opened the door.
“Who are you? Are you grandpa’s friend?” The boy asked. He stared at Bulma.
“Uh, not exactly. I’m here on behalf of two people, Master Roshi and Master Shen, and I have a message for your grandfather.” Bulma forced a nervous smile.
The boy continued to stare, and then he said, somewhat quietly: “My grandpa is dead. My name is Goku, by the way, and what’s yours?”
“Oh…” Bulma was lost for words. “Um, I’m Bulma. Can I ask you…how did your grandpa die? Did the demons kill him?”
“What demons?” Goku was puzzled.
“Uh, you know…the green, flying ones…you have seen them on tv…right?”
“Or, just outside your window.” She thought to herself.
“Oh, those guys!” Goku said knowingly. “No. My grandpa died a long time ago. A great big monster killed him…I think.” Not seeing the growing confusion on the girl’s face, he brightened up: “Hey, you wanna come in? I’m making lunch and I don’t want the water to dry.”
Bulma followed the boy inside. She felt perplexed in an indescribable way. The house was small but tidy. A large pot was boiling on the stone stove. There was not a tv or radio in sight. “He’s just living alone out here…cooking away…and he’s seen the demons…” She sat down as the strange boy tended the stove. She took out her water bottle and nervously gulped.
“So,” She finally said. “You’ve just been alone the whole time?”
“Yep,” the boy answered.
“Where are your parents?”
“I don’t know,” Goku said cheerfully. “I’ve always just had my grandpa Gohan.”
“Hmmm…”
After a while, the boy shouted: “Ready!” He put out the fire and set the pot on the table. It smelled good.
“It’s dinosaur,” the boy beamed. “Do you want some?”
Indeed, Bulma was running out of rations, but there were still depths she would not stoop to, despite the world ending and all. “No thanks.”
“More for me!”
Bulma had never seen someone eat so heartily.
Lunch was over, and the prelude to the storm was beginning. Bulma watched as the little boy tidied up. The room was cozy and warm from the glow of the small fire. It reminded her of home before the disaster.
“Are you a boy or a girl, Bulma?” The boy suddenly asked.
“Is that supposed to be a joke? What kind of stupid question is that?”
“I’ve never seen a girl. I’ve only met my grandpa, and the green people. I think they are boys, but I’m not sure. They got mad at me when I tried to find out.”
The ensuing silence was horrible.
“Wait a minute,” Bulma finally mustered up enough energy to quip. “The demons were here?”
“Yea,” the boy turned to her and pointed. “They sat right there.”
“Uhhhhhh…”
“What?” Goku blinked. “You look weird. Are you sick?”
“You’re telling me that the demon came into your house, sat for a while, said goodbye and just left you alone?”
“Yea,” Goku said. “They just wanted my grandpa.”
“You said that they didn’t kill him!”
“They didn’t. They wanted a ball that grandpa left behind. It was one of the only things I could remember him by. I think grandpa’s spirit still lives in it.”
“And you gave it to them?” Bulma said weakly. “I mean, not that you had a choice, but you don’t seem too torn up about it.”
“What does ‘torn up’ mean?”
“It means sad, angry, upset.”
“I was, for a bit.” The boy truthfully replied. “But the tall old man told me that he will give it back to me, and then he will train me.”
“The…what…he what?”
“There were two green guys,” Goku said. “One of them was really, really tall. He was also very old, like my grandpa, but even older. I tried to fight him, but he was very powerful. He said that he had to borrow the ball, and if I gave it to him nicely, he will come back to teach me how to fight like him.”
“Tall, old and overpowered. That sounds like Piccolo Daimao. But could it be?” Bulma’s mind raced. She remained tongue-tied.
“He also said a lot of other thing, but they didn’t make any sense. But I think he’s gonna keep his word and come back.”
“You better hope he doesn’t come back.”
“But if he doesn’t come back, I won’t have my grandpa and I won’t get to learn how to…”
“We can talk about that later,” Bulma said, feeling exasperated. “But first, tell me what else did he say?”
“Well,” Goku considered for a bit. “It was like this.”
The Boy’s Tale
The boy wiped the blood with the back of his hand. His lips were bleeding from the punch. Young and inexperienced as he was, something deep down and primal told him that the tall old man was holding back. Way back.
The tree he hit was split in half. Still, he stood up.
“You’re a resilient one,” the old man said.
“Give me back my grandpa,” said the boy.
“I don’t think you understand who you’re up against, boy.” The shorter one with the wings sneered.
“Silence,” said the old man.
The boy charged again, and the old man sent him flying.
“I concede, Bass.” The old man addressed his minion. “Perhaps a small demonstration is in order.” He pointed at a faraway mountain. A ray of light seemed to emerge from his fingertip. The mountain top exploded in a cloud of smoke.
After the dust had settled, the child exclaimed: “Wow.”
For reasons unknown to Bass, his majesty smiled.
“I’m still not gonna let you take grandpa, though.” The boy said.
“Now, now,” the Demon King said. “I am not an unreasonable sovereign. Maybe we can settle this out in a less violent fashion.”
Bass stared at his master in disbelief. “Just kill the little bastard already,” he thought, but didn’t dare say anything.
The boy glared at the Demon King intently.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No,” the boy said. “Should I?”
“I am Piccolo Daimao, ruler of both human and demon-kind.”
“The pickle-what great what?”
“How dare you…” Bass began cursing, but the king barked: “I said silence!”
“What a strange child you are,” the Demon King pondered. “I can see that you have a tail. What are you, a human and animal-type hybrid? Is your father a monkey?”
“I never met my parents,” the boy replied. “I lived with grandpa. He’s dead and his spirit is in the ball.”
“I see,” the king nodded. “Did this human die of old age?”
“No. He died because a big monster stepped on him. One day I’m gonna become strong and I’m gonna kill the monster that killed him.”
“Interesting,” the king was quiet for a moment, and then he said, mostly to himself: “So, you live alone on this mountain, in the house of your dead grandfather?”
“Yea.”
“Are you aware that we are demons?”
The child looked at him blankly. “I thought you were girls.”
“Ah. You have never met anyone at all.”
“No.”
“Very well,” the king smiled again. Bass felt a hint of panic. The king pointed at the little human’s hut: “Is this your place? May we come in?”
“Yea, and only if you promise to not break anything.” The child muttered. Like poor Bass, he seemed to also be in disbelief about how quickly the battle ended.
The trio came inside. The king looked around the pitiful dwelling, and then sat down by the table. Bass noted that the king seemed to be at ease. Bass was a new soldier, and what was happening right now was strange and upsetting. Sure, the king had spared humans in the past, but it was always because it was not worth the effort to destroy them. But this new turn of event…Bass didn’t know.
“Tell me, boy.” The king said. “What do you think about the humans?”
“They’re good, I think? I don’t know many humans. I only know my grandpa, and now, you two. But you said that you are demons?”
The king ignored the question: “What do you think of me and Bass here?”
The boy thought for a bit and said: “I guess you’re kinda cool, but you should give me back my grandpa.” Seeing an opportunity arising, he quickly added: “I’d probably like you more if you did.”
“You see, child…I, too, grew up without a father or a mother. I survived in the wilderness, and hardly saw anyone at all.”
The boy and Bass listened, not knowing where this was going.
“The men I did meet – they despised me, sometimes because of my appearance, but mostly, because of my power.” The king’s smile grew wider, and more menacing. “How will humans think of you, boy, when you meet them? What do you think?”
“They will like me?” The boy asked hopefully, but he seemed unsure.
“They will fear you,” the king corrected. “Because you are not like them. You are better than them.”
“I don’t know…my grandpa said I’m just like everybody else and I shouldn’t let anyone tell me otherwise.”
“Then why did he put this house in the middle of nowhere?”
“Your majesty, I really think we should…” Bass trailed off.
“I don’t know. I think it’s because this is a good place to train and has good eating.”
“Let me tell you a thing or two about most humans, since I have encountered many in my life.” the king eyed the child with what almost seemed like sympathy.
“Most humans are soft and weak. They live among each other for comfort, because they are scared of the wilderness and the dark. Most humans do not ever train themselves. They are afraid of power...afraid of the pain that comes with power and even those who possess power. Most humans imitate each other, because they are scared of being different – for being different means that you will be forever denied the comfort of companionship.”
“I don’t get it,” the boy said.
“But you will,” said the king. “For fate and your grandfather have set you up for power, strangeness and alienation.”
“My grandfather said…”
“Tell you what,” the king laughed. “How about we make a deal? This orb that you call your grandpa – it is in fact a magical treasure called the Dragon Ball. It is only one of seven, but when you gather them all, you can make a wish. I already have my mind set on a wish, and I will take this from you either way. However, if you let me leave in peace, I promise I will one day return this to you, along with the other six Dragon Balls, so you may fulfill a wish of your own.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” the boy said. “I do want my grandpa to live again.”
“Let me finish, child. I see that you are interested in power and vengeance. So, in addition, when I return with my wish, I will train you, so you could slay your monster. And you’d better believe that in this world of man, there is not a warrior who can defeat me.”
The boy’s eyes sparkled. “I would like that,” he said. “But how do I know you will keep your word?”
“I am a king, and a king always keeps his word.”
The boy slowly nodded. “Okay, deal!”
With that, the Great Demon King and his attendant left with the orb that supposedly contained Son Gohan’s spirit.
The storm shook the land with thunder. A strong gust bent the foliage of bamboo outside the window. Though the room was nice and dry, a chill rose from within the girl’s heart.
“When was this,” Bulma asked.
“A few weeks ago,” Goku shrugged.
Bulma had heard about the Dragon Balls. It was a legend passed down in the mythologies of a few cultures. Even though details varied, the general gist of the story was: If you collected all seven, you could have whatever your heart desired. Before the Demon Clan appeared, Bulma had started looking into them. Her progress was halted by the destruction of West City and her loss of contact with Tights. Now, older and somewhat embittered, she had dismissed it as just a tall tale.
“How did they know that your grandpa’s orb was here?”
“I didn’t ask them.”
“How many do they have already?”
“They didn’t say.”
“Goku,” the girl was struggling to find the right words. “The men you met…”
The child looked at her inquisitively: “Yea?”
“They are not good people. They are in fact, very, very evil.”
“Really?” Goku’s eyes widened. “What did they do?”
“If you leave the mountain, you’ll see that they’ve destroyed the rest of the world. They’ve killed countless people, men, women, children…”
“You’re kidding, right? They didn’t seem all that bad.”
“Look at my face,” Bulma said solemnly. “Do I look like I am lying to you?”
“No…you look sad.”
“Because of these people, I lost my home, and my sister is missing. One of the reasons I’m out here is that I wanted to look for her.”
The child was quiet. He seemed deep in thought.
“The other reason is that some people – a group of martial artists – asked me to travel the world to look for their friends. I was told to ask your grandpa to join them in the fight against the Demon Clan.”
“My grandpa was a great warrior,” the boy mumbled.
“I know, I know…” Bulma nodded. “And now one source of hope is gone. That tall old guy you talked about…I think he’s the leader of the armies. He calls himself the Great Demon King. I’ve only seen his face a few times…once on tv, just before my city was blown up. He said that we were all worthless scum, unfit to live on this land that was meant for his clan.”
“But he didn’t seem…and he said…”
“The things he told you were lies,” Bulma said firmly. “Humans are flawed, but we can be kind and loving. Even though sometimes we might not be nice to each other, and some people may be mean or downright horrible, when evil and tragedy strike our fellow men, we would all band together to help each other.”
“You’re a strange kid, Goku.” She continued. “But the world is full of different people – people who look like me, but also monster-types, animal-types…We all think differently and belief different things. But despite this, we all managed to live more or less in peace before the demons came along. If you’d come down the mountain, you’d fit right in. It’s the demons who chose to see us as one giant, faceless, nameless creature. They decided that we are all garbage. So, who are the actual bigots? Humans or demons?”
Goku nodded. “What are ‘bigots’?”
“People who decide that other people are bad even before getting to know them.”
“Okay, but the tall guy…he got to know me, and he decided that he liked me.”
“He doesn’t like you, Goku.” Bulma sighed. “I don’t know why he let you go, but he is incapable of sympathy. He is too greedy, too arrogant, too self-absorbed to ever care about anybody.”
“Sounds like you’re becoming a bigot, Bulma.”
“That’s not the point!” The girl shouted. “You don't know the things he had done, but I have lost everything. My sister was traveling the world when the demons attacked, and I’ve not heard from her since. For all I know, she is dead. I loved her so much, and whenever I think about her, I feel like my heart is broken. I have lost so many friends, and every day I see people who are in pain because the demons destroyed their homes and killed people they loved. You said that you want revenge against the monster that killed your grandpa? Well, Piccolo and the demons are my monsters.”
“I understand now. I am sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Bulma said. “I’m just worried…if the Dragon Balls are actually real, and he’s going after them…what kind of terrible wish does he have in mind? Death of all humans? Total destruction?”
“Does that mean…he won’t give me my grandpa back?”
“No, he won’t! Have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying?”
“And…he won’t come back to teach me?”
“No, and if he does come back, he’ll probably kill you.”
The little boy first looked confused, then forlorn, and then, a shadowy flame of anger lit up in his eyes. “He tricked me,” he said. “Now I don’t have my grandpa and everyone else is going to die?”
“Don’t blame yourself. You’re just a kid. People much older and stronger have lost to him.”
“But what can we do?”
“I don’t know,” Bulma shook her head and looked out the window at the pouring rain. “I have to go after this storm. I have more people to find, and I’ll have to tell my dad and the others what happened. Guess we’ll have to really brace ourselves this time.”
The boy clenched his fists. Bulma started to feel bad for him.
“Actually,” Bulma remembered. “You know what you can do? Come with me instead. I’ll take you to the islands in the Crimson Sea, where people are training to defeat the demons. You fought the Demon King himself, so you’ll be a valuable source of information to them.”
“I was no match for him.”
“Doesn’t matter. Most people can’t even stand against his goons, and you survived two punches from him with barely a scratch.”
“Are there other kids?”
“I think so. I’ve seen two.”
“And what are the martial artists like?”
“I don’t really know. They’re always working. But apparently, they are very powerful. Before all of this happened, we all thought they were just legends. To think of it, someone told me that your grandpa had trained under one of them, a guy known as Muten Roshi.”
“Really? Grandpa’s old master?” Goku seemed excited. “Can he stop Piccolo Daimao?”
“Probably not?” Bulma mused. “I figure that’s why he’s teaching people he thinks might be capable?”
“Awesome! When are we leaving?”
“After the rain stops, I guess.”
“Great! I’ll start packing!” The boy started scrambling around, grabbing his belongings.
Bulma sat quietly, enjoying the sound of the rain. The bamboo danced against a stormy gray sky. Leaves left the branches and took to the wind like jade butterflies.
“I’ve never met anyone quite like this kid,” Bulma thought. “One moment, he’s upset, and now he’s just over it and ready to go. I wish I had his optimism.”
“Maybe I should start looking for the Dragon Balls. How hard could it be?” She wondered. “If I get to them before the demons, maybe I can wish them all away. I would probably need a gadget to locate them…and then there’s the problem of getting the ones they already have…But let’s not think about that right now.”
She laid down and treasured the moment.
The rain pattered, and the boy’s footsteps pattered, too.