The hum of the engine was the only sound cutting through the silence of the empty road — a dull, mechanical melody syncing perfectly with Bulma's thoughts.
She was starting to get used to the countryside.
Maybe even starting to like it.
Her mind, though, was racing, trying to line up the next steps in her investigation.
Then the phone rang.
Riiing... Riiing... Riiing...
"—...Mh."
The sudden sound made Bulma frown. She glanced at the dashboard screen.
It was her mom.
"..."
She sighed, bracing herself for the inevitable, and hit the button to answer.
"— ...Hi, Mom. What now?"
"— Bulma!" — her mother's voice exploded with a mix of worry and excitement.
It startled Bulma enough to pull the phone away from her ear.
"— You finally answered!"
"— I'm driving right n—"
"— What, are you a rebellious teen now? You ran away? It's been days since you left without a word!"
Bulma gripped the steering wheel tighter, breathing deep to keep herself from snapping.
Rebellious? No. I have a reason, Mom.
"— I didn't run away, okay? I'm out here for something important. I'm investigating something."
"— Investigating? Oh god, what are you, a detective now? Bulma, that sounds dangerous! Come home before something happens to you! I can't even sleep!"
If she knew even half of what I'm dealing with... she'd lock me in the lab for life.
"— Mom..."
Bulma softened her voice.
"— Someone's got to do something, right? And don't worry — I can handle myself. I'll be back when it's done, I promise."
(...)
"— Sweetheart, the world's a scary place! Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out there? What would I do if something happened to you?"
Bulma closed her eyes for a second. Frustration tightened her chest, tangled with guilt.
Home...
The word felt foreign now, like an old memory trying to fade.
She remembered the smell of fresh tea, her dad's messy lab, the random laughter echoing through the halls.
But that wasn't her life anymore.
How many times did I hide just to escape everyone's expectations?
She tightened her grip.
And now here I am, carrying a weight I'm not even sure I can hold.
Her mom was still talking, but Bulma barely heard a word. Her own thoughts were louder. Like a radio she couldn't turn off.
Would Mom ever understand? This isn't just about Blouse. It's about me, too. Proving I'm not just his daughter. That I'm more than the labels they stamped on me since I was a kid.
Then her mom's voice broke through:
"— Please, just be careful, Bulma. You're all I have."
It hit her right in the gut. Cracking the wall she always put up in these calls.
"— I know... Mom." — she said, quieter now.
A silence followed. Heavy. Full of things unsaid.
"— I'll call you as soon as I can. Promise."
Click.
She hung up and tossed the phone into the passenger seat like it had personally wronged her.
Her breathing was heavy. Every exhale felt like more than air — like she was unloading bricks.
She looked ahead.
Just miles and miles of road and uncertainty.
Could she keep going?
She liked to think she was fearless, unstoppable. But moments like this...
Reality hit hard.
I can do this. I'm tough!
She told herself that — trying to believe it.
But it didn't sound true.
Deep down, she knew: she was just a teenager. And the world doesn't go easy on kids like her.
Thoughts started to storm in. Dark, thick ones.
Her mom's words stuck in her head, mixed with the weight she'd put on her own shoulders.
Maybe... maybe this is too much.
She leaned her forehead on the wheel, shutting her eyes, trying to push the panic away.
Everything felt so big. So impossible.
Was she doing this for Blouse, or to prove something? Was this duty... or ego?
She needs me.
Blouse's name grounded her — painful, but anchoring.
She was more than a friend. She was the only person who saw Bulma — really saw her — without expectations, without pressure.
Blouse saw her.
"— Someone... help me."
It was true. She was way in over her head.
But it was also true that no one else was going to do this.
So she kept going.
And in that second of distraction, she missed something on the road.
There was a sharp, violent sound — metal against something solid.
CRASH!
"— WAAAAAH!"
The world jolted. Her body slammed forward into the seatbelt.
The noise — dull and thunderous — kept ringing in her ears long after the car stopped.
Her breath caught.
Then came back. Hard.
"— Arf... Arf... Arf..."
Something was wrong. Very wrong.
Did I just hit something?
Her fingers trembled on the wheel. White-knuckled grip.
The engine still idled, a stupid reminder that time hadn't stopped.
She looked up.
Just dust. Thick clouds of it. Hiding whatever she hit.
Then, through the haze — a shadow.
Her heart pounded. Loud. Fast.
Did I... hit someone?
"— No... no, no, no... This can't be!"
She whispered it, panic rising. The idea she'd hurt someone hit her like a punch.
Slowly, she opened the door.
The car creaked. Metal groaned. Even that sounded like a confession.
Her steps were slow, like the air itself resisted her.
And there — in the middle of the road — was a body.
She froze.
The silence screamed.
Did I... kill someone?
She stepped forward. Then again.
Closer.
It was a boy.
Small. Muscular.
His hair stood up like spiky palm leaves.
And then she saw it.
A tail.
A monkey's tail — limp. Fake, right?
She stumbled back. Couldn't look away.
"— H-Hey..."
She barely got the word out. Trembling.
Then she saw it — beside him. A massive creature.
It was a fish. Huge. Blue. Glossy skin catching the sun.
What the hell is going on?
(...)
(...)
"— Mmmh..."
He moved.
Bulma jumped.
He wasn't dead.
"— Huh?!"
She gasped. Not her voice — instinct.
The tail twitched.
Mocking her.
Her world spun.
"— Ahhh... that hurt," — he muttered, scratching his head, standing up like it was nothing.
Like he hadn't just been hit by a speeding car.
Logic? Out the window.
"— What...?"
Am I dreaming? In a coma? Is this real?
Then he glared.
"— YOU LITTLE THIEF! TRYIN' TO STEAL MY DINNER?!"
Before she could blink, his eyes blazed with fury.
"— TOUCH MY FOOD AGAIN AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS!"
Then he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One second he was across the road — the next, right in front of her.
No time to think.
"— Kyaaah!"
She dove back into the car. Locked the doors with shaking hands.
She was scared — but safe.
For now.
"— What the hell is going on?! Who is this kid?!"
But he wasn't done.
He grabbed the car.
And lifted it.
Like it was a toy.
Her world flipped — literally.
Metal screamed. Glass shattered.
She braced for death.
When the spinning stopped, the car was on its side.
Alarms blared.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! WEEOO WEEOO WEEOO!
She was still strapped in. Shaking.
Outside, the boy just stood there. Bored.
Beside him, that giant fish. Still. Unreal.
This is insane...
Anger surged.
He just threw a one-ton car! No. This is past insane.
She wrestled with the seatbelt.
"— Nnghh... Hnnng...!!"
It finally snapped loose. She crawled out, unsteady.
She faced him.
He didn't move.
"— WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM, DAMN IT?!"
Fury in her voice. Pure disbelief.
He tilted his head. Calm. Like none of this mattered.
"— Don't touch my food again, freak."
His words dropped like stones.
She took a breath.
"— Your food?! I don't even know what's happening!"
He just stuck his tongue out.
"— You'll never catch me... Bleh!"
Her brain stalled. Full system crash.
Then the rage kicked in — sharp, hot, unfiltered.
"— Oh, you wanna fight?! You found the right girl."
She stepped forward.
"— TROUBLE'S MY MIDDLE NAME!"