The night on Kame House's island was supposed to be quiet. A thin moonlight lay across the sand, and the only sound was the tide.
The first scream cut through the stillness like a knife.
Haruko was up before anyone else, bare feet hitting the wooden floor as the second scream came closer. In the dim light spilling from the open door, he saw her — Launch — eyes wild, weapon in hand, firing into the air and at anything that moved.
Everyone ducked for cover. Oolong dived behind the sofa. Yamcha swore under his breath.
Haruko didn't hesitate. Two strides closed the gap, his hand chopping sharply into the base of her neck. The weapon slipped from her fingers as her knees buckled, and he caught her before she hit the ground.
"She'll wake up fine," he said simply, laying her gently on the couch.
The adrenaline faded fast, replaced by a different gnawing in his gut. Goku stepped out from his room, hair mussed, rubbing his stomach. "Nee-san… I'm hungry again."
"Yeah," Haruko replied, "me too."
Without a word to anyone, they grabbed nets from the shed and headed for the shore.
The water was cold at first touch, but both dived in without hesitation. Their shapes cut through the dark surf like knives, hands closing around slippery bodies in the deep. Squid, thick fish, even a small shark — the nets filled quickly.
When they pulled the haul back onto the sand, Yamcha was already setting up the field stove outside. "Figures I'd end up cooking in the middle of the night," he muttered, but his hands were quick, knife moving cleanly through scales and skin.
By the time the meat was ready, the smell alone woke half the house. Everyone took a small portion—enough for a snack—but Goku and Haruko sat cross-legged on the sand, eating piece after piece in steady silence until there was nothing left but bones and shells.
Morning light brought new orders.
"All right, my students," Master Roshi announced, cane in hand, "time for your first official day under the Turtle Hermit school!"
The group stood in a loose line: Yamcha, Krillin, Goku, Haruko, Oolong, and even Puar watching from the side. Launch, back to her calm self, leaned against the wall with a cup of tea, curious to see what this all involved.
Haruko already had an idea — but his own plan was folded into Roshi's. The old master didn't mind, so long as they followed his core training principles.
The first challenge was sea swimming. The group waded in to chest-deep water, then pushed off, slicing through the waves toward a pinnace anchored far out in the bay. Yamcha was fast, but Goku and Haruko clearly outclassed the others, moving as if the water barely slowed them.
Roshi, watching from the rowboat, smirked. "Not bad. Now swim back."
Next came distance running. Not just along the beach — Haruko incorporated uneven terrain from other parts of the island, guiding them up slopes, through sand pits, and over jagged rock. The morning sun climbed higher, draining energy quick, but no one quit.
Krillin, new to the group, kept stealing glances at Haruko and Goku's pace. The gap wasn't just small — they made it look easy.
After a short break, there was land plowing. Literally. Roshi had them harnessed to old iron plows, dragging them across a patch of stubborn soil until it turned to loose dirt. Every step dug deep into their muscles.
Haruko adjusted the harness to add extra resistance for himself. If he was staying here for six months, he'd make it count.
The milk delivery came next — but not just through flat streets. Roshi had mapped out a path that ran up and over a mountain trail. "Deliver it without spilling a drop," he said.
By halfway up the incline, Krillin's breathing was ragged. Yamcha's shirt was soaked through. Goku grinned at Haruko between sprints. "Feels like we're fighting gravity itself!"
Haruko didn't answer — because in the next drill, they actually did.
Weighted vests and shell packs went on for the mountain push. At the base of a massive boulder, Roshi gave his order: "Move it from here… to there."
Krillin stared. "That's impossible."
Roshi shrugged. "If it was easy, you wouldn't learn anything."
Together, straining against the rough surface, they inched it forward. Haruko's muscles coiled under the extra gravity settings from a training rig he'd quietly taken from Shenron's stored designs, hidden in his pocket space. The weight wasn't crushing him — just pushing him into a higher gear.
By the end of the week, Roshi was seeing what Haruko already knew: the group was getting stronger fast, and not just the Saiyans.
One evening, the old master stood with his cane, watching Haruko's stance as he finished a set of rotations with weighted poles. There was respect in his voice when he finally said, "You're growing faster than I expected. All of you are. Might be time for something a little higher…"
The next morning, he led them to the dock.
"I'm taking you somewhere," Roshi said, stepping onto a small powerboat.
"To Karin Tower," Haruko murmured, the knowledge already pulled from his database. He didn't tell the others what that meant — they'd find out soon enough.
The tower's distant silhouette rose over the horizon, taller than any structure the others had ever seen, disappearing into the clouds above.
Roshi's faint smile was all the confirmation they needed. "Let's see if you can impress the cat at the top."
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