Soon it was dinner time.
Goku ate like a hurricane.
Watching him devour everything as if it were priceless delicacies,
Bulma felt inexplicably happy.
She propped her chin on one hand, staring at him in a daze.
This abundance of food made her think of her previous life.
Just yesterday, she'd still been living in a hellish apocalypse.
After Goku Black appeared, the world fell apart.
Supplies were scarce, food rarer still.
Humans survived like rats in the dark.
At least she'd sent Trunks away.
Thinking of her son, Bulma murmured softly,
"I wonder how Trunks is doing now…
I hope he stays in the past and lives well with them.
I hope he never goes back to that world…"
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
"Hey, Bulma, you're not eating?"
Bulma blinked and looked up.
The table was already nearly wiped clean.
Only a plate of stew and a bowl of rice remained in front of her.
Hah.
That fast?
Still, that little glutton had left her a portion.
So thoughtful that she almost didn't know what to do with it.
Bulma usually ate lightly at night—bread and lettuce were enough.
The meat was all for him.
So she said, "I'm not hungry. You eat it."
She slid the last portion toward him.
Goku stared.
"You're not hungry? Why aren't you eating at all?"
Bulma smiled sweetly. "You go ahead.
I don't eat greasy stuff at night. I'm dieting!"
She took out bread, spread jam, added lettuce,
and ate in small bites.
Goku remembered.
In canon, he hunted meat while Bulma ate bread.
So he felt no guilt and polished off the rest,
still remembering to say thanks.
…
Late at night, rain fell outside the window.
Goku had run all day and was exhausted.
After bathing and eating, he slept like a rock.
Bulma sat on the bed, looking at him sleeping so peacefully—like a good little baby.
She leaned down and kissed his cheek lightly.
Goku rubbed his face, rolled over, and kept sleeping.
Bulma smiled like a fond aunt, then looked out at the rain.
Her mind drifted again.
In her previous life, without Goku, Earth had been battered by endless disasters.
Those twenty years of apocalypse had been worse than death.
If she hadn't had to raise Trunks,
she might have broken long ago.
After who knew how long, she snapped back to the present and thought about tomorrow.
In this life, she hadn't changed anything yet.
Tomorrow, when Goku trained, he would run into a sea turtle.
He'd help it return home,
and by chance he'd receive the Flying Nimbus from Master Roshi,
and she'd get another Dragon Ball from Roshi.
Right now, she had no other wish.
The Dragon Balls didn't mean much to her anymore.
They weren't limitless; she couldn't wish for the perfect boyfriend.
And this Bulma was already mature—
childhood dreams had long faded.
In this peaceful world, she had no wish at all.
She just wanted to watch Goku grow up, then marry him.
Let him do what he loved—train every day, protect Earth and their family.
And she would work, make money, support his training.
If Goku and she were together,
they could live the life they both wanted—
until old age.
A sudden realization struck her.
She almost forgot: in the future, Goku died of a viral heart disease.
There had been no medicine then—Senzu Beans didn't help.
Before they even gathered the Dragon Balls, Goku was gone.
(Pilaf's gang had used the Dragon Balls to become babies, so they couldn't be used for a year.
Later, once Piccolo died, the Dragon Balls were gone completely.)
Shenron couldn't revive someone who died of illness.
But in this life, she could prepare early.
She could have her parents invest in medical research now
and develop an effective cure for viral heart disease.
For this world's science, creating a drug like that wouldn't be too hard.
They could finish it before ever leaving for Namek.
But then she remembered something else.
Goku was strong and loved fighting, but…
he was terrified of needles.
A better idea came to her.
"What if, after we collect all seven Dragon Balls,
I wish for Goku to never get sick again?"
Bulma beamed.
Perfect. Simple. One-and-done.
She already had three Dragon Balls.
Only four more to go.
She still remembered where they were:
one with Roshi, one in Oolong's village, one in the Ox-King's castle…
The Ox-King made Bulma's eyes narrow.
Chi-Chi.
The "bride" promise.
The way grown Goku got dragged away by Chi-Chi at the tournament.
It wasn't all Chi-Chi's fault.
It was because Goku didn't know better.
That idiot in her previous life, barely understanding gender differences,
had tried to tell boys and girls apart by patting their private parts.
That was how he and Chi-Chi ended up "engaged."
But looking at this Goku, Bulma relaxed a little.
With Grandpa Gohan raising him like a normal kid,
he shouldn't do anything that stupid.
So she didn't need to interfere too much.
"Then tomorrow we'll take the turtle to Kame House.
And if Roshi dares ask for something ridiculous,
I'll flatten him!"
She tucked the blanket around Goku,
turned off the light, and lay down beside him.
Sleeping next to him, even in the wilderness,
Bulma felt perfectly safe.
That night, she slept better than she had in years.