Bulma's Plan

Early morning in West City, sunlight pierced the clouds and fell across the vast hemispherical building of Capsule Corporation.

A subtle smell of something burnt lingered in the air, mixed with the aroma of freshly ground coffee.

Krillin opened his eyes, feeling refreshed.

The boundless stamina granted by the Saitama Template meant that even after several nights of "intense activity," he needed no recovery time at all.

By contrast, Bulma was clinging to him like a koala.

Her nightgown had ridden up, leaving large areas of her smooth, pale skin exposed. Her breathing was heavy, with a faint, weary rasp to it.

He gently slipped his arm free.

Bulma gave a little groan, rolled over, buried her face in the pillow, and mumbled, "Don't move... My back's broken..."

Krillin grinned and gave her remarkably firm backside a light smack before getting up to dress.

He left the bedroom and entered the spacious, open-plan dining room. The sight before him made him raise an eyebrow.

Golden Haired Lanchi was wearing a lace apron that didn't fit her very well, gripping a spatula as if it were a submachine gun.

One foot was propped on an expensive redwood dining chair. Her long, wavy golden hair swung with her movements, and a toothpick jutted from her mouth. Her whole face said, "I'm in a foul mood."

When she saw Krillin enter, Lanchi froze, and the spatula nearly fell into the fried eggs.

The fear of being dominated by absolute power the night before surged up her spine like an electric current.

"What are you looking at? Never seen a beauty cook before?"

Lanchi snarled, trying to sound fierce.

But her voice was clearly an octave lower than usual, and she didn't even dare meet Krillin's eyes. She just glared at the bacon in the pan, as if it had murdered her father.

Krillin pulled out a chair and sat down, folding his arms as he watched her with interest.

"Is that how you treat your master? Looks like last night's punishment didn't sink in deep enough."

Lanchi shuddered, her face instantly flushing red. She gritted her teeth and slammed two plates down on the table.

"Eat! Choke on it!"

The fried eggs on the plates were actually heart-shaped, though their edges were a little burnt. The bacon had even been arranged into a smiling face.

The utterly unexpected presentation, paired with Lanchi's mob-boss expression, made for a strangely absurd sight.

Krillin picked up his fork and took a bite, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

"Not bad. Looks like you have a talent besides robbing banks."

"Obviously! I've done all kinds of things while I was on the run!"

Lanchi scoffed and turned to pour coffee. But when she handed Krillin his cup, her fingers trembled with nerves, and a few drops spilled out.

"S-sorry!"

She instinctively tried to draw her gun, then remembered she was now a "maid" and hurriedly wiped the table with her apron instead.

Her frustrated, humiliated expression—like she wanted to kill someone but had no choice but to bow her head—put Krillin in an excellent mood.

Just then, Bulma came out, yawning.

She was wearing a silk robe, and her walk looked a little strange. Each step seemed to test how firm the floor was.

"That smells delicious... Hm?"

Bulma rubbed her eyes. When she saw Golden Haired Lanchi busily wiping the table, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Am I still asleep? What's that female bandit doing? And what's with the heart-shaped eggs?"

Lanchi grew furious under Bulma's stare and tossed the rag onto the table.

"What are you looking at, blue-haired weakling? Keep staring and I'll gouge your eyes out!"

"Who are you calling a weakling?!"

Bulma instantly flared up, letting the full force of a tycoon's daughter's presence show.

"This is my house! Think I won't have the security robots throw you out?"

"Okay, okay."

Krillin reached out, pulled Bulma onto his lap, and casually speared a piece of bacon to feed her.

"Give it a try. Our new housekeeper's a decent cook."

Bulma chewed suspiciously for a few bites, and her eyes lit up. Then they dimmed again, and she held her aching lower back with a sigh.

"It's good, but... Ow, my back."

Just then, Lanchi's nose began to itch.

The black pepper in the kitchen hadn't settled yet.

"Achoo...!"

After one sneeze, her wavy golden hair instantly turned deep blue.

Lanchi's whole demeanor changed completely.

Her formerly domineering stance shifted into a pigeon-toed one, and her eyes grew as moist and innocent as a fawn's.

Blue Haired Lanchi looked at the messy kitchen and Bulma sitting on Krillin's lap. Her face turned bright red, and she bowed awkwardly, flustered, before hurrying to speak.

"I-I'm sorry! Did I cause you trouble again? I'll clean everything up right away! I'm so, so sorry!"

She hurriedly began gathering the plates, moving with gentle, domestic grace. She seemed like a completely different person from the female bandit of a moment ago.

Leaning against Krillin, Bulma watched Blue Haired Lanchi bustle about, her gaze growing increasingly thoughtful.

She looked down at her own aching thighs, then glanced back at Krillin's energetic face, which looked as though he could still go another three hundred rounds.

A deep sense of crisis and helplessness welled up inside her.

Although Shenron had modified her body to withstand the vacuum of space, it hadn't raised her physical abilities to the level of a Saiyan or a monster.