In the early summer of Year 3130 of Zeno's Calendar, the wild cherry blossoms on Mount Paozu had withered and bloomed again. It had been exactly ten years since Goku passed away, and Vegeta had been gone for six. Master Roshi had left even earlier—so long ago that even the oldest seventh-generation students at the dojo had only heard stories from their elders about that white-bearded old man with a cane.
Yet some things had never changed. The seafood congee on the stove was still cooked punctually every morning, though the ones making it had passed from the sixth generation to the seventh. Every dawn, the command still rang out on the beach before the dojo: "Run around the island ten times. No qi allowed." The person issuing it had changed from Talos's granddaughter to the captain of the sixth-generation patrol reserve—the Saiyan boy who once could not tie his belt properly, now a training instructor aboard the New Turtle Hermit. He gave orders in exactly the same tone as Talos's granddaughter had back then: stern, but never angry.
The two old wicker chairs at the dojo entrance were still there, their armrests polished bright from use. Several generations of elders had sat in them, yet every morning during training, someone still habitually set an extra bowl of congee beside them. A crooked character for "Turtle" was carved into the bottom of each bowl—there were hundreds of such bowls in the kitchen cabinets of Turtle Hermit House, every one passed down from one generation to the next. The newest batch had been carved stroke by stroke with qi from the fingertips of a young seventh-generation student. The writing was still childish, but the placement was exactly the same as the first bowls Goku had carved all those years ago.
Talos