At the Ramen Shop, Temari leaned against the second-floor hallway wall, one strap of her thin nightdress slipping halfway down her shoulder. She left it alone.
Goten climbed in through the window. His feet had barely touched the floor before Temari pressed against him, her body heat seeping through the thin fabric against his chest.
"What did you say behind the door?"
"I spoke too fast."
Goten swallowed the other half of what he had been about to say. The word "Saiyan" stayed pinned beneath his tongue. He did not let it out. Temari did not need to know about that, at least not yet.
"That was all?"
"Yeah, that was all."
Temari did not press him. She reached out to roll up his cuff, stained with mud and dust, her fingertips brushing the inside of his wrist.
They returned to the room without a word, moonlight falling across the quilt through the window.
The kitchen erupted at daybreak.
"That's mine."
Trunks jabbed two chopsticks toward the last Chashu bun in the steamer. Goten's hand was three-tenths of a second faster, three fingers clamping straight onto the top of the bun.
The two forces faced off, the bun trembling between them.
Smack.
Teuchi's spatula landed squarely on the back of Trunks's head.
"What's the rush? There are three more steamers in the pot."
Trunks clutched his head, looking utterly unconvinced, but no one dared challenge the spatula's authority.
Ayame came over with a saucer of soy sauce, bent to set it before Goten, and straightened his collar while she was at it.
The gesture was so natural it left no trace.
Goten lowered his head and bit into the bun, speaking indistinctly around it.
"I'm going to see New Team 7 today."
Trunks was dragging the fourth steamer of