The forest was quiet, the early morning sun spilling gold through the leaves. Birds sang faintly, a soft harmony over the mountain winds. At the edge of the valley stood a small wooden house, sturdy yet humble, its walls recently repaired and its roof lined neatly with fresh tiles. Smoke curled gently from the chimney.
This house was not Grandpa Gohan's anymore.
Inside, Majin Buu sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, eyes closed, his aura suppressed so deeply the world itself seemed to ignore him. His body, sleek and humanlike, bore the crimson markings of his new form. His breathing was slow, steady, and every inhale drew the surrounding energy into his core.
He had waited years for this moment. Years since he had consumed the old man and his grandson. Years of patience, of testing his limits, of splitting into clones and tearing himself apart for the sake of infinite growth. The cabin was rebuilt not out of nostalgia, but to pay his respect to the deceased.
And today… destiny was finally knocking on his door.
The sound of an engine whirring through the trees cut through the morning silence. Birds scattered as a sleek capsule motorcycle zipped along the dirt path, skidding to a stop before the house. The rider dismounted, shaking out her long blue hair as she adjusted her white boots against the ground.
Bulma.
She pulled a small device from her pocket, the Dragon Radar flashing brightly in her hands. "Here… this is the spot." She squinted at the rustic cabin. "Weird. Didn't think anyone lived way out here. But if the radar's right, the Dragon Ball's inside."
From within the house, Buu's golden-red eyes snapped open. His grin spread slowly across his face.
He rose, his footsteps echoing lightly on the floorboards. When he opened the door, the morning light caught his frame—lean, tall, a white tunic-like garment around his body. His gaze locked on Bulma immediately.
Bulma blinked, startled. "Whoa… okay, you're definitely not the creepy old hermit type I was expecting. Damn… you're actually kinda hot."
Buu's grin widened. "Yes, I know. Handsome enough to leave you speechless, isn't it?" His voice was calm, carrying a playful teasing.
Bulma blinked, a small blush on her face before she snapped out of it, quickly holding up the radar defensively. "Listen, I don't know who you are, but according to this, you've got something I need. The Dragon Ball."
"Ahhh… so that's why you're here." Buu stepped out onto the porch, stretching casually as though he hadn't spoken to another soul in years. His black markings pulsed faintly. "How do you know about the Dragon Ball and... do you even know what you're asking for?"
Bulma raised an eyebrow, clearly unnerved but refusing to back down. "Of course I do. Collect all seven Dragon Balls and you get a wish, right? Don't play dumb."
He leaned closer, his presence pressing on her like a storm. "Yes, so tell me… why should I give it to you?"
Bulma swallowed "Well… maybe we could come to some kind of deal. I'm sure we can work something out, don't you think?"
For a moment, silence hung between them. Then Buu's grin softened into amusement. He stepped aside, gesturing toward the inside of the cabin. "Heheheh… bold. I like that. Come, then. See for yourself."
Bulma stepped past him into the cabin. Her eyes scanned the interior, simple but strangely pristine, as though rebuilt with obsessive care. On a low table near the center, glimmering faintly in the sunlight, rested a four-star Dragon Ball.
Her breath caught. "That's it…!"
She darted forward, hand outstretched—only for Buu's arm to extend lazily, barring her way. His touch was light, but unyielding, like iron wrapped in silk.
"Careful," he murmured. "That orb belonged to someone once. An old man… who isn't here anymore."
Bulma met his gaze, playful and with an accent of teasing. "Are you sure you don't want something?"
Buu tilted his head, watching her with predator's patience. For a fleeting second, the crimson glow in his eyes dimmed, and something like curiosity flickered there.
Finally, he stepped back, allowing her closer. "Fine. Take it. But only if I can come with you."
Bulma grabbed the Dragon Ball, clutching it tight. She shot him a quick, mischievous glance, almost like she was imagining something, before smirking. "Sure."