Once Bulma turned away, Son Goku quickly stripped off his filthy clothes, tossed them into the washing machine, and dashed into the bathroom.
Hearing his footsteps fade, Bulma finally looked back, adjusted the washer's water level, and let it start spinning. Then she rummaged through the wardrobe.
"Hmm… he's so small right now… I don't think I have anything that'll fit him. What should I do?"
Her eyes landed on a loose T-shirt tucked in the corner — plain, neutral-colored.
"This'll do for tonight. He's just a kid; he doesn't need pants. I'll buy him proper clothes once we reach the city."
T-shirt in hand, Bulma stepped into the bathroom.
"Your clothes will dry by morning," she said. "After dinner, it'll be bedtime anyway. For now, just wear my T-shirt to sleep."
Goku blinked as she entered, and for a moment, a flash of nostalgia crossed his eyes — she reminded him of his mother.
But looking at this sixteen-year-old Bulma, he couldn't help feeling a strange disconnect.
Back in the original story, Bulma had been flirtatious and reckless, but deep down, she was still a good girl. If I could marry someone like her someday, he thought, it wouldn't be so bad.
Still, the moment he remembered how she'd fallen for Yamcha and returned to West City to enjoy her easy life, his heart wavered.
If he followed her there, living comfortably, maybe he'd grow soft… maybe he'd even lose to Piccolo one day.
Goku shook his head firmly. No. You live through hardship, but die in comfort.
Besides, he knew Bulma too well. In the original story, when she helped little Goku bathe, she had no ulterior motives — she simply saw him as a child.
At this point in time, sixteen-year-old Bulma was just a lovestruck teenager. She liked handsome boys her age or mature men — not a small kid like him.
Funny thing was, Goku felt the same way now.
He sat soaking in the tub, unbothered about being seen, watching Bulma as she placed the shirt down beside the sink. But she didn't leave.
"Uh… you're done, right? Why are you still here?" he asked.
Bulma picked up a bath brush. "I'll scrub your back for you. Stand up!"
Goku froze. "W-wait, that's not necessary—"
Before he could finish, a sudden weakness spread through his body.
Bulma had given his tail a quick tug.
"Don't fuss," she said, letting go. "Now stand still."
Goku straightened up, glaring at her. "Hey! Why'd you grab my tail?!"
He wanted to explain that it was his weakness — that it could paralyze him — but he stopped himself. What if someone overhears?
He'd overcome it eventually anyway.
In fact, to keep from accidentally hurting Grandpa Gohan, he had once cut the tail off himself. But less than a year later, it had grown back.
And really, cutting your own tail every time was painful. So now, he just made sure to sleep early whenever a full moon approached.
As Goku stood there, lost in thought, Bulma crossed her arms and barked,
"Stop dawdling! Dinner's almost ready. Once I finish with you, it's my turn to bathe! Now stand up straight!"
Her tone left no room for refusal.
Goku felt an instinctive chill run down his spine.
Without the playful mood of earlier, she was downright intimidating — a glimpse of the future Bulma who could slap Beerus without flinching.
He stood up obediently, and Bulma planted one foot on the tub's edge, scrubbing his back with firm strokes.
At first, Goku resisted, but soon he relaxed. To his surprise, it actually felt… nice.
A few minutes later, Bulma handed him the brush.
"Alright, your back's done. You can handle the front yourself. I'll go check on dinner."
"Got it," Goku replied.
He wasn't new to showers and bathtubs. After scrubbing himself clean, he rinsed off under the shower and slipped into Bulma's oversized T-shirt.
It hung down to his knees, so not wearing pants didn't bother him — though the air felt a little chilly.
Still, after using soap and shampoo, his whole body felt light and refreshed.
He sighed in satisfaction. Guess this is what clean really feels like.
The shirt looked more like a dress on his small frame, but there wasn't much he could do about that. Saiyans his age were short — painfully short. He figured even tall elementary kids would tower over him.
Shrugging off the thought, he stepped out of the bathroom.
Instantly, the smell of simmering meat filled the air.
"Whoa… smells amazing!"
His stomach growled again, loud and demanding.
Bulma, standing on the balcony hanging his washed clothes, turned and smiled.
"Look at you — so much cleaner now! But dinner's not quite ready. Wait a bit, okay? Once I've taken my bath, we'll eat together."
"Okay!"
As Bulma disappeared into the bathroom, Goku glanced around the room and spotted the remote on the couch.
'Man, waiting while it smells this good is torture. Maybe I'll watch some TV to distract myself?'
Just as he reached for the remote, Bulma's head peeked out from the bathroom door.
"Hey, Goku! I helped you earlier — now it's your turn. Come scrub my back!"
Goku froze. "Huh???"