As the years passed, birthdays became a quiet affair for me. As a child, they were simple yet cherished occasions, usually celebrated with just my parents and Master Lao, who had taken an interest in my training. There would always be a chocolate cake and modest decorations, and my parents often gifted me things they had crafted themselves, leveraging their skills in engineering and science. One memorable gift was a guide to build my own hoverboard, which sparked my creativity and led to me creating my very first hoverboard.

I enjoyed my birthdays.

"Well done"

Kami's praise still feels unfamiliar but appreciated. It's been nearly a month since I started training diligently on the lookout. We arrive early in the morning and leave late at night; although Kami would prefer us to stay longer, we have commitments that keep us grounded. My training has now delved into magical arts, and today, after several attempts, I successfully materialized clothes onto a small stuffed doll. It may not be impressive in appearance, lacking even a proper face, but mastering the spell to clothe it was a significant step.

"We'll move on to something larger now," Kami suggests, as we move to a slightly bigger doll, equally plain, awaiting its new garments.

Today happens to be my birthday, but I haven't mentioned it to anyone. It doesn't seem important anymore. Birthdays haven't held the same joy for me in a long time, so I've grown accustomed to treating it like any other day. Bringing it up would only prompt Bulma and Panchy to make a fuss, and I'd rather avoid the attention.

The larger doll briefly glows, and the tingling sensation of magic prickles my skin.

"It seems you're progressing faster than I anticipated," Kami remarks, genuinely impressed as I successfully clothe the doll again.

In the background, I hear Kakarot's struggle as he grapples with Popo, crashing through the air. He lands gracefully and charges back into the fray, determined to improve despite the punishment. It's a routine that suits both of us well; we endure Popo's rigorous training until we're nearly spent, then rejuvenate ourselves with a Senzu Bean and dive back in. Kakarot calls it our "Zenkai," a term for our growth through adversity.

Yet, despite my increased speed and growing strength, I'm still far from matching Popo's agility. Kakarot, meanwhile, focuses more on raw power, enhancing his strikes. His punches are devastatingly strong, and I prefer not to be on the receiving end.

Kami occasionally joins our training sessions, where I fare marginally better against him but still end up taking a beating. Kami seemed surprised when I simply got back up and asked for another round, unfazed by the physical toll. I understand that strength alone doesn't guarantee victory; technique, skill, and experience matter more in combat. As Kami put it, he is a seasoned martial artist.

During a break, I sit on the edge of the lookout, feet dangling over the side, gazing at the clouds and blue sky. Today's lunch, prepared by Panchy, is stored in a special bento kit she gifted me to keep warm food warm and cold food cold. A matching flask holds my cocoa, still pleasantly warm. Like my mug and bento kit, they are white with my initial in blue—an endearing touch from my adopted family.

They treat me like family.

Yet, here I am, keeping my birthday to myself.

"Hey," Kakarot interrupts my thoughts, joining me at the edge with his bowl of food. He's already chewing on meat as he settles down.

"What have you done this time?" he asks with a knowing smile.

"What makes you think I've done something?" I reply, knowing he can read me well.

"You've been quiet today," he observes, taking a thoughtful bite. "Or maybe you're just in a contemplative mood."

"I haven't done anything," I admit, realizing perhaps I should have.

Tomatoes in my lunch catch my eye, and I happily munch on them. They're always there, even when they don't quite match the rest of the meal.

"Tomatoes are a strange thing to like," Kakarot comments between bites, teasing me gently.

He's hardly one to judge, given his eclectic palate and willingness to devour anything served.

---

Krillin, Yamcha, and Chichi had been barred from training with Kami, a decision that didn't surprise me despite my efforts to persuade him otherwise. Kami's reluctance meant they risked falling behind, a concern Krillin voiced adamantly. His determination to keep pace with us was commendable, matched by Chichi's resolve not to be left behind. Feeling guilty for failing to sway Kami, I decided to assist them on my own time.

Arriving at Kame House, I found Krillin honing his Kamehameha wave, noticeably more powerful than before. Chichi emerged with a bowl of diced fruits, and Yamcha was focused on perfecting his Wolf Fang Fist technique. Roshi, lounging with a dubious magazine, was the first to spot me as I descended from the Nimbus.

"Hey," greeted Chichi with a grin, offering me some fruit. "You've been gone a while. Don't tell me I missed out on another adventure?"

"I won't tell you then," I teased, to which she pouted playfully.

"I always miss out."

I patted her head reassuringly. There's nothing you can do about it, Chichi. Sometimes Kami can be a grumpy old man, and I can't force him to change his mind about who he trains.

"I brought something for you guys," I announced, catching their attention. Krillin practically materialized at my side, eager, while Yamcha feigned disinterest but couldn't hide his curiosity.

"What did you bring?" Yamcha asked casually, trying not to seem too excited.

"It's something you'll love," I replied, a grin spreading across my face.

With a flourish, I produced a capsule and instructed them to stand clear. Pressing the button, I threw it, and a cloud of smoke revealed my gravity machine—a spherical structure that baffled them.

"What is it?" asked Chichi, voicing their collective confusion.

"It's a gravity machine," I explained proudly. "Originally set at ten times Earth's gravity, but we adjusted it down to twice Earth's gravity to start. Bulma and I worked on it together."

Krillin's eyes lit up, and Chichi's smile widened.

"If you're giving us this, you must be into some serious training," she remarked, glancing at me.

"Oh yeah, training with Kami," I confirmed, knowing Roshi would be surprised.

"You youngsters did it," Roshi exclaimed, clearly torn between pride and disbelief. "What's with this new generation?"

"It's a surprise, isn't it?" I chuckled. "I didn't think Kami would take me on either, but here we are."

"The Earth's god has you doing his dirty work?" Yamcha joked, incredulous.

I nodded, filling them in on the situation with Piccolo and Kami's expectations. I had already informed Kami that I would update them in case we needed extra support against Piccolo's potential return and his demon army.

"Piccolo!?" Roshi exclaimed, his tone a mix of surprise and anger. "He can't come back!"

"Kami believes it's inevitable," I explained solemnly. "Sooner rather than later."

"I think Kakarot's rubbing off on me," Krillin admitted nervously. "I'm actually excited and more determined to train now."

"Or we'll get killed for being weak," Yamcha added with a sigh, a touch of resignation in his voice.

There's nothing quite like the threat of death to motivate people.

I proceeded to instruct them on how to use the gravity machine, focusing on Chichi as she seemed most eager to learn. Together, we embarked on their first test session. I was confident this would accelerate their growth significantly.

"Just be careful with it," I urged them, a note of concern in my voice. "It was a gift."

"Don't worry, we'll take care of it," Chichi assured me, though her reassurance did little to alleviate my worry. "I'll make sure of it."

I would appreciate that.

---

When I returned home, Bulma was in the kitchen, her attention absorbed by the coffee maker with a distant look in her eyes. The atmosphere was unusually quiet, punctuated only by the ticking of the clock and the pouring of coffee. Seating myself at the bar, I retrieved my flask to pour some cocoa, which seemed to bring Bulma back to the present. She glanced over at me, her mug of coffee steaming.

"You're keeping something to yourself today," she remarked, taking a seat next to me.

I couldn't deny it. "I am."

"Geez, at least tell me what it is."

"Then it wouldn't be keeping it to myself," I replied, not in the mood for humor this time.

"You're not funny," she retorted.

I busied myself making more cocoa, noticing we were low on marshmallows and milk. As I moved around the kitchen, I knew Bulma's gaze was on me, waiting for an explanation she knew was coming. This was familiar territory—she would ask, I would answer, and it would upset her. I sighed inwardly, not looking forward to disappointing her.

"What's your secret today?" Bulma pressed again.

"It's my birthday," I confessed, almost spilling milk as I moved to the sink, marshmallows carefully set aside. "I didn't mention it because I didn't think it mattered. There are more important things than celebrating my birthday. It might sound like I don't think I'm worth the trouble, and maybe I don't. But then at lunch, I started feeling guilty because while I might think that, you probably don't. Panchy gave me a corner in her garden, helped me plant tomatoes, got me my own pots and pans, a bento box, makes me lunch every day. Dr. Brief set up a workstation for me, supplies me with materials for my project."

In short, they treat me like family.

It hit me then, how much they cared for me, and how undeserving I felt of their kindness. Bulma's expression softened, understanding dawning in her eyes as I spoke.

"I'm not sure why I feel this way," I admitted, the uncertainty weighing heavily on my mind. "But it's not a pleasant feeling."

"Stop feeling like that," Bulma said firmly, as if she could command away my insecurities. It was almost amusing, and I chuckled briefly, nearly spilling my cocoa again.

"I wish it were that easy," I replied honestly.

"You and your feelings," she scoffed softly. "What do I need to do to make you feel better?"

I didn't have an answer, and her question wasn't really directed at me.

"We're celebrating your birthday," she declared, leaving no room for argument. I nodded absently, taking a sip of cocoa while a lone marshmallow bobbed in the cup.

"What cake would you like? I'll tell Mom," she insisted, her tone final.

"I still d—"

"What cake would you like?" Bulma cut me off firmly.

"Chocolate," I relented.

Bulma finished her coffee in one swift motion, hopped off her stool, and grabbed me as she headed out of the kitchen.

"I'm not mad at you," she clarified after a few minutes of silence, her voice tinged with apology.

"I know," I replied quietly, grateful for her understanding even when I struggled to understand my own feelings.

---

I've never been one for flashy celebrations; the idea of a big gathering doesn't appeal to me. A simple cake is more than enough, and Panchy seemed to understand that when Bulma brought me to her and spilled the news. Panchy's smile remained unwavering as she spoke kind words to me, although I struggle to recall them. Whenever she offers comfort, my mind tends to drift away to some distant place. I'm not sure why.

Panchy had been preparing for this day and proudly announced it. She produced a birthday hat and placed it on my head without protest, making a fuss about how good it looked. It was just a party hat, so I doubt I looked like a model, but Panchy was thrilled. Bulma teased me about how easily I comply with anything her mother does. It's hard to refuse or protest when it comes to Panchy.

"Mom tell her you'd like to see her in a dress"

Bulma smiles all too brightly when Panchy considers the thought, her expression one that belongs on a mischievous feline.

"I'd rather have her in a suit" Panchy then says, carefully mixing cake batter. "She'd be quite handsome"

Yes, I do think I look respectable in a suit and I still have the one Roshi had me wear to the tournament.

"Aw, but wouldn't she be adorable in a dress?" Bulma tried to sway her mother with a sweet image.

"I think so," Panchy nodded absentmindedly, still focused on mixing the cake batter. "Well, maybe I should get you a dress and a suit, hmm?"

"We should get her an entire wardrobe of clothes," Bulma suggested. "She needs more clothes."

I didn't voice any objection, though. I don't have many clothes because I don't need them. Two pairs of my gi and maybe six sets of casual clothing are more than enough for me. Bulma always thought I should have more clothes. I guess she saw her chance.

"Yeah, I'll get you some clothes," Bulma decided when Panchy didn't respond. "Consider it your birthday gift."

I do like gifts.

"Oh, and I saw this fruit mixer the other day," she continued, now smiling at me. "I should get you that too; you like fruits."

The things she planned to get me were quite expensive. I'm not used to such extravagance, and part of me wanted to protest, but I knew Bulma wouldn't listen. Money has never been an issue for this family.

"Is there anything special you'd like?" she asked expectantly. I shrugged, and she huffed. "Come on, there must be something you want."

Yes, there are things I want, but she's already getting me so much. When I mentioned I'd be content with what she promised, she didn't seem any happier.

"An ice cream maker," I said. Lately, I've been craving ice cream and I'd enjoy making my own. "Is that alright?"

"Yes, of course. Anything you want," she said with the sweetest smile, genuinely pleased.

"Because it's my birthday?"

"No, if you want something, I'll get it for you."

That was a big promise to make.

"I guess this is why many dream of marrying rich."

"Feel free to marry Bulma," Panchy chimed in with a cheerful voice, full of mirth. "I'd love to have you."

"Is that so?" I found it amusing how easily she was offering her daughter to me. "Sadly, I don't have a ring."

Panchy giggled, and a moment later, Doc Brief wandered into the kitchen. He mentioned something about marriage as he approached, patting my head as he passed. His little cat took a leap and landed on my chest, clinging to me with its claws.

Bulma sighed, burying her face in her hands. Usually, she'd put up a fight when Panchy did this sort of thing.

"Bulma and Durian are getting married," Panchy declared so certainly. "Isn't that wonderful?"

Doc looked surprised for a moment, blinking behind his glasses before chuckling.

"Well, they're a bit young for that right now, but yes, it is splendid news," he said good-naturedly. "I'll help you buy a ring, Durian, don't stress it."

Bulma groaned now, her ears turning red with embarrassment, but her parents paid her no mind.

"Durian Brief," Panchy said with a giggle. "How does that sound?"

"Would you stop already?" There's protest I knew was coming. Bulma peered through her fingers, her face bright red. It was pointless, given how obvious it was.

"What do you mean, dear?"

"I'm not marrying Durian."

"Hush now," Panchy dismissed her words with a wave of her hand. "You don't know what you're saying."

Bulma seemed done with her mother's antics.

"Don't listen to a word she says, Durian," Panchy joked, readjusting the birthday hat on my head.

"Yes, she's a confused child," Doc said with a smile. Bulma shot him a glare, but he ignored her. He came around to place an arm over my shoulder, pulling me in close.

"I'm getting older, huh? I'd like some grandchildren. You're both smart kids, so I'm sure you can make it happen."

What started as a joke seemed to suddenly become serious to Panchy and Doc, making the situation all the more amusing.

"I'll take you shopping for a ring when you're of age. I know a man who makes the most beautiful rings; he owes me a great favor."

"Dad!"

"Hush, it's settled," he didn't even spare her a glance. "She's quite temperamental, huh?"

"I agree," I said. "How will I manage?"

"Stop going along with their jokes," Bulma poked me in the side. I jerked away from her touch.

"It's getting quite serious, bunny," I said seriously. "It can't be helped; they've practically wedded us already. There's nothing to be done."

She stared at me, and I couldn't hold back my laughter much longer. She didn't appreciate my antics and almost wrestled me to the floor when I wouldn't stop laughing at her, but it was all in good fun.

"You'd make a useless wife," she declared stubbornly.