Bulma Adventure 4 -yamamotodoujinshi- -

She stood, dusted off her jumpsuit, and pressed a single capsule. The tower collapsed neatly into a cube the size of a suitcase. She tucked it into her pocket, next to the broken data chip.

The Capsule Corporation hover-car hummed low over a sea of clouds, the last sliver of sun bleeding orange across the horizon. Bulma Briefs, heiress to the world’s largest tech fortune, tapped her fingernail against a faded, water-stained data chip. It had arrived in a locked box, no return address, just a single character etched into the metal: 山 (Yama).

“I’m not the smartest person who ever lived,” she said, loud and clear. “Grandpa was. Dr. Yamamoto was, even if he was a lunatic. And Vegeta… he figured out how to love me. I still don’t fully understand that.”

“Doujinshi? That’s a perverted choice of words.” Bulma Adventure 4 -YamamotoDoujinshi-

A terminal flickered to life as she entered. A hologram shimmered—a gaunt, spectacled man with a nervous tic in his left eye.

Bulma’s lip curled. “Fat. And grumpy. But he can still blow up a moon. Continue.”

The echo-Goku lunged. She rolled, fired the plasma pistol—the beam passed right through. Physical attacks were useless. These weren’t monsters; they were arguments . She stood, dusted off her jumpsuit, and pressed

She pressed the capsule. POP. A sleek, portable scanner and a plasma pistol materialized. She holstered the pistol but kept the scanner in hand. Violence was Vegeta’s job. Truth was hers.

The main lab was a mausoleum of ambition. Dust-covered drafting tables held blueprints for things that made Gero’s androids look like toasters: biomechanical dragons, energy condensers shaped like Buddhist prayer wheels, and a massive, incomplete sphere labeled “Yamamoto’s Mirror.”

The hologram died. The lights went out.

The shadow-Piccolo stopped weeping.

The screaming mouth slowly closed.