A few weeks had passed since the initial test of Bulma's prototype gravity chamber. It turns out that after pushing it to 2.5 times gravity several components were damaged. Because of this Bulma and Yamcha had settled for 2 times for the initial build.
"I still think we could go higher." Bulma grumbled as she worked on reinforcing components for the gravity room.
"I know," Yamcha chuckled, not looking up from circuits he was soldering. "But there are more important projects you need to work on. Plus, once you get a full breakdown of the spacepod materials you'll naturally improve the gravity room designs."
"I guess you're right," Bulma admitted, "It's just disappointing to not perfect it, you know."
Yamcha set down his tools and walked over to where Bulma was working and reached out a hand to help her up.
Looking up, she took the offered hand and got to her feet.
"You're too hard on yourself, you know?" Yamcha said, his voice a bit gentler than she remembered from their younger days.
She dusted off her gloves and smirked. "If I wasn't, nothing would ever get done around here"
"True," he admitted, "but, you don't have to do everything alone, you know?"
The words hung in the air longer than either expected. For a moment the hum of the lab was the only sound, the soft pulse of energy through the machines, faint clicks of cooling solder. Bulma's smile shifted from confident to a little shy.
"You've gotten pretty smooth since you moved in," she teased.
"And extra soul and divine training can do that to a guy," he shot back. They both laughed, the tension melting into something warm and easy.
Days slipped into weeks. Between repair sessions and new experiments, Capsule Corp settled into a comfortable rhythm: Early morning training for Yamcha, morning coffee, gravity chamber tests, long hours over Bulma's medical tests, and evenings where exhaustion turned into quiet conversation.
Bulma's main focus had shifted toward the ultra divine water. The analysis results were a maddening mix of science, and metaphysics.
"It's not a compound," she muttered one night, hair tied up messily while Yamcha leaned against the workbench. "It's like a living reaction. It keeps rewriting itself to oppose the energy of whoever it touches."
"So it's like a parasite?" he asked.
"More like a curse," she muttered. "But I think I found its pattern. The toxin attacks on an inverse wavelength to Ki. If I can make a serum that resonates on a matching wave length instead, it should neutralize it."
This sparked something in Yamcha's memory.
"Could you use the senzu beans as a base? They work with restoring ki, so it could be a step in the right direction"
Bulma lit up at this.
"That could work!" she said with a grin.
Yamcha gave her a playfully smug grin, "Guess you're not the only genius huh?"
He laughed as he dodged a pencil Bulma threw over her shoulder.
"Give me another few weeks," she giggled. "I'll at least have something to go on by then."
When she wasn't curing magical divine poisons, she was perfecting gravity.
The reinforced chamber now stood in a new wing of the complex. Polished white panels, magnetic locks, and emitters capable of handling up to five times Earth's gravity. The first real test was a success; Yamcha lasted fifteen minutes at 3 G before the safety alarms kicked in.
"Still standing," he said afterward, drenched in sweat.
"Barely," Bulma replied, handing him a towel. "But I'll admit it,you were right. The compound materials from the space pod really did help."
He took the towel, but his hand brushed hers and lingered. The grin faded into something quieter. "You were the one who made it possible."
"Flattery?" she asked.
"Nah," he answered, grin returning. "Truth."
That evening, they sat on the Capsule Corp balcony overlooking West City. Lights stretched to the horizon, the sound of people going on about their lives a peaceful backdrop for the two. Bulma leaned against the railing, arms folded, while Yamcha brought out two cups of tea.
"Thanks," she said, taking one. "For helping with all this."
"You've done more for me than I've done for you," he replied. "After all that training in solitude… being here makes me feel normal again."
"Normal's overrated," she said with a smile. Then, quieter: "But it's nice having you back."
They stood in comfortable silence, watching aircars drift through the skyline. Finally Bulma spoke again, voice soft. "Hey, Yamcha?"
"Yeah?"
"You ever wonder what comes next? I mean, after all this fighting and saving the world?"
He considered it. "Honestly? I just want to live. Train, help my friends, maybe figure out how to stop being afraid of standing still."
Bulma looked at him then, not the brash desert bandit she'd met years ago, but the calm, steady man beside her now. She reached out and squeezed his hand.
"Well," she said, smiling, "standing still's easier when someone's beside you."
He squeezed back, gentle but sure. "Guess I can stay put for a while, then."
Their laughter drifted into the night air, blending with the quiet hum of the city.
Months passed in a blur of progress.
Bulma's cure for the Ultra Divine Water making real progress. A real breakthrough had come from a synthesized senzu extract combined with various known antidotes. The working name was "ethereal counteragent," because Bulma insisted it needed an appropriately mystical sounding name. The first test on lab samples showed a lot of promise.
"Once we get the right mixes down," she said, practically glowing, "Goku's heart will be completely clear."
Yamcha grinned. "Then you'll have saved the world again, you know."
"Eh, I'll add it to the list."
He laughed, and before he could think twice, he stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. She froze for half a heartbeat, then relaxed into it.
"You're full of surprises," she murmured.
"I learned from the best."
When they finally pulled apart, Bulma's eyes lingered on his. "You know," she said, "if you keep hanging around here, people are going to start assuming things."
"Then let them assume," he said. "Maybe they'll be right."
She blinked, then, with a small, genuine smile, she leaned in and kissed him. It wasn't dramatic, but it was real. Two people who'd grown up, grown apart, and finally found each other again.
Six months passed after that night.
The world spun on.
The gravity chamber had become a staple of Capsule Corp's innovations, now capable of safely reaching 4 times Earth's pull without damaging its room. Yamcha had grown stronger, his frequent visits back to the lookout helping to hone his ki even further, his body and mind growing more balanced.
Bulma's cure had finally been completed. The finished product sat in a glowing blue vial in her lab. Chi-Chi had just given birth, so the administration was on hold for a few weeks while they settled into parenthood.
Inside the lab, Yamcha stood adjusting the calibration rings on the chamber's new generator while Bulma checked readings from her terminal.
"Ten Gs capable," she said proudly. "Not bad for something we built from scrap. Once we keep refining materials we'll be able to run it in full with no issues."
He chuckled. "Not bad at all. You've really outdone yourself."
Bulma turned, crossing her arms with mock arrogance. "Obviously. I am a genius, after all."
He stepped closer, looping an arm around her waist. "That's my Bulma."
She rolled her eyes but didn't protest, resting her head briefly against his shoulder. "Fine, you can claim partial ownership. Just don't touch the wiring."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
They both laughed, the sound echoing softly against the chamber walls.
Outside, West City shimmered under another sunrise. These past few months of laughter, breakthroughs, and quiet evenings on the balcony; they were a calm before whatever the universe decided to throw at them next.
Yamcha tightened his gloves, feeling the air change as the gravity field hummed to life. "All right," he said, smiling. "Let's see what 5 Gs feels like."
Bulma watched from the control booth, one hand resting on the console, the other absently tracing circles on her stomach.
"Careful in there, tough guy," she called. "Wouldn't want to dent my floor."
He laughed, aura flaring around him as the gravity increased. "Don't worry," he said, voice steady despite the pressure. "I've got all the grounding I need."
And for the first time in years, Yamcha felt completely at home—in his body, his power, and his place beside her—as the training chamber thundered with the sound of progress.
Later that night the two were laying in bed together. Bulma was uncharacteristically quiet, her hand resting on her stomach.
Noticing her mood Yamcha rolled to face her, " Is everything okay?"
She fidgeted with her fingers a bit, looking nervous. "Yeah, it's just… well… there's something I need to tell you."
Yamcha propped himself up on one elbow, brow furrowing slightly. "You're scaring me a little, Bulma. What's wrong?"
She exhaled a long breath and finally looked at him. Her eyes were soft, uncertain, a rare sight for someone usually so unshakably confident. "I, um… I ran a few tests this morning. I thought maybe the stress was getting to me, or maybe I caught a cold from all the lab work, but…" She paused, fingers tracing small circles on the blanket.
"But?" he asked, voice gentle, urging
"I'm pregnant."
The words hit the air like a pebble in still water. Small, and rippling outward until the silence around them seemed to hum.
Yamcha blinked once. Then twice. "Wait… you're serious?"
Bulma nodded, biting her lower lip. "Six weeks, give or take. I wanted to be sure before I said anything."
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. Then the corners of Yamcha's mouth lifted into a slow, astonished smile. "Heh… guess those gravity tests worked better than we thought."
Bulma smacked his arm, though the laugh that followed was half-relieved. "You absolute idiot."
He caught her hand and didn't let go. "Hey, I'm serious. This is… wow. I don't even have words, Bulma."
She looked away, her usual composure faltering again. "I know it's not exactly part of the plan." She started nervously. "Capsule Corp's research division is already swamped, and with the cure project finishing up, I thought maybe we'd finally have time to just breathe before the next crisis."
Yamcha sat up fully, cupping her cheek so she had to meet his eyes. "Bulma, I've fought demons, ninjas, aliens, and trained with actual gods. None of that scared me half as much as the idea of losing what we have now. So, if you're asking whether I'm ready to take on something new…" He smiled softly. "Yeah. I am."
Her shoulders relaxed, the tension melting into something more tender. "You're taking this a lot better than I expected."
He laughed quietly. "I've already spent one lifetime learning how to balance chaos and calm. What's another adventure?"
Bulma leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounded her in the moment. For a long moment they just stayed like that, wrapped in the quiet of the Capsule home, The low hum of cooling generators outside, the faint whistle of the night wind through the open balcony door, Yamcha thought it was a moment neither would ever forget.
Then Yamcha shifted slightly, his voice lower now. "You know, one of the Sensei's from the ninja world told me something once," Yamcha began, reminiscing on Neji's life. It was after he was promoted to jonin, the senseis had taken him out for drinks to celebrate. Kurenai, the undisputed mom of the group had decided to instill a life lesson on love. "She said, when you find the person who makes you want to build a life instead of chasing one, that's the one you keep."
Bulma raised an eyebrow, still pressed against him. "Oh yeah? And what does that mean, Mr. Philosopher?"
He smiled, heart racing faster than it had during any battle of either life. "It means I'm asking you to marry me."
She blinked, pulling back just enough to see his face. "You're serious?"
"Dead serious. Bulma… I don't have fancy words or a perfect moment planned out. But you're the smartest, strongest, and most stubborn person I've ever known, and the only one who's ever made me feel like I belong somewhere. So yeah," he said, taking her hand in his. "Let's make it official. Let's build that life together."
For once, Bulma Briefs was speechless. Then her lips curved into a small, emotional smile. "You really picked the worst time to get romantic, you know that?"
"Wouldn't be the first time my timing's off," he joked, "It's kinda how we got here in the first place," and that earned him a laugh and a smack to the arm.
"Fine," she said, brushing away a stray tear before it could fall. "But only if you promise to help with diaper duty."
He grinned. "Deal."
She leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sure, no hesitation, no walls. When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his.
"So… fiancés now?"
"Guess so."
"Good," she whispered. "Because I don't plan on doing any of this without you."
Outside, West City glittered under the moonlight. The gravity chamber's quiet hum was the only sound in the night, a soft echo of the future they were already building.
Inside, Bulma drifted off against Yamcha's chest, one hand resting protectively over her stomach, the other loosely entwined with his.
He smiled down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Guess we've both got some training ahead of us," he murmured softly.
The machines purred, the stars burned steady, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt exactly as it should.