For the next three days, Krillin was practically living in the gravity chamber.
From barely managing basic exercises under ten times gravity on the first day, by the third day he was performing high-intensity shadow strikes under twelve times gravity.
The intoxicating mix of bones compressing and then growing made him crave more.
The Saitama template within him soared under this extreme strain, like a rocket leaving the atmosphere.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, Krillin had just stepped out of the shower when Bulma blocked his path.
"Put this on and follow me."
She tossed him a bathrobe, holding a clipboard and a flexible measuring tape.
"Where to?"
"My workshop."
"The materials for your battle suit have arrived, but I need precise body measurements."
"The scan from yesterday had some errors. If the nanofiber suit doesn't fit perfectly, it won't distribute the impact properly and could even restrict your movements."
Bulma spoke with absolute seriousness, exuding the air of a professional scientist.
If one ignored the slightly tight, low-cut tank top she had chosen today, that is.
The workshop was on the top floor of the mansion, bathed in sunlight.
Blueprints, circuit boards, and miscellaneous mechanical parts were scattered everywhere.
"Stand on that platform."
Bulma pointed to a circular stage in the center.
Krillin stepped up, loosening the bathrobe belt casually.
Bulma paused mid-adjustment of her tools.
Although she had seen his body multiple times over the past few days, seeing it fully revealed like this again left her breathless.
And this was a private room, with only the two of them present.
"Raise your arms."
Bulma forced her voice to sound professional.
She stepped closer with the measuring tape, and a subtle hint of citrus perfume wafted into Krillin's nose.
The cold tape pressed against his hot chest.
"Chest… inhale."
Krillin complied, expanding his chest, muscles rising like stone.
Bulma's fingers inevitably brushed his skin.
Soft and slightly cool, they sent a shiver through Krillin's high-temperature body.
"Don't move."
She tapped lightly on his pecs.
"Hard as rock. The tape can barely get around it."
"That's a natural reaction."
Krillin glanced down at Bulma, focused on his chest.
From this angle, he could see the faint white slope of her collarbone and the strands of hair trembling slightly with her breath.
She read the measurements carefully, long eyelashes fanning like delicate fans.
"Waist."
Bulma crouched, wrapping her arms around his waist.
It looked almost like an embrace.
Her cheek brushed his abs, her warm breath tickling his skin.
Krillin felt her hands hesitate, lingering for a few seconds before tightening the tape.
The air thickened between them.
Even the cicadas outside seemed distant.
The only sound was their slightly uneven breathing.
"Uh… Bulma?"
Krillin asked, knowing full well, a playful smile in his voice.
"Done?"
"Done… don't rush me!"
Bulma flustered, tightened the tape, her voice trembling as she read.
"Waist seventy-eight… this ratio is unreal…"
She stood up, flushed like a ripe tomato, eyes darting everywhere but Krillin.
"Next is thigh and arm span."
Bulma moved behind him to measure his back width.
When her hand pressed against his broad lat muscles, Krillin spoke.
"Did Yamcha measure like this when you made clothes for him?"
Bulma froze.
"Never."
"He just bought ready-made outfits at the mall and complained they weren't stylish enough."
She muttered softly.
"So I'm the first?"
Krillin turned to face her.
They were so close that they could see reflections in each other's pupils.
Bulma instinctively stepped back, but the workbench blocked her.
"So… so what if you are?"
She lifted her head, those bright blue eyes shimmering with moisture.
Shyness mixed with the stubbornness unique to a young woman.
"I'm a genius scientist. Only someone worth my effort deserves a battle suit I make."
"Then I should feel honored."
Krillin reached out, placing his hand on the desk behind her, trapping her gently in a wall press.
A bold, aggressive stance.
Bulma's heart raced, almost leaping into her throat.
She could smell the freshness of his just-showered skin, mingled with the masculine scent, and her legs weakened.
"What… what are you doing?"
Her voice barely audible.
"Nothing. Just helping with measurements."
Krillin didn't make any improper moves.
He leaned close to her ear and whispered.
"Have we measured your arm span yet? This might make it easier."
His warm breath brushed her sensitive earlobe, and her tiny ears instantly flushed red.
Bulma's mind went blank, the measuring tape slipping from her fingers with a soft clatter.
Just as the tension was about to explode, a cough came from the door.
"Ahem! Uh… sorry to interrupt."
Dr. Brief stood there, pipe in mouth, holding a wrench, looking innocently at the two of them.
The black cat perched on his head stared down at them as if they were fools.
"Bulma, where did you put the polymer adhesive?"
"The hydraulic rod in my gravity chamber broke again. I need to fix it."
Bulma screamed, shoving Krillin aside and grabbing a wrench from the desk, throwing it at him.
"Dad! Don't you knock before entering?!"
"Ah, today's young people…"
Dr. Brief nimbly dodged the wrench, picked up the adhesive, and slowly walked out.
"Go ahead, continue. I'm not in a rush. The floor's already cracked from Krillin's training, a little delay won't hurt."
The door closed.
The private, charged atmosphere evaporated instantly.
Bulma crouched on the floor, covering her face, wishing she could disappear.
Krillin looked at her adorable, flustered form and laughed.
He squatted, picked up the tape, and gently handed it back to her.
"Okay, don't be shy. Let's continue. I want to wear this suit as soon as possible."
Bulma lifted her head, shooting him a glare.
Yet in her eyes, there was no anger, only the shimmer of unshed emotion.
The rest of the measurements went faster but in silence.
Yet every brush of fingertips ignited sparks in both their hearts.
A fire that, while unspoken, melted a feeling called "affection" deep into their bones.