They went to an uninhabited island for their suntan. The shore they had chosen was surrounded by rocky cliffs that were dotted with random spots of greenery. There was a tiny strip of sandy beach where they had decided to spread their mats. Behind them, just a few meters away, where the sand met a more fertile soil, was a large patch of bushes, palm trees, and creepers crawling all over the grass, hugging and strangling anything in their path in order to get higher and into the sun.
Gohan kicked his trainers off and wiggled his toes in the warm sand. The warm sand felt good. He watched Trunks continue unpacking the sports bag that they had brought with them.
“Here, get this on,” Trunks said, holding out a bright yellow piece of fabric for him.
Gohan took the garment. He stretched it out in his hands. “Are you serious?” he muttered, flabbergasted. Meanwhile, the other teen fished out a timer out of the bag and set it onto the mat. Disbelieving, Gohan stretched out the bright yellow garment in front of his eyes again.
“What’s with this crappy underwear?”
“These are swimming trunks,” Trunks corrected him indignantly. “You need to have a nice, even tan.”
“Do you seriously believe I will wear this on stage?”
“Everyone else will.”