AN: This story is available in Spanish courtesy of ffnet user Gotaru. See profile for links.

"Well, maybe Master Roshi could train him."

Tarble, feeling like a child who is waiting to see how in trouble he is, sat on the floor of the Gravity Room, where Goku had provided a welcome interruption from his training.

"That old man?" Vegeta scoffed, arms crossed over his chest. He was angled away from Tarble, which the younger Saiyan thought might be so he didn't have to look at his failure of a brother.

"Well he trained me," Goku said, spreading his arms expansively. Tarble felt his heart lift slightly. If there were someone on this planet who could train him, someone who wasn't his brother, he would welcome this someone wholeheartedly. He understood his brother's frustration with his lack of progress, and he could somewhat see the need for such a harsh training regimen, though he definitely didn't like it. But he had known from the first day that things were not going to go well.

"Just out of curiosity," Vegeta had said, as he punched in the number for the gravity setting, "what was your power level the last time you read it?"

Tarble mumbled his response and his older brother frowned at him.

"What was that?"

"Fifty," Tarble said louder, almost defiantly.

"Fi—" Vegeta stared, completely nonplussed. Slowly, after a tense few moments, he dialed the number on the gravity controls down significantly, and didn't look at Tarble if he could help it for the rest of the session.

Today, the sixth day of training with his brother, Tarble was glad for the abrupt arrival of Goku, who never ceased to scare him out of his skin every time he appeared without warning. Vegeta, who seemed to be used to it, took the opportunity to both not have to look at Tarble, and to ask Goku's advice on how best to train him, though he hadn't phrased it so nicely: "Kakarot, the boy is hopeless. He can't even sense ki. What the hell am I supposed to do with a warrior who can't learn to sense ki?"

Tarble looked up through his bangs at his brother's skeptical expression upon learning that Master Roshi had trained Kaka—Gok—Ka— the other Saiyan. From what he remembered of the old man, he'd seemed feeble and not at all like a martial artist, but Tarble supposed that if he had trained the formidable man before him, he had to have been strong.

"Yeah, he trained me and Krillin when we were kids." Goku (Kakarot?) put his finger on his lips thoughtfully for a moment, and then amended, "Actually, if he's having trouble with ki, Mr. Popo was the one who really trained me on that."

Vegeta snorted.

"The fat genie?" he said disdainfully. "Kakarot, you're joking."

Goku put his hands up, laughing.

"I'm serious," he protested. "He taught me all the basics, and then some."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm telling the truth!"

Vegeta snorted dismissively, giving Tarble a considering glace.

"Well, he doesn't seem to be learning anything from me. I suppose it's worth a try. Eh?"

The final grunt was directed at Tarble, who leapt to his feet as smartly as he could (not very; his everything hurt).

"Y-yes!" he exclaimed. "If this Mr. Popo can teach me, I will gladly learn."

"No," said Popo. Goku's face fell even further than Tarble's.

"Aww, Mr. Popo, why not? You trained me!"

The rotund genie turned away to water some flowers.

"That was for the good of the earth. I'm afraid training this young man would do us no good."

"But it's not for us!" Goku protested. "He just wants to be able to protect his home."

"That is not my problem," the genie said with an air of finality, not turning around as he moved along the flower bed. Tarble bit his lip.

"Please," he said. "I want to become stronger. I'll… I'll do anything."

"I have given my answer," Popo replied calmly, and, his watering done, he walked away.

Goku let out a loud breath. "Phew! I forgot how weird he is."

Tarble wasn't listening. He had turned away the moment Popo had straightened up from his watering, and now his fists were clenched tightly by his sides. His eyes were turned towards the impossibly blue sky, but he was seeing a different sky, standing on different ground. His fists were shaking, but only Vegeta was aware of this.

"Hey!" Goku said, breaking Tarble out of his reverie. "I know! You know who else trained me? Korin! He's a lot nicer than Popo, though I dunno how much of the ki stuff he knows. Probably enough to be going on, eh, Tarble?"

Tarble was getting tired of having his hopes raised and dashed; possibility after rumor after chance had been the tenor of his travels for the last four years, and now that Abo and Cado were finally no longer a threat, the cycle was repeating itself with a different hope. He smiled weakly at Goku.

"If you think so, Son Goku," he said softly. Goku grinned at him, and gestured . Together, the three of them leapt over the side of the lookout, each with varying degrees of cheer.

"So Popo won't train you, eh?" the white cat said, his canny stare seeming to Tarble to pass right through him. He opened his mouth, whether to agree or simply express wonder at how the cat knew such a thing, but Goku beat him to it.

"I thought maybe you could train him, Korin. Since you're so much nicer than Mr. Popo and it's so boring up here and all."

Tarble had seen many strange and wonderful beings in his travels, but he was certain he'd seen some kind of creature like this on Earth back at Capsule Corp.—only those had obviously been domesticated pets. Perhaps… perhaps this one was a different but similar species? The cat spoke before he could continue the thought.

"I'm a sage, Goku, my life's not supposed to be exciting." Korin rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Still, it does get pretty dull with only the fatso for company—"

"I heard that!" a whiny voice came from below. Korin ignored it.

"And his heart is pure. I guess I'll see what I can do with him," he finished. "As a favor to you, Goku, you understand."

Goku beamed. Tarble literally couldn't believe it. He stood dumbly, waiting for the punchline, the caveat, the catch. The cat merely turned to him.

"Kinda scrawny for a Saiyan, ain't'cha?"

Tarble stuttered, and he saw, out of the corner of his eye, his brother roll his eyes.

"Y-yes," he ended lamely. Korin hmmm'd thoughtfully, glancing downward, and Tarble followed his gaze to his own tail.

"You aren't going to go ape on me the next time there's a full moon, now, are you?"

"N-no, sir. Actually, Bulma made me a watch to keep track of the moon, and even special glasses so that I can look at the moon without transforming."

Korin laughed.

"That girl," he said fondly. "She could invent scuba gear for fish if she felt like it. Alright, alright, I'll train you, but you two better clear outta here." He waved a paw at Goku and Vegeta. "Don't want him getting distracted or anything."

Vegeta caught Tarble's eye, and though the look was brief, Tarble knew his brother expected him to succeed or die trying. He gave him a solemn nod back. Vegeta held his gaze for a moment longer, but what his expression meant this time was less clear. After a moment he lifted off and sailed away without a word. Korin made a sound of relief.

"I ain't gonna lie to you, Goku," he said. "Vegeta still makes me nervous every time I see him."

"Aw, he's harmless," Goku said dismissively, though that wasn't the word Tarble would have chosen. The larger Saiyan clapped a hand the size of a steak on Tarble's shoulder, making his knees buckle slightly. "Just do whatever Korin tell ya, and you'll be fine," he said. Tarble nodded, wishing only that Goku would let go. He did, finally, and moved away.

"Wait!" Tarble called, and Goku turned back. "Will… will you tell Gure I'll see her when I'm finished?"

Goku grinned knowingly.

"Sure thing," he said, and flew away with a cocky salute.

Cat and Saiyan stared at each other for a long moment.

"Alright, let's see what you can do, kid," Korin said eventually. "No ki attacks, please, just come at me."

Tarble curled his fingers into fists, but didn't move.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said uncertainly. Korin only laughed.

"Kid, the day I get hurt while I'm training someone is the day I retire. And I'll let you in on a little secret: sages don't retire. Now come at me."

Biting his lip, Tarble took a swing at the aged cat. Korin sidestepped it easily.

"Aw, c'mon, tubbalard down there can do better than that," he taunted. "Like you mean it, sonny."

"I swear," a faint voice came from below, as Tarble swung again, "if you don't cut it out I'm gonna have cat steak for dinner tonight."

"I'd love to see you try," Korin called, jumping neatly out of the way. "Again, kid. Geez, you'd think it wouldn't be this hard to get a Saiyan to call up his killer instinct."

The dig at his inadequacy made Tarble grit his teeth, and he flew at Korin determined to land a blow. He punched only air.

"Sheesh, looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way. Okay, kiddo, before we do any more of this, I need you to promise me something."

"Yes?" Tarble said warily, still angry but too discouraged to do anything about it.

"And you gotta abide by this, you got me? No cheating."

"What is it?"

"No flying while you're here, you got that? No matter what. No flying."

"O-okay."

"You promise?"

"Y-yes. I promise."

"No flying."

"No flying," he agreed.

"Good," Korin said, with a slick smile. Before Tarble knew what was happening, the white cat had leapt up into the air and delivered a solid kick to his chest, sending him flying off the platform.

"See you when you climb back up!" he called cheerfully. For a second Tarble tensed his body to shoot back up to the platform, but then the word 'climb,' as well as his promise, came to mind, and he relaxed into despair. Was he so weak that even this strange cat who lived alone thought he'd be better off flattened at the end of a long drop? Was he not worth even the effort to find out if he could be better, stronger, more than he was? He thought of his parents, his foster parents, tiny people who barely came up to his knee but who had big hearts. He thought of his foster sister, and her husband and son. He thought of little Buru, no bigger than his hand. All dead. Because he wasn't strong enough. Because he wasn't good enough. Dead because of him.

Tarble clenched his fists and turned his head to face the ground, his expression a challenge. There would be no more deaths on his conscience. No more. Not if he could do anything about it.

When he landed he made a large crater, but he paid it, and the pain, no mind. He was already climbing back up the tower.