Hm…a little odd, and written under the influence of benadryl, I'll admit, but I don't think this turned out half bad. Points to anybody who understands the reference in the title (and, by extension, the irony of said title).

Do you want to know something funny? Even though, back when all of this saiyan madness started, everything fell to pieces- I was kidnapped twice in one day, I battled against my insane uncle, my father died- I never really considered the weight of a person's actions. I was scared, sure; what sane four-year-old wouldn't be? But, in a weird way, I was happy. Not that any of that happened- except, maybe, being kidnapped by Mr. Piccolo- but I had faith in my father; he could do no wrong.

I don't know when my way of thinking changed, exactly. It probably happened during my survival training, or, if I'm horribly mistaken, maybe while I was training with Piccolo, for the first few months. My self-confidence wasn't particularly high, but I'd begun to realize that I could make my own decisions; I didn't have to accept what life- or another person- threw at me (or, in one specific case, told me).

Roughly a year after my training started, I was thrown another curveball. I'd trained so hard—why couldn't I finish Nappa? Now, I can look back at the incident and know that it was my stupid heroic tenancies: the want to save everybody. Of all the characteristics in the known universe, I was (and still am, I suppose) as pacifistic as a saiyan can get. That was when I first became acquainted with a word; I'd heard it before, don't get me wrong, but it had never been leveled at me like this. Certainly never by a loved one- and Piccolo already counted. Even to this day, I flinch, at the very least, whenever someone says it in reference to a friend or my family.

Coward.

Coward. Coward. Coward.

It would haunt me for years to come.

I swore, after that, that I wouldn't let fear get the better of me- the fear of hurting another sapient being. I'm unsure whether or not Piccolo believed me, when I told him that; he probably just wanted me to be quiet, so we could regroup and take another stab at defeating the saiyans. Even though the wound still stung, I chalked it up to frustration from the ongoing battle and let it go. Mr. Piccolo couldn't mean it, right? I was trying my best, he wouldn't call me a coward for not being able to do something, would he?

But he died, defending me…and I snapped. I hit Nappa with everything I had, and it still wasn't enough. I was lucky that dad came, right then; if he hadn't, I'd have died right alongside my teacher… and he told Krillen and me to leave, to run away. I couldn't do that! Dad might have been powerful, but he didn't stand a chance against the saiyans! He insisted, though, and Krillen finally convinced me to relent. Even though I was low on energy- even after having been given half of a senzu- I ended up going right back. I couldn't leave dad; he was losing, he was dying! I fought with all my heart, back there, and it still wasn't enough.

It was like I couldn't even move; I hurt so badly, and was so tired, that it seemed physically impossible- and I knew much more about physics than more five-year-olds tended to. And there it was again- that word- being aimed at me by my own father.

"What are you, a coward? Gonna let all those people die for nothing? What did Piccolo teach you?"

I didn't understand, at the time. Didn't 'daddy' understand that I couldn't? It wasn't possible! I'd known basic science, and, all things considered, it really didn't seem humanly possible. Perhaps I'd forgotten to factor in the non-human, and dad knew that, but it still stung.

We all know how that fight ended; in some ways, it was a definite failure, in others, it wasn't all bad. It was in the hospital, following the battle, that I put part of my training to use.

What was I supposed to do? Mom was never going to just let me go to Planet Namek- no matter what the cause- and I just had to help Piccolo! She might not have liked it, but I was able to assert myself, for the first time against another person.

It was, of course, on that very planet where I realized something else: if I wanted my father to be proud of me, I had to do what he wanted me to do. If I tried to stick around and be brave, and he'd told me not to, I was a hindrance—just another obstacle to avoid. But if I even wavered in an attack- as I'm still prone to doing- I was a coward, all over again. So, when dad shouted at me to take Piccolo back to his ship, I only paused for a moment…which was all he needed.

"Go before I explode in rage!"

Since then, I've learned better. Don't hesitate. Follow orders. It was easier than fighting- and I really do hate conflict, especially with my parents. But now… after so many years of back-and-forth, I'm confused.

Me? Fight Cell?

Dad has to be joking!

Oh, Ka- er, Dende, he's not kidding. He really wants me to fight. What can I do, if he can't defeat Cell? Power? Sure, I have plenty of that- I'd really rather not, but thanks anyway. But I'm just the coward, remember? I'm sure to screw something up, somewhere. Should I speak up for myself, and refuse? That would mean the end of the world…and was more spineless than mistake I might have made in the past. If I fight, though, I'd surely die…

While dad's confidence in me is flattering, I have to appreciate Piccolo's concern, off to the side. I was thinking the same way, after all. But…I really want dad to be proud of me. I'd rather it was for some other reason, but beggars can't be choosers, right?

I can tell that I've already spent too long thinking. Dad's looking at me, waiting for my answer.

I can't refuse, I buckle under the pressure. If my father wants me to do this, who am I to say 'no'? Is it any position of the son's, to go against his father's orders?

Forgive me, Mr. Piccolo, I'm about to break that promise I made to you. I'm about to die.

"Okay, dad, I'll do it"