It was true. Everything that had happened was true. The thought was still sinking in. As many times as he tried to force the idea onto his brain, it seemed as though he was lying to himself. He thought he was the only one who had the potential to stand a chance against Kakarot. Yet, he didn't stand a chance against this new monster. Neither did Kakarot. It was almost impossible to believe that Kakarot could actually be defeated. However, Kakarot's son had displayed immense strength, strength that he himself could never fathom. And peace had once again been restored to the planet Earth.

But why did Kakarot go? There was no pleasure in a fight anymore, no new plains to reach, no competition. Everything was pointless. Everything was empty.

This was an emotion he had never experienced before. He had experienced physical pain countless times. He wasn't even sure that this feeling could be described as pain. It seemed to be much more than that. It was paralyzing. He didn't understand the source of his agony. It couldn't be because of Kakarot. Kakarot was in no way a friend. He wasn't someone that the Prince was going to mourn over. That would be foolish and weak. Kakarot was a fool for not coming back, and an even bigger fool for getting himself killed.

Yet, Kakarot couldn't die. There was an odd sense of surety when he was around. Kakarot was the only one who seemed to forgive him, time after time. He was one of the few who trusted him and whom he trusted in return. Kakarot was one of the last Saiyans, something even a prince had to respect. That was perhaps the only bond he would allow himself to admit they shared. But it was a bond nonetheless.

Perhaps this emotion was anger? Yet, he had experienced fiery rage just as intensely as pain. No, the numbness flowing through his veins wasn't anger. In the beginning, there had been anger. Now there was simply nothing. It had been endless nothingness. He was drowning in it, beginning to lose himself. The days were all a hazy blur. He hadn't had the desire to pick himself up off the floor and get moving again. He still wasn't sure of the reason why. Everyone else had moved on. Everyone. In fact, they were at a pitiful tournament right now. Were Kakarot still alive, he would probably be there too.

He almost felt guilty that he wasn't watching his son participate in the tournament. He could have at least done that, even if he did already know the outcome of the tournament. He almost wished he had decided to participate. Still, there would be no point. It was not like anyone there would pose any sort of challenge. That was what he missed.

The challenge.

Kakarot had always provided the challenge, the desire to be better, and the task of proving himself worthy of nobility.

He bolted upright. He felt something.

Danger.

An immense power.

It wasn't a good feeling, but it was something. He could sense something had gone terribly wrong. His son needed him. Regardless of whether his opponent would be a challenge or not, his son needed him, and he wasn't about to turn his back. He stood, and gripped Trunks' sword firmly in his hands. It seemed to give him the fire and vigor he had been lacking. He furrowed his brow in determination, and his instincts kicked in. He was hungry for a victory. No more wondering about Kakarot. If he stayed here, he would drown.

Kakarot, your time may be over, but mine is just beginning…