『恨むなら、自分の運命を恨むんだな。俺のように。』
"If you feel resentful, resent your fate. It's what I do."


He was lost, tired, and hungry after being chased by the Earth's inhabitants again. Four long years of nonstop training and playing hide and seek with his hunters, and he was just about fed up with boredom. Even if it was fun at first—using the puny Earthlings to test his skills and watching them scamper away in fright, he eventually got to thinking that surely—surely, there was more to being alive than that? What was so rewarding about wanting to get stronger just to bully the weak? He couldn't fathom what real satisfaction was to be gained from such frivolity in the long run.

Was this really what his sire lived for—what was destined for him as well?

Oh, how he hated his life! All he ever did was train, run away, and wander aimlessly. The world had nothing he was interested in; all its riches never held any meaning to him, all their weapons never good enough a challenge. He knew it well, of course. That he was brought into the world for but one purpose, and that purpose wasn't to amuse himself. But it didn't alter the fact that his existence was a mundane and meaningless one.

Why was he born so small and so weak? Why was it taking so long for him to grow up? So many unanswered questions relentlessly harangued his mind. He knew his powers were far stronger than all his erstwhile brethren and yet he didn't understand:

Why didn't his sire simply birth him big and strong like the rest of his brothers?

It took him more than two years—two and a half long and arduous years of training, just to be able to master a highly advanced ageing technique that temporarily allowed him to gain a more formidable appearance along with greater strength and power. He thought that he had finally reached the apogee of his powers and was finally ready to achieve his goal– but he had disgracefully been proven wrong…

It still wasn't enough to defeat that accursed monkey boy who had slain his sire!

He begrudgingly glared up at the darkening sky as if the perpetrator of his prolonged misery was skulking behind the innocuous-looking camouflage. After his humiliating defeat at the *Tenkaichi Budoukai Tournament he tried maintaining his adult form for the weeks that followed. But the tremendous strain it required proved too much for his still weakened state and he eventually collapsed out from exhaustion. He woke up days later—much to his frustration—reverted to his three-year-old body, greatly etiolated and mockingly imprisoned in some scientific facility where upon he spent what little energy he had left breaking free and escaping from.

He had no memory of everything in between or what was done to him; but finding that he still hadn't recovered his strength forced him to resort to what he used to do before the induced ageing process: staying out at sea in order to recuperate. That was the only way he could steer clear of the Earthlings and other predators who wished to harm him in times when he deemed fighting futile. The boats that drifted idly in the middle of the sea had relatively laissez-faire occupants and provided the ideal sanctuary as long as he stayed in the shadowy parts of their vessel. The Earthlings on board usually fished, drunk, and slept, nothing more. They couldn't care less about little green pointy-eared goblins and their kin, and simply left him to his devices.

That night, however, it seemed that there would be no rest for him.

The farther the sun sunk into the horizon, the deeper he found himself lost in some dense forest, driven far away from his usual turf. He supposed he could scare off a bunch of humans from their dwellings to scavenge for anything to appease his hunger—not having had any proper nourishment since his capture. Famished and badly injured, he was too weak to hunt. (Being an Earth-born Namek and hybrid like his sire required that he consume something more substantial than pure water to aid in his recovery and growth from time to time. Besides, Earth water never seemed to satisfy him.)

He had been trekking aimlessly for some hours already when his ears began to itch. It was picking up a sound beyond his tolerance, stentorian and quite poignant; an atrocious stridency he was well acquainted with by then: the noise of a crying infant.

One of the noises he abhorred the most.

Normally, his reaction would have been to fly as far away from the source of the noise as fast as possible. But, where there was an infant meant that there was also a house nearby– with occupants, and almost assuredly, sustenance. Earthlings with offspring usually took minimal effort to scare off—which was just the amount of effort he had to spare at the moment. Peculiar as it may be, there was something about this specific infant's vocal register that vexed him more than usual—something so inimical and lacerating to his acute sensibilities that he found himself zeroing in on it at top speed the very next moment, fully intending to mutilate the little monster's larynx for good.

Soon he emerged in a clearing and spotted the pram that carried the culprit, conspicuously all by its lonesome in the middle of a spacious glade– that his approach was easily accomplished without any deterrents. At that point, his ears were pulsating and numb from intense pain and the only thought that possessed him then was stemming the source of the infernal upheaval. He was at the edge of the carrycot in one bound, claws diving towards the creature below the canopy with the speed of a striking snake. But right before his lengthened talons could cut into flesh, something made him stop.

As if stirring from a trance, he blinked, disorientated; surprised to see his own lethal dagger-like nails hovering a millimetre away from his tiny victim's neck, not remembering why nor comprehending what compelled him to halt. It was then that he realized that he was distracted from his undertaking by one most riveting detail…

The small Earthling had stopped crying!

The infant, presumably a human—judging by its appearance alone—had indeed fallen perfectly silent. Its big and very curious eyes were fixated on him, twin trails of wetness glistened down its cheeks and nose. It was a bizarre scene. A Namekian child and an Earthling infant frozen in each other's stunned gazes as though that moment in time itself had been freeze-framed. But what followed shortly after that was even more shocking…

The human baby began to smile.

First, the corner of its lips slowly turned upwards then it's maws parted wide, exposing pink tongue and gums with a single emerging tooth. Next, its chestnut-brown doe-eyes lit up like a shimmering pool of constellations—completing a very odd (and rather hideous) picture of what the Namek surmised was mirth. He had never seen anything like it nor had he foresaw such a reaction. He remained unmoving, utterly (and quite horrifically) spellbound…

He had only ever seen Earthlings joyful from a distance, partying and being merry, doing stupid Earthling things. But the moment those celebrating simpletons caught sight of him, their smiles would transform into frowns and their laughter to screams.

Fear, terror, dread, and hatred

Those were the only emotions he had ever managed to garner from Earth's inhabitants all his life. Thus, seeing an Earthling infant smile so gleefully at the sight of him was a very strange and suspicious thing to behold indeed. And as if that wasn't insulting enough—as though the insignificant and infinitesimal bundle of "human" understood his befuddled predicament—

It began to laugh!

High-pitched hearty chortles rose up from its bellows, curdling his mood into an even sourer state than it had already been minutes ago. But surprisingly, he could no longer back up that knowledge with conviction. He felt irritated, yes; but he was no longer angry nor feeling threatened enough to pursue his original objective of maiming the insufferable creature's vocal cords. His hand pulled back a smidgeon, but a horrible ominous fog lingered in his mind, as though he had just narrowly escaped being manipulated by a force outside of himself into doing something that he normally had no desire to.

A force that had no qualms about killing a defenceless child.

He knew he was born for less than noble reasons—but all the same, senseless killing was beyond someone with superior intellect like him. No, that wasn't how he operated. Whether it was a flaw in his sire's Pokopen process or something intentional, he didn't know yet. He was born with his own will, that much he knew. And that unique will of his never relished the idea of bullying the weak the way his sire did. He shuddered inwardly at what could have been had he not broken free of what he now recognized as his sire's bloodlust. It surfaced from time to time, usually when he was being threatened. It served him well when he needed to defend himself but never before had he lost himself to it—overcome by it so completely for a good number of minutes as it did now.

While all those thoughts and feelings were running through his mind, his eyes had half-consciously remained locked on to the infant's, watching its every move in case the smiles and laughter were a ruse to throw him off guard and spring an attack. (He had never been curious enough to approach Earthling babies before, and even if he knew they supposedly had little to no power at all, most Earthlings—regardless of age, size or shape—had only ever been hostile towards him. It was for that very reason that he was always vigilant, regardless.) The thrilled warbling giggles went on and off but the smile never wavered even for a heartbeat. The child was staring at him like it had no idea what angels or demons really looked like, nor did it seem to care. Somehow, the idea made him pull away a little bit more, but the action was stopped short, and this time, the Earthling's latest antic left him positively scandalized…

Two of his fingers were suddenly enclosed within the infant's own!

The strength of the tiny tyke's hold was shocking. But more so– was the warmth flowing all over his body, one he's never felt before. It was the very first time he's ever been made to feel a welcoming touch; the first time he had ever been this close to another living thing and for this long without being harmed or hated. A maelstrom of entirely alien sensations and emotions inundated and blanketed his being along with that heat– and all because of that singular contact. He knew he should pull away and flee, but he was too thunderstruck. Was this creature truly delighted to see him? So much so, that it even went as far as to make physical contact with him? Surely, that was preposterous, right? That's how he forced rationale upon it, but all the same… He couldn't find the strength to pull away. He stayed like that for a while, heart anxiously hammering in his chest; and for the very first time in nearly four years of his life, he felt a most peculiar chaotic but peaceful emotion washing over him like…

Tiny balls of light in his chest— swirling, dancing, and colliding; bursting into spectacular fireworks, repeatedly stoking and igniting the embers already burning there…

'Could this feeling be what they call…' he thought to himself, 'Am I actually…

' …Happy…?'

Reluctantly, and with more effort than he thought the action would require, he pulled away and quickly fled from the clearing back into the shelter of the woods. No sooner had he concealed his presence behind a tree did the source of the grating noise that had alerted him of an approaching Earthling make itself known…

A female Earthling whose screeching rivalled the ear-splitting wails of an enraged banshee. It was so painful to his ears that that he couldn't even bring himself to look at the owner of the voice; reduced to a curled ball of agony on the forest floor. He realized after a while, that the infant too, had resumed its accursed bawling as soon as he had pulled away and left it, except that its cries were much louder and more vehement than before.

He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, but the creature's wails also now sounded absolutely grief-stricken and he did not know why it shook him deeply—made him feel as though he had swallowed a whole anvil that was now wedged in his chest. The comforting flames there only moments ago were snuffed out completely by the alien kind of pain settling along with it.

That very ache in his chest that he didn't quite understand no matter how hard he endeavoured to, compelled him return to that glade more times than he deemed reasonable; but only after several long months wherein he tried his best to stay away and forget everything that had occurred that day… without success. More often than not, he would find no sign of the infant and he would leave right away, fooling himself that the disappointment he felt was actually relief.

In one of those chance visits, after he had seen the field empty and turned to leave, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sound of squeaking wheels moving at terrific speed…

There was barely enough time to ascertain what it was and what was happening, but he managed to fly in the nick of time to stop the pram's downhill plunge right before it smashed into a thickly packed boscage of trees. By the time he managed to haul the vehicle to safety, his tiny human acquaintance was crying so hard and so loud that tears prickled his eyes. He braved the pain whole time until he had climbed up the carrycot to peer at its occupant, who amazingly– stopped crying as soon as it assimilated the sight of him.

After witnessing, and luckily, managing to intervene in some three or more near-fatal accidents like the one he had managed to prevent then—with still *no sign of the infant's parents to be found—he decided that it was no random mischance but the result of appalling negligence. Owing to that discovery, he felt obligated somehow, to watch over the child ever since. He didn't appear unless the baby started crying or was in imminent danger from its parents' absence—which shockingly, happened too often. He had managed to convince himself that he only approached the baby and showed his face each time, not because he wanted to see the thing smile, but because it was the only thing that placated its distress without fail.

Inevitably, soon after, he discovered the boy's true identity. Naturally, the knowledge that the first creature who had ever seemed to like him was the son of the one he was destined to kill had shot down whatever hopes and aspirations he had of a more fulfilling existence. If anything, the discovery caused his heart to sink back into that abysmal darkness and caused him to be even more resentful of his fate. Of course, he redoubled his efforts to stay away after that– to no avail.

And so, their curious encounters went on, until the toddler could walk and explore the forest on its own. He continued to watch over him from afar, faithfully coming to his aid whenever necessary. He managed to accomplish that while gradually diminishing his visible presence to the child. Remarkably, he sensed that the child knew that he was there all the same because he didn't cry as much anymore and his keen ears often caught heartfelt 'thank you's seemingly babbled to the wind.

One day, while he was training nearby, he heard the boy accidentally knock down a beehive he was examining, instantly earning the wrath of a swarm of bees. The bees, unlike snakes or tigers, were harder to eliminate from a distance—they weren't only fast but attacked in great numbers—thus, more difficult to scare off with energy blasts…

The five-year-old Namek reacted before he could think.

He jumped out in front of the boy and whisked him away from danger. But a tug at the hem of his tunic kept him from retreating out of sight after his rescue. He cursed his rashness, noting instantly how the boy was much faster and stronger now, going by how efficiently he had been detained. Unable to move, he soon found himself face to face with the boy for the first time in many months, only this time, the boy didn't smile or laugh. Instead, those brown eyes and red lips wore an expression of utter confoundedness.

Of course, he grimaced inwardly. The boy was a clueless infant no more. He was no longer ignorant of what belligerent and dangerous creatures lurked the earth—of what angels and demons looked like.

He felt his heart clench, knowing that with his inhuman and menacing appearance, being feared and shunned by everyone was inescapable. The boy was going to yell for help and call him a monster any minute now like everyone else always did… He squeezed his eyes shut, and braced for the worst…

But nothing happened.

No shouting, screaming, not even crying.

He dared open his eyes for a small peek…

And found the boy still gaping at him in…

…Not fear, but…

…Awe?

"A-are you an elf…? Or—or maybea faerie?!"

His eyes slowly opened wide in disbelief. He was still trapped in the boy's hold, only it had moved more securely to his wrist.

"I knew it!" The boy's eyes lit up suddenly. "You're… my guardian angel, aren't you? I knew you were real! I can't believe I've finally caught you!"

He panicked a little at that and attempted to break free, but the hand gripping his wrist is reinforced by another.

"Oh, no! Please! Don't be afraid! I- I'm not going to hurt you! I- I just want to, to thank you! for… uhm, always saving me… T-thank you very much, err—kind sir."

The boy was bowing his head low before him, but his fingers did not loosen its hold. Then it happened. The boy looked up at him

And smiled.

That old familiar heat was back, making a hearth of his chest and his cheeks. He hadn't seen that smile in such a long time that he was caught completely off-guard, disarmed by its sincere ebullience.

"It's a pleasure to meet you! My name is Gohan—Son Gohan Jr! What's yours?"

When he could give no immediate response, the boy called Gohan cautiously looked around, leaned in then whispered, "It's okay, I understand." He tensed all over, flinching slightly at the boy's breath in his ear, never having been touched or this close to any non-hostile Earthling his whole life. "I know guardian angels need to keep a lot of things secret, right? For now, I can just call you, hmm…" The boy peered down at the symbol on his tunic. "Hmm… 'Ma'…? Okay, Ma-chan! Is that okay with you? You can call me Goh-chan or Han-chan—or just Gohan; whatever you want!"

Before he knew what was happening, the boy was running, pulling him along. His breath hitched as the feel of lissom lips tenderly pressing against his cheek arrested him when they arrived in the glade where they first met. A searing warmth from that area began to spread all over his body as tingly currents, throwing him into an even more flustered state – that even when the boy had finally released his wrist and pinned a blushing orange tulip behind his ear, he remained rooted to the spot, unable to do much else but be absolutely stupefied.

"I really like you, Ma-chan! Can we please be friends?"

End of Intermission.
Continued in Part 2: "Of Dreams & Forever"


Notes:

*Tenkaichi Budoukai – The Japanese name of the martial arts tournament which means something like: "Number One(Best) On Earth(In The World) Martial Arts Meet".

*no sign of the infant's parents… – This is canon-compliant (to some degree). Gokuu and Chi-chi actually forgot about baby Gohan in his crib and caused him to nearly smash into a tree. Also, in one of the movies, a toddler Gohan is seen wandering the forest unattended (and yeah, I consider those movies canon, I enjoyed the lot of them even if I came to somewhat detest them later on… Meheh.).


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To Pinky Crocodile & Cupcake:
Thank you so much for the R&R! It makes me happy that there are readers from FFnet who liked my story and cared enough to let me know! XD Cheers!