"The best thing that one can do when it rains is let it rain."

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

From the moment he pulled out of the parking lot he knew that he was signing himself up for a long and dreary night. The rain splashed underneath his tires and blinded his windshield as he drove toward his mountain home. It was a serene place that smelled of fresh pine and wild grasses, of playful afternoons and of fishing in the pond as a kid. Perhaps that's why he chose to stay there after he married Videl. Kami knows with his inheritance from not only the Ox King but from Mr. Satan he could have moved anywhere he so chose and lived the life that few men can only dream of. Truth be known, he never had to work a day in his life, but he chose to. Chichi always wanted him to be a scholar and out of respect more than actual desire, he became one. He was probably one of the few teachers at Satan City High that could brag that title. Even now he questioned why he took that job . . . but it just seemed to be the right thing to do at the time, with Pan being a teenager then. All that was so long ago, he shouldn't dwell on it. He was happy enough where he was, right?

He could see the trees in detail now, their tall boughs reaching toward the heavens like praising arms. Pine, maple, aspen, a veritable cornucopia of nature that, anywhere else on this entire planet, would nowhere be found together; it evoked a small smile from him. Long ago would he romp through the forest, just as a little tot, and climb the trees, pretending he was Tarzan. The deeper he would go, the more magical things became, also the more dangerous. O' mother use to always have a fit when he came back dirty and scratched up, telling glorious tales of dinosaurs and lagoon creatures . . . and of aliens. Looking back, he doubted that she believed any of it. The woods were always so peaceful and quiet on the outer fringes. She never would wander into them, not at night anyway. She still refused, but he believed it was more because of old age than anything. He was going to be thirty-eight this year. Unbelievable. He felt so young, albeit not like he was seventeen again, but still, far too young to be nearing forty.

He and Videl had long discussed having another child. For the longest time they argued about it and eventually she gave in to his pleas, but it was too late. Months had passed without any success, which strained their relationship greatly. She never told him that she could no longer bear children. When the doctor confirmed this, it nearly crushed him, but he said nothing. There was simply nothing he could say in good faith. Things have been different since then. The loving touches faded into memory; she could hardly stand to be close to him in that way. Yes, he did try; he encouraged her at every turn, but all to no cause. He had always wanted a little boy . . .

With a sigh and a heavy heart he stopped the car at the fork in the road. One path was paved and gave away to gravel, the other was more of a large hiking trail that began in the thick mud and ended in grassy plains. The latter path would take him through the woods, to the very center and out again if he avoided the warning signs; the first path, which is the one he would normally take every day, lead him up the side of the mountain on a railed path that would ultimately take him home. He turned off the car and reclined in his seat. The rain and the skies were beginning to lighten. Perhaps soon the sun would even come out, but he didn't invest much hope in that prospect. He glanced down at his attire, then at the two pathways before him. It was time to take the hard road, for once. He reached into the backseat and grabbed a package of capsules. His wife had called him insane for investing in emergency gear capsules, but he doubted that she ever once thought that they were for her benefit, no his. Despite that, he had managed to prepare a capsule that contained some older clothes that were already weatherworn and a pair of work boots that had seen better days. Pushing his seat back all the way, he popped the capsule and started his outfit change. In retrospect, he should have invested a little more cash and gotten the capsules that would automatically dress you, but it seemed like such a silly thing to worry about at the time (besides, these came in a ten pack for half price).

With his old physics club t-shirt and matching hooded jacket with a rather sorry excuse for ripped up, patched, should-have-been-thrown-out jeans and boots, he stepped out of the car, and with the accompanying capsule, packed the vehicle up. Before he set off, he zipped up his coat and pulled the hood over his head, making sure everything was well in order before his trod through the mud and debris. The way before him was long and winding, and if he wasn't careful, he'd be traveling in circles for hours. Even after a lifetime spent in these woods, it was still the easiest thing to become lost. The first step into the mud was the worst, as he found himself sinking an inch or two into the muck. He couldn't help but to groan as he did before pulling his foot out and placing the other one in front of him. It had been years since he'd taken this same journey and it was all coming back to him at an agonizingly slow pace. He continued on with his head held toward the sky. He wasn't so deep into the trees that he had lost sight of the blue-gray sea above him. There were times when he would sit in his back yard and simply stare up at the sky that he could touch if he so wanted, but this was different. Normally he would simply rise above the ground and soar among the treetops, weave in and out of them, but not now, not like this. In fact, he could hardly recall the last time he had traversed the entire forest by foot, or if he even had to begin with.

Things were so different now. Memories of flowers blooming in early spring and vines creeping along the ground and the lushness of the bush threatening to conquer the path were all but gone. The grasses to either side of him were yellowed, still partially deadened by the frost that hung over the area. A few weed-like flowers reared their heads from under the brush, but their pimpled faces could not compare with the wildflowers of times past. Yet it was still beautiful, like tears in the rain. That was certainly something he remembered, for it was not all that long ago when he saw them. He had asked the person why he was crying in the rain, curious as to why he was crying at all, it was so unlike him. He received a smile in return and a whisper that simply said so no one would notice.

Perhaps that's why he felt comfort in the rain. It was more than just words, tears and rain.

He passed the first stop on his muddy trek, an old willow tree that must have been planted well over a century ago. They weren't even native to this area, but then, very few things he found in this place were actually suppose to be here. It was part of the magic. And so he continued on, taking long, confident steps. It was becoming easier to walk the deeper he went in. In some places not even the rain cold penetrate the foliage. Why didn't he come here more often? There is always time in life for this. But what was he going to say once he reached his destination? 'Hi, how are you, I haven't bothered to see if you've been alive for the past couple years, so I thought I'd drop in and make sure!' No, that wouldn't do at all. What about 'Just taking a stroll to the deepest, darkest place in the woods and I happened to bump into you, what a coincidence?' Nah, not that either. Of all the times to run out of words, something that never ever happened normally, why now? Well, things could certainly be worse. At least Piccolo seemed to want to see him; he made the first move this morning. Nothing could have changed since then, could they?

The path finally gave away to the light grasses of spring. Finally, something was green at the appropriate time of year. The valley was quite a charming little thing. Tiny blue and white flowers dotted the landscape like hundreds of little sprites waiting to play their trickery on you. If you tried hard enough, you could even see the tops of the redwoods from the distance. He would have to bring Videl here sometime; she loved this kind of stuff, even though she rarely voiced it. Standing completely still, he could hear the birdsong and the gentle, near inaudible roar of the waterfalls from the distance. He knew exactly where he was. Soon the valley would give away to some rather mundane hills and eventually slopes and cliffs before joining into the mountain range. But he wasn't going towards any of those. He was going in quite the opposite direction to a place he affectionately dubbed the 'Blue Lagoon'. Not that the place was either blue or a lagoon, but because of the rather ridiculous amount of absurd plant life that existed there. It was something one really has to see for themselves to describe. Lost in his own mind, Gohan began to change his stride. A merry hop took the place of the otherwise close and calculated steps. It was as though in this moment, he was free.

Then he saw it, out of the corner of his eye, a slight glint. Jarred from his thoughts he stopped and glanced over again, but it was gone. There hadn't been any large predators in this area since Piccolo had taken up residence. This only heightened his interest. With slow measure, he advanced towards the area that caught his eye. When he arrived, all he found was a small pool of water, a puddle really, and a few large rocks that looked to be granite. He was a bout to turn back onto his course before he noticed footprints leading further into the thickets- rather smears of mud where something had ran, a fairly large, upright something. Piccolo?

Against his better judgment, he followed them. A knot started building in stomach, yet he couldn't explain why. Piccolo wouldn't normally flee from him. Was it really even Piccolo that he saw? There weren't any other creatures he knew that could evade him with such haste, and definitely no animal could do it without making a noise. He ran his hand over his forehead and brushed his hood down so it wouldn't have to fight with his hair anymore. He really did need to get it trimmed up again. The footsteps ended at a point, or rather turned in circles, as thought the person they belonged to did not know where to go. They picked up about thirty feet east of where they ended. Only this time they showed the sole of the foot and three distinct imprints of claws. This was odd. A small muffled sound caught his ears. As he tracked the source, the footprints ended once again. They had brought him to the waterfall, just slightly before it. He never knew about this shortcut . . .

This was one of the handful of waterfalls Piccolo use to frequent. He remembered it as thought it was only yesterday. This one had water that ran like ink, it was so dark, yet was pure and clear, probably one of the best ones to drink out of. He remembered skipping stones across the small basin at the bottom. He use to be able to skip them completely across to the other side. With newfound inspiration, he trotted alongside the border of the pool, smiling at his own rippled reflection in the water. But he had that feeling, the feeling of being watched. He looked about him, only to have nothing reveal itself.

"Piccolo?" He said firmly as he tried to detect the presence he was sure was there.

And there was something there, but it wasn't his former teacher. No, this energy signature was completely different. A scuffle came from behind him, followed by a low half gurgling, half growling noise. This was a creeper.

"Mrhh." Came the reply. It was a guttural sound, full of interest.

Gohan sighed but didn't bother turning around. He was not yet sure of whether to be worried or not. "Have you seen him around?" He paused, waiting for an answer, but to no avail. "I need to speak with Piccolo." The last words were spoken slowly, in a lower tone.

"Heh."

'Heh'? The replay to his question was a reluctant 'heh'? He wasn't quite annoyed, but he was getting there. Normally, taking into consideration that such a thing as normality could exist right now, he would have stopped to converse with his company, but now was simply not the time, especially since all his questions were about this person and to ask them firsthand would simply be inappropriate.

"That was rude."

"And you refusing to face me when you talk is any better?"

The voice made him jump. It was deeper than he remembered it being, much deeper. Dear Kami how long had it been since they had seen each other? Three years? Five? More? For the love of all that was good and holy, the kid's voice was deeper than his! There was no point in fighting in, he had to turn around, the only problem was, he wasn't ready for what he found.

The kid dwarfed him! The kid that he had taught to read and write and play was now staring down at the top of his head! What madness was this? Not only was he a full head taller than Gohan, but all his features, those baby doll things that had made him an adorable (yet slightly pathetic) little kid, had grown gaunt and hardened. He swore that if he tried, he could light a match on any part of The Boy's face, especially those cheekbones and that raptor-nose. You could put an eye out with that thing! Was that little spot lining his jaw? Yes it was, it was facial hair. Could he even grow—I guess he obviously can. This was too weird, far too weird. Yet somehow, he did look a little like Pic . . .But you had to really look for it. He couldn't help but to stand there with his mouth agape at the sight before him. Sure it looked goofy and probably a bit scary, but it was called for in this occasion.

The Boy simply kept staring at him, never breaking eye contact. He felt like a show horse on display, but it was a welcomed feeling. At least it was preferable over loneliness. He wasn't sure whether he should move on or smile or ask a question. He had never had a need for such responses; he had been virtually alone all this time, except for the rare occasion.

"H-How have you been?" Gohan finally managed to sputter out as he stepped towards The Boy.

Out of reflex more than actual will, The Boy stepped back. "Piccolo left some time ago- I don't know where he is." As much as he would have liked to sound calm and collected, he spat the words out like venom, which made Gohan cringe slightly.

"Do you remember who I am? It's me, Gohan, from up the Mountain, rem—"

"You must think I'm stupid."

Gohan arched a brow. What was that suppose to mean? It's not like that was a dumb question, or was it? It had been so many years; you never know what someone will remember in that time.

A long pause came between them.

"I know who you are. You're the man he wanted me to be."

Oh . . .

It was starting to make sense now. He watched The Boy fold his arms over his chest and look to the jet-black pond, finally breaking their stare down. For the second time today he didn't know what to say. His lips moved but no words came out. So they stood there, Gohan pleading with his eyes for The Boy to speak up, to say something, while the other remained in practiced silence, trying to avoid the situation.

Someone had to make the move; it might as well be him. Gohan inched forward. He was certain if he made any sudden moves, The Boy would dart away into parts of the forest he had not even seen before and it'd be murder trying to hunt him down. As he planned, the kid didn't move, not even a cautious twitch of the ears to see what was going on. Maybe he could touch him? Just a tiny touch—oh what was he thinking? This wasn't some circus animal in a petting zoo! This was his best friend's son? Relation? What was he? Nevermind that- that can be used for later contemplation, this was the here and now!

The Boy didn't move when he touched his shoulder. He could feel the heavy bone structure underneath and the wiry muscle contracting under his fingertips. The kid's breath hitched slightly; the poor thing was almost trembling under the touch. He probably wasn't use to it. Gohan couldn't help but to grin. For lack of a better term, this was 'cool'. He slid his hand from The Boy's shoulder to his neck. This kid was a giraffe. His finger caught onto a lock of ebony hair . . . but it wasn't soft. It wasn't anywhere near soft. The hair was bristly and somewhat rough, yet its appearance didn't warn you of it. He let his hand slide slightly farther down the back of the kid's neck. The hair seemed to follow the path of the kid's spine. This was wild. He really was an animal. The Boy shifted on his feet slightly and fidgeted under the touch. Gohan pulled back. The Boy had a rather disgruntled look on his face; it showcased his slightly crooked teeth and fangs nicely. In that moment, Gohan could see Piccolo.

So it was there.

"Sorry, you're just so . . . odd." Gohan blurted without much thought, too caught in the moment to really consider his words.

"Odd from the person who just attempted to feel me up?" Instead of continuing the conversation, The Boy turned on his heels and began walking off . . .slowly. "Piccolo will be back here before sunset."

Gohan stood there for a few seconds, recalling his actions before he cringed. He hadn't seen the kid in years then just decided to touch him? Stupid, stupid—this kid was related to the king of not liking to be touched. This was turning out to be a good impression he was making.

"I guess I'll see you around then?" Gohan managed to sputter out to the kid's back. He didn't expect any response and likewise didn't get one. He had to be home before dark anyway or else dinner would be completely cold, as would his bedroom tonight.

When Gohan went back onto his original path, The Boy stopped and looked back, almost lamenting the fact that he didn't follow. He was going to take him to Piccolo . . . the namek was only a field away.