The snow fled in a whirlwind as Gohan erupted from the basement of Muscle Tower. He climbed higher into the clouds and brought his hands down as if to incinerate the ruined base with a Masenko, but stopped himself. Needless death solved so few problems.

Gohan ground his teeth. He could flee all the way back to Mount Paozu so quickly that the Circle of the Inner Flame could not follow him, but that would send the mysterious cult straight to Jingle Village in search of his whereabouts. The boy doubted the cult interrogated gently, if their recruitment tactics were any indication.

Gohan had always known that humans had the ability to use and nurture their inner energy, but he had never seen so many possess such mastery of it at one time. This thing they believed in- the Inner Fire- it was certainly ki. Were they a group of fanatic martial artists? Gohan lacked the imagination to conjure up any other possibilities. He had never seen ki harnessed for any other purpose than turning fragile flesh and blood into an ultimate weapon.

Regardless, he was running out of time before the cultists recovered from their sudden blindness and emerged from the depths.

Gohan charged to the nearest mountain and ducked behind its far side. He had no idea how formidable the Circle was in earnest, but if his green haired guide's demonstration had been any indication, they were frighteningly competent when it came to understanding their own energy and sensing that of others.

The aftermath of the avalanche Eighter had mentioned lay below Gohan. The rock face of the mountain stared up at the open sky from beneath the broken trees still clinging to its meager soil.

Gohan created a pearl of ki equal in force to his base form and hid it in one of the craggy caves of the unshielded mountain. Then, after checking the area for the energy of the mysterious cult, he diminished his own presence and flew northeast towards the ocean. He planted a second decoy there before making his way to Yunzabit Heights.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chi Chi dug her knife into her turnips with a little too much force and chopped through the cutting block beneath it. She berated herself and moved the vegetable over to the other side of the wooden surface.

She had sent her son to public school to learn about the normal, everyday world and do normal, everyday things. Today, though, Gohan was once again gallivanting around as a super powered caped crusader and steeping his little brother in the weirdness Chi Chi had tried so hard to sever both her children from.

Goten was outside playing with an alien, of all things!

Granted, Dende was a nice alien and she owed him a lot, she supposed, but the part of her that would never see his pointed ears and antennae as anything other than demonic chafed at the idea of the Guardian's closeness with her boys.

Why Dende had even stayed on Earth was as clear to Chi Chi as how her husband died, and just as appealing a topic. The idea that someone like Dende could do anything to benefit the planet was laughable even if he turned out to be some kind of deity like Gohan had once told her he was.

The world Chi Chi lived in without her husband by her side was one of archaic superstitions and false idols, and Dende was another one at best.

She used to believe in the higher powers of her warlord father's pagan battle gods as a child and then in the goodness of something greater as the universe inadvertently and indirectly guided her beloved back to her time and time again. But Goku was dead forever now, and not because some god willed it so. He had died and lived and died again for the Earth on his whims while the gods above all stood by and wrung their helpless little hands. Goku had long ago cast away the veil of faith from Chi Chi's eyes when he chose his fate.

Her boys needed to come down from the clouds and focus on the Earth as it was, the same as Chi Chi had. No more gods, no more visitors from the stars. They needed to learn about the modern world and prepare for the responsibilities and challenges of reality rather than spend their time catering to the fantasy their father had dragged them all into.

But their mother could only do so much- Goten was a free spirit like Goku. He would never take well to the responsibilities of managing anything besides himself and what he wanted. Gohan was different. Chi Chi could mold him and choose for him. She hoped- no, she was sure, after all of these years because she needed to be sure she was doing right by him- that he would thank her for it.

Gohan was Chi Chi's firstborn and was to inherit what remained of her father's empire. She had groomed her oldest to be a prince his entire life, and it showed. He was polite, clever, kind, knowledgeable in languages, history, arithmetic, and the sciences, and he honored his family. His mother begrudgingly had Piccolo to thank for teaching him swordsmanship and the art of war, too. But none of that was enough.

A wife. Of course.

Gohan needed someone to continue the Ox line with. And she would love him and he would love her, and they would be happy.

Chi Chi recalled the girl Gohan had made lunch for yesterday.

Pushing her son into Orange Star had been a way for him to not only have normalcy in his life, but for him to meet other people his age. She knew, though, deep down inside, what she really wanted was for him to find someone. Still, the thought of Gohan being snatched away from her so soon had been hard to take at first.

It was still hard to take, really.

But if Gohan spent more time with that girl- if he liked her, if he dated her, if he married her- the family line would be assured. He would forget about Piccolo and Saiyaman and Saiyans and leave it all behind him. Gohan would surely be satisfied.

And then Chi Chi would surely be satisfied, too.

She finished chopping her vegetables and scraped them into the pot of boiling soup.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yunzabit Heights stuck up out of the ocean in uneven formations that threatened to topple themselves over at any moment. The lower ground was cracked and marred by canyons and the wind screeched vengefully as it clawed at the stubborn, permanent carpet of ice blue grass.

Gohan decided this was the most miserable place on Earth. It almost made him miss Muscle Tower's frozen ghosts. He shielded himself from the wind from within a cave at the base of one of the misshapen plateaus.

The white overcoat Dende had sent to him no longer had both sleeves, but the blue fur-lined jacket underneath still offered him some protection. Gohan readjusted his red scarf over his face and pulled the hood tighter around his head. Then, he probed the area for his pursuers.

Gohan had purposefully left a trail of ki decoys for the members of the Circle of the Inner Flame to follow. Those of them too weak to make the journey would be left behind and those strong enough to do so would be intimidated by the trials of the unforgiving setting. After all, Gohan himself decided he hated being subjected to Yunzabit Heights, and he had picked the place.

Regardless, the cult would know where Gohan was and hopefully try to pursue him directly rather than through Suno and Eighter in Jingle Village. It was a little bit of a gamble, but it was the best Gohan could come up with short of outright submitting to them.

A spark of life far in the distance caught Gohan's attention. He created a new decoy for the cave and searched around the badlands for more hiding spots to leave energy beacons in.

With luck, Gohan would tire out his pursuers as much as possible before facing them directly.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Yamcha handed Trunks his milkshake. The boy hesitated to take it. "This is better than anything you've had before. Promise. It's not chock full of that crappy protein powder Vegeta always has laying around, and it's not one of your mom's little diet drinks. It's honest-to-God chocolate, ice cream, whipped cream, and cherries. It even has real milk, too."

Trunks's attitude changed as he snatched away the glass. "I know what a milkshake is!" He insisted.

Yamcha grinned. "I was just making sure." He watched as Trunks's sour face morphed into a more open expression when he took a sip.

"This is really good," the boy said.

"Oh, I can use a blender with the best of 'em," Yamcha told him, sitting down on the couch perpendicular to the armchair Trunks had claimed.

After the hubbub surrounding the West City earthquake damage had died down, Yamcha had volunteered to watch Trunks while Bulma attended a business lunch with a partner company. The pair was currently sitting in the living room of Yamcha's apartment, with Yamcha doing his best to engage Trunks and the boy focusing entirely on his straw and his shoes.

Pu'ar floated into the room and settled on Yamcha's shoulder. "Careful you don't burn a hole into the floor," he said.

"Huh?" Trunks pulled his attention to the duo to his left. "Oh, sorry."

Yamcha crossed his legs. He had been watching Trunks closely when they were both underneath the bridge, and then afterwards as they cleared rubble from city access points. The boy had sported tear tracks running down his reddened cheeks and kept zoning out when Yamcha had not been occupying his attention with crazy stories about his mother.

"What's eating you, champ?" Yamcha asked.

He watched as Trunks bit down on his straw. "Don't call me that."

"Call you what? Champ?"

"Yes, that!" Trunks said. "I'm not a little kid. And I'm not a champion of anything, either, so don't try to tell me that I am."

Pu'ar and Yamcha shared a look. The little cat nodded and retreated to the bedroom.

"Okay. We'll have a man-to-man talk here. What's this really about?" Yamcha leaned forward.

Trunks gripped his milkshake and tried to hide his face in the glass for a moment before he abandoned it on the table. He brought up his legs and looped his arms around his knees. "It's nothing."

Yamcha rolled his eyes. Trunks didn't notice. "It's okay to say how you feel sometimes, Trunks. I know that this isn't a lesson anyone ever really taught you, but it is okay to cry and be upset."

"You sound just like mom," Trunks said.

Yamcha shrugged. "Is that bad?"

Trunks fiddled with his shoelaces.

Yamcha tried again. "You know, I sometimes used to watch your dad when he was training to turn into a Super Saiyan."

Trunks looked over at him.

"He would stay in that gravity pod thing until he was black and blue and then be right back at it the next day. He never said that training to ascend his current limitations was his goal, but we all knew it was." Yamcha grinned, a little ruefully. "But you know what? He couldn't do it for the longest time. No matter how hard he tried. It made him so angry and so frustrated. I never saw him actually crying over it- not with tears, anyway- but I know he must have."

"No way," Trunks said. "My dad would never cry. Warriors don't shed tears."

"Oh yeah?" Yamcha challenged. "Bulma's told me otherwise."

The boy gaped. "You're lying."

"Nope. Ask her."

Trunks stared hard at the remnants of his melting milkshake and shifted to sit on his hands.

"And you know who I have seen cry, sometimes even when he fights?"

Trunks shook his head.

Yamcha smiled gently. "Gohan."

Trunks looked away. "Gohan's a wuss."

"Wow. Harsh. Tell me what you really think," Yamcha teased. He regretted it when Trunks's shoulders began to quake and the boy took him seriously.

"See, I did it again! I don't actually think Gohan is a wuss at all!" Trunks cried. "I was mad because I was jealous that he wasn't paying as much attention to me and I took it out on Goten and made him mad at me. And then Goten and I got into a fight and he won, but he still won't talk to me and I think dad is also mad at me so he might start ignoring me, too! I can't say I am sorry to them because that will make dad even angrier at me and then I don't know what he'll do!"

Yamcha sat and absorbed the information. "You know, Trunks," he started slowly, "I don't think your dad would be all that mad if you apologized to anybody."

"Huh?" The boy said, weakly. "But if I do, then that's like admitting defeat. I'll be saying I was wrong."

Yamcha fought the urge to go on a suicide mission to slap Vegeta upside his head. "Really? Just from apologizing for being mean and starting a fight?"

"Well, yeah." Trunks sniffled, "I was wrong. I insulted Goten's brother and his dad even though I don't really think such bad things about them. I don't even know Son Kakkarot and Gohan is like my big brother, too."

Something about Goku's Saiyan name coming out of Trunks's mouth gave Yamcha goosebumps. "Well," he said, knitting his hands together, "both you and your dad have yet to learn that sometimes the stronger man is the one who is secure enough with himself that he can gracefully accept defeat."

"What does that even mean?"

"It means sometimes you are wrong, sometimes you are weaker than you thought you were, and sometimes you can be beaten by people you think less of. And a real man knows how to accept and admit those things to both themselves and the world, but still get up and fight another day despite them."

Trunks reached out and toyed with the straw of his milkshake. "Do you really think so?"

Yamcha laughed. "Oh, I know so. I know better than anyone."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A light footfall announced that Gohan had company. He opened his eyes from his meditation and waited for the newcomer to make the next move.

It was the green-haired man from earlier. Gohan cast out his energy around himself thoroughly to ensure that he only had the one visitor, and was still wary even when he discovered no others. These people had already fooled him once by hiding their life force, and they could probably do it again.

"Your little scavenger hunt exhausted most of my kindred," the guide said. "But I was determined to find you." His mussed hair and flushed face revealed how much energy he had expended in greater detail than his pressed grey coat and pristine black boots cared to show.

Gohan hid his expression from behind his goggles and scarf.

"I could feel it when you thought about destroying our whole facility from the outside. You could have, but you refrained. Something inside held you back. Don't lie. You want to be part of the Circle." The young man held out a gloved hand.

"No, I just didn't want to slaughter a bunch of people. I don't even know what it is your Circle does."

The young man's extended hand reached back to smooth his green hair. "Slaughter? Us? No, the manmade part of our site may have been destroyed, but we would have survived."

"You sound very assured."

The young man laughed and crossed his arms. "Of course I am. We are not ordinary people, my kindred and I. Our mission is to nurture the Inner Flame. The part of it that lives inside of us would shield is from harm."

Gohan stared the stranger down and tried to read deeper into what little energy he let eke out from his body. It seemed natural. "You know that all humans can use their ki given proper training and time, right?"

"Oh, is that what you call it? You must be a martial artist. Much is explained." The young man considered Gohan for a moment. "What is your name?"

"My mother taught me it is impolite to ask for someone's name without giving their own."

"Touché." The young man bowed. "But I cannot give it to you as long as you are an outsider. Come join us. You could teach our new recruits many ways to bring out the power inside them. After all, part of our mission is to bring out the knowledge of the Inner Flame for everyone to know."

Gohan gestured from his midair lotus position. "You tried to kidnap me when we first met. Asking nicely after the fact is not going to get you very far." He pulsed the area again in an attempt to ensure that no others had come to find him during the young man's recruitment speech.

"Fair enough. But would you care to humor me just for a moment longer?" The young man removed his white scarf and weighed it down with a nearby rock. "I am poor at traditional combat, you see. My kindred have been trying very hard to change that, but none of their lessons have really stuck. However, I am very good at dodging and blocking." He smiled at Gohan. "Try and hit me."

Gohan narrowed his eyes and held his meditative position. "Why?"

"You are not very accommodating, you know?" The young man shook his head. "Fine. We'll make a deal. You've left my Circle disorganized and exhausted from your quick thinking, but it doesn't necessarily mean we can't overpower you if we pursue you. Think of this as a test."

"Of what?"

"If you can prove to me with your strength and guile that acquiring you by force is a fool's errand, my Circle and I will cease the chase and not ask your whereabouts. We despise allowing people like you to slip from our grasp, but there is no sense putting the whole organization at risk for just one martial artist."

Gohan sized up his opponent. "You're lying."

Green hair swept over gold eyes. "Maybe. Maybe not. But you have to go through me either way."

Slowly, Gohan put both of his feet on the ground and bowed to his opponent. Then, he charged.

The young man sidestepped and then ducked when Gohan sent an elbow after him. He circled around to Gohan's back and regained his full height.

"Take me seriously," he hissed in Gohan's hooded ear.

Gohan obliged and sent a blast of ki over his shoulder and to his opponent's face. It carved another hole into Yunzabit's terrain, but was otherwise ineffectual. Gohan spun on his heel and tried to knock the young man off balance with his foot.

His opponent hopped backwards. Gohan faced him and pursued. Soon, they had taken to the air and were weaving throughout the crevices and canyons, with Gohan directing the green haired man's retreat and always just barely unable to land a hit.

As agile as he was, the young cultist was not lying about his lack of combat prowess. He was a dancer. When they returned to the ground, Gohan had to admire how the man's evasive footwork always fell into one of five ballet foot positions.

Gohan struck to make the man take a step back to his left, a kick to send him gliding to his right, and then spinning them both around face to face in a new direction. Gohan commanded his opponent's next evasive pattern accordingly until he backed him into a corner.

The young man's golden eyes showed only an instant's panic before they hardened back into confidence. "You're kind of a smartass, aren't you? A waltz. Cute." He broke the rhythm and spun beneath Gohan's arms and to the side. Gohan deftly got in the way of his opponent's escape and stared him down.

Hitting the green-haired man was not Gohan's true goal. Control was. He had been steering the cultist's artful dodges the entire time to goad him into showing how much control the young man really had over his energy. Thus far, his opponent had slowly but surely been revealing more of his ki the further Gohan pushed him. If all of the other members of the Circle of the Inner Flame were at least this formidable as individuals, Gohan shuddered to think what they were capable of when together.

Still, one lone dancer was not enough to best Gohan.

The young man gasped, eyes wide, as Gohan got in his face. Then the dancer leapt backwards and, suddenly, Yunzabit's unforgiving winds picked up and swirled around him, whipping around his green hair and sending it into the air.

Gohan tucked the scarf over his face more tightly into his hood and entered the whirlwind. The winds themselves were natural, Gohan could tell, but the force containing them in this one area was his opponent's ki. One of the gusts came forward and threatened to knock Gohan off balance. He faded in and out of vision around it and closed in on the young man in the whirlwind's epicenter.

The dancer spun away from the blow Gohan sent his way. He disappeared and reappeared behind Gohan to send a return strike to his neck. Gohan caught it.

"I thought the challenge was for me to hit you, not the other way around," Gohan said, tightening his grip on the young man's wrist.

The cultist struggled to break free of Gohan's grasp. When he could not, he sent his other hand at Gohan's stomach. It also proved futile as Gohan whirled around and restrained it.

The young man's pointer and middle fingers were extended and sported a sinister purple glow around them. With a tug to both his opponent's arms, Gohan held him and crashed a knee into his stomach. The dancer's cruel light faded and Gohan let him drop to the ground.

Gohan wondered if it would be wise to finish the young man off for good, but knew he did not have it within himself to take his life. The boy took a few steps back and examined the land for any other lurking surprises. "I have won," Gohan announced, sensing none.

The young man picked himself up from the ground and gathered the wind back around him.

"If you don't stop this now, you won't have enough energy to escape these badlands," Gohan said.

"So you think," the young man retorted. "I hold within me the Inner Flame and the means to take more. It will sustain me, for I am its enlightened vassal." His hands began to glow once again.

Gohan steeled himself against his opponent's volley of wind bursts and moved like lightning to evade the cultist's violet hand strikes.

Continuing the fight was foolish. As formidable as the young man's speed and ki energy was, his body could not keep up with Gohan's latent training. The boy reached beneath the cultist's guard and pressed a fist where his knee had dug in earlier.

The dance ended.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

When Dende had displayed his knack for calming creatures down using his telepathic waves, Goten had immediately designated him as the holder of all the beetles they found throughout the day.

Icarus the dragon had also taken up adding bugs to the Guardian's person as well, and Dende was now a walking, talking insect farm.

The Guardian held his breath as Goten set the last beetle on his forehead.

"Perfect," the little boy said, admiring his masterpiece.

"Goten," Dende said quietly from beneath a face full of Hercules beetle, "shouldn't we get home to your mother soon? It is past sunset."

"Oh, we are. We've been going towards home for the past ten bug catches." The little boy held up nine fingers.

"Yes, but on foot. We flew here. Your mother will be very angry when we arrive if we keep up this pace."

Goten giggled. "Oh, she will be mad anyway. Gohan still isn't home. I can feel it."

"Yes, but," Dende shuddered as one of the insects on his head made to climb on his left antenna, "it wouldn't do to make her angrier, would it?"

Goten frowned. "I guess not." He jumped on top of Icarus and sat on the dragon's back. "Do you think you can fly with the bugs on you?"

Dende shook as a second beetle wrapped its legs around Dende's right antenna. "No," he squeaked. "I definitely cannot."

Goten frowned. "Aww. And I found some really good ones, too!"

"Goten, may I please release them?" Dende was sweating now. He could not swallow the pain of the weight of two exceptionally large bugs pulling on his most sensitive organs for much longer.

"I guess," Goten sighed. "I can catch them again another day!" He brightened.

"Thank you," gasped Dende as he sent the bugs flying in unison from his person with a gentle electric discharge.

Icarus made a clicking noise as he watched the insects scatter. The dragon craned its head downwards to sniff Dende, and then licked his whole face. The Guardian's already sore antennae were not spared.

A sudden crashing in the trees pulled boy, dragon, and Namek to gaze at the woods.

Gohan emerged in his spring clothes and a layer of sweat. His energy barely whispered of his presence. "Did I startle you?"

"Big brother!" Goten cried, jumping down from Icarus to greet Gohan with a hug. The dragon joined the pair and sloppily kissed Gohan's face with his tongue.

Dende hung back and waited for Gohan to finish with them.

"I missed you guys, too," Gohan said. "I'm sorry I had to run off like that. Will you two go on home and tell mom I'll be back soon? I need to talk to Dende really quick and make myself not look like I'm broadcasting the fact that I got into trouble today."

Goten giggled and mounted Icarus. "Sure, but if she says I can eat your dinner, I'm going to!"

"That's cold, squirt," Gohan called as Icarus took off into the sky.

"Thanks for watching Goten," Gohan said to Dende as his brother and the purple dragon faded away into the night.

Dende hurried over and began running glowing hands over Gohan's arms, back, and torso. He could sense no injuries besides general exhaustion and minor dehydration. "It was no problem. But you are not hurt, are you?"

Gohan laughed as he felt Dende send energy into his weary body. "No. I'm just tired and hot. You don't need to heal me." He put his hands around his friend's wrists to stop him from wasting magic.

Dende obliged and fidgeted instead.

Gohan sighed and opened the buttons of his tan spring jacket. "I need to go stick myself in the river," he said.

Dende could contain himself no longer and gripped his friend's hands. "What happened? Why did you diminish your energy while you were gone? Did you not get my winter clothes? Is someone following you?"

Gohan tugged one hand from Dende's grasp and rubbed his eyes. "It's... Apparently some cult in the north wants to make me join them," he said. Dende frowned as Gohan gave a taught, fake smile. "I don't think I discovered anything good. I'll tell you once I've had something to drink and don't feel like I've been flying around the world for the past five hours straight."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Terpsichore sat up abruptly and was rewarded by a deep pain in his abdomen. He fell back down and stayed there, baffled at the unfamiliarity of his surroundings.

He was in a cave. If the temperature was anything to go by, he was no longer in the isolated badlands of Yunzabit Heights, but somewhere on the mainland. The boy in the white coat must have left him here after he had finished his handiwork on Terpsichore's stomach.

This was bad. Failure to recruit was not so horrible, but failure to keep secret the true Inner Circle's location was a grievous mistake indeed. Granted, Terpsichore had not lead the troublemaker into the Circle dwelling proper, but only a moron would be unable to figure out that the tunnel beneath Muscle Tower ran deeper than the Red Ribbon Army's original blueprints had planned for.

That boy had proven to be anything but a moron. In fact, he was frightfully dangerous. He had sized up Terpsichore before taking him down in a way that only people bred for war and destruction could. Terpsichore may not have been a warrior, but he had seen enough of them to be able to tell.

The energies of the inhabitants of a nearby city announced themselves to the edges of Terpsichore's awareness. It was probably the village of Yahhoi, and the boy probably intended for Terpsichore to seek help there when he awoke. He slammed a fist into the ground. It hit something soft.

Terpsichore realized that his resting place was padded with the mysterious boy's coats and red scarf. A pair of boots and gloves sat in the corner of the cave. Asking the villagers if they had seen someone matching Terpsichore's description of the warrior boy would be useless now- the Circle's wind dancer had no way of knowing what his target had dressed himself in when he made his escape, and thus he no idea what to describe. Dark hair and dark eyes were too general of features to grant him a lead.

Still, Terpsichore would find the young warrior somehow. He would do so passively and slowly as to not draw the suspicion and anger of the boy who had spared him, but he would do it nonetheless.

Terpsichore never had been a graceful loser.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Author's Notes:

The first real fight scene of Heavy ends! Wow! It actually is starting to resemble Dragon Ball Z. Hopefully this new, gradual direction of more action-oriented stuff hasn't thrown you for a loop. I tried to marry in exposition about everybody's internal struggles so it wasn't just a giant fight scene, but the whole Gohan plot this time was kind of... a giant fight scene. Next chapter won't be. Next chapter is back to High School Hell, for better or for worse.

Your mileage may vary over this kind of thing, but I would appreciate knowing whether you like some of that action crap or totally hate it since this thing is listed as a romance/drama and is probably not what you were expecting given the initial chapters.

Besides that, I just have some general notes here-

Trunks and Goten are currently unable to go Super Saiyan in this story. I always thought their sudden inherent ability to do so cheapened the whole thing, and was also utterly bizarre. Goku and friends could only achieve the transformation in a moment of extreme desperation and fury, and when in their lives have Trunks and Goten had that much pressure on them? The first taste of such struggle came during the Majinn Buu saga, and Gotenks's personality hardly represented the Super Saiyan strife even then.

I will be exploring and playing with the concept of faith pretty significantly during this story. Given how wacky the Dragon Ball universe is, I doubt this is a problem for most of you, but I figure I should mention this considering that I have established that Chi Chi is an atheist, Goku broke the heaven-and-earth concept, and Gohan prays to a God that is not Dende. Also that our bad guy is a fanatical cult. And that Krillin is an ex-monk. You know. I don't mean to make a point to push onto you of any of these characters' viewpoints, just establish that they have them and they will be played with.

Also, it's a habit of mine to try and use the words "Super Saiyan" and "ki" as little as possible in anything that isn't dialogue because I think they sound incredibly campy (and in a bad way for writing a drama whereas it is great for the show.) I will also never outright write "power level" outside of dialogue or perhaps Frieza's point of view or something hyper specific like that. You can't make me.

Thank you for reading and sticking around, everybody! I really appreciate it!