The Lookout really did look like an enormous ramen bowl sitting in the sky, what with its red and blue underside and its porcelain floor. At least, that was what Gohan always thought of when he saw it.

He gently set himself down in front of Piccolo, who had paused in his meditations as Gohan touched down.

"I had expected you to wait longer before coming," he said.

"Would you rather I stayed gone?"

Piccolo snorted. "You know what I meant."

Gohan only nodded and received a stare in return. Piccolo was his teacher and mentor, but it was obvious that he was unsure what to say to his pupil.

Gohan offered him a place to start. "Trunks and Goten are with Korin. If it's alright with you, I'd like to introduce you to Trunks. He gets Goten into lots of trouble, but he's a good kid."

His answer was more automatic than it was gracious. "I am sure."

"You're sure? About which part- getting my brother into trouble or being a good kid?"

Piccolo was completely unprepared for Gohan's sass. "Ah," he looked like he might get mad for a moment, and then actually thought about the question. "Both."

Gohan smiled and waited for Piccolo to share whatever was weighing on his mind.

"I'm sorry, Gohan," he said softly. "That is… all I can really say."

"You don't need to be sorry," the boy said. "It had nothing to do with you. Still, I appreciate the thought."

Piccolo looked out at the Lookout's horizon and kept his mouth in a hard line. The look in his eyes reminded Gohan of someone his mentor used to be. "I don't understand the significance of a father or a grandfather as it pertains to you. I never have. "Family" is... a riddle to me."

Gohan waited for him to continue.

"I am my father. Or, at least, I was, until I realized that he and I were not the same person. Even so, he was the first independent consciousness in my head. He never died. Not really." Piccolo shifted. "Not in the way you would expect, anyway." He looked at Gohan. "There are worse things than a physical death. You can remake yourself- revive yourself, rather- and live so long that you slowly lose your identity, piece by piece, until there is nothing left. Death has no meaning, at that point. But life has no meaning, either. There is only nothingness."

"Yes, I know. Dende told me. That's part of why the Namek Elders don't normally condone resurrections or fusions. And also," he smiled wider and more knowingly, "I think that, now that he has already passed, my grandfather would be happier if he was allowed to rest forever instead of being revived by the eternal dragon."

If Piccolo was surprised by Gohan's answer, he did not show it. "Good."

"Did it really worry you so much?"

Now, Piccolo was visibly uncomfortable. "When you were small, you went out of your way to wish for my return," he said.

"Those were very different circumstances," Gohan confirmed. "And I was five, I think. I'm not five anymore." He laughed. "Not that you can tell."

"Hn," Gohan's mentor said. "If ever you wish to revive me again, barring that the Earth is in great jeopardy," he added, "don't."

"Excuse me?"

"I've said my piece," Piccolo closed his eyes. "I dislike repeating myself." He crossed over to the edge of the Lookout in great, sweeping strides. His student watched him go.

Gohan was aware of Dende standing behind him before he spoke. "Piccolo is not sure what to do for you or how to proceed," the Guardian said.

While Gohan was the one in mourning, it was Piccolo who needed time to process it all. The stoic warrior was strange and detached, even with those he was closest with.

But then again, Piccolo did not know how to be close with someone in the first place. "It's always been rare for Piccolo to know exactly what to do with me," Gohan said, trying and failing to push all of his hair out of his eyes. "The fact that he takes the time to think about it at all is what counts."

Dende came closer and took Gohan's hands. It was how they had always greeted one another. In fact, Gohan himself was the one who began the tradition, if he remembered correctly.

That was a long time ago.

"I too am sorry about your grandfather," Dende said. "And I want to do something for you, but I am not sure what would be appropriate." He squeezed Gohan's hands. "Is there anything I can do? You need only name it."

"No, no," Gohan said. "Except, maybe sit with me for a while, please. If you have the time."

Dende lit up like the fluorescent lights in Gohan's classroom. Well, his old classroom- Gohan would not be attending school anymore. "Of course! That would be wonderful! I would love to."

"...Huh?"

"U-um, uh," Dende stuttered, "not because I am happy about your grandfather's death- of course not! I only," he absentmindedly knit his fingers together with Gohan's, "rather, it would not be a burden at all. And if it would please you, too, then all the better. It was not my intention to be insensitive."

Gohan blinked down at his friend. "I mean, it's fine, I just never expected you to sound so excited about the prospect of hanging out when I'm such a sad sack." Gohan made to move for the edge of the Lookout, but Dende still had him in his grip.

"I do not think you are a sack of sadness!" Dende was adamant. "You are not a phenomenon that inherently holds and distributes grief, but an individual that it is inflicted upon due to circumstance. This is not intrinsically your fault."

Gohan stared, and then laughed. "That's not what that expression means, Dende."

"...Oh," the Guardian said, and his cheeks flushed purple. "Please excuse me. I got ahead of myself."

"Don't worry about it." Gohan looked out at the sky. "Do you mind if we go sit down?"

"Oh, of course. And would you like something to drink?"

Gohan shook his head. "No, I've got something in my bag." He tugged at his hands. "But, um," he smiled. Dende was sometimes very slow to release Gohan from their handshakes, especially when he was worried or excited. "I need you to let go of me, if you don't mind."

Dende looked down. "Oh," he said, and let go of Gohan to fold his own hands together against his white robe. "I apologize."

"It's really okay," Gohan soothed, and stepped across the tiles to the lip of the Lookout. He then sat down and let his legs dangle over the sides.

"So you climbed the Lookout today?" Dende said, following behind and perching on the space immediately next to Gohan. "That is quite a feat, considering you do not take advantage of your ki to do so. Are you tired?"

Gohan was tired of a lot of things. "The climb itself was not so bad," he said.

Dende waited.

The sky was an ocean that Gohan could not see the bottom of. "I don't know what to do, Dende," Gohan admitted. "I'm lost."

"Do not worry. I am sure you will find your way," the Guardian encouraged. "Everyone is lost, sometimes, I think." He smiled. "Look at Piccolo."

"Look at Vegeta," Gohan agreed. "Look at my mom. Look at all those people in that cult," he said. "I guess it was my job to be, I don't know, their shepherd, and I messed that up, too, didn't I?"

"To think yourself responsible for the actions of another- not to mention so many- is preposterous," the Guardian said. "Your father never was responsible for anything but himself, and I do not believe he ever intended for you to be held accountable for the lives and deeds of anyone but yourself."

Maybe, in theory. But Son Gohan had inherited all of the consequences of Son Goku's actions and was not sure that it had happened that way by coincidence. "But I am responsible for the people of Fire Mountain. I'm supposed to keep them safe and fed, even if that strange group tries to seek me out again."

"I see," Dende said, moving closer to Gohan.

"And I want to do that, but I don't want to do so at the expense of another disaster like the tournament was, except on a larger scale." Gohan looked up above himself. The sky gave the illusion that he was drowning, deep, deep down under water.

"You will know the right thing to do should it come to that," the Guardian encouraged.

The boy doubted.

"You will. It's in your nature to protect, not to start needless fights. You will conquer this, too. Not everything need be solved with force."

This sounded familiar. "Were you listening to my conversation with Korin?"

"No, I was not," Dende said. "But I do know that war does not suit you."

"Ah."

"Although, should I have been listening? Did he advise you to take some other action?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's just," his voice dropped to a whisper. "Dende, I never said thank you." He swallowed. "Thank you for not letting me kill those people."

The Guardian took Gohan's hand again. The boy did not protest. It was comforting, in a way, to have someone besides his mother and brother reach out to him because they wanted to rather than because they needed to.

"I did not do anything. It was Goten. And," Dende sent Gohan a gentle smile, "you are the one who stopped yourself, once you had a moment to remember. Yes, a reminder. That was all you needed." Dende flipped Gohan's palm over and traced the lines in his fingers, and then down and around to the heel of his hand.

Gohan watched the Guardian's movements and voiced his disagreement with a sigh.

"Ah, but you did."

"Dende."

"You did!"

"I shouldn't have lost my temper at all." Gohan said. Then, he pushed the situation around in his mind in tandem with his tongue within his mouth. The words he found tasted sour and bitter, and he hated them. "Or should I have killed Terpsichore and avoided all of this in the first place?" Gohan knew his voice was getting louder. "The adult men in my family were sacrificed to my arrogance, both of them. Grandpa Ox because I thought I could spare some troublemakers and trust them to not come after me twice, and dad, I…" He sucked in a breath. "Mercy is my arrogance, and power is my arrogance. No, arrogance is my arrogance, plain and simple. It doesn't matter what words I use. It's all the same."

"We are all arrogant, in our way," Dende said. "To be imperfect is not a death sentence."

"Imperfection isn't so bad, huh?" Gohan felt a memory well up from deep within him that he had tried to forget. It had golden eyes and black wings like an insect that brought plague. "Maybe. After all, I've been told not even perfection is good enough to keep you from harm."

"Gohan," Dende said.

Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." Gohan was unsure if he was being sincere or not.

Dende pressed his palm to Gohan's and softly wrapped his fingers around his wrist. "Gohan," he tried.

"My father had the arrogance to use the Dragon Balls to fix all of his mistakes and, somehow, I never questioned it until now! I never questioned anything! Nobody ever questioned anything, and now that we are, it's like-!" he searched the crystalline sky for an answer, or a cloud, or even a wisp of smoke, but he found nothing except blue.

Gohan realized that his fingers were sinking into Dende's arm. He let go and flipped his hand back over so it dug into his own knee instead.

Dende made circles on the back of Gohan's palm.

"...I've decided not to use the Dragon Balls to wish my grandfather back, like I told Piccolo. But," Gohan rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. "Goten isn't taking it well. I haven't told mom, so I don't know what she thinks. I don't know what the citizens think. But I know it's the right decision. For him, anyway. For the Ox King."

"Yes, the Ox King is dead." Dende looked into Gohan's face. "Except not. You are the Ox King, now. Is that the right thing for you?"

"I am the Ox King," Gohan repeated to himself. "I am the Ox King. I'm…" He felt a little sick. "I don't know if it's right for me or not, but I know that it isn't what I want."

Dende took back the hand Gohan had clamped around his leg and moved to claim Gohan's other one, too. "Do you know what it is that you do want?"

Not at all. Gohan felt like he wanted everything and nothing all at once, but how was he supposed to know how it felt to be sure about what would make him happy? The only choices Gohan had ever been sure about were the ones he made out of desperation- ones he knew that he felt compelled to make, not ones that he necessarily wanted to make. "Dende," the boy sidestepped the question, "when did you know that you wanted to be Guardian?"

"Oh! What an interesting question! Well, I believe," Dende's eyes moved upwards as he considered the question, "when your father came and asked us if anyone would like the position, definitely." He smiled. "Yes! That was the first moment I knew that it was an option."

"The minute you heard about it, you knew you wanted it? You just knew?"

"Not... exactly, in terms of the station, no," the Guardian said. "I did not actually know what all the position entailed until I arrived here, honestly."

Gohan furrowed his eyebrows. "You didn't know?" He blinked. "You left your home and everyone you knew without even knowing what you were leaving for?"

"Not in detail. I knew that the Earth was in trouble and that you needed Wishing Orbs," Dende said brightly. "Rather, Dragon Balls. Excuse me."

Gohan could not believe he had never thought to ask Dende all of this before. "That was all? That's the whole story? Nothing happened on New Namek that made you want to leave? You just heard that there was a job on Earth and took it, just like that?"

"Not exactly. Please understand that it was everything that went along with Guardianship that I was really after, not the position itself."

"Like what?" Gohan's eyes bugged out. "You wanted the power and authority?" He had never expected Dende to be the kind to crave such things.

"What? Oh, no, not that." Dende's smile softened. "I always assumed you knew. No, I came because Son Goku said that I would be able to be with you. And then he brought Krillin, too, which was wonderful." Dende laughed. "How could I have refused?"

"You left your home and your people to see," Gohan tried to fit everything together in his head, "me." Something was not adding up.

The Guardian's happy expression gleamed back at Gohan. "Yes. The idea was a little terrifying at first, but Moori thought it would be a perfect arrangement for me, too." He brought Gohan's hands together between his own. "Does that answer your question? You seem upset, somehow."

"You came here," Gohan broke it down as best he could, "and abandoned the planet you fought so hard for- the planet you died for, and left your whole family behind just to see me." Dende's answer was the antithesis of everything that motivated Gohan. It was nonsensical to him.

The Guardian brought Gohan's hands to his chest. "Yes, I did."

Gohan considered Dende carefully, and then smiled ruefully. "I never took you as the type to try to inflate my ego with exaggerated sweetness," he said.

"E-excuse me?"

Gohan frowned. "You can tell me the truth, Dende. If something bad happened on New Namek, or if you did something to alienate you from your people, you can tell me. You don't have to treat me like a little kid just because I'm grieving."

"You think I am lying?" Dende asked, gripping Gohan's hands more tightly.

"I think you're telling me the sugar-coated version of the story."

Dende furrowed his eyebrows. "The only possible rift created between myself and my tribe was how I missed you and the Earth so deeply while they did not. But they are still my brothers, and I still love them, and they, me."

"Am I supposed to believe that they sent you here just because?"

"My appointment as Earth's Guardian was meant as neither banishment nor escape," the Guardian said. "And I wanted it. I do not understand why this is so unbelievable to you."

"People don't make those kinds of decisions without a real reason," Gohan said. "There's no way that you came to live here because of a passing fancy."

Dende moved closer to Gohan, his expressive eyes wide. "It is not a passing fancy! I came here out of love! The whole decision was born from goodwill and love. Not only from the people of Namek to those of Earth in a time of crisis, but from Moori the Elder to one of his children, passed from Guru!" He nodded. "And of mine, to you! Always, to you!"

Gohan felt his heart sink in his chest. "So Moori chose for you to come here?"

Dende kept his eyes fixed on Gohan's and his hands clamped to the boy's, like if the Guardian let go, he might fall apart. "I chose," he said. "Moori encouraged."

Gohan searched for the right words. "Dende, sometimes, people you love do things to you- or make you do things- that are not necessarily loving. And you want to tell yourself that, surely, their actions were guided out of love, and so you blind yourself to the truth of-"

"This is not that," Dende insisted.

"Dende-"

"It is not that at all!"

"Okay, okay. I didn't mean to pry. What you choose to tell me is up to you."

"I do not mind answering your questions, I only dislike that you doubt my words and feelings!"

Gohan watched the fire dance behind Dende's wet eyes and wondered if he had looked this pitifully convinced whenever he thought that Son Goku might come back for his family someday.

"Nameks do not lie!" Dende all but shouted. "Please stop questioning my affections!"

"I didn't say anything," Gohan soothed.

The Guardian's eyelids opened so wide that Gohan could see that his pupils were actually a deep purple, not just black. "You do not need to speak! I can sense it in your head and your heart!"

One of Gohan's hands escaped from Dende's grip and moved to the Guardian's trembling shoulder. "I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again. We can forget that this whole conversation happened, if you want." He licked his lips. "Sometimes, it's better to forget things than to dwell on them, anyway."

The Guardian shook his head vigorously. "But I want you to understand! This is not the same as when Son Goku used you to fight his demons, so please stop telling yourself that it is!"

Gohan felt Dende's words run through him. His ears began to ring.

"I know it!" Dende said. "And Nameks do not lie unless they are piccolo." His eyes started to water. "I can sense intent and hear thoughts. I know what you were thinking about just now, and I know what Moori was thinking back then because I remember how surprised and happy I was when I discovered that we were of one mind on the subject. This is neither conjecture nor denial, but the truth!" The Guardian pushed the hand that he still held captive against his robe with more passion. "Not everything that you do not understand is inherently malicious and hurtful, and not all of us ask ghosts to haunt our hearts instead of letting in the living!"

Gohan stared at Dende. The reflection of the oppressive sky bouncing off the Lookout's tile was far too blue and far too bright.

The Guardian's face melted into tears at the boy's expression, whatever it was. Gohan was at a loss when it came to knowing his own face in times like these.

"Forgive me," Dende said, intertwining his fingers with Gohan's. "Please forgive my hasty words. I never meant," his breath shook as he inhaled, "I never meant to insult you."

"But that's what you think," Gohan said.

"I," Dende hiccuped, "I only mean to say that you are dwelling on past mistakes, and-"

"It's what you think," Gohan repeated. "Nameks do not lie."

Dende began to cry harder. "Please," he said, "forgive me." He drew Gohan's hand to his face and rested his forehead to the boy's knuckles. "It had been my intention to comfort you, not to create more tension. This is my fault."

Gohan only watched as Dende cried.

"Are you," Gohan swallowed, "happy? As Guardian?"

Dende kept quiet and squeezed Gohan's fingers.

"Do you enjoy it? Being Guardian."

"I am happiest when you are here," Dende whispered.

"That's it? That's all you want?

"...No. I want to see more of the Earth firsthand. I want to see Krillin, and experience the people of this world. I want to see you. I have my whole life to spend on the top of this ivory tower," he inhaled and looked up at Gohan, "but I am already tired of always watching from a distance and never really experiencing! But I want to see you!" He shook his head. "I do not see how I can have both things! I am Guardian, and I am the Guardian because I am the Dragon. And you are… You are…" Dende reached out for Gohan. He looked utterly lost. "Forget about my problems. You have come here to assuage your own and I am selfishly monopolizing the time with pointless drivel," he whispered. "Please forgive me."

"What would you do if you were not Guardian?" Gohan asked. He made no move to pry Dende off of his shirt.

"I… I would… I…" he drew in a breath. "You showed me so many places in so many books, I…"

"Start small, if you have to."

Dende trembled, and then looked up at his friend. "What does snow feel like?" His voice was weak. "What… what do the streets of a city really smell like? How does the wool of a sheep feel between your fingers?" Dende forced himself to take a breath. "Does the water from a honeysuckle taste different than from a lake? What do they smell like?" He shuddered and kept going. "How different does it feel to walk through a valley of flowers than to walk through a water garden? Do people really make labyrinths out of roses? What does it feel like to be lost in one? What is it like to be lost in a crowd? Is that different?" Dende searched Gohan's face. "What is it like to walk in a street- whether people stare at you or whether they ignore you, it matters little- what is it like? And," he looked at his hands, "how can a place exist where there is no water at all, and yet be considered natural? Drought is only the stuff of nightmares to me. So, what is it like to stand in a desert, and know that, somehow, there is life inside of it, and even more beyond it?" He choked. "Mount Paozu I have seen so little of, and it is so impossible to me- a thriving forest! How tall is the tallest tree? Is it taller than the agisa? What does an acorn feel like in your hand? What do all the other bugs in the book I gave to Goten look like when they move in front of you? If I were to stay on the mountain, could I feel the seasons as they change? Could I hear the plants die and then be reborn as the Spring emerges? Would I be amazed from being so close, or only saddened?"

Gohan put his arms around his friend. Dende stiffened, at first, but then let himself be pulled in.

"What is it really like to stand in front of a monument to a God- any God, a worthy God- and feel humbled?" Dende asked. "Is it like standing in the middle of the ocean and seeing no shore? And is the ocean really so big that you truly cannot see the shore from its center, like you tell me? Like I see in my mind's eye? Does the water really taste like salt on your tongue? Are there truly places where sand is white? Where it is black? What does that feel like to walk on?" He gripped Gohan's clothes more tightly.

"I'm sorry, Dende," the boy said.

"Namek had three suns," Dende said. "But Earth's night is dark. It sets me on edge. I do not rest like you need to, but the darkness makes it harder." He rested his forehead against Gohan's shoulder. "What is it like to sleep next to someone else and know that, should the sun not have come back up even when you awaken, that person will still be next to you?"

"Dende, I am so sorry."

"Do you know about those things?" The Guardian asked. "I want to know. I have wanted to know since the moment I first came to Earth." He coughed. "That is why Moori sent me here, because he knew I wanted you to teach me."

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Satan City's newsstands were covered in conspiracies like hair on an unkempt dog.

"Great Saiyaman: Cultist?"

"Is Saiyaman with the Circle?"

"Is Hercule Satan Really the Devil?"

"Saiyaman: The City's Noble Vigilante, or Treacherous Fraud?"

"Cell: The Lie Metastasizes!"

Sevoya took one look at the headlines and turned right around to take another path to the mall. She had skipped school again today, but had been desperate for a place to lurk besides her house. She still could not stand to stay there, yet.

She could not stand to stay anywhere, really. Sevoya reached into the pocket of her dress and fingered the piece of notebook paper inside. It was still there.

A group of businessmen in suits blocked her path, all discussing stocks and how their company was ruined because Hercule Satan had endorsed it. Sevoya ducked into a nearby alley to escape their noise.

She found a stranger in a black hood and a Monkey King mask.

"Hey," they said. "I can't believe you made this so easy for me."

Sevoya reached for her mother's old locket strung around her neck. It matched the emerald earrings her father had given her, but she almost never wore it. The past few days had been a special exception. "What do you want?" She snapped.

"Woah, woah, this isn't what you think." The stranger held up their hands and threw down their hood. The stranger's short, red hair stood out even in the shade of the buildings. "I'm not trying to jump you. I just want to ask you some things. See? You know me."

"...I can't see through your mask, creep. Or is that just your face?"

"Oh. Right. Yeah. Sorry." The stranger took off the mask, too. The cultist Thalia grinned back at Sevoya. "Yeah, I should've taken this off first rather than the hood," she said as an afterthought.

Sevoya turned around and made a break for the open streets.

Thalia was in front of her after a few steps and put her in a hold. "O-kay! Or we can do this the hard way!" She pulled Sevoya behind a dumpster.

Sevoya struggled, but accomplished a spectacular amount of nothing.

"Cute shoes," Thalia said as the girl tried to kick her. "But anyway, do you know where Son Gohan is? I need to know before my people do because they might do something stupid, like find him."

"Like you don't know," Sevoya spat. "You and your people have eyes everywhere, right?"

"Honey, if you aren't careful, the only place all my eyes are gonna be are up your skirt. Wear a longer one, jeez. I don't want to see your underwear."

"Maybe if you let go of me and my clothes it would fall where it is supposed to!"

"Point taken. But seriously, where is he? He's not on Mount Paozu and none of the funeral homes anywhere have him or his family listed, and he wasn't at his grandfather's kingdom today, either."

"Kingdom?" Sevoya asked. "What are you talking about?"

Thalia raised her eyebrows. "You really were out of sorts at the tournament, huh?" She cocked her head. "Say, does the name "Dende" mean anything to you?"

"...Leave me alone, you bitch!"

Thalia snorted and let Sevoya go. "Fine, fine. I was gonna help you if you helped me, but I guess not," she said, and disappeared as she replaced her hood and mask.

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Goten tossed his Senzu bean into his mouth the moment he got it. "Gross!" he complained.

"You better swallow that," Korin threatened. "These beans are incredibly valuable and I don't want to see any of them go to waste just because you didn't like them. Pretend it's something else, if you have to."

Goten pouted, and then stuck out his tongue. "Look! Now it's seafood. 'Cause see? Food!"

"I get it," Korin said. "But that's gross. Stop."

Goten swallowed it and made a face. "I hate vegetables, even magic ones." He did feel full, though, and suddenly bursting with energy, like he might actually be able to steal Korin's teapot of special water after a few more tries.

"Beans aren't vegetables, stupid," Trunks said.

"Yeah they are!"

"No, they aren't!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

Korin buried his face in his paw.

Goten shrugged. "But anyway, whadda you think about how they taste, Trunks?"

Trunks' eyes widened. "Uh," he said. "It's… it's like you said! Gross! Yeah!" He fiddled with his belt. "Really gross!"

Goten grinned and hopped to his feet. "Well, whatever. Are you ready to get that water?"

"Uh… already?" Goten's best friend wilted. "Can't we rest for a little longer?"

"What? You're still tired?" Goten whined. "But you ate the bean! You did! Didn't it work?"

Trunks did not sound very sincere. "Y-yeah! Yeah, you're right! What am I talking about!" He got to his feet. "C'mere, you old cat!"

Korin flicked his tail. "Before we begin, we have a visitor," he said, and gestured for the boys to look behind them as a quiet shadow fell over them.

Gohan's teacher, Piccolo, stood over both Trunks and Goten with crossed arms and a scary expression.

The younger boy jumped and bowed.

Trunks was not so polite. "Uh," he said.

Goten watched with one cracked eyelid as Piccolo leaned down and pulled a Senzu bean from Trunks's belt.

"Hey!" the boy said. "That's mine!" He tried to snatch it back from the huge, green warrior.

Piccolo caught Trunks's arm and held him. "Gohan tells me you are a troublemaker," he said, and put the bean back into the boy's hand. "Do not pretend that you can keep all of your schemes a secret." He looked over at Goten. "Stand. I came only to introduce myself, not to stand on formalities."

Goten did as he was told and looked to and from Piccolo's frightening scowl.

Korin snickered like he knew something the boys did not.

"I am Piccolo," he said, glowering down at all of them. "And if you have any other questions about your father, Trunks, you will come to me with them. Do you understand?"

The boys blinked. Trunks was the first to speak. "Sorry, but, uh, you're really freaky. I wasn't paying attention to what you had to say after the bean part. Could you repeat that?"

Korin laughed louder as Piccolo's face wrinkled into a deeper frown.

"...Forget it, you little brat!" Piccolo barked.

Korin stepped forward. "Will Gohan be coming down soon?"

"Soon is a... relative term," Piccolo said. "I cannot say much beyond that."

The cat grinned, but such an expression from a cat could mean anything. "It went that badly, huh?"

"I do not understand any of it, so don't look at me for answers," Piccolo said. "I could not tell you- even if I wanted to. But I don't like it at all. I don't like any of it."

"Some friendly advice? You're probably gonna have to get used to it." Korin brushed Piccolo off and looked back to the children. "Well, boys, it looks like you've still got some time to try and impress me," he said, adjusting the teapot's position on his staff. "So how about it?"

Goten immediately dove for Korin. When he the cat somehow got away from him, it only encouraged the little boy to try again, and again, and again.

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Author's Note:

You people are lucky I love this story a lot and also that I found the time to update so quick. Count your blessings, y'all.

Thank all of you for reading and to even more of you who leave feedback or stop to chat (or tell a poop joke or a bad pun. I can be easily won over with bad jokes.)

For the curious, Dende's main theme is Yael Naim's New Soul.