Gohan wasn't in a white void either freezing his ass off or feeling like his entire body had been set on fire. He wasn't even in the uniform given to him by Piccolo. Instead, he was sitting in one row of a crowded classroom, wearing a green & black flannel shirt and dark blue jeans, a set of thick-rimmed glasses over his eyes as he stared into one of the many pages of his computer science text book. If there was anything in the universe he enjoyed more than his mother's cooking, it was studying the wonders of technology. Cell phones, tablets, super computers, even a useless widget on an archaic webpage – if it involved electricity and programming, Gohan wanted to sink his teeth in it.

He was so absorbed in reading (class hadn't even started yet) that he didn't notice the female voice next to him. Only when a fist slammed into his desk did he finally look up.

"Your face never leaves the books, huh?"

Her and those icy blue eyes – Arepa. His childhood friend, though in the past year he'd found himself developing feelings for her, even in spite of the silly hairstyle she'd taken to. But it was almost time for class, and he preferred to stay sharp.

"I get lost in them sometimes," Gohan replied with a chuckle.

Vi…um, Arepa, folded her arms. "If you looked up every once in a while, I wouldn't need to protect you from bullies."

"That happened once, and we were five," Gohan deadpanned. With a sly grin he added, "I've been the one having to bail you out all the time."

Arepa bore her teeth at Gohan in a childish gesture; childish, but cute. "Just sayin'. You could use some bloody fun every once in a while."

Gohan raised his eyebrow, confused at the sound of her voice and choice of dialect. "…Did your accent just change?"

"Huh? Whatcha talkin' 'bout? I'm talkin' normal."

Gohan stared hard at Arepa, wondering if he was just hearing things. But as he focused on her pretty face, he realized something else was amiss – she had a lip ring now, too? He was about to ask her about it, until the bell rang.

A moment later, someone in a motorcycle helmet and a leather jacket rushed into class and shut the door behind him. He slid them helmet off and placed it on the desk, revealing an exasperated young man with shoulder-length black hair and tan skin. "Morning, class! Guess I'm late."

"Morning, Mr. Lapis," Gohan enthusiastically replied. He was the only one to answer back.

Mr. Lapis pointed back at Gohan with a smile while he hung his jacket up on the door. "That's why you're my favorite student, Gohan!"

While Gohan nodded, he could overhear Arepa groan next to him. "Kiss-ass," she whispered. Gohan snickered.

"Alright, so we're gonna have some fun in this class for once," Mr. Lapis began as he walked behind his desk and pulled out piece of chalk. "Now, what do you guys know about cyborgs?"

Arepa raised her hand and was called on. "They're robots?"

Gohan whipped his head around towards her. Her accent was normal again. Odd.

"Not quite," Mr. Lapis replied. "I mean, c'mon, guys, if your grades are any indication, you're watching more TV than studying anyway!"

Taking on the task of bailing out the class, Gohan raised his hand. "I'll take it from here." Mr. Lapis nodded while everyone else groaned. Arepa rolled her eyes and mockingly puckered her lips.

"I don't know why I didn't just call on you to begin with."

Gohan laughed, amused by his occasional show-offy behavior. "A robot's 100% machine, whereas a cyborg is actually a regular human who's been enhanced with cybernetic technology. Now, the jury's out on whether that's actually possible in real-life or if the human body would reject the parts to catastrophic results, but a mechanical engineer by the name of Dr. Gero has written several credible papers arguing its legitimacy."

"Correct," Mr. Lapis replied. "In fact, the more conspiracy-minded folks believe that not only is it possible, it's already been done and kept hidden from the public. They believe that a real cyborg could be walking among us. Heck, for all you guys know, I could be a cyborg!"

Much of the class laughed, Gohan included. Yeah, right.

Mr. Lapis took the dismissal in stride. "Heh, just kidding. I'm definitely not that cool."

Gohan shrugged, disagreeing. Of all the teachers Gohan had over the years, Mr. Lapis was by far the coolest. He wasn't much older than most students, and actually focused on making schoolwork fun instead of excruciatingly clinical. He was the most popular teacher in the school by far; not to mention, the girls seemed to gush over him, Videl included. Or Arepa, rather.

"It does raise quite a few questions, though, doesn't it? Not just about the ever-expanding possibilities of technology, but also the ethics." To accentuate the topic, Lapis wrote the word in all caps on the board. "How far should we go to make scientific breakthroughs? Should we use humans as essentially lab rats and subject them to potentially life-threatening experiments for the greater good? Is it truly right?"

Gohan chewed on the back end of his pencil as he mulled it over. He felt strongly about the topic – as much as he thirsted for knowledge, lines needed to be drawn.

"Not to turn this into philosophy or anything, but when you even explore that topic, you end up asking another question: how much is enough? When do you stop? Because some of our greatest breakthroughs on modern medicine that's saved billions of lives came from the most inhumane wartime experiments ever conducted, testing the human body to see what it could withstand. Is science already tainted?"

"It's wrong," Gohan suddenly interrupted, to the surprise of Mr. Lapis and the rest of the class. "Plain and simple. It was wrong then and it's wrong now. You don't exploit and torture human beings for your own gain."

Mr. Lapis frowned thoughtfully as Gohan drummed his fingers against his desk. The subject had wound him up; from the corner of his eye, he could see concern on Arepa's features.

After a few awkward moments, Mr. Lapis laughed again. "As principled as you are bright, Gohan. Goo-"

A beam of light burst through the room, right past Gohan, and straight through Mr. Lapis' stomach. His body fell to the floor into an instant, blood gushing from his stomach. Mortified shrieks rang off from every student, most of all Gohan. The boy got up from his desk and dove down to floor, hurting his leg and breaking his glasses when he landed. He only crawled a few inches before the entire classroom, and the building, exploded around him.

Debris piled onto Gohan's back, smoke filled his lungs, and flames raged around his body. As he pushed off a piece of roofing from his back, he wondered how the hell he was even alived. Whatever relief he felt died when he turned around, however – Arepa was the first body among the pile of dead classmates.

"No…no!" Gohan heaved, crawling towards her. Underneath the sound of fire and rumblings was a hint of laughter. When he looked up, he could make out four figures amongst the smoke methodically approaching. As they drew closer, he could make out bulky armor from their silhouettes. Their callous cackles amidst the destruction were a virus to Gohan's ears, far worse than the physical pain.

The four men revealed themselves amongst the shadows. One was a big, bald, and bulky; next to him, a slightly shorter, but nonetheless imposing man with long hair. The other two weren't as blessed in the height department, however; one had a small body, but tall hair that stood out like the flames engulfing the classroom. But it was the one to his left that sent a chill down Gohan's spine. He wasn't as bulky as the others, his physique resembling an adolescent's more than a grown man. His hair was long, like the taller man's. With the smoke obscuring his vision, Gohan couldn't make out his face.

"Wh-What have you monsters done?!" Gohan shouted.

All of them laughed, but there was one particular chuckle that gave Gohan goosebumps. It sounded…familiar.

"Monster, you say?"

It was the younger one talking. And when he stopped just a few inches away from Gohan and revealed his face, he confirmed what his voice already had. Gohan looked up and…

He was looking at himself?!

This Gohan was different from the one groveling down on the floor. A scar ran over his left eye, relaying his battle experience. He wore a purple & gold armored uniform, staring down with vacuous, haunting black eyes. A smirk odiously underscored his face.

"We're not monsters, fool. We're warriors."

The darker Gohan stepped on the lighter Gohan's hand, finding even more humor from his shrieks.

"I heard your little spiel back there, too. How pathetic. Have you just always been this weak?"

The normal Gohan hatefully looked up. "I am not weak!"

"Could've fooled me," the purple-clad Gohan drawled as he raised his palm. That same light that murdered Mr. Lapis emerged around it in the shape of a ball, blinding the green Gohan's vision. With no other options, he reached up with all of his might and squeezed his crueler self's hand. That light disappeared, eliciting genuine shock from his calm face.

"You'll pay for this," Gohan growled, tightening his grip on his wrist. He could feel a power building inside himself, a power that threatened to overwhelm the imposter.

"What the hell's going on here, brat?" The flame-haired man yelled. "Are you letting this little Earthling get the better of you?"

The dark Gohan pried his eyes away from his counterpart to glare at the other warrior. "Fuck off, Vegeta. Don't you dare call me weak!"

The true Gohan curled his fist back, ready to exact vengeance on this evil imposter for laying waste to his friends. Just as he thrust his fists forward, however, a sharp pain hit his back, cutting out his vision…

And when Gohan opened his eyes again, he was sitting in that white void, with a purple uniform on instead of a casual flannel attire. The only thing that hadn't changed? The unbearable heat. He turned around with a nasty scowl to the source of the disturbance, the only possible source – Piccolo, standing with a smirk and his right arm extended like a smoking gun.

"What the fuck, Piccolo? Again?!"

"The world around you couldn't care less about whatever battle you're fighting in your mind," Piccolo said.

"I was getting somewhere…" Gohan hissed through his teeth, fuming over the interruption. That vision had been one of a million he'd already experienced over the past month – some he was a student in middle or high school, sometimes he was the toddler back at home; hell, a few were visions into the imaginary future where he was some successful businessman, happily married to Arepa…or Videl…or some vessel that was simultaneously both. Whatever the case was, they all ended in the side of himself he shattering his happiness.

"One step forward and another step back," Piccolo stated. "That's how it usually goes in life. Are you just going to keep packing it in after every collapse?"

Peevishly folding his arms, Gohan scowled as he stared at the blank floor. Piccolo's idea of mental training consisted largely of provocation after provacation, playing spoiler to his meditation. Inevitably Gohan would lose his temper and spend days languishing with his interest only in picking fights.

"Of course you are," Piccolo chided. "I don't know why I'm even wasting my time with you."

"I could say the same to you," Gohan snarled. "Besides, what's stopping me from lying and just saying everything's okay so you can cough up the Dragon Ball?"

"That's easy; I just won't believe you."

Gohan rolled his eyes. "Then how about you stop pestering me? It's hard for me to get more positive when I'm pissed off all the time."

"Who said anything about positive? Do I strike you as a 'positive' person?"

Gohan sighed, unwilling to admit that the Namekian had checkmated him.

Piccolo walked towards Gohan until they were a few feet apart and sat down cross-legged as well. "I'll tell you when I know you're better: when you can use that transformation of yours without losing your mind."

Such an idea made Gohan snort in dismissal. "I can't use that transformation without moonlight, and I don't know how to make the power ball like Vegeta."

"Perhaps…" Piccolo looked to his right, appearing to mull a thought over. "But I've felt a few spikes of power when you're flustered. Your Ki takes on that same unusual feeling it had on that day."

"What are you suggesting?" Gohan asked, though he had an idea of what he was getting at.

"Maybe your body absorbed the power. You said you were trapping the Great Ape's power within your regular form, right? There's no reason to think it didn't just stick around."

He had a point – and Gohan had felt that sensation himself. A feeling in the area of his tail; it had first arose when he forced himself onto Roshi's island. From how Vegeta had explained the transformation, the absorption of moonlight triggered a reaction in the tail that brought the power out – maybe it was always there, and now Gohan had simply cracked the door open.

"Well even if that was the case, I still powered down when my father got rid of the fake moon, didn't I?" Gohan's arguments were purely pessimism; it didn't hold up in the face of the moments where the power truly did threaten to arise again.

"Maybe it wasn't the fake moon disappearing." Piccolo received a skeptical squint from the half-Saiyan. "Perhaps me squeezing your tail stopped it. Or your body just couldn't hold the power anymore. Or…the shock of killing Lapis gradually snapped you out of it."

Gritting his teeth, Gohan shut his eyes. He thought doing so would eliminate the memory of his blast ripping through him, but-

"Closing your eyes won't make it go away," Piccolo chided.

Gohan's flustered eyes snapped opened. "What are you doing, now? Pissing me off until I snap into that form? You realize that'll just get you killed, right?"

"If the power really is within you, then you'll be able to access it on command if you actually get a hold of yourself," Piccolo retorted. "That's why you must continue your morning exercises, so you can withstand it physically."

"Tch. Y'know, only Vegeta ever dictated when I trained, and he was stronger than me." An arrogant grin subtly tugged against Gohan's lips.

"If you want to be an undisciplined fool who can't set his mind onto routines, then be my guest."

Gohan lowered his eyes in exasperation. Piccolo infuriated him, yet never said anything that wasn't in some way correct. On some level, he had to admit that this was the regimen. If Gohan wanted to get that Dragon Ball back, he couldn't just flippantly dismiss him just because he was his physical superior. And doing so would justify all of Gohan's lowest opinions of himself; such were the attitudes of the killer in his high school vision.

"For now, we do this."

Piccolo fired a beam at the floor. From the light came a checkered board with a variety of sculptures atop it.

"Chess, again?" Gohan groaned. "I get it; this is your only possible way of defeating me in anything."

"I haven't been off dawdling around while you meditate, you know," Piccolo challenged. Gohan snorted a laugh like he'd just cracked a joke. "And besides, constant engagement strengthens your mind and ability to focus."

Gohan moved a pawn two spots forward. "This must be how you feel having to keep up with my father."

Piccolo's antennae twitched as he moved his pawn up as well. "Whatever. That fool will see his true end by my hand sooner rather than later."

As he moved a knight in front of the row of pawns, Gohan shrugged. "I get that you want a real victory over him, but aren't you trying to take over the world, too? It didn't matter how you won, you still had this planet in your grasp."

Piccolo again mimicked Gohan's move, though he placed his knight directly behind the pawn he'd initially moved. "I don't know when it happened, or how it happened, but that ship sailed for me a long time ago."

"Why's that?" Gohan asked as he zipped one of his Bishops almost halfway across the board, immediately in attack mode. They hadn't spent much time talking thus far in the Time Chamber. Well, they did talk frequently– Piccolo would order him around, Gohan would snark back. But this was their first civil conversation.

"What do you remember your father saying about me?" Piccolo and Gohan exchanged a few quick moves, each already having their strategies mapped out. No pieces had been knocked off the board.

His mind caught between the game and the conversation, Gohan clung to his chest. "I remember something about there being a Piccolo before you, and you're his reincarnation. I think he said you weren't quite as evil as he was."

That got a scowl out of Piccolo. "That dullard thinks he's observant now, huh? Though sadly, he may be right."

Stuck in a bind and wanting to protect the queen, Piccolo essentially tossed a pawn into the line of fire; Gohan's queen knocked it off. "How do you figure?"

"When someone's killed by a Demon Clansman, their spirit doesn't pass on to the afterlife. It just drifts, forced to witness the pain of their loss in the living world, unable to rest in peace."

Gohan nearly dropped his pawn as his hand stiffened, troubled by the thought. Such a fate sounded even worse than hell.

"But your father did. That was the universe breaking the news that the demon in me had dried up." Piccolo looked down at the board, eyes darting back and forth between his pieces and Gohan's. "Or maybe it was never there to begin with."

"Really? You must've been bad when you first showed up, if my father had to stop you.", Gohan moved one of his knights forward, but gasped once he realized he'd left it wide open. He had only played one pawn thus far, but one of Piccolo's many pawns was ready to take it out.

"Maybe," Piccolo began as he knocked Gohan's knight off the board. "But my actions were indoctrinated into me from birth. My predecessor desired revenge and world domination, and I existed to carry out his will."

Gohan's attention snapped away from the board and latched onto Piccolo. He stared intently at the green Namekian warrior, letting his words soak in. The purple of his Gi became particularly vibrant in Gohan's vision, almost forcing him to observe his identical outfit given to him by the same man.

The recognition was clear in Piccolo's eyes, clearly aware of the dots Gohan was connecting. But he smirked, more focused on the chess battle; Gohan's other knight was gone, too. After making his move, Piccolo stared into the white space.

"Over the years, my goal of Goku has been for an entirely different purpose, and I didn't realize that until I saw the man lying dead before my feet. I felt not an ounce of satisfaction, no feeling of vengeance or justice surging from the depths of my soul."

"Because it wasn't really your battle?" Gohan asked.

Piccolo admonished Gohan with a glare. "Please, after all of the wars I've waged with him over the years, it damn sure was my battle."

"But that's the thing. It was my battle, and my struggle."

As Piccolo squeezed his fist tightly, Gohan gave a slow nod of understanding.

"For my entire existence, I thought I was just one person assuming another vessel. But it's far more complicated than that." Piccolo finally brought his queen to the playing field. "I am the Demon King, the physical manifestation of the darkness lurking in some nameless Namekian's heart. But at the same time, I'm not. I'm my own man, with my own desires and goals."

Gohan harkened back to his conversation with Arepa, where he declared he would defeat Frieza for his own self. After everything that had gone down since, he'd lost sight of it.

"I have all of the Demon King's memories, but they're just pictures in my head. I don't feel anything when I recall your father killing him. I desire to defeat Goku not for vengeance, not for world conquest, but simply for my pride as a martial artist. That's why I can't accept my victory over him."

Piccolo used a pawn to knock off one of Gohan's unused pawns. Gohan sighed in frustration.

"That mad scientist offered to turn me into an Android because we had the same goal," Piccolo explained. Gohan stiffened at the memory of Lapis. "I refused. I wouldn't take shortcuts and I wouldn't defeat Goku as another man's pawn."

Gohan used his queen to knock off one of Piccolo's pawns.

"So then why wake up Lapis and Lazuli?"

Piccolo set his queen down, thinking the question over. He anxiously cracked his neck. "I thought they could handle your father's friends. I didn't really know just how powerful they actually were."

As Gohan moved his queen in front of the king, he wondered if Vegeta had ever expected him to surpass him. He had brought it up once purely out of sight, but Vegeta truly might had feared it, at the very least.

"I'm lucky they didn't kill me once they figured it out. I was pretty rough on them."

Gohan knocked over one of Piccolo's last pawns with his queen while studying his pensive expression. "Do you regret it?"

Piccolo narrowed his eyes at Gohan in focus, but diverted his attention towards the board. His queen had Gohan's king trapped. "Check."

Gohan looked at the board with a growl. He was stuck – he could move his queen in front of the king to protect it, but that would be delaying the inevitable. He had no moves left. And thus, he got up and blasted the entire board away.

"And that's why I keep having to zap a new one every damn day," Piccolo grumbled. "You have pawns for a reason. Use them."

"Whatever…" Gohan marched to the lobby, wanting nothing to do with either meditation or Piccolo. Inside the lobby, he stopped at kitchen table and stared at the blue scouter and the red bag of Dragon Balls. He took a seat and buried his head in his hand, wondering how much longer this would go on.

But he couldn't give up. Too many people saw the light within him.

Four months later, Gohan sat in a void for the umpteenth time. His entire body shook as a volatile, green glow surrounded him. Piccolo had been standing behind him, his eyes on his tail. He was now on his fifth replacement arm on either side after a few outbursts, and wouldn't let it get that far again.

"Gohan!" he shouted.

He didn't turn around. Piccolo patiently exhaled, staying perfectly still. A minute later, Gohan turned around. His eyes were bloodshot, his brows curled in a forlorn whimper. He had been sitting in that same position for days, refusing to eat, sleep, or engage with Piccolo at all.

"You're miserable, kid."

Gohan's ragged breaths grew louder. His face carried a mixture of despair, confusion and exhaustion. "L-Let's just go back…I-I can't…!"

"This is part of the process," Piccolo calmly replied. "In this void, you have nothing to distract you. It's just you and your thoughts, with no way of leaving the darkest corners."

"It's not doing anything!" Gohan shouted.

"You have to confront your lowest thoughts. You don't think I wake up in misery every day, either?" Piccolo asked. "Constant defeat at your father's hands, embarrassment at your hands, wondering if I truly have what it takes. I am constantly confronted with my futility."

"Shut up!" Gohan snapped. His pupils flickered gold, which made Piccolo swallow. "You just sound like Vegeta!"

When Gohan stood up, Piccolo squared his shoulders, knowing what was about to happen. That green aura exploded around him again.

"You're no different!"

His eyes became gold again, and a second later he flew at Piccolo. The Namekian evaded the punch thrown his way by a mere inch and flew away as fast as he could while Gohan broke his fall. The rabid teenager had closed the gap soon after however, and slammed Piccolo into the floor with two fists. When Piccolo landed, Gohan blasted down with both feet extended, intending to just stomp him into mush. At the very last second, Piccolo jumped out of the way, making Gohan crash-land with his feet stuck in the ground.

Taking advantage, Piccolo outstretched his arm and squeezed Gohan's tail, bringing him down instantly. Piccolo pulled him in with his retracting arm, clutching his burning chest with the other hand. He only had Gohan's erratic, error-prone mind state in that form to thank for even being alive.

"You have to get a hold of yourself," Piccolo ordered as he felt Gohan's energy falling down to normal. "Running does nothing but distance you from your goal."

Gohan's eyes, jet black again, spilled tears as Piccolo let go. He had been snapping back to normal faster, at least. With a loud shriek, he slammed the ground in frustration.

"You want to be two different people, that's your problem," Piccolo said. "You don't want to be that weak, sensitive kid that was taken by Raditz, but you don't want to be the monster that's murdered trillions either. You have to find the center. Only you know what's actually in your heart. And if you're so set on trying to get the Dragon Balls to wish people back, you're clearly not as bad as you think."

"Bullshit," Gohan said, his voice heavy. "It won't change anything! I'm still him…I'm still the one who killed them all, even if they come back!"

"Well you have me there," Piccolo quipped, though he was still serious. "But if you want to continue living, then that means acknowledging your past actions, knowing the reason for those actions, and knowing who you are now. Frieza's army must have been a personal hell, but it's enabled you to be stronger. Tougher."

Piccolo grabbed Gohan by his hair and lifted his head up, forcing him to look him in the eye. "You are not that kid anymore. There's not a person alive on this planet who can push you around. And if you defeat Frieza, you will no longer be bound by any trace of his organization or influence. You can be exactly the person you think you should be."

"I'll still be a murderer," Gohan spat through his teeth.

"Then change your reputation," Piccolo growled. "The very concept disgusts me but, if you want to clear your name and prove you're better, then don't just stop at bringing people back. Help people. Create a world that isn't in danger from people like Frieza, or Vegeta, or Me. Or who you were forced to be."

Piccolo let Gohan go, letting him sink down to the floor. The half-Saiyan didn't move, sullenly looking down. Opting to give him space, Piccolo turned around and head for the lobby.

"You don't have it all figured out, either," Gohan muttered. With a vein in his head swelling, Piccolo swung back around. Gohan's face was neither spiteful or taunting, just exhausted. "I mean, you're mostly there, but…I think you hate the fact that you're not as bad as you think."

Piccolo frowned deeply; since when had this brat been so lucid?

Gohan smiled, weakly. "You want to be the Demon King, but you're not."

Piccolo closed his eyes, despising every single word the kid had spoken. With a sigh, he sat down.

"So it seems."

They stayed like that, just sitting down in silence; there was no bickering, no fighting, just peace. Piccolo intermittently looked up at Gohan, just to see if he was still restless. From the outside, he seemed to at least try considering Piccolo's advice. The former Demon Clansmen still couldn't wrap his head around things getting to this point – willingly spending time with the son of his lifelong enemy. Becoming his de facto life coach, even. The original Piccolo – the true Piccolo - must have been looking up in disgust.

"Ever since you and Vegeta arrived and revealed this Frieza business, I've had this sinking feeling that the end of my life is drawing near."

Gohan looked up, stunned by how Piccolo had chosen to break what felt like an hour of silence.

Piccolo restlessly squeezed his fists. "It's not fear, but more a premonition. Whether it's that fossil on the other side of this room finally croaking, or somebody in Frieza's army getting me. I can almost feel it. Damn that old bastard and his divine foresight. I'm forced to feel his thoughts."

"That's why we keep training," Gohan said, his voice bolder. "I can't die. Not after everything I've gone through."

At least the boy had some level of conviction. It was a strange feeling, being able to forsee his own demise even if he didn't know how it would come. He stared at Gohan's tattered, purple uniform with bated breath. Perhaps on some level, he had wanted to leave something of himself behind.

"Do you ever wonder about Namek?" Gohan asked. "Planet Vegeta's gone, but sometimes I'm curious about what it's like…"

"What's there to wonder? I didn't even know that part of me until Vegeta broke the news. I have all of the Demon King's memories from before his death, and the Demon King has all of God's memories from before the split. If I had to guess, the only trace of that planet left is our language. Besides that, it's just decades of sitting in some wasteland on Earth."

In truth, he did wonder. What did these Namekians look like? What did they live like? Were they an entire planet of meek, faux-philosophical bores like God? Were they skilled martial artists? Were some of the Demon King's customs subconscious memories of the planet? Had the Dragon Balls been a subconscious memory? They were all questions that swirled his mind, much to his chagrin.

"Sometimes we fixate on impossible shit, y'know?" Gohan said. "Like, what would my father be like if he never hit his head? It's hard to imagine that guy being just as nasty as Vegeta, Nappa, and Raditz."

Piccolo laughed, admittedly having visualized it himself in his idle time over the years. Goku of all people, clad in Saiyan armor with one of those sadistic smirks on his face. A truly absurd, impossible image.

"I have a feeling your father would have been an idiot all the same," Piccolo replied.

"I wish I could figure out what he really thinks of me," Gohan said, folding his arms again. "He acts like he's okay, and maybe he really is, but I know he wishes I wasn't…" he spread his arms, gesturing towards his body. "This."

Piccolo shook his head. "Kid, your father damn near sees me as his friend, and I've very literally killed him and threatened everyone he's cared about. I highly doubt he truly thinks less of his own seed. Furthermore, why do you care? Only you know who you truly are, and your opinion is the only one that actually matters. If it weren't the case, we wouldn't be here right now."

"He's my father," Gohan contested. "I'm not like you – I still feel the old memories about myself. I remember how much he and mom used to gush over me. I remember…"

Gohan choked up. For once, he didn't cry, but he had to stop and gather himself.

"I remember how much I loved them"

Gohan buried his head in both hands, looking up at the vast walls. "My mom didn't even want me to be a fighter. How I am now? I don't know how she's even been able to look at me."

Piccolo nodded, recalling Chi-Chi's horror and denial when she first saw Gohan for the first time. She had even tried to attack him for stating the truth of the matter, even without any judgment or condemnation.

"Vegeta…that's the only father figure I've had," Gohan said with a bitter laugh. "And I would have killed him, too."

"You may have been in an unhinged state, but is it really so bad that you would have pursued vengeance towards somebody who's subjected you to grief?"

"You don't get it," Gohan said. "You're right. I do resent him. But all that comes from that weak little baby that Raditz took. Vegeta taught me how to actually be strong. He's saved my life. Even when I thought he didn't give a shit about me, he saved Arepa for no reason than to do right by me."

That was hardly the first time Piccolo had heard Gohan speak that name, Arepa. He would frequently say it in his sleep; even during his meditation. Clearly, whomever this person was meant a lot to Gohan. Hell, he might not have been going through all of these struggles if they were around.

"We're back to square one, then," Piccolo said. "There's one part of you that resents everything Vegeta put you through, and another part that rejects the very idea. With Frieza, it's simple – he's never been anything but terrible, correct?"

Gohan nodded.

"But from the sound of it, Vegeta is several things to you at once. If you killed Frieza, you would be happy. If you killed Vegeta, even if you wanted to, you'd ultimately hate yourself for it. You need to learn how to balance it all out."

Gohan shut his eyes, exhaling through his nose. "I guess."

He kept his eyes closed as a yellow glow enveloped his body. From the way his Ki felt, Piccolo could discern he was making a stronger effort to meditate. For once, he was actually getting through.

Gohan flew as fast as he could, evading the stretchy green arms pursuing his legs. The further he flew, the chillier his body became. He turned around and fired a blast, but Piccolo easily kicked it away. A split-second later, the Namekian was right in front of him and delivered a brutal kick to his jaw. Gohan dropped down, breaking his fall with a flip to land on his feet.

It was month nine, from Gohan's estimation. He could feel his body growing, and it had often been a painful experience even if he came out stronger for it. A month earlier, Piccolo had to zap a new uniform for him after his body ripped through the older one. Now 14 years old, his voice was just a tad deeper and scratchier too.

But that wasn't the most annoying development. With ample time to train in heavier gravity and erratic conditions while Gohan meditated, Piccolo had become a truly worthy opponent. Save for Gohan's lapses of rage that drove him to that insidious transformation, their spars were no longer one-sided beatdowns.

Despite all of his identity issues, Gohan knew one thing for certain – he was a Saiyan, and wouldn't accept anybody besting him in battle. And thus, he flew right back at Piccolo. The two warriors in purple met in a clash, exchanging a flurry of attacks with competitive smirks on their faces. In many ways, the constant sparring had dulled their hostility.

Unfortunately for Gohan, the increasingly cold weather had taken a toll, sapping him of his energy. Piccolo, on the other hand, hadn't even registered the weather thus far and knocked Gohan all the way down to the floor. He landed on his feet again, panting heavily as he looked up. Vapors left his mouth with every breath. The Namekian phased in front of him and aimed a kick at his chest. While Gohan blocked it with his forearm, he flew away in lieu of triggering another exchange of punches and kicks.

Flying brought Gohan further into the cold depths, however. His entire body shivered, having never experienced conditions this frigid in his time in the room. With his energy running low, he could do little to resist the punch Piccolo delivered to his stomach, falling to the floor while feeling bile rise to his throat.

"You humans and your skin," Piccolo taunted. "C-Can't handle a little chill."

Of course, even Piccolo had a slight shiver, which underscored just how absurdly cold the atmosphere had become. Loathe to put up with his mockery, Gohan tried leaping up to prove him wrong, but there was only one problem – his foot wouldn't leave the ground.

When he looked down, his gut wrenched.

Ice had taken hold of his foot. He tried to break free, but it wouldn't budge. Piccolo flew at him, but Gohan frantically blasted him to send him away. The ice began to spread through his entire leg, even though he could only feel it around his foot. He looked at his arms – both now enshrouded in ice.

Shrieking in panic, Gohan somehow broke his foot free from his shoe and flew as far away from the era as he could, as fast as he could. Eventually, his energy ran out and he collapsed, falling onto his hands and knees on the floor. His body was shaking as he desperately heaved for oxygen, running ragged even after adjusted to the thin air. His heart pounded in his chest as nightmares of the all-encompassing ice consumed him. He hadn't even realized that the rest of his limbs were actually fine, and that only the one shoe he had left behind had actually been caught.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" Piccolo asked, flying back in. "Your foot got frozen up. Big deal."

"The ice…!" Gohan whimpered. "It was…it was…"

"Was what?"Piccolo asked. "It was hardly a threat. Your own energy could have put it away."

Whatever Piccolo was saying, Gohan didn't register. The sound of his own heartbeat had drowned everything else out. Feeling his grip slip again brought tears to the boy's eyes. How could this still be happening? After months of isolation, he still wasn't anywhere close.

"What's going on, really?" Piccolo asked. "I highly doubt you're that freaked out just over some ice."

"I can't," Gohan groaned. "I can't…do it…it's not enough!"

"What's wrong?!" Piccolo demanded. "You can't keep bottling it up."

"It's Frieza!" Gohan finally choked out.

"Frieza…ice. Tch. How banal."

"You don't fucking get it!" Gohan snapped, sitting back up. He finally realized that his arms were still normal, though he kept moving them around to make sure. "You didn't see Frieza turn a man's arm into ice and destroy it!"

"What?" Piccolo asked, caught off-guard. Even he sounded fearful.

Gohan wiped off his eyes as his body kept shaking. Piccolo was right – he couldn't keep bottling everything up. "It's been almost ten years…and I still can't get it out of my head. I keep seeing everything I care about getting destroyed like that."

"So it's Frieza's power you fear," Piccolo deduced.

"I thought I was getting somewhere…" Gohan lamented. "Ever since that day, every time I think I'm turning a corner, that fucking ice keeps reminding me. That happened right after I took a whole army out by myself. It was the first time I ever actually felt strong for once. I wasn't crying or getting pushed around. I even saved Vegeta's life…"

He clenched his fist, trying to grasp that feeling of invincibility again. "It could've all been over. Right in the aftermath, my father made that wish to bring me back. The Dragon even asked my permission."

"Seriously?"

Gohan answered with a nod. "It could've been all over. I would've been back here without a trace, but I turned it down. I bought into everything. I wanted to feel strong, I wanted to keep taking people down until I got to Frieza, and then I realized I wasn't anywhere fucking close."

He viciously punched his own foot, nearly cracking his knuckles. "Don't you see now?! This was all my choice! I chose to keep doing this 'cause deep down, I liked it. And it's not even enough."

A sharp pain stabbed at Gohan's head like series of icepicks, forcing him to rub his temple. "Everyone will die because of me…even if we managed to beat Frieza."

"So, the ice holds it all, then," Piccolo said. "Everything you hate, everything you fear."

"Everything I love…" Gohan blurted out. It wasn't just fear that the ice made Gohan recall. It was Arepa and her pale, blue eyes. A day may have only been going on outside, but he still had no idea if she was well or not. She had been dragged into his life, and his fight, because of that same assault on Kabnet's empire. The eyes that granted Arepa her beauty had cursed her to suffer the consequences of Gohan's actions.

"So what will you do then, Gohan?" Piccolo asked, looking out into the cold ether. "Everyone's waiting. Frieza's waiting. Are you going to go back out into the depths and face your worst fear? Or will you just keep hiding from it until it catches up and consumes you?"

Gohan stared at his hands. Frost was sprinkled up and down his palms and his fingers – it all felt real, yet he still didn't know if he was simply imagining it, either.

"It's…just too much."

Piccolo shrugged and sat down cross-legged.

"Then we're just going to be stuck here until you do. Frozen in place, for lack of a better term."

Gohan tugged at a strand of his unkempt hair. How much longer could he allow himself to be a slave to the ice?

This one was supposed to be longer, but I reached a natural stopping off point. I don't like starting and resolving a struggle in the same chapter for some reason *shrugs*