Last Time on…
Dragon Ball: Reborn
Desperate to save his son from his brother's clutches, Goku joined forces with his most fearsome enemy—the offspring of Lord Piccolo. After a heartfelt plea from Chi-Chi, the pair agreed to a temporary truce to put a stop to the alien who had come to destroy their world.
A great battle took place, and it soon became clear the duo was no match for the Saiyan invader. Goku challenged his sibling one-on-one while Piccolo prepared a deadly new technique, confident it would win them the day. However, not all was forgiven between the former rivals. Piccolo hid the fact their technique would not only penetrate Raditz but our hero as well.
Once Goku capitalized on the Saiyan weakness of the tail, Piccolo fired. The move put Goku down for the count, though wasn't quite enough to stop Raditz. As the terror from space arose to finish off his assailant, Gohan escaped from his uncle's ship in grand fashion. The little boy attacked from behind and emerged headfirst through Raditz's chest, putting a grisly and decisive end to the battle…
Season 1, Episode 4 —
"Goku's Journey"
Chi-Chi sat with her arms folded. She tapped her foot out of nervousness—so fast, she was developing a cramp in her ankle. She gnawed on her bottom lip until it stung, producing a coppery taste in her mouth. She wanted to busy her hands with something, to find anything to fidget with. She contemplated twisting and gnarling the material of her dress between her fingers. Eventually, she decided not to. Otherwise, the garment would be shredded to pieces in minutes.
She tried to force herself to take deep breaths, to remain calm, to no avail. She was too on edge, too wound up. Only ascertaining the status of her family would pacify her. It was times like these she wished she continued her martial arts training long enough to develop the extrasensory abilities Goku and his friends did. What she would give to know how the battle was going, whether Gohan was safe. The waiting, the nervous anticipation, the not-knowing was almost worse than any of the imagined horrible outcomes.
Master Roshi sat across from her on the opposite bench in the cargo hold of Bulma's Capsule Copter. His head hung low, bobbing with the turbulence. His tortoiseshell sunglasses masked his beady eyes. Somehow, he was fast asleep, despite his broken ribs. The wheeze to his exhales was slow, rhythmic. Though he was far spryer than he looked, his advanced age couldn't have done anything but exacerbate the pain he was in.
Much like her, the old man's days of fighting were long passed. And yet, he tried valiantly to defend her and her son at great cost, without a moment's hesitation. For once, she didn't begrudge him taking a snooze in a moment of crisis.
Bulma was piloting, as per usual. When stressed, she would often partake in any manual labor or mechanical project she could find to stay occupied. Even menial activities would suffice in a pinch. More so than Chi-Chi, Bulma was the sort of person who tended to overthink things and conjure the worst possible scenarios in her mind. She lived by a hope for the best, prepare for the worst mentality. Busywork of any variety was the antidote to her anxiety. Driving the vehicle, maintaining altitude, keeping everyone stable and alive—these were things which required care, focus. It distracted her from picturing her godson dead, her childhood friend murdered in cold blood.
The team decided by majority vote Yamcha needed to stay at Kame House with Puar and Oolong. Turtle would be getting home from fishing soon. Someone would need to debrief him on everything that occurred while he was gone. If no one did, the poor thing would likely suffer a heart attack at seeing half his home blown to pieces without anyone to explain. Besides, with two busted arms, the former desert bandit would be more of a sitting duck than any of them if things went south.
Krillin took Chi-Chi's former spot in the passenger seat. After visiting Piccolo, vertigo started getting to her, forcing her into the back of the cabin where she couldn't watch the ground speed by beneath them. So much the better, in Krillin's opinion. Not that he didn't have any affection for the wife of his best friend. Nonetheless, there existed the very real possibility they were soaring towards their doom.
If they were going to die, of all the people in the copter at the moment, Bulma was the one Krillin wanted to be closest to at the end.
"How ya feeling?" he asked as the aircraft coasted along. The question was casual, yet no amount of flippancy could conceal the worry in his tone. He was well aware of Bulma's tendency to get lost in her own spiral of morbid thoughts.
Bulma found his worry endlessly endearing. He frequently did this—always downplayed his own injuries out of concern for someone else. The bruises on his bald head were ugly and huge. She wondered how he could possibly ignore them. It amazed her how much physical agony he could stifle to better fret over those he held dear.
"I'm okay, all things considered," she replied, not taking her eyes off the sky. "I only got knocked out. You guys got the worst of it. How're you holding up?"
Krillin used an exploratory index finger and lightly touched his forehead. He winced and wished he hadn't tested the waters. Bulma frowned with sympathy.
"I'll live," he confirmed.
"You sure we're still going the right way?"
"Yeah. Their energies are fluctuating like crazy. They're definitely still northeast of here. Once we get close, they should be hard to miss."
"Copy that," Bulma nodded. She took a hand off the cyclic to pat Krillin on the shoulder. She let her hand stay where it was. He smiled.
"Be sure to land this thing far enough away that we don't get caught up in it. None of us are in any condition for another go around. Unfortunately, this is in Goku's hands, now."
"And Piccolo's," Chi-Chi interjected.
Krillin sighed and turned to address her.
"I'm not sure how much we can trust them, Chi'ch. I mean, how many times have they tried to kill Goku? That's not even counting what their predecessor did to me. And Roshi. And Chiaotzu."
"Krillin, that's enough!" Bulma exclaimed. "Can't you see she's worried sick as is? If she believes Piccolo will help save Gohan, we should have some faith."
Krillin looked at his lap, sheepish. Sometimes, it didn't pay to be a realist.
"You're right. Sorry. I'm sure everything's gonna be okay. Piccolo will come through in the clutch. I mean, they did last year. And Goku always does."
Ain't that the truth? Bulma pondered.
The notion relaxed her a little. Whenever things seemed their darkest, it never failed to comfort her to think of Goku. Much as she feared what could be happening to him right then, she needed to remember this was Earth's personal superhero they were talking about. The man could do anything. Never was there a problem he couldn't solve, an enemy he couldn't beat. He was bravery incarnate. Anyone who knew him could attest to the infectiousness of his courage. It was inspiring simply being in his presence.
Roshi shuddered. His glasses slid down his nose as he appeared to awake with a start.
"The fight's over," he announced. Apparently, he'd been meditating, not sleeping. Chi-Chi leaned in, clamoring for information.
"Well? Who won?" she pleaded.
Roshi didn't look at anyone. Instead, he studied a spot in the cabin's wall, his gaze and thoughts far away. His jaw hung slack.
"Bulma. Ya better step on it. We gotta get there quick," Roshi mumbled, just loud enough for them all to hear.
Chi-Chi began to hyperventilate. Krillin stared forward in stunned silence.
"Everyone buckle up," Bulma commanded.
She punched it the last dozen miles until they arrived at the basin that held the remains of Raditz's ship. A series of new, smaller depressions dotted the obliterated farmlands. The pod looked to have exploded at some point during the skirmish. For long stretches, the grass was singed or outright burning. Black, oily smoke filled the air, coalescing in a foreboding cloud above the battlefield.
"There!" Krillin shouted. He got on his knees in the copilot's chair and pointed at the ground, on the edge of the crater.
There were four bodies. They were difficult to make out from so high up, but it was obvious no one was moving. The battle had indeed come to an end.
"Oh no," Bulma uttered.
She yanked the cyclic and performed an impressive bank around the arena that would've made Yamcha proud. The copter touched onto the dirt and skidded several yards to a stop, taking up a large chunk of disturbed earth with it. She killed the power and opened her door simultaneously. No one waited for the rotor to slow to a stop before leaping out of the vehicle.
It was a grisly scene. Piccolo sat away from the other bodies. The only arm they still possessed hugged their knees to their chest. They didn't look up, didn't blink. It was hard to tell if they were even aware of the others' arrival. The only thing denoting they weren't completely catatonic were the movements of their ears and antennae, reacting to the many sources of fresh sensory input.
A dozen feet from Piccolo was a smeared pool of blood. The smear trailed around and past the facedown corpse of Raditz over to Goku. He was lying on his back, looking up at the sky. There was a gaping hole in his chest, spurting more blood like a geyser. Gohan was nestled in the crook of his arm, covered head to toe in red, sobbing uncontrollably.
"GOHAN, GOKU!" Chi-Chi shrieked. She ran over to her boy and tried to snatch him off the stained grass, but he wouldn't budge from his father's side.
Krillin dashed behind Goku. He did his best to lift his friend's head and upper body as gently as he could, scooting beneath him to prop him up. The fact Goku only continued to smirk during this, exhibiting no signs of pain, was telling.
"H-hey…hey, guys," Goku said softly as Krillin cradled him. Their comrade's eyes were half-closed, unfocused. His lips continued to mouth vowels, even as he stopped talking.
"You're gonna be okay. We're gonna get ya home, buddy. We can fix this," Krillin spoke, frantic, a lump building in his throat.
Blood poured from Goku's back like a faucet, soaking Krillin's pantlegs. He cringed in response.
"Don't…think that's. In the cardsss, pal," Goku hissed as more plasma escaped his lips.
Roshi and Bulma approached. Roshi stopped at a short distance, planting his walking stick into the soil and placing his weight upon it. His sunglasses and thick white beard masked most of his expression. Bulma made it to Goku's feet before collapsing to her knees. She trembled, unable to form any words. She ran a hand through her cropped turquoise hair and started to cry.
"Honey," Chi-Chi croaked.
She placed a hand behind her husband's head and craned her neck to look at him. She made sure to keep her other arm on Gohan, deciding it best to give up trying to take him away from the situation and let the boy grieve however he needed to.
"Chi-Chi. I. I told you I'd…bring Gohan home," Goku tittered between labored breaths. His skin was pale, clammy, growing colder by the moment.
"I knew you would," Chi-Chi wept.
Krillin squinted. He sized up Goku's lesion, then shifted his gaze. He eyed Raditz's lifeless body, as well as the much larger wound that felled him. The Saiyan intruder's long hair rustled in the breeze like crow feathers.
Krillin concentrated on Piccolo. Though missing an arm, they appeared more or less fine. Anger smoldered in the former monk.
"Goku," Krillin growled, "did Piccolo do this to you?"
Piccolo reacted for the first time since the troupe arrived. Without changing position, they rotated their head to watch the gathering. Evidently, they were interested in what the Turtle Hermit graduate had to say.
"Y-yeah," Goku confirmed, "but it's okay. Don't blame them. It was all…part of the plan. Raditz was. Too ssstrong for us. The only way to f-finish him…was to sssacrifice myself."
Piccolo's reaction to Goku's explanation was indecipherable to the others. To them, the green one merely continued to observe the proceedings. Perhaps they felt they owed Goku as much. To witness what their treachery wrought, firsthand.
Krillin wasn't pleased by this revelation. Nevertheless, his demeanor became less hostile. Instead, he refocused on his dying friend, determined to be present with him in his most critical hour.
Goku reached out a shaking, gory hand. It made its way to Gohan and caressed his cheek. Chi-Chi moved her hand from Gohan's shoulder and placed it atop her husband's.
"Everything's…gonna be okay," Goku mumbled, the end drawing near. "I…love you, all."
"Goku," Bulma hiccupped as tears rolled across her cheeks. She stuck out a hand and took hold of Goku's ankle. She didn't want to intrude on his last moments with his family, though wanted to touch him and let him know she was there, all the same.
Roshi cleared his throat. His mustache fluttered as he formulated something to say. At last, tears were visible in the small gap between the rim of his glasses and the beginning of his beard.
"It's all right, m'boy. If you gotta go, you gotta go. Don't keep yerself hurtin' on account a us," spoke Roshi. He tightened his grip on his cane, the rasp in his voice now more pronounced. He readjusted his glasses, unsure what to do with himself.
"Th-thanks…Master," Goku exhaled.
"No, wait!" Chi-Chi panicked. "Honey, I love you so much. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I tried to change you. I'm sorry I—"
But he was already gone. His hand went limp and slid from Gohan's face. The weight of him became heavier in Krillin's arms, and somehow lighter at the same time. The crimson vitality ceased oozing from him.
In an instant, Earth's sworn protector, its greatest champion, was no more.
"GOKU!" Chi-Chi howled. She buried her head in his stomach, cried harder than ever in her life.
Krillin clenched his fists, grasped the cloth of Goku's orange gi tighter. He gnashed his teeth and groaned, his tears dripping onto the fabric. He removed a hand from Goku's back to punch at the ground. The earth folded beneath his knuckles, venting some of his anger and sadness.
Bulma slumped forward. She almost landed face-first in the mud. She managed to catch herself on her elbows.
This wasn't happening. Couldn't be. If anyone had asked her even hours ago if it were possible for Goku to die in battle, she would've scoffed at the idea. She refused to accept this.
Roshi turned away, unable to bear looking at the dead body of a man he'd been instrumental in raising. A man who might as well have been a son to him. His students and their loved ones were the only family he'd ever known. Though blessed with an abnormally long life, it still felt wrong to outlive any of his pupils.
"Daddy," Gohan blubbered.
The boy threw his head into his mother's neck and held her. She took her arms out from around her spouse and hugged her son tight, nearly strangled him with the ferocity of her grip.
In the distance was Piccolo. They were in the same spot, the same pose they held prior. The only difference was the look in their widened eyes, the slight gape of their mouth.
Their expression was a mixed one. Surprise, envy, shock, bewilderment, and the slightest hint of remorse, all mixed and plastered across their stony emerald face.
The cadaver twitched. Everyone flanking Goku recoiled with fright. They inched closer and watched as his skin crackled. As if someone took a chisel to a marble statue, splits bloomed all over his flesh. As the seconds ticked by, these fissures extended to his clothing as well. His already bloodless complexion turned grayer, more unnatural. Most of them hadn't a clue what this meant, what the significance was.
Goku's body burst. Not into a gruesome mess, but a plume of ashes. His skin and clothes and muscles and hair all went from charcoal to white, then disintegrated. Some of him scattered across the ground akin to dropped sand. The rest puffed into the air, glowing like dust motes caught in a sunbeam. Soon, there was nothing left of him. Even his spilled blood evaporated in an ethereal mist.
"What. What just happened?" Chi-Chi wondered aloud. Krillin shook his head in bafflement, unable to answer her.
Roshi spun once the desiccation commenced. As his mind caught up with what he'd seen, jigsaw pieces fell into place, one by one. Only he and Piccolo had any clue what really transpired.
Bulma stared, uncomprehending. Nothing she'd witnessed over the course of a lifetime accepting the coexistence of magic and science prepared her for seeing her friend explode in an ashen fog. She looked to Gohan, wondered how the little boy would reconcile such a display.
Her godson seemed shell-shocked, detached. He didn't make a peep. His tears ceased flowing.
"I've got a hunch," Roshi piped in amidst the horror and confusion. "Not sure, though. Don't wanna get anyone's hopes up."
They all examined the old man as he pulled his walking stick from the ground and levitated. His mind was running at a thousand miles per hour. Each wrinkle on his forehead symbolized a thought dancing through his consciousness. He performed a quick exhale of discomfort from his injuries.
"I'm gonna head back to Kame House. Yamcha should be rested enough by now to fly. I'll deliver the news. I'll tell 'im to bring Puar and Oolong back with 'im to yer place, Bulma."
"Yeah. Okay, sure," she replied, absentminded. Going home was the furthest thing from her mind, though doing so made the most sense.
"I'll touch base when I know somethin'," Roshi vowed, then took off in the direction whence they came.
A moment of silence preceded Bulma getting to her feet. Jarred from her daze, she brushed herself off and stepped over to the edge of the crater. She peered over its side and inspected the wreckage of the space pod. It laid in several large chunks, as well as a cornucopia of shattered small parts.
The minute circuitry and hull weren't salvageable. Nothing to be done about it. She figured she could make use of a great deal of the more important stuff.
"Krillin," she called out, "C'mere. You're way stronger than I am. I need you to grab as many of these big pieces of Raditz's ship as you can. Help me load them into the copter."
"What? Why?" Krillin questioned as he, too, got up.
"I want to study them. With those fragments and the device he left us, maybe tinkering with them can at least make something good come out of all this."
The former sadness was absent from the blue-haired scientist's face and speech. A mighty shifting of gears had taken place. She sounded resolute, ready to get to work. It was how she solved most problems which came her way. Whether such a thing was ultimately healthy was another discussion entirely.
"Bulma…are you sure this is really the best time?" Krillin asked, his brow knotted in puzzlement.
"Please. Just do it," Bulma replied curtly. Obviously, this was no longer a request, but an order.
Krillin moped and did as was told. He slid down the side of the pit and gathered as much in his arms as he could manage. While he did, Bulma went to face Chi-Chi and Gohan. They were still on the ground, bleary-eyed, yet not in hysterics anymore.
"We're all heading to Capsule Corp.," Bulma announced.
Chi-Chi stared up at her. She watched her for a while, thinking she understood what her new calm, calculated demeanor meant.
"I think Gohan and I should head home."
"Nope. You're coming with us. Not optional. We'll get you all cleaned up, have some food, relax a little. You two shouldn't be alone right now."
"I'll have my father. He'll come by to keep us company."
"Good. Call him. Tell him to meet us at Capsule Corp.," Bulma retorted, not taking no for an answer.
Chi-Chi wanted to be polite, to keep refusing, though she didn't want to. Returning to their house on Mt. Paozu would serve as nothing more than a carousel ride through all their memories with Goku. She was more than willing to put it off for as long as she could.
"One second," Chi-Chi said as she arose. She turned and traipsed towards Piccolo.
Bulma opened her mouth to say something in protest but thought better of it. She parsed it out rationally. If Piccolo was still a danger to them (at least at this very moment), they would've made it obvious already.
The green one watched the fair-skinned woman as she approached them with child in tow. She stopped mere feet from them. The look in her eyes was one of gratitude and scrutiny commingled.
"I want to thank you. You kept your word. You saved my son's life. Again."
Piccolo said nothing. They didn't wave away the gesture, either. Instead, they paid rapt attention to the strong-willed mother standing in front of them. The one whose life was falling apart, thanks to their actions.
"You should come with us. To Bulma's. I have some questions I would like to ask you. I'm sure you could also use a meal. Think of it as a reward. The first of many. I owe you more than I could ever dream of repaying."
They weren't sure why they agreed.
They got to their feet and sauntered towards the Capsule Copter. Before going inside, Piccolo froze. They debated doing something.
A yellow ball of energy the size of a melon materialized in Piccolo's hand. Their mind made up, they rotated their torso and threw it past Bulma. The team jumped, about to mobilize in retaliation, then realized the green one's aim.
The attack struck Raditz's dead body. Immediately, the corpse burst into flames. It smoldered and dissolved in the heat.
As Chi-Chi gawked, an increment of satisfaction made its way onto her grief-stricken face.
Hours later, as the sun descended past the horizon, the gang regrouped at Bulma's house.
The Capsule Corporation headquarters was a massive complex in the heart of West City. When viewed from the front lawn (specifically its cobblestone entrance path), the building was a gigantic cream-colored dome. Several long sections of violet window panes dotted the surface of the structure in an asymmetrical pattern. In the blank center of this cluster of sectioned glass were the words CAPSULE CORP. emblazoned across the exterior of the building in enormous cobalt letters.
A series of squat, rounded spires jutted from the roof of the edifice. These were the living quarters utilized by Bulma and her parents. The rest of the building was populated with R&D laboratories, testing bays, a few offices and boardrooms, and the homes of all its employees. Every scientist, lab technician, security guard, field tester, and groundskeeper lived on company premises. Even the hired help that maintained the cleanliness of the facilities were provided room and board, on top of their excellent salaries and benefits. Dr. Brief, ever the humanitarian, always strived to keep his immense staff as stress-free and dedicated to their work as possible. He decided one of the best ways to accomplish that was to eliminate the ever-present worry of paying rent. The cost of living was high these days, especially in a bustling, technologically advanced metropolis like West City. With the company being the most profitable and ubiquitous business entity on the planet, it was a concession the good doctor could afford a thousand times over.
When seen from a side angle or behind, it was revealed the Capsule Corp. HQ was in actuality a half-dome. These exposed parts of the building were where the numerous hangars, open-air gardens, and the majority of the recreational facilities existed. Presently, the Z-Warriors were in Bulma's sprawling personal lab in the east wing.
Krillin sat on a barstool at a marble kitchen island, nursing a bowl of soup. Piccolo sat across from him with a glass of water, avoiding eye contact. Chi-Chi and Gohan were on the floor of the dining area in the kitchenette. She was using a wet cloth, diligently trying to clean all the blood from him. Bulma offered to let her godson wash up, but he remained unresponsive. Normally, Chi-Chi would've gone and bathed him herself. He was still her little boy, after all. Gohan had put a stop to that almost a year ago, saying he was too grown-up for such a practice.
Bulma was at her vast white desk, about twenty feet away from the others. Next to her on the long flat surface was a particularly intricate hunk of Raditz's ship. She wore a welding mask to protect her face as she soldered wires and pieces together.
Krillin continued to stare down Piccolo. He made a show of loudly slurping his tomato bisque, making absolutely sure Piccolo knew they were being watched.
"So," the small man began, smacking his lips, "you mean to tell me you never eat? You only drink water? How do you build and retain muscle mass?"
Piccolo squinted their eyes and shrugged with indifference. Goku's friend was trying to bait them into an argument, or worse yet, a fight. They weren't planning on indulging him.
"Beats me. If more of my kind exist beyond myself and Kami, I don't proclaim to know how our biology works. Just that it does."
Krillin narrowed his eyes in return and took another loud sip from his spoon.
"Piccolo," Chi-Chi said, diverting the tension.
She tossed the rag she was using to clean Gohan into the nearest trashcan. The little one still had some stains on his coat and in his hair, but for now, it was as good as he was going to get. He would need a long, hot soak to get the rest out. The outfit was likely done for, meaning if nothing else, she and Goku wouldn't have to argue over him wearing it again.
How quickly we forget. You won't be arguing with him about anything anymore, she thought to herself.
She took a moment to regain her composure before addressing Piccolo again. Gohan remained on the floor, sitting on his knees, staring at the reflective black tiles. She prayed this was only temporary, that he would break out of this numb state soon. She didn't know what she would do if there was a bigger problem at play than the shock of seeing one's parent die in front of them.
"I wanted to ask you how the battle went," Chi-Chi continued as she took a seat next to Krillin. "What went down, exactly?"
"You sure you wanna know?" Piccolo probed. The woman's tenacity surprised them yet again. They couldn't tell if it was a quality she'd leeched from her husband, or if it was a raging fire all her own.
"Yes. I'm sure. I lost the love of my life today. I at least want to know how it happened."
Krillin let his spoon rest in the half-empty bowl. He'd been waiting for this explanation as well.
Piccolo's eyes darted between them. They let out a sigh, then told the story.
"It was a fierce battle. Raditz was unlike anything I'd ever fought before. Even Goku's strength combined with my own wasn't enough to stop him. We tried everything. Coordinated attacks. Physical barrages. Energy waves. Nothing sufficed. At one point, Goku used the Kamehameha. It would've been to great effect, had Raditz not tanked the brunt of it. I did the best I could to keep him in the path of the beam. Because of that, I wasn't able to get out of the way in time. I lost my arm in the process," they said as they gave their cauterized stump a wiggle.
"Boo-hoo," Krillin said in a flat monotone. "Your kind can regenerate, right? Why haven't you made it grow back yet?"
"I used up everything in the fight. Regeneration expends a lot of energy. I could create a new arm right now if I so wished. I'd likely pass out on the floor if I did. I'm nothing if not patient."
"Still doesn't make sense you only drink water. How do you generate new biomass?"
"Krillin, enough!" Chi-Chi interjected.
The former monk cowered. He didn't like this was becoming a pattern. Piccolo snickered.
"As I was saying, I lost my arm. My usefulness going forward was suspect, at best. Prior to us arriving on the battlefield, I disclosed to Goku information on a new technique I was perfecting. One that might win us the day. It was a move I created to destroy him with."
"Looks like everything went according to plan there, huh?" Krillin seethed. Chi-Chi smacked him on the top of his head, narrowly missing a bruise.
Piccolo faltered in their explanation. A pang of guilt ate away at them, wholly unsolicited. The man in question was the one who killed their creator, took away any other drive they might've had in life. Why did they feel so conflicted over succeeding in killing them? It was something they'd worked towards for years. Their sole obsession. Was it their newfound lack of purpose? The emptiness that follows achieving such a monumental goal? They couldn't begin to know.
"He bought me the time I needed. Raditz was still on the offensive, still too strong. Goku seized his tail, immobilizing him. He told me to fire. I did. I was delighted—I would kill two birds with one stone. I would stop this monster, fulfilling my promise to you," they said to Chi-Chi, "and achieve revenge against my mortal enemy. Be it saving a life or taking one, I consider my word my bond.
"My attack wasn't enough to kill Raditz. My aim was a little off."
"Can't imagine why," Krillin muttered. Piccolo ignored it.
"He got up after the beam pierced him. I thought I was done for. Then, the boy appeared. He forced his way out of Raditz's space pod. He propelled himself through the air. The hole in Raditz must've been precisely big enough to weaken the structural integrity of his chest. Rather than ricochet off him or knock him to the ground, Gohan blasted straight through him. Not unlike how Goku felled my predecessor. That's why the boy was covered in Raditz's blood."
"See? Now I know you're making this up," Krillin scoffed.
"Believe what you want."
"Did Goku know your attack would kill him, too?" Chi-Chi asked. Her expression was blank.
"I thought not. I won't lie to you. I did not divulge said tidbit to your husband. I genuinely believed I got the drop on him when my technique tore through Raditz, then continued on to Goku. When I approached him in the aftermath…he seemed satisfied. Almost pleased. I felt he couldn't have known it would happen.
"Perhaps he enters all battles with the knowledge he could die. Maybe he approaches all plays as being potentially self-sacrificial ones. In any case, as you can all attest, he didn't begrudge my trickery. All that mattered to him was the safety of his son, and by extension, the Earth."
Piccolo brought their fingers to their face and pinched the bridge of their nose. They gathered their thoughts, still not knowing what to make of Goku's motivations, as well as their own.
"I suppose Goku knew me better than I imagined. In all probability, he knew very well I would take any opportunity I might find to dispatch him. Planned for it. Made sure if it was going to occur, it would at least serve the ultimate purpose. The grand design. Sometimes I think he's not as stupid as my forebearer pegged him. Even in death, Goku has bested me. For I cannot reconcile this…regret I feel."
Krillin's fist shook atop the polished surface next to his food. He kept his cool, much as he wanted to leap forward and throttle the overgrown slug.
Chi-Chi experienced no trouble staying calm. Quite the contrary, her demeanor towards Piccolo mutated from one of thankfulness and amicability to one of cold indifference.
"I see. Thank you for your honesty. I appreciate it," she said before getting up and rejoining Gohan on the ground.
"You haven't changed," Krillin spoke low. "I dared myself to think for a second you might've. That Goku saw something in you no one else could. I figured if you were willing to risk your own life to save Gohan's not once, but twice? Maybe he was on to something. Maybe there was more to you. I was wrong. And so was he. You took the trust and faith of the best of us, and you threw it away without a care in the world. You don't give a damn about anyone except yourself. You're no less a monster than Raditz was. Go back to the hole you crawled out of," said Krillin. He stood from his seat and turned away from the green one. Piccolo only sat there, stunned.
Krillin crossed the room and made his way to Bulma. He placed a hand on her back.
"You get all that?" he asked. Bulma nodded, her reaction to the information masked by her helmet.
"Yeah. Dude, get a look at this," she said, changing the subject. Her voice was tinny and muffled.
Krillin tilted his head, unsure how she could've processed the aforementioned conversation and have no response to it.
"'Dude'? Seriously? Your Yamcha is showing," Krillin mocked.
"Whatever. Look, check this out. Raditz's ship had a super-sophisticated kind of projection technology. See these two laser arrays? They work in tandem to draw a 3D image on charged particles in the air. This is amazing," she marveled.
"Uh-huh," Krillin responded, growing irritated. "Is this really important right now?"
"Of course it is! Don't you see what this means? I'm on the verge of getting this thing working again, independent of his ship. I've already got it wired to the headset he gave Goku, which appears to have three main uses. First and foremost, it analyzes biometric signatures, pretty inaccurately. It accounts for power spikes, though since you can all mask and raise your energy levels at will, it's basically useless for that function. Boards in it are also shoddy. This thing couldn't even handle a stress test of you maxing out your power."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?" Krillin balked, offended. Bulma steamrolled past his query.
"Its secondary use is as some kind of oral commlink. It has a surprisingly high threshold for range and vocal clarity. My guess is this is what Raditz and his cohorts use to communicate if they aren't anywhere near their ships. The third primary use is the most interesting. This thing has a built-in, real-time translator. Actually, calling it a translator would be downplaying it. It doesn't process what it hears and regurgitate it both ways to reconcile lingual differences. Once it catches a sample of an unknown dialect, it uses its inner ear connection to interface directly with the user's brain. It literally rewires your neural pathways on the fly. It processes any words or phrases it hears and autocompletes the language, feeding it into your head, teaching it to you almost instantaneously. Do you have any idea how insane that is? I've never seen anything like it. Imagine what it could do if someone like me rebuilt it—if it wasn't made with such garbage materials. If I can reverse engineer it, Capsule Corp. can utilize this tech in all its future computer and phone designs. Holographic telecommunication with no language barriers."
"Huh," Krillin replied, uncertain he was able to follow everything she said. "S'cool, I guess."
"It's more than just 'cool', Krillin. This could be revolutionary. Especially with—"
A spark of electricity arced between the headset and the piece of machinery she was working on. The bolt struck the inside of her elbow, a few inches above her thick rubberized gloves. She shot up from her seat and cursed angrily.
"Woah! Bulma, you okay?" Krillin asked, taken aback.
"No! I'm not okay!" she shouted. She tore off her helmet and threw it across the room. It clattered loudly against the far wall. Chi-Chi looked up and immediately covered Gohan's ears, though he didn't budge at all from the outburst.
"It's fine, what do you need? Is there a first-aid kit somewhere?" Krillin questioned.
"I don't need a first-aid kit!" she screamed, getting more and more frustrated. "I electrocute myself every day! You see me crying about it? NO! What's not okay is I can't do a single thing right. I can't make this piece of crap behave the way I want it to. I can't protect my friends, my family—I'm useless!"
Bulma plucked random objects off her desk and hurled them across the room, each impact and explosion of parts and pieces louder than the last. Krillin shrunk in terror, knowing better than to say another word, to interrupt her fit.
"'Hey, Bulma, wanna give us a ride somewhere?' SURE! No problem. 'Hey, Bulma, can you fix this thing for us?' Yup, it's what I do! But I can't do anything that matters!" she cried, her face turning red, tears dribbling down her cheeks. She continued to smash, continued to trash her lab, her attempts at distracting and immersing herself in work having failed utterly and completely.
Once she was out of breath, she turned towards her desk and used it to stabilize herself. She sobbed, her voice raw. Her shoulders hitched and she struggled to remain upright.
Krillin's heart ached for her. He approached, intending to embrace her and tell her everything would be all right. Before he could reach her, she plucked one more object from her desk and cocked back, ready to toss it. She stopped in mid-arm extension and looked at the item in her grasp. It was rectangular with a lime-green crosshatched screen, its casing glossy and white. She stared at it for a long time. Her tears gradually ebbed away.
It was the Dragon Radar. She built the thing when she was a teenager. It was used to detect the very specific frequency given off by the Dragon Balls, therefore acting as a locator for them.
"Oh. Oh, for Kami's sake. I am such an idiot!" Bulma proclaimed. A grin stretched across her face, causing Krillin to wonder if she'd officially snapped, lost her mind.
"I'm. Sure that's not true," he said carefully.
"No, I totally am," Bulma laughed. She walked towards Krillin and threw her arms around him in a bearhug. He didn't resist the gesture, though was all the more confused by it.
"Uh, Bulma? Maybe you should lie down," Krillin said, his voice muffled by her bosom.
He was so conflicted. Half of him wanted to settle in and revel in this physical contact he was having with her. The other half, the one loyal to his friend and possessing the presence of mind to realize she was probably experiencing a psychological breakdown prevailed. By necessity, his concern, his worry for her outweighed his desire for intimacy.
"Krillin, don't you see? We can use the Dragon Balls. That's why I'm a dummy. Why didn't I think of this sooner?"
Krillin's heart skipped a beat. He forced himself to pull away from her and studied her face.
"What? What do you mean?"
"We can use the Dragon Balls to bring Goku back to life!" she yelled with joy.
Exactly ten seconds of quiet ensued before Krillin lost it. A grin matching Bulma's tattooed itself to his face. He gripped her hands and danced with her in a circle, jumping and shouting in unrestrained jubilation.
"You're right! How did we not think of that!?" Krillin bellowed. Bulma gave a comically exaggerated shrug and started to laugh hysterically.
The bald man turned and dashed towards Chi-Chi and Gohan.
"Guys, didja hear? We can use the Dragon Balls to wish Goku back to life! Just like we did back in the day for Roshi and Chiaotzu. And yours truly, of course. We've already got yours. We only need to find the other six, and Goku won't be dead anymore."
Chi-Chi stared at Krillin, slack-jawed. Little by little, the color and light returned to her. Her eyes became wide and tear-filled, her frown curving into a smile.
"Well. That certainly is good news," she hiccupped.
Relief washed over her in an awesome wave. She cupped her son's face in her palms and forced him to look up at her.
"Did you hear, Sweetie? Your dad's going to be okay. He's coming home," she whispered, elated. Gohan seemed to recognize the words she was saying, though still didn't react to them.
Piccolo stared. Deep down, they knew this would be a likely outcome, though for obvious reasons didn't bring up the idea themselves. Their feelings pertaining to this revelation were inscrutable to the others. Even the green one couldn't explain the tiny shred of gratification they felt at the idea of Goku's impending return.
A blaring note thundered across the room. Everyone but Gohan flinched at the sound. Piccolo, in particular, was nearly incapacitated by the high-pitched digital whine. It was coming from the equipment on Bulma's desk. At first, she assumed she crossed a wire or some sort of feedback was issuing forth from the speaker of Raditz's headset. Once the cacophony abated and words were spoken, she realized a signal was being broadcast.
"Raditz? Raditz, come in! We received your Attack Ball's distress signal," said a gruff, throaty voice. As the mysterious addresser spoke, the projector system Bulma brought back to functionality activated. The twin lasers worked in tandem, stenciled a fragmented image of what looked like a man.
Uh-oh. His ship's beacon must've been programmed to send out a signal if destroyed, Bulma considered. Krillin uncovered his ears and circled around behind the figure as it bloomed into existence.
There were large parts of the hologram missing, likely due to the laser arrays still being damaged by Gohan's outburst. Nonetheless, enough of the picture was complete to give the group a sense of who was contacting them. Bulma faced the computerized apparition and gulped.
"Who are you? Where's Raditz?" the man demanded.
He didn't have a particularly imposing stature. He was taller than Krillin, only a half-inch or so more than Bulma. He had severe, angular features. His long dark hair was slicked back but stuck out behind his head at a straight angle. His eyes were narrow and menacing. He wore a jumpsuit and set of armor similar to Raditz's, though with long sleeves and lighter hues on the shoulders and abdomen.
"I'll ask again. Who are you? Where's Raditz?" the man spoke, anger contorting his face.
"My name's B-Bulma," the young woman said nervously. She waved a hand through the hologram and felt the minuscule hairs on her arm stand up and become charged with static. "Can you see me?"
"Well enough. The image is distorted on my end, but I can hear you loud and clear. You seem to have difficulty hearing me, so I'll ask one more time. WHERE is Raditz!?" the man snapped. Bulma was jolted by the outburst, though did not back down.
"He's dead," she said with a wry smile.
The color drained from Krillin's face. Piccolo stood from the kitchen island. Chi-Chi vibrated with fear. And for the first time in hours, something clicked on in Gohan. He had his head turned as he watched the goings-on in the lab with intent, studious eyes.
"He's what?" the projection growled. The fury on the man's face was terrifying, despite his unassuming height.
"That's right. He's dead. D-E-A-D, dead. Need me to say it louder?" Bulma teased, unsure where this sudden surge of defiance was originating from.
"How? Explain yourself!"
Bulma puffed out her chest, masked her apprehension with more false bravado.
"Our friend Goku killed him. What're you gonna do about it, huh?"
"Bulma, shut up," Krillin said under his breath as he raised his hands in supplication.
"No, I won't shut up," she clapped back. "You heard me. Earth's not ripe for the taking. It has defenders. Heroes. You wanna go up against us? You wanna try to take our planet by force? You're gonna need an army, pal. I don't care if you think Goku is one of you or not, he's ours now. You can send a hundred more like Raditz and he'll mow 'em all down just the same."
Krillin was petrified. Piccolo stepped closer. Chi-Chi shook her head in disbelief. Gohan remained attentive. Bulma was sweating, exhausted by her own spiel.
"This one's a keeper," the man said to someone over his shoulder outside the hologram. The rage appeared to have left his visage, now replaced with admiration and mirth. He looked Bulma up and down, gave her a once-over. She creased her brow and folded her arms over herself in response.
"I can assure you this, Earthling. We won't need an army. I guess Kakarot is stronger than we all anticipated if he succeeded in defeating Raditz. This complicates the plans I had for him significantly. Such inconveniences will not go unpunished."
"That your idea of a threat? We're not scared of you," Bulma replied, lying through her teeth.
"Heh. I can see. No matter. When things don't go your way, pivot and readjust. It's the only way to survive in this universe. I'll let my bosses know sending a fleet won't be necessary. My attendant and I will request to be sent to Earth personally. I don't imagine they'll protest, considering your people murdered one of our own, a close friend of mine. So much the better. Recruiting Kakarot, making him bend the knee, obliterating your planet? All work best taken care of myself."
"Boy, you're an arrogant one. What makes you so confident you'll win? If Goku could beat Raditz, you twerps will be a piece of cake," Bulma boasted. Krillin was on the verge of fainting.
The man chuckled. Soon as he did, another figure stepped into the hologram behind him. He was muscles on top of muscles. He was so big; his whole body didn't even fit in the image. Everyone's blood went cold.
"Because, while Raditz was strong, he was nothing compared to my attendant and myself. Be ready, B-Bulma. I look forward to meeting you in, oh, let's say, one Earth year."
"F-fine! We will be," she stammered. With that, the 3D projection blew up in an expanding cloud of iridescent blue dust.
"Bulma," Krillin spoke up after a spell, "what the hell did you do?"
"I. I don't know. I'm still emotional, all right? And the guy got to me."
"You're emotional? That's your excuse for endangering our whole planet!?" he yelled, incredulous.
He couldn't believe this was happening. Not even a day after an alien invasion which cost them their best friend, another, even worse one was on the horizon.
"It's no biggie, Krillin. I don't believe the blowhard for a second when he boasts about how strong he is. Raditz did the same thing and we managed to take him out."
"Barely," Piccolo chimed in.
"Still. We'll mobilize, get the whole gang together. Train. We've got a year! Little dude might as well have handed victory to us on a silver platter. And that's way more than enough time to gather the Dragon Balls and wish Goku back to life. Those aliens don't even know he's dead, so there's an advantage on our side."
Krillin was speechless. Much as he cared for Bulma and touted her peerless intelligence, for once he did not believe she was thinking things through.
"I wanna fight."
Everyone in the room spun towards Gohan. He stood from the ground, untangled himself from his mother's arms, and stepped to where the hologram used to be. He removed his yellow, blood-splattered coat. He took off his suit jacket, tie, and button up. All that was left were his polished shoes, green slacks, and a pale undershirt. He looked up at Piccolo, his pudgy face tight and determined.
"Train me," Gohan said to Piccolo.
"Absolutely not! No way," Chi-Chi blurted. She scrambled off the floor and ran to her son's side.
"Buddy, you can't be serious," said Krillin.
"I am. I wanna be strong like my dad. I can help. If someone will teach me. I helped against Raditz."
"You…you remember?" Piccolo stuttered. Last year, Gohan completely forgot the role he played in felling the first enemy they and Goku united against. Then again, the boy was only three years old at the time.
"A little. I remember…flashes. I know I got out of Raditz's ship. Somehow. I know when I did, he was still standing. Then I blacked out. When I woke up, Raditz was down. I was covered in blood. It felt icky."
"I knew telling him stories about his dad was a bad idea," Chi-Chi said through clenched teeth before shooting daggers at Bulma and Krillin with her eyes.
Gohan tugged at Piccolo's pant leg to reacquire their attention.
"Please. Teach me how to fight. If my daddy was strong, I must be, too. Right?"
"Not yet. You can be," Piccolo said without thinking. Chi-Chi rounded on them.
"What do you all not understand about the word 'no'? Gohan, I just got you back. I can't lose you again. I've already lost your father," she said, tears encroaching on her. Her son looked at her sympathetically.
"You didn't lose him. He'll be back soon, remember? With the Dragon Balls? And don't worry about me. I won't get hurt. Piccolo will protect me."
Piccolo was aghast. They were not consulted on that last bit. They didn't even recall whence they became drafted into this conflict.
"Gohan, I am your mother, and I am telling you NO."
"Mommy," Gohan said as he trotted closer to her. She knelt to face him.
"I'm not bending on this, Sweetie. You can't train. I'm not letting you turn into some boxing musclehead like your dad."
"I have to. Isn't it wrong for a good person to not do something when they know they can?" the boy postulated.
Chi-Chi faltered. She took hold of his shoulders.
"Well. Yes. But not you! You're only a child. No one's expecting this of you. No one needs you in this fight."
"Not now. The fight's not here. Not yet. What if it takes Aunt Bulma more than a year to find the Dragon Balls? What if Daddy's friends can't get strong enough? You always say how smart I am. What if I'm smarter than all them? Maybe they'll need a smart kid."
"You're definitely smarter than all them," spoke Bulma with a grin and a sidelong glance. She was more than a little to blame for said fact. She couldn't be prouder.
"Why? Why won't anyone listen to me?" Chi-Chi fretted. Gohan bit the inside of his cheek and placed a tiny, cold hand on her face.
"It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay, Mommy. You've all been saying that so much today. It's time for somebody to believe it. Daddy did. You should, too."
Chi-Chi looked her boy in the eye. She saw so much of his father in him, then. All his bravery, his goodness, his inability to accept a selfish answer to any problem. She wanted to keep the argument going, to exercise her rights and fulfill her duties as a parent.
She knew a day like this would come. She'd been mentally preparing for it over a year, now. Gradually, her resolve weakened. She couldn't muster the fortitude to keep fighting for the wrong thing.
Gohan about-faced to address Piccolo again.
"Will you train me? You killed my dad. You kinda owe me."
The green one almost let out a hearty guffaw. They stifled it, in awe of the boy's gumption. They should've been offended by such an obvious ploy, such an over-the-top attempt at manipulation.
They were starting like him.
"Gohan, what if I trained you? Then you're not, y'know, getting taught by your dad's worst enemy?" Krillin begged. Gohan made an apologetic face.
"Sorry, Uncle Krillin. Piccolo's way stronger than you. Besides, he's fought a…what was it called? A Saiyan? Yeah, a Saiyan. He lasted a lot longer than you did against one. I think he'll have more to teach me."
Krillin crossed his arms in embarrassment, the violet contusions on his head matching his bruised ego.
"All right. I will instruct you in the fighting arts. I will show you how to control and manipulate your energy. I will make you a force to be reckoned with, child," said Piccolo.
"I have some conditions," Gohan piped in. Piccolo blew out a mouthful of air.
"On with it, then."
"Number one. Don't go easy on me 'cuz I'm four. I wanna work as hard as my dad did to get strong."
Piccolo nodded in approval.
"Second. I get to see my mom on weekends. I get to go home two days a week. Okay?"
"What is this, a custody hearing!?" Krillin shouted. He threw up his arms in exasperation.
Piccolo mulled the proposition over. They rolled their eyes and agreed.
"Probably for the best. It does no one any good to tear themselves down twenty-four hours a day, every day. Rest is as essential to becoming strong as lifting weights and honing your techniques. Goes without saying I'll need a break from you as well."
"Gohan," Bulma uttered. "I'll start looking for the Dragon Balls right away. We'll get your dad back to you soon. I promise."
Gohan smiled.
"Good," the tyke declared.
He stuck out a hand towards Piccolo. The green one hesitated before shaking it. They needed to force themselves to be far gentler with the gesture than they otherwise might've been.
"Partners?" Gohan questioned.
"Partners. For now," Piccolo replied begrudgingly.
Master Roshi hovered with his legs folded in what used to be the second story of Kame House. He rested his hands on his thighs facing up, his thumbs and index fingers touching. He breathed deep, concentrated his power, poured it all into healing.
He felt the moist wheeze in his lungs slowly alleviate as the bones in his chest reset, fell back into place. This would be a long, arduous process, though shorter than it might've been if he wasn't proficient in redirecting his body's natural flow of energy where it was needed most.
The sun was dipping under the most distant waves of the sea. It would be night soon. Since Yamcha and the talking critters were out of the house (save for Turtle), he was ready for the most pertinent item on his to-do list.
He needed to reach out and touch someone.
"Kami," Roshi whispered to himself.
His skin grew tingly. All his infinitesimal white hairs stood on end. He shut his eyes and slowed his respiration to a crawl. He could hear his heart thump in his ears. The noise eventually receded into the background, became one with the lapping of the ocean waves at the island's shore.
"Kami," he repeated, louder. He could feel his aura extending out beyond his body, reaching into the ether surrounding him.
It was a long while before he received a reply. When he did, a jolt hit him at the top of his spine.
Greetings, old friend, a voice spoke in Roshi's head. It sounded old, fatherly. Warm.
"Hey Yerself, You old coot," Roshi tittered.
It's good to hear from you, Master.
"Pssh. Master? You flatter me," Roshi chuckled. "I'm gonna take a wild guess You've been watching what's been going on today?"
Indeed I have. My condolences. Goku was a wonderful man. He will be missed. I suspect not for long, given you and your friends' affinity for my treasures.
"More or less why I'm callin' You, Kami. Wanted to know if You had somethin' to do with Goku's disappearing act at the end, there."
The wise deity answered matter of factly.
I did. Goku is the most powerful warrior on Earth. He is too important to get lost in the shuffle of souls on the other side.
"You've got plans for 'im, then?"
I do. To that end, I humbly request you and your ilk do not revive him with the Dragon Balls until I inform you the time is right.
Roshi paused. He knew there was something greater at work here than simple otherworldly business.
"What's comin'? I'm guessin' there's somethin' on its way to us?"
I am afraid so. In the years since Lord Piccolo's reign, Earth has enjoyed relative peace. That peace has come to an end. The Saiyans are endangered, yet the interloper you all encountered was not the last. Two more have sworn revenge. They are in the far reaches of space, heading towards our planet as we speak. They will be here in one year.
Roshi sucked his lips. He sighed.
"Was afraid of somethin' like that. Damn. If I was a bettin' man, I'd say they're ten times stronger than the one we fought?"
At least. You would all do well to unite. Do everything in your power to muster more strength. I will do what I can to help. We have precious little time.
"I'll put out the call. Yamcha's still pretty laid up. We'll need more Senzu Beans. I'll try to get ahold of Tien, Chiaotzu, and the others."
Do so. I will contact Master Korin, see about getting you those beans, as well as cultivating more. You are going to need them.
"I 'spect so. Many thanks for the info, Kami. I'll keep in touch. Lemme know about Goku."
I shall. Dark days lie in front of us. Good luck, old friend.
Roshi felt a distinct shrinking of his awareness. It was the sensation of his aura being pulled back into his body. His elevation decreased until he touched onto the hardwood floor.
When he opened his eyes, it was fully night. He got to his feet and stretched.
"Whelp. Gotta get the band back together," he told himself as he turned and walked downstairs, eager to find any excuse he could to avoid the cleanup and rebuilding job ahead of him.
Dying felt weird. It wasn't exactly the horrendous experience he was led to believe most of his life. Even so, he wasn't in any kind of rush to do it again.
The pain beforehand was one thing. He'd endured a lot of suffering over the years, usually at the hands of some sadistic foe hell-bent on world domination. The worse part was everything you left behind. Family, friends, your home. It was more than a little traumatic. Then your soul gets sucked out of you, thrown a whole plane of existence away. That part wasn't pleasant, either.
When Goku next found himself able to understand and perceive his environment, he was standing on a platform. It was large, circular, and gray. It appeared to be afloat in an endless ocean of clouds which looked identical to the Nimbus. The sky above was a calming peach color, stretching on infinitely.
Even though this place seemed to be in a perpetual state of twilight, no stars or other astral bodies were visible in any direction. He did notice a long, twisting stone path in front of him stretching off the platform and descending into a dune of clouds far up ahead.
He placed a hand over his heart. He looked and saw the fatal wound Piccolo inflicted upon him was gone. His clothes were fresh and brand new yet retained the same design of the Turtle Hermit gi he'd been wearing prior to death. He felt boundless, full of energy, better than he had in years. He angled his head up and saw a golden halo, nearly touching the tips of his hairs. He poked at it and it bobbed from side to side with a metallic chime.
"Hello, Goku," spoke a weathered voice behind him.
The orange-clad man turned to see a being resembling Piccolo to a great degree. But where Piccolo was young and fit, this person was old and hunched over. Their skin was a paler shade of green with dark liver spots above Their pointed ears. They had on an off-white cassock decorated with ruby filigree in the design of a dragon. A navy-blue belt and collar accented the garment, a pair of brown slippers peeking from beneath it. They steadied Themselves on a tall wooden staff, its head bearing an ornate carving of a dragon—the same one displayed across Their front.
"Kami!" Goku shouted with glee. He ran over to the elderly deity and wrapped Them up in an embrace.
"Haha, it is good to see you, too. I'm dreadfully sorry for what happened to you on Earth," the Guardian commented.
"It's fine," Goku said as he pulled away from them. "I'm bummed about leaving my family, but they'll be all right."
Kami beamed.
"They shall. They are already hard at work seeking the Dragon Balls in order to return you to them."
"Makes sense," Goku laughed.
It was hard not to treat death as a revolving door when they had access to magical artifacts which could undo it on a whim. Still, dying sucked. Hopefully, this would be the only instance he'd have to endure it before he was meant to.
"As you might have imagined, I am not here out of courtesy, Goku. Nor to see you off to the great beyond."
"Oh yeah? Why are You here, then?" Goku asked, oblivious to the grave tone cropping up in Kami's voice.
"Come. Walk with me. We have much to discuss," They said as They placed an arm around Goku's shoulder and led him across the winding stone path into the heavens.
To Be Continued…