Okay, it's the next chapter . . . and maybe you'll find out, I'm not quite sure yet, seeing as I haven't written anything except this disclaimer . . . which reminds me that I don't own DBZ or any of the (rambles on about copyright legalities for a couple minutes before coming back into a world without lawyers) other "insert favourite legal catchphrase crap here" stuff. And so . . . without further adieu, the next chapter in the continuing saga of Hoshito the born-again Saiyajinn.







"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" That voice registered somewhere in my brain, though no where near consciousness yet. "Looks like someone has been sleeping during training hours."

"Oh come on, just a few more hours . . . "

"Oh no you don't . . . UP!" And with that one word I was surreptitiously dumped from my bed, which had somehow become airborne, directly onto the floor. A rather rude wake-up call, but effective nonetheless. As my sleep-fogged brain rose into a more aware state of unconsciousness, I managed to sit up, get my feet under me, and push. Wobbling more than slightly, I took a few halting steps, then realized I had no idea where I was headed.

"Umm . . . Where's the bathroom in this place?" A green (and yet surprisingly well-manicured) finger pointed toward a small brass knob cut into a recess within the wall. Oh goodie, at least my bladder won't explode today. Maybe I might even manage to get some breakfast . . . This thought crossed my mind, only moments before the echoes of my gurglingly empty abscess of stomach decided to make themselves heard. After taking a short shower, and taking care not to press too hard with the luffa, on my still sensitive skin, I managed to stumble my way out of the washroom without too much difficulty.

Finding my room again, on the other hand, was another deal entirely. But thankfully, that same well-manicured green finger pointed the way once more, this time with slightly greater disdain. I waved a thank-you to my new sensai, and proceeded to dress myself in a new and undamaged version of the same suit I wore yesterday. With that done, I could no longer ignore the rather insistent calls of my stomach, which was really starting to annoy me. The wonderful smells of breakfast wafting in from the kitchen, were enough to incite a riot of the hungry.

I almost looked at Piccolo on my way out, but knew he would be meditating, and knew that I could find my way by smell alone in this case. So just for some practice, I closed my eyes, and did exactly that. It really didn't take long, and after only a stubbed toe, and a bruised pride, I sauntered into the sumptuous banquet that lay before me. If I were a king and this was the breakfast for every leader of every nation that had ever existed, I could have wanted no more than what lay before me.

Pretty much anything that had ever been served for breakfast, anywhere was here. Bacon and eggs, bean curd, soup, toast, rice, oatmeal, cold milk and cheeses, pancakes with real CANADIAN maple syrup, and a thousand other dishes I couldn't even name. Of course, the sight was only half the battle, seeing as the smells were equally tantalizing, not the least of which was a finely blended, rich, thick, and a full-bodied cup of (insert favourite brand of mineral water here) coffee.

By the time I was through an hour or so later, there wasn't a crumb of food left standing anywhere. Mr. Popo was both shocked and amazed, not to mention delighted, that I had so enjoyed his meal. Of course, by now Krillin would have gone back home, so anything made here would have to be eaten by me. Which was fine, just the way I like it.

I took one last sip of the best coffee I had ever imagined, thinking aloud to myself, "Man, this is what coffee is supposed to taste like!" Before the chair I had been sitting on was smashed to pieces, by that selfsame well manicured, green finger.

"Really, who does your nails? I'd love to know." Which of course got the days training off to an impressive start.


Several hours later, it was becoming increasingly abundant that even being Super-Saiyajinn wouldn't suffice against this foe. He still wasn't fighting at full power, even though I now was, and the fight was starting to look like it was going to go the same way as yesterday's session. Of course, there was one major difference today (other than the power levels that is) and that was that Piccolo wasn't testing me now. He knew just how capable I was, just how knowledgeable I was of his own methods, and so he wasn't going to allow me those same "openings" I thought I had seen yesterday.

Add to this the fact that it was becoming increasingly hard as the day wore on to maintain my transformed state. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't getting any easier. At least, not yet it wasn't. Things were progressing much more slowly now than I had anticipated, which was going to be a problem.

Of course, while all this was going through my mind, I was busy trying to fend off blow after blow, trying and failing half the time. God, doesn't this guy ever give up? The answer to that was obvious. No. And if he wasn't going to give up, then neither would I. Of course, we had pretty much reached a stalemate by now. This had been going on for months, and as yet, there had been no apparent increase in my abilities since that day. I couldn't seem to push myself any farther.

Not that I was really trying. The problem with being a Super-Saiyajinn was that I couldn't stop myself from facing my emotions, or lack thereof. It was as if gaining this transformation had taken everything I had, and now, I was nothing, just a dried up, useless piece of garbage to be tossed away at the first opportunity. Or at least, that's what I was thinking. I had become completely apathetic, and completely pathetic in the process.

What little had been left of my heart was gone now, torn still-beating from my chest, and skewered upon her finger. The first thoughts I had in the morning, and the last thoughts I had before sleep claimed me, were of her. Not that it mattered. She was gone, like she had never been, and I was to blame, because I wasn't strong enough to stop anything that took her, piece by blessed piece.


Eight years had passed since first we met. Eight years, three months, and two days.

She had been scared when I first saw her, a trembling little thing upon the snow, high up in the mountainous wilderness. How she got there I was at a loss, but as far as I could tell, it was like she had just fallen from the sky. There were no tracks, other than the circle of patted-down snow surrounding the tree she had been huddled against. I was up on my weekly hike through the mountains when I heard her helpless little cry.

It was only when I finally took her back to my cabin and got her some warm clothes, that I saw how old she was. Very nearly my own age I'd wager. And yet, there was that blank look in her eyes, that made it seem as if she was just some little girl, lost in the woods. It was only much later that I found out that it was all because of the two aliens that had landed earlier. How they had wrecked her parents plane, which had gone down just over the ridge.

As for her, she had fallen from the plane on its final approach, the soft snow cushioning her fall. She wouldn't go look for her parents because she was afraid, and she wouldn't let me leave her alone to go search for them, so I called it out on the portable radio I had for emergencies. Thankfully, it was some hours later, when she had finally passed out on the cot in the corner, that the call had come through.

I almost woke her up, but she looked so peaceful, so innocent in slumber, I let her be. It could wait till morning. So I tucked the comforters around her a little more snugly, took out the spare blanket from the closet, and settled myself down on the couch to await the sun.

Looking back, I'm far more grateful than I should be, that I woke up before her. But I did, and I made some breakfast while I waited. It was the smell of bacon frying that got her nose twitching, and when she finally did get up, she was ravenous. It was like she hadn't eaten in days, but I let her be.

As she was shovelling the last crumb of toast into that gaping maw, I caught her hand, and she looked up like a deer caught in the headlights, her sky -blue eyes wild and frightened. I let my cool green ones calm her, not moving, just accepting. It was a long time before either of us spoke.

"I got the news about your parents." I tried to make the words calm, and soothing. I don't know if I succeeded.

"They're dead, aren't they." It wasn't a question. It was the first time I heard her voice, and I was dumbfounded. She could have made a rampaging rhino stop and look, such was the power of that voice. Each note was brought to crystal clarity, and beyond. And yet, it was if she had no idea what that voice of hers could do, as if she thought it was the most heinous thing ever to be issued forth from lips or gums.

I could only nod silently. Words escaped me for the moment. She held herself still for a moment, pride strengthening her, forcing her back straight, forcing her lips into a white line, forcing her eyes to be as sharp as ice, and twice as cold. But then that solid, brittle strength shattered on the realization that they were truly gone, and she collapsed into my arms, pain torn from her in huge racking sobs.

I didn't know what to do, so beyond my experience this was. So I did the only thing I could think of. After sitting there for a moment like a bump on a log, I closed my arms about her withered frame, and held her close until the crying stopped. It was a long time, longer I think than would have been necessary, seeing as I had lost my own parents several years before. We were two orphans, finding comfort in each other company, as if we could replace that piece of our heart with friendship, and maybe more.


"Hoshito!" I awoke from my revery just in time to deflect the blast that would have torn me to shreds had it hit. "That's enough for today, if you can't keep your mind on what you're doing, you're not going to be any good to anyone." He's right. Piccolo's right. What good will I ever be to anyone? I couldn't even save the woman I loved. How am I supposed to believe I can save a planet? And just what am I supposed to save it from? There's nothing threatening the planet. I'm only doing this incase something does.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll be back later." With a measured gait, I walked off the edge of the tower, and into nothing. It was quite some time before I bothered slowing myself, and even longer till I stopped. I just stood there in midair for a moment, then looked back up, and disgusted with myself, flew off. I didn't know where I was going, just that I was going away from memories of her.

Of course, that wasn't going to work. I should have known better. Instead of flying away, I flew toward. Straight as an arrow, towards her final resting place, the last place I had any memory of love. Of course, I only realized where I was going when I got there. Not this again. Man. You're sick. Why do you torture yourself? It's not like you could have done anything.

Of course I couldn't have done anything. Even if I had the same power as I had today, it still wouldn't have mattered. Nothing would ever matter.


"Hoshi! Come on in, it's too cold out, you'll catch a chill!" Even Two years after I first met her, her voice still captivated me.

I shoved the axe I had been using into the stump, and carried the firewood in with me. "I told you never to call me that. You know it bugs me."

"Yeah, but it just sounds so much nicer than Hoshito. I figure you'll get used to it eventually."

I snorted at that, my breath pooling around me in the cold mountain air. "Fat chance."

We still lived in that same cabin in the woods where I had taken her after we first met. She had slowly recovered from the shock of her parents death, and had grown to love me. We were married only a few weeks ago, and were still basking in the glow. Even so, she always seemed a vulnerable little waif. Every little thing that could possibly go wrong would only throw her into a bout of depression. But I loved her, and she was perfect anyways.

We turned on the TV, and settled ourselves on the couch for a nice quiet night. Flipping through the channels, we caught something on the news. She turned it up.

"Apparently, another spacecraft has landed. This one is significantly larger than the ones that appeared two years ago, but we have no news yet whether these aliens are hostile." It was only later than I learned that this was the return of the alien Freeza. At that moment, I was a little preoccupied with my wife, seeing as she had just run barefoot into the frigid night.

"Sarah!" No use. There was no response. I took a flashlight and followed her trail of hurried footprints in the snow. It wasn't that long before I figured out just where she was going.

I found her just as I had two years ago. Huddled against the selfsame tree, battered by the wind, and shivering against the cold. Her blank eyes held no hint of sanity, and in a hushed voice that chilled me more than the weather, I heard the whispered words, "They're back. This time they'll take me. They'll take me because I wanted them to take dad, for what he did to me. They'll take me because I wanted them to take mom, 'cause she wouldn't stand up to him."

She just kept repeating it. Over and over again, till I thought my sanity had gone with hers. Even after I got her home, and warm again, she never stopped. Just kept on and on.

"They'll take me because I wanted them dead."


"I'm sorry sir, but there's not much we can do. She has completely withdrawn into herself. She won't eat, barely sleeps, and says almost nothing. We've tried everything we can, but we haven't seen any change for the past several weeks, the prognosis isn't good." The nurse refused to be optimistic. But then again, there wasn't any reason for her to be.

Disgusted, and disheartened, I left. Why didn't I at least try? I should have tried. It probably wouldn't have made any difference, but then again, maybe...

But of course, I didn't try. I just left her there, and retreaded to my cabin in the woods. Even there, I couldn't find any solace, for the memories of her. So I left. I kept leaving. Ever since, I've been leaving everything that ever came close.

So I passed the next three years, never staying in one place for too long. Keeping my once weekly training appointment with Krillin, and nothing else. I never checked in on Sarah, nor did I ever visit the cabin again. Too much hurt, too much pain, and nothing I could do about either.

That is, until Cell changed everything. During his rampage, he attacked the asylum where she had been staying. His appearance stole the last vestige of her humanity, her life. And so she was gone now. Completely gone. Even the dragon couldn't bring her back, because Cell had not killed her, she had killed herself long before. I guess in dragon language that meant natural means.

And so she's gone. Completely and utterly. And I couldn't stop it. And so it was all my fault. I wasn't strong enough for her when she needed me. Even now I'm not strong enough, not in any way that mattered.

It took a little paperwork, but I managed to convince the authorities to let me bury her where she had always sought solitude. Right beneath the bare branches of the tree she had nearly died by twice now. It was fitting. It was right. It was in front of me now. I hadn't visited her grave in all the long years since.

Even now, it was the same. Three years, and it hadn't changed at all. It was as if time had decided to stand still in her presence. I almost cried there, tears welling up in my eyes. But I wouldn't allow that. Not tears. I wasn't allowed tears, because I had killed her, and murderers weren't allowed to cry. She needed me, and I caved, I folded, and left. I left and never looked back.

And so I closed my eyes, shoved the tears aside, and flew away.


"Hey Krillin." I had to do this . . . Say goodbye. I wouldn't want him to feel responsible. This was something I had to do, for him, if no one else.

"What's up Hoshito?" There was worry in his voice. I could tell he knew something was wrong. He always was good at that.

"Nothing. Just came to say goodbye. Going back into space for a while." Dead. That was the only voice I had now.

"Sure man. Come back soon okay?" It was a question, a hope, a wish for something better.

"Sure. Soon. Tell the lady of the house. I'll see her 'round, okay?"

"Sure. See ya later."

One down, one to go.


"If you're going to go, then go. Don't bother saying goodbye. You haven't been here for the past couple months anyways, not in any way that matters." Piccolo was always like that. He never let anyone in to begin with. Maybe that's better.

"You know better than I do that I have to go. If I don't, I'll end up dead, or worse. It's better this way. At least I don't run the risk of destroying the planet every time I train with you." Excuses, excuses. Coward, you know that's not why.

"Sure. Whatever you want to tell yourself is okay. Just don't expect me to care."

"Whatever man. And just for the record, I really did want to know who does your nails. Whoever they are, they're fantastic." A poor attempt at humour, no one laughed.

I flew off then without another word between us. Nothing left to do but leave.

I strapped myself in, pushed the button to launch and waited. The Briefs were waving goodbye, but I ignored them, just like I ignored everything else. As the engines roared to life, the sky above changed from peacock, to navy, to indigo, to blackest night, all within the matter of a few seconds. I set a course for who knows where and didn't look back.

Leaving yet again . . .


A.N. - So what do you think now... More than slightly unexpected turn of events eh? (Yes I'm CANADIAN, so sue me) Normally most of these stories have some big battle, right? Well not this time! At least... not yet... But there WILL be a sequel... I can promise you that. I'm not finished with Hoshito quite yet... He's still got great things ahead of him. And he has yet to face his deepest fears... So we'll be seeing you all later.