The neat dome of the Son house was fractured up and down, cracks spiderwebbing out from a three-foot hole in the rooftop. Inside the house, all was intact, save the oak table reduced to splinters and shards of broken china littering the floor. By the time Bulma arrived, several minutes after Gohan had returned home, Chichi was on her feet, diligently sweeping. Bulma silently fetched a dustpan to assist her, deciding questions could wait until the house, and Chichi's spirit, were back in some semblance of order.

Bulma's son, who had appeared when she was about to leave and assisted on accompanying her, was not so delicate. "Oi, Goten! What happened?"

Goten flew out of his brother's arms and to his friend, knocking Trunks back several feet and further denting the abused wall. "Trunks-kun, Tousan--Tousan got mad, we were just eating but he wasn't eating much, and Kaachan asked him why he wasn't, and Tousan yelled at her and hit the table and left!"

"That's what happened," Chichi said, her voice shaky. Gohan solicitously took his mother's arm and sat her in a kitchen chair. "He only ate three bowls of rice," she sniffed, "not my Goku-san's appetite at all, but he didn't look sick--"

"Goten," Gohan asked quietly, "how did Otousan's ki feel? Was there anything strange about it?"

"I don't know, Niichan. But it was him. I know Tousan!"

"Baka!" Trunks cuffed his friend. "He knows you know that. He wants to know if there was something wrong with it, like Goku-san was sick or something."

Goten thought hard. "I don't know," he said finally. "Maybe...when he got mad, it was a little weird. It went really high, but he didn't go Super Saiyajin. And it was hot, like when he's fighting a big battle."

"That could be the kaiou-ken," Gohan said. "But why would he..."

"Maybe Son-kun sensed something dangerous, and went to fight it," Bulma suggested.

"Something we didn't sense?" Gohan frowned. "But why not tell you? And why didn't he just teleport to it?"

"Well, where did he go?" Bulma asked reasonably.

Gohan closed his eyes. Opened them again immediately, and said, in a voice too calm, "Goten, can you feel Otousan's ki? Can you, Trunks?"

Trunks lowered his brow in concentration, then shook his head. Goten screwed up his face with effort, then cried, "No!"

"What about Vegeta's?" Bulma asked. At Gohan's inquiring look, she said, "He took off a couple minutes before I did. I don't know where he was going, but I think it had something to do with Son-kun--"

"I don't sense Papa!" Trunks interrupted. "He's gone!"

Bulma looked at Chichi, and saw sympathy reflected in Goku's wife's dark eyes. She forced herself to stay collected. "You don't think--"

"Not that. We'd know," Gohan said, not letting her finish before his brother and her son. He touched his mother's shoulder comfortingly. "They could be hiding their ki for some reason. Goten, Trunks, why don't you go with Bulma-san to Kamesennin's place. Otousan and Vegeta-san might be there, and Kuririn will want to know what's happened. I'm going to find Piccolo-san; he might know if something's wrong. Kaasan--" He looked to his mother with concern.

Chichi stood and stared up at her son, planting her hands on her hips. "I'm not going to just stay here. Not with your father missing." She cast a glance at the ceiling. "Besides, the roof will need repairs before anyone can sleep here. I'll go with Goten and Bulma."

"We'll find them," Bulma assured her and the kids. Never mind that she had no proof. Someone had to say a wish aloud in order for it to be granted.

Wishes. The dragonballs were out of commission for another couple months.

She hoped like hell that they wouldn't be needed. And knew it for a slim chance indeed.

* * *

Piccolo meditated alone. Sometimes even the few, quiet denizens of Kami's Lookout were too much a disturbance to his focus. At such times he went to the mountains, the wildernesses so far from any kind of civilization that no sentience encroached on the wide circle of his perception. He went there for peace, usually, seeking solitude to wrestle with the demons and angels of his nature. Alone, he could establish a kind of truce between his conflicting parts, the legacy of the divisions and fusions of his past.

This expedition was not for his well-being, however. Something was brewing. Not here, not immediately. But Dende had been going around with a worrying look in his eyes for the past week--green around the gills, one would say if he weren't already a Namek. Almost ill; definitely ill at ease. Gods didn't get sick, as a rule, but they could be disturbed. Especially if they knew, or at least had an inkling, of something bad on the horizon.

It had been three years since Buu. Piccolo knew the quiet was too good to last. Alone in the mountains, he focused his concentration, tried to comprehend what event was due. Close, he knew. Close in time, but not in distance...great distance, the immense reaches separating the stars, and the vast universe was as always full of monsters...

His investigation was interrupted by a call, much nearer, a mental request from the only individual he could never refuse. Especially not in these circumstances. Gohan's ki, far away as it was, was clearly upset.

So it had begun. Piccolo rose into the night sky and went to meet the boy, wondering if he was more worried by what was to come, or relieved that the wait was over.

* * *

It was still late afternoon at Kame House, though Kuririn was hoping against all knowledge of natural law that the sun would set early today. Once darkness fell, he would have the perfect excuse of all parents getting out of their children's demands--that it was time for bed. Unfortunately Marron was not going to be put off by anything less.

"Why not, Papa?" she demanded, her fists on her hips and pouting as only a seven-year-old can. "Goten and Trunks both knew how to fly when they were my age. I want to learn!"

"Yes, but..." Kuririn searched his mind for excuses. Pointing out they were boys would only make her more insistent, and as for the demi-alien issue, Marron still wanted to learn how to go Super Saiyajin, not quite believing her father couldn't do so if he really tried. It was flattering, and he loved being a hero in his little girl's eyes, but she was not appreciative of the differences between her and her friends. "Goten and Trunks taught themselves," he told her.

"Nuh-uh!" Marron was quick to contradict. "Goten's oniisan taught him! So you can teach me."

Kuririn grimaced. The trouble was not simply that he didn't want his daughter involved in the whole fighting game if he could help it. Things were quiet now, but he had enough experience not to assume that wouldn't change, and he would rather Marron weren't in the thick of things should the proverbial shit hit the fan. On the other hand, if she made up her mind to follow in her parents' footsteps and become a warrior, he knew there was nothing he could do about it. And in truth, he found it impossible to deny any desire of either of the females in his life.

No, the real problem here was, simply, that he didn't have any idea how to teach someone to fly. He remembered it had taken him several months of effort, and a couple years before he had perfected the technique. It wasn't something a little kid could pick up with ease. But there must be a better way, considering how easily Goten and Trunks had learned--or better yet Videl, who had taken only a week or two to master the basics. If Mr. Satan's daughter could do it, certainly his daughter could. Maybe he should ask Gohan how he had taught Videl.

Strange how things hard in their youth came so effortlessly to today's kids. Must be something in the water. Or more likely the answer was Son Goku, pushing everyone to their limits and beyond, raising the standards for the world. When he and Goku had first started training under Master Roshi, Mr. Satan would have been a worthy opponent for them, amusing as that sounded now. They were damned lucky no one like Cell or Buu had appeared then...and they were lucky they had Saiyajin on the planet, because strong as Kuririn was, if saving the world were up to him Buu would have destroyed the universe by now. If Frieza and Vegeta hadn't gotten to it first.

But Marron wanted to be part of that next generation of warriors, and Kuririn wasn't about to tell her she could never compete with the Saiyajin. You never know; maybe she would be the first human being to go Super Ningen. Fathers always wished for greater things for their children. And she already had the blonde hair...

"Juuhachigou," Kuririn asked, "can you teach her to fly?"

His wife was sunbathing, or at least lying on the beach in a bathing suit. Her pearly skin would never burn or tan, but she enjoyed the warmth, or maybe she liked pretending to be a normal women. To further this effect she was perusing a fashion magazine, and trying not to snicker too loudly. At Kuririn's question she raised her sunglasses and cast slanted blue eyes in her family's direction. "Sorry," she said. "I don't use ki to fly. You'll have to show her." She flipped the page of her magazine, then looked up again. "What's that?"

Kuririn followed her gesture and spied a tiny dot shining on the horizon.

"It's Goten and Trunks!" Marron cried excitedly, jumping up into the air as if to see higher.

"And Bulma and Chichi," Kuririn added, recognizing the other two ki in the approaching aircar. "Isn't it late for them to be visiting?"

"It's already past ten in their longitude," Juuhachigou confirmed, suddenly standing at his side.

"Something must have happened," Kuririn said, worried. "I'm going to get Master Roshi and Oolong."

"Fine," said Juuhachigou. It was a measure of her distraction that she made nary a disparaging comment about either man or pig as her husband flew into the house. Her enhanced eyes focusing on the approaching silver dot, she took Marron's shoulders and drew her daughter closer.


Big thanks to Jen-chan and VGL for leaving such nice reviews! I'm trying to keep in character and still tell the story I want to read...wish me luck! Hope you enjoyed this part...is there anyone else reading?