Inversion of Shadows

BOOK ONE, CHAPTER TWO

Gingerly, Gohan rolled his pant leg up to his knee and leaned over to inspect his wound. Four parallel scratch marks cut deep into his flesh, a thin trail of blood leaking from each one. He no longer felt any pain, but the area around the wound had already swollen slightly and was starting to itch. Not a serious injury, by any means, but he did wonder what sort of creature could so easily pierce his tough flesh.

Goten peered closely at the scratches, tilting his head clinically. "That looks nasty."

"Nah, it's nothing. Not that deep." Gohan smiled reassuringly. "Just go grab me a washcloth, will you, squirt?"

"Okay, niichan." Goten nodded, and trotted out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be right back!"

Rising from his chair, Gohan limped across the floor to the cupboards. He pulled one open, and his eyes quickly scanned the shelves until they fell on a large mixing bowl. Carefully, he slid it off the shelf, and hobbled over to the sink, all the while resisting the persistent urge to scratch the injury. He twisted on the faucet, then placed his hand under the stream of water until it reached a temperature just beyond comfortable warmth.

By the time Gohan reseated himself, Goten skipped back into the room, carrying a limp dark blue cloth. "Here's the washcloth, niichan!"

"Thanks." Gohan accepted it gratefully, and dunked it into the water. He squeezed out the excess before placing it on his wound. "Now Goten," he began, rubbing the cloth along the highest scratch and noting that his brother watched the action with great interest. "I don't want you telling Kaasan about this. She'll freak out."

"But . . . isn't that fibbin'?" Goten asked hesitantly. "'S'not good to fib."

Gohan dipped the washcloth back into the bowl, tainting the water pink with his blood; he got to work on the second scratch before he answered, choosing his words carefully. "Only if she asks you directly if I got hurt, but she won't. All she'll ask is what you did today, and if I finished my homework. And we played hide-and-seek, and I did finish. So it's the truth. Right?" When Goten didn't answer, Gohan lifted his head, and looked him straight in the eye. "Right?"

Goten frowned, considering. At last, he nodded. "Right."

"Good." Gohan returned to the cleansing of his injury, wincing slightly as he touched a still-sensitive spot; he glanced up to reassure Goten that he was all right. "Besides," he continued, "this'll be all healed up by tomorrow, or the day after, tops. No reason to get Kaasan worried about it."

A surprised yelp preceded a thud at the front of the house, and both boys jerked their heads up.

"Rats! She's home early!" Hurriedly, Gohan rolled his pant leg back down. "Remember, Goten, don't tell her!"

"Son Goten, did you break this door down again?" their mother's angry voice carried through the small house.

Gohan rushed about the kitchen, dumping out, rinsing, and putting back the mixing bowl, and depositing the washcloth in the bathroom – all to hide any sign of tending to an injury; rarely had he moved so quickly outside of battle. By the time Kaasan entered – carrying a grocery bag in each arm, something he thought most unusual for a "girls' day out" – he was standing beside Goten with what he hoped was an innocent expression on his face.

"Here, Kaasan, let me help," he offered, politely taking one of the bags from her and setting it on the table.

"Thank you, sweetheart," she said, before placing the other bag next to the first, and sternly turned her glare onto Goten. "Now Goten-chan, how many times have I told you not to knock down the front door? We can't keep reattaching it, you know."

Guiltily, Goten bowed his head and looked at her from under his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Mama. I'll try an' be more careful from now on."

Kaasan's glare slowly melted from her face, and she chuckled softly. "All right, Goten-chan, I forgive you. Just help Gohan-chan and me unpack these groceries and we'll call it even."

"Okay!" the little boy chirped, all traces of shame erased from his features as though never there.

"So Kaasan, what's with the groceries, anyway?" Gohan asked as he placed a few items in various cupboards, hoping the conversation would distract her from the fact that he was limping. "I thought you were out with Bulma-san today."

Kaasan sighed, handing a loaf of bread down to Goten. "I was. But I just kept worrying about the house, and I realized that we were running low on a few things . . . I thought about how awful it would be if you boys ran out of food . . . Bulma just says that I don't know how to relax, but she hasn't been a mother as long as I have; she'll understand in a few years – Goten-chan!"

Gohan almost laughed as he noticed that Goten's cheeks were puffed out like a squirrel's in winter and a ring of crumbs circled his mouth; the loaf of bread, now half-eaten, was still clutched in his tiny hands.

Goten looked up at her bashfully and swallowed. "Sorry, Mama. I got hungry." He held what remained of the bread out to her. "Do you want –"

"No, no, that's fine, sweetie," Kaasan said in exasperation, raising one palm to refuse the offer. "You just sit down and finish that."

"Thanks, Mama!" Goten happily boosted himself onto a chair and continued eating.

"I swear, it's a miracle we ever have food in the house, the way you two eat." She shook her head as she finished emptying the bag. "So what did you boys do while I was gone?"

Gohan shot his brother a warning glare, so briefly that no normal person would have caught it; though Goten never broke his word on purpose, he was notorious for forgetting that he'd made a promise. "Oh, nothing much, Kaasan. Just played a little hide-and-seek after I finished my homework. Right squirt?" His voice was a little stilted, since the words were only a half-truth, and despite what he'd told Goten earlier, they felt like a lie; lying was something at which Gohan was awful, and with which he felt ill at ease. He had, however, recognized its occasional necessity.

"Mm-hm." Goten nodded, mouth still full. He darted a glance at Gohan as if for reassurance and swallowed the bite he'd been chewing. "We jus' got here a few minutes 'fore you did."

"Well, that must have been . . . Mph!" Kaasan stretched up on her tiptoes, trying to slide a box onto the top shelf in one of the cupboards, but she couldn't quite reach.

"Here, Kaasan, I'll get that for you," Gohan offered, extending his arm to take the box; she gratefully allowed him to do so.

"Thank you, Gohan-chan. You're such a help." She turned back to Goten. "As I was saying, that must have been a lot of fun for you, playing hide-and-seek."

Nodding enthusiastically, Goten explained, "Yeah, it was lotsa fun! I saw the most neatest animal ever! I never saw nothin' like it before!"

Kaasan smiled fondly. "That's wonderful, sweetie. What did it look like?"

Gohan stiffened, eyes wide with worry; if Goten started talking about whatever creature he'd seen out in the woods, he could easily bring up the injury . . . "Oh, you know Goten, Kaasan; he always exaggerates about stuff like this," he said nervously before Goten had a chance to answer.

In that moment, Gohan found himself the recipient of two less-than-happy stares, one each from his mother and his brother, and barely managed to suppress a gulp.

"Gohan-chan, don't interrupt your brother!" Kaasan scolded. "I raised you to have better manners than that!"

Gohan stammered, "I-I . . . Sorry, Kaasan, I –"

"Yeah!" Goten joined in. "'Sides, that ain't the thing you told me not to tell Mama!"

Cringing, Gohan slapped his forehead. So much for keeping the wound a secret . . .

Kaasan fixed him with a suspicious glare, her eyes narrowing crossly, making him wish that he could simply vanish, or that he knew his father's Instant Transmission technique so that he could be almost anywhere but in the kitchen with his angry mother. Unfortunately, he wasn't that lucky. I'm going to get in so much trouble . . .

"So there's something that your big brother doesn't want you to tell me, is there?" Though she was speaking to Goten, her dark eyes remained on Gohan. "Well, Goten-chan, I'm sure he meant well . . . but it's not good to keep things from your mommy."

Gohan looked down at Goten, a silent plea in his eyes; the little boy's own eyes darted indecisively from him to their mother – but Gohan was well aware that this was a losing battle.

Finally, Goten crumbled. "Somethin' attacked niichan out in the woods an' he got hurt."

Tightening his lips, Gohan braced himself for the explosion.

"What?" she exclaimed, grabbing his arm and forcing him into a chair. "My goodness, Gohan-chan, you shouldn't be up and about when you're hurt! You could make things worse! Where's the wound?"

"It's on my right leg, Kaasan, but it's not –" he cut himself off as she rolled up his pant leg and began to examine the scratches.

"Good Kami-sama, these are nearly half an inch deep! Goten-chan, you remember where we keep the bandages; could you run and get them for me, please?"

Gohan acknowledged the wordless apology on Goten's face as the little boy sprinted off to do their mother's bidding. He really couldn't blame him for breaking down; even the most stalwart tended to do so under one of Kaasan's scowls.

"Honestly, Gohan-chan, you should have told me about this," Kaasan admonished. "I'm your mother, and it's my job to take care of you."

Gohan smiled indulgently. "I know, Kaasan, but it's really not that serious a wound; I already cleaned it myself, and it'll heal on its own in a day or two."

"I don't care," she countered. Without looking up, she accepted the bandages when Goten offered them to her, and began to wrap them tightly around his calf. "You're still my little boy and my responsibility."

Gohan winced at the pressure being placed on his injury, but he quit protesting, feeling a sudden pang of sympathy for his mother. In her voice, though she'd clearly tried to hide it, he had detected an inkling of sorrow, and he thought he knew from where it stemmed: she was afraid that he didn't need her anymore. He was strong and capable enough to handle any physical threats, could treat any injuries that he did get, could cook for himself – not very well, admittedly, but he still could . . . Everyone, he supposed, wanted to be needed, and maybe it was wrong of him to take that away from her.

So he sat back quietly, and let Kaasan do what she felt she needed to do.


Four days. Four. He couldn't fathom it.

Shaking his head in utter disbelief, Gohan reapplied the bandages. The wound hadn't healed at all, remaining as fresh as the day he'd gotten it. Even were he fully human, there should have been at least some small measure of healing by now. But there was nothing save for the absence of swelling, and that disturbed him greatly. Something very strange was going on.

So strange, in fact, that he was seriously considering consulting Dende and Piccolo-san on the matter. While he disliked the idea of bothering them – especially Dende, since being Guardian of Earth had to be a pretty demanding job – for something to which he was probably overreacting, he wasn't sure of what else to do. The injury just couldn't be normal, and he would be most appreciative were he able to get a few answers.

All this was assuming, of course, that he could find a way to get out of the house; Kaasan insisted that he stay indoors until he was fully healed, and at the rate that Gohan was going, that would constitute the rest of his life. In theory, he could just sneak out, but . . . that was an awfully rotten road to take. Besides, every time he'd ever tried in the past, he had gotten caught. What he needed was an honest opportunity.

And, as he walked into the kitchen to continue his break from his homework, one was kind enough to present itself.

"Oops!" Goten pulled a large sack of flour too close to the edge of the counter, and it toppled, dredging both child and floor in thick white powder and clouding up onto the lower half of Kaasan's bright yellow dress.

Kaasan squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her jaw in a clear attempt to control her temper.

"Don't worry, Mama, I'll clean it up!" Goten offered cheerily, pulling the now-empty bag onto the floor, and bent down to unsuccessfully shovel the flour back inside of it. He looked up at Gohan's approach, appearing akin to the world's happiest ghost. "Hiya, niichan! I'm helpin' Mama make cake!"

Raising his eyebrows, Gohan smiled dubiously. "And a fine job you're doing, too."

A particularly carelessly-tossed handful of flour flew up and struck Kaasan on the cheek, and her face twitched, an obvious indication of her mounting annoyance; she took a deep breath, however, and seemed to regain her composure.

"Goten-chan?" she asked, her voice taut with restrained impatience; Goten stopped shovelling flour and looked up at her. "Why don't you let Mama handle this while you go wash up and change into some clean clothes?"

Shrugging innocently, Goten agreed. "Okay, Mama."

Gohan chuckled and shook his head in amusement as he noticed that Goten's steps were leaving a set of white footprints in their wake. He waited until the little boy had left the room, to speak up. "Looks like you're having a rough day."

Kaasan sighed, wiping the flour from her cheek. "I sometimes wonder how I'm ever able to get things done in this house. Half Saiyajin or not, that boy has far too much energy for anyone's good."

"No argument there," Gohan said as he retrieved a broom and dust pan from the hall closet. "You know . . . if you really need him out of your hair . . . I could take him over to Bulma-san's for the rest of the day."

Kaasan frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. "How's the wound?"

Gohan awkwardly lowered his head in embarrassment. "Kaasan, really, I'm fine. I promise I won't strain myself."

Kaasan's face softened a fraction. "Gohan-chan, I don't know . . ."

A high-pitched crash echoed from elsewhere in the house, quite possibly the shattering of porcelain. Almost immediately, it was followed by Goten's apologetic voice. "Mama, I think I broke the soap-holder-thingy!"

"On second thought," Kaasan amended, surprising Gohan by yanking both the broom and the dust pan from his hands, "feel free to take him."

She rushed toward the crash so quickly that Gohan blinked, wondering if she's always been that fast. Well. That didn't matter. What mattered was that he now had a legitimate excuse to leave the –

"Yay!" Goten's exclamation nearly shook the little house, and the toddler burst into the room, now wearing a miniature replica of the Kame school fighting gi – save there was no sensei's symbol, and the sleeves of the dark blue undershirt reached down to his wrists – then attached himself to Gohan's leg. "Mama says you're takin' me to Trunks's house! Let's go! Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Gohan spared a half-second to be thankful that Goten had latched onto his left leg rather than his right, before responding. "Whoa, cool it a bit, squirt. And it'll be a whole lot easier for me to hurry if you let go of my leg."

Goten loosed his grip and Gohan raced him to the door to ensure that it did not get broken down yet again – repairing it twice within the same week would have been most irritating and Kaasan's day had been stressful enough already.

"C'n I call it for us, niichan? Can I, please?" Goten begged, tugging insistently on his pant leg.

"Sure, squirt. Go for it."

Grinning, Goten cupped his hands around his mouth. "Kinto'un!"

From the heavens, a pale yellow streak descended in a softened zigzag pattern until it floated in front of them in the form of a gently undulating cloud. Goten gleefully hopped aboard and would have taken off on his own had he any clue which way led to his destination. Gohan climbed on behind him, and they were off.

The wind blasted hard against Gohan's face, stinging his eyes and flattening his hair, though the speed of kinto'un's flight was much slower than his own; he'd always erected a weak ki shield to act as a buffer against the wind's effects when he flew under his own power. In front of him, Goten whooped in joy, spreading his arms wide to allow the breeze to flap his long sleeves.

Gohan commanded the cloud to roll, to corkscrew, to dive and climb, all so rapidly that the ground seemed both above and below them at the same time. Gravity alternated pushing them down and to one side or the other; blue and green tumbled end over end almost nauseatingly until Gohan chose to level off the flight.

"Whoa . . ." Goten said dazedly, putting one hand to his head as if to stop it from spinning. After a few seconds, however, he turned an excited face on Gohan. "Let's do that again!"

"Maybe on the way back home." Gohan pointed ahead of them. "See? We're coming up on the city."

Sure enough, in the near distance, the slender spires that were skyscrapers rose into the air, gradually growing closer and closer. Gohan weaved around the buildings, which were very like a forest in their own way. They quickly thinned out, and then gave way entirely to blocks of multiple-dome houses, largely a residential area.

"There it is, niichan! There it is!" Goten called, pointing his chubby finger toward a house that consisted of several large yellow domes spread out over a few expansive courtyards. A full sphere rested near the edge of the property, far from any of the domes, a powerful ki signature emanating from it – Vegeta's no doubt.

Gohan guided kinto'un down into one of the courtyards, and was surprised to see Bulma, dressed in oil-stained coveralls and safety goggles, and her aqua hair tied back in a ponytail, making her way to the house; he stopped the cloud beside her, and she pushed the goggles to the top of her head.

"Well, hey, you guys!" she greeted, a smile stretching her lips. "Wasn't expecting to see you today."

Goten hopped off kinto'un, looking around almost aimlessly, and Gohan would have thought that he hadn't even noticed Bulma's presence if the little boy hadn't paused to say, "Niichan brought me here to see Trunks! Where is he?"

Bulma's smile shifted to a rueful smirk. "I should've guessed that, I suppose. He's –"

"Right here!" a youthful voice piped up, followed quickly by its owner, a boy no taller than Goten despite the fact that he was a year older. He grabbed hold of Goten's arm, and began to tug the other boy along behind him. "Kaasan, me and Goten's gonna go spar."

"Hold it a second, Trunks-chan!" Bulma commanded sharply, and the boys halted. "You can go ahead and spar, but I don't want you two throwing each other through the walls this time. Just because we've got money doesn't mean that I want to spend it all on household repair. Got it?"

"Sure, Kaasan. Whatever," Trunks sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Let's go, Goten!"

Bulma huffed indignantly as the boys ran off. "That boy is as insufferable as his father, sometimes! I'll be shocked if it turns out that he actually listened to me!"

"Yeah . . ." Gohan said. "I hope you don't mind me bringing Goten over here without asking first . . . but Kaasan's having a pretty stressful day, and I thought that . . ."

"Nah, don't worry about it, Gohan-kun," Bulma responded, turning back to him. "It gives me a break, too, and I deserve one every once in a while." She smiled. "So, why don't you get your butt off that cloud and come on inside? I'm sure that Okaasan has some tea made, and plenty of desserts to go with it. Feel free to help yourself."

"Ah . . ." Gohan always hated to refuse offers of hospitality – especially if they included such tempting treats as Mrs. Briefs' desserts – but his calf abruptly started to itch, reminding him of his plans. "Thanks very much, Bulma-san, but . . . I've got something that I need to go and take care of, and it can't wait."

"You sure? Like I said, feel free."

"Sorry, I really can't."

Bulma shrugged. "All right. Some other time, then. See ya later, kiddo."

"Bye." Gohan waved as he once again took to the air on kinto'un. Once sufficiently out of eyeshot, he sighed in relief; the Briefs family was often more insistent than Bulma had just been, making already tough refusals all the more difficult.

Shaking his head to rid it of such trivial thoughts, Gohan urged kinto'un westward, to Dende's Lookout.


Goten put his palms together and bowed at the waist before sinking into a combat crouch, front leg bent, fists raised, and one arm pulled back; across from him, Trunks mirrored the position, a cocky smirk on his face.

And then leaped.

Goten matched the strike, and his fist crashed against Trunks' in a stalemate. Over their straining limbs, Goten stared his friend dead in the eye, and flashed him a mischievous grin. The other boy bared his teeth in response.

Trunks suddenly pulled his arm out of the contest for supremacy; overbalanced, Goten staggered forward, stumbling right into Trunks' solid follow-up kick to his chest. He sailed backward a few feet before suffering a hard landing on his rear. Grimacing, he sat up, rubbing at the pained area.

"Ack!" Goten's hands instinctively shot up to catch Trunks' foot just before it would have smashed into his face, and held it tight in spite of its owner's attempts to struggle free. Glancing down, he noticed that his opponent's other leg was within easy reach of his own, and he took full advantage; he cleanly swept the leg out from under Trunks, at the same time releasing his hold. Knowing, however, that this move would only keep him down for a couple seconds, Goten scrambled to his feet, taking up a defensive stance.

True to form, Trunks kicked himself up and slid also into a defensive posture. He smirked approvingly. "Hey, not bad. That was a pretty cool move."

Goten giggled. "Gee, thanks Trunks. I been practisin'!"

"Well. That's good," Trunks said. "But let's see if ya been practisin' enough ta stop this!"

And he sprang again. Goten dodged this time, and moved in to strike at an opening; though Trunks managed to block the first attack, Goten had expected that, and put most of his power into the second, his punch connecting hard with his opponent's cheek. Seeing an opportunity, he pressed his offence; but by this time, Trunks had recovered somewhat and was able to counter. Strikes, blocks, and dodges blended together on both sides, seemingly following a jerky, childish choreography. At times, the boys struck twin blows, driving each other backward, only for them to charge straight into the fray time and time again.

As the spar progressed, Goten found himself being driven backward by his friend's attacks. He was going to lose this match if he didn't think of something quick – there!

Goten tilted his head marginally to evade Trunks' fist, and drove his knee into the other boy's stomach, then uncurled his leg for another blow; he watched with satisfaction as Trunks dropped to the ground. One more hit ought to clinch it for him –

Trunks caught his punch.

Goten blinked in surprise; Trunks, just barely on his knees, growled and lifted his head to reveal a quite furious face. His free hand gripped Goten's forearm. "Ha!"

"Wah!" Goten cried as he was abruptly flung into the air, sailing a dozen feet before his back slammed into a wall. Limply, he slid to the ground.

"Yeah! Ha, ha! I win again!" he heard Trunks' triumphant voice. "That's best three outta five for me!"

Slowly, Goten climbed to his feet, rubbing irritably at his back; Trunks hadn't had to throw him so hard. "We didn't have five matches, yet."

"Yeah, we did!" Trunks argued, putting his fists on his hips. "You just dunno how ta count!"

Goten frowned indignantly. "I can count!"

"Yeah, whatever. I still won more of 'em than you."

Before Goten could form a reply, something small and hard fell on top of his head. Curious, he plucked it off to examine it. Thin, pale yellow . . . it looked like a piece of the wall . . . He looked back, and saw a spider web pattern of cracks; he turned back to Trunks. "Your mama's gonna yell at us when she sees this. We weren't s'posed to throw each other into the walls."

"She said we weren't supposed ta throw each other through the walls," Trunks corrected, superiority colouring his tone. "And ya didn't go through it, didja? So we ain't done nothin' wrong!"

Goten thought about this logic for a moment, then decided that it made sense.

"B'sides, gettin' in trouble ain't always so bad," Trunks went on. "But ya wouldn't know that, would ya? You and Gohan-san can be such mama's boys that I bet ya never get in trouble at home." He turned on his heel, and waved his hand in a gesture to follow him. "Come on, let's go in. Obaasan's been makin' cookies today."

Goten jogged to catch up, and though excited at the thought of cookies, he was frowning; he instantly leaped to his family's defence. "Me an' niichan ain't mama's boys!" Not that he knew what the term 'mama's boy' really meant, but Trunks' tone had left him no doubt that it was an insult. "Niichan got in trouble a couple days ago!"

Apparently interested, Trunks raised an eyebrow. "Really? What'd he do?"

"Well," Goten started, his anger vanishing as he realized that he hadn't yet shared his latest adventure. "Me an' niichan was playin' hide-and-seek out in the forest, an' I found this real neat-lookin' animal, an' we had a race, an' when it was over, niichan came an' he musta scared it away . . ." Had he bothered to glance to his side, he would have seen Trunks roll his eyes impatiently, but he was too focused on his tale. " . . . I think it scratched 'im an' he told me not to tell Mama, only I kinda did anyway, 'cause she looked mad, an' that's why he got in trouble."

"Oh, please, that ain't noth – scratches?"

"Uh-huh," Goten answered, wondering why Trunks seemed to find that detail so interesting. "Four of 'em, jus' like this." He extended one arm, and used the index finger of his other hand to draw four straight lines across it. "Only they're on his leg. Why?"

Trunks shook his head. "No reason. Just that I saw some marks like that on Tousan's arm yesterday. Weird."

Goten's face wrinkled. "Yeah, that is weird."

"And I think his trainin' has been goin' kinda funny since then," Trunks added. "He's been more grumpy than usual and he only gets like that when the grav room breaks, or somethin' and messes up his trainin'."

"Hmm." Goten thought for a moment. "Nothin' weird's been goin' on with niichan . . . Hey, if the same thing happened to your papa, then maybe one of those cool animals is here, too! We should go look!"

"Yeah!" Trunks agreed readily, his face lighting up. "But the cookies first. Race ya!"

"Hey, wait up!" Goten called after him, and both boys sprinted into the house.


Something was different. Wrong.

Or was it wrong? He had only been on this planet for twelve . . . no. Four years. The years here were three times as long as they were back home; he didn't understand why Earthlings had such a long year. It had been explained to him, of course, but the whole concept still made little sense to him. All this business of the planet orbiting around only one sun . . .

He shook his head to clear it; he was allowing himself to get sidetracked again. The point was that he hadn't been on Earth long enough to know its regular cycles, so he couldn't be sure whether the changes were good or bad, natural or unnatural. But even so, he was angry at himself for his lack of knowledge.

What kind of Guardian was he if he was so ignorant of the planet he was supposed to protect?

"Dende-sama, are you all right?" came a low, concerned voice.

Not at all surprised by the question, he glanced over his shoulder for a moment at his assistant before turning to peer once more over the edge of the Lookout; he leaned heavily on his tall wooden staff. "Yes, I suppose I'm all right, Popo-san." He paused, his already deep frown growing more pronounced; the words felt like somewhat of a lie, so at length, he added, "But I'm not entirely certain if I might say the same for Earth."

"Oh, my. Is there something wrong?" Popo asked, and out of the corner of his eye, Dende saw him step beside him at the edge of the platform.

Dende briefly tightened his lips before answering. "I don't know. I've felt a change in the planet's energy for a few weeks now . . . but I don't know what it is, or whether it's normal."

"You are Guardian of this planet, Dende-sama," Popo said, patiently as always. "And as such, it is often wise to trust your instincts on these matters. Does the change feel harmful?"

"I don't know," he repeated. It seemed to him that he'd been saying that far too often lately, both out loud and in his head. "It's just . . ."

He blinked, and hardened his downward stare. Something seemed to be approaching . . .

"Aah!" he yelped, falling flat on his back as a yellow streak zoomed over him, barely in front of his nose. His staff clattered to the floor next to him. Somewhat dazed, Dende climbed to his feet.

"Eh-heh-heh-heh," came a nervous laugh, and Dende looked up to see Gohan standing in front of him, one hand rubbing bashfully at the back of his head. "Sorry about that. I should've been more careful."

"No, it's okay. Really." Dende assured, bending down to retrieve his staff; he made a mental note to always step away from the edge of the Lookout if he thought he saw something coming.

Gohan scanned the area, dark brows drawn together in apparent confusion. "Piccolo-san not here today?"

"No, he's been gone since early this morning," Popo supplied, himself just getting up; he too had been knocked to the ground by the demi-saiyan's less-than-subtle arrival. "He mentioned something having to do with a waterfall . . ."

"Meditating, most likely." Gohan nodded in understanding. "He always has liked to do that near waterfalls. Oh well; I really came to see you, anyway, Dende."

"Yes. What is it?" Dende asked, eager for a distraction from his inadequacies as Earth's Guardian.

"I feel kind of stupid for asking, and I hate to bother you . . ." Gohan continued almost shyly. He knelt down, rolled up a pant leg, and unwound a band of white cloth from his newly-exposed calf. " . . . But could you take a look at this?"

"Well, of course. I don't mind." Dende stepped over to his friend, and knelt down to his level. On Gohan's leg, there were four parallel scratch marks, not terribly deep, but enough so that they must have been rather painful when they'd been fresh. In all, it wasn't a major wound . . .

"I know it doesn't look like much," Gohan said, as if reading his thoughts. "And I didn't think anything of it, either, at first. But this injury is four days old – and there's no healing."

Dende started. None? That was most strange . . . "How odd. I can't imagine why that would be . . . But I can take care of it for you, at least."

He placed his four-fingered hand over the wound, and summoned his power, feeling its warmth spread through his arm, and his palm until it seeped into Gohan's calf. Once, when Guru – may his soul eternally dwell in peace – had first awakened within him this power, he had feared it. Raw and elemental, it had seemed so out of place in a quiet, reserved person such as he. Yet surprisingly, he'd been quick to tame it, to direct its flow, and while he didn't consider himself an expert he was proud of his abilities. He enjoyed being able to help others.

But he frowned suddenly, as something that should have been impossible happened. The scratches had closed, thick white scar tissue forming over them . . . but that was all. No matter how much power and concentration he poured into it, he could not heal them any further.

Disturbed, Dende pulled his hand away, a band of sweat on his forehead. "I . . . I don't understand . . ."

Gohan leaned over to inspect the wound, and when he spoke, his voice was soft with disbelief. "That . . . can't be possible . . ."

Dende merely continued to stare in shock. How could he have failed at healing such a minor injury? His first healings had been complete successes, and his patients had been near death. Was he becoming inadequate here, too?

"If you don't mind," Popo interjected, much to Dende's surprise, "might I ask what injured you, Gohan?"

Gohan looked up. "I have no idea; I didn't see a thing," he responded, shaking his head. But then he paused, his expression thoughtful. "Although . . . Goten mentioned some strange creature with grey skin and glowing eyes . . ."

If Dende had waited another second to look at his assistant, he would have missed it: a paling of Popo's black skin. Perhaps he knew something?

"Um . . ." Gohan began in obvious discomfiture, drawing Dende's attention back to him. "I'm really sorry, but I think I have to go. I left Goten at the Briefs', and . . ." he trailed off and stood. "Thanks anyway, for all your help. See you guys later."

With that, the demi-saiyan leapt into the air, flying off surrounded by a nimbus of white fire.

Dende rose to his feet, eyes on the rapidly vanishing ki trail. "The change is harmful, isn't it, Popo-san?"

The answer came a moment later, both what he had expected and had hoped not to hear.

"Yes, Dende-sama. I am afraid that it is."