Keep tissues nearby, you might need them. Song credit goes to Celine Dion(A New Day Has Come, the accoustic version).
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Tree Of Life
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I was waiting for so long
For a miracle to come
Everyone told me to be strong
Hold on and don't shed a tear
Through the darkness and good times
I knew I'd make it through
And the world thought I had it all
But I was waiting for you
. . .
"That's it, Mandorin...just breathe and let them come." Doramu spoke softly to his grown son, whose face almost mirrored his own. He wrapped his arms around the other Namek's broad shoulders and pulled him close to his chest, "It's all right, you're doing fine. Just fine."
Mandorin buried his head in Doramu's chest. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. The bulge in his throat made it difficult to breathe, let alone speak. "It hurts, dad!"
"I know...I know...but you're going to be okay." Doramu rubbed Mandorin's back, trying to relax him so the egg could engage and work its way up. His face glowed with anticipation and slight concern for his son's well-being. "Cry out if you need to. Don't hold in your pain. Surrender to your body...I promise you'll be fine."
Mandorin pushed himself out of his father's arms and crawled on his hands and knees towards the center of the room. His form glistened when he passed through the patch of morning sunlight shining through the window. He buried his head in his bedspread and howled as painful contractions ripped through his body. Doramu was beside him in a second. Mandorin looked over, his face pulled into a fierce snarl at the invasion.
"Transition." Doramu was well aware that only short, simple words would reach him. "Let it come, son. I'm right here."
The younger Namek turned away from his father and curled up against the bed. Doramu offered him some water, but wound up getting the glass slapped out of his hand.
Mandorin growled and leaned forward with both hands on his throat. The bulge inched up so far that Doramu could see it just beyond the back of his tongue.
"That's it! I can see it!" said Doramu with mounting excitement, "Just push...burp a watermelon...you're almost there, kid."
It hurts! Tears ran out of Mandorin's eyes.
Doramu cupped his face in both hands and brushed the silver droplets away with his thumbs. "It won't hurt for long. One big push now, okay? It helps if you tilt your head back and lean forward. Let your jaw fall open on its own. You can do it, Mandorin."
Mandorin closed his eyes and bent forward like Doramu instructed him to do. The egg engaged his gag reflex, which shoved it forward into his mouth. His jaws came unhinged and his fangs slowly walked it forward, one inch at a time.
Ouch... Doramu thought to himself. He watched Mandorin bend over and let the egg drop out onto the pile of blankets set up on the floor. A smile curled his lips upwards.
Reaching over, Doramu brushed a hand over Mandorin's sweaty, green head. "I'm so proud of you." He looked over Mandorin's shoulder at a photo on the wall. The image of a very stern face identical to his own stared back. And he would be too. Look, dad....my baby's having a baby!
Soft crackling sounds tore Doramu's attention from the picture.
"Dad...what do I - "
"Shh, don't worry."
Mandorin reached down and drew the egg into his lap, watching the cracks splay across its surface like lightning spanning the sky. Finally the cloud-white shell simply fell away, leaving Mandorin holding a tiny, pale little form in the palms of his hands.
The second the baby felt air on his skin, he shrieked and flailed so hard he almost fell right out of Mandorin's hands.
"Whoa!" Mandorin scrambled to catch the baby, laughing softly. He glanced up at a smiling Doramu and wiped his newborn son's face off. "Hey, it's okay, it's okay, daddy's here...don't cry..."
The crying stopped immediately. Tiny green eyelids peeled open. Father and son locked eyes for the first time...and Mandorin was instantly in love. He pulled his son close and kissed his forehead as tears streamed down his face.
"Dad...I'm a daddy," Mandorin sniffled, staring down at the miniature form moving in his hands. Completely entranced by the tiny, wrinkled fingers. He couldn't help but reach down to touch one tiny palm, watching as the warm fingers wrapped around his fingertip. They barely fit all the way around. A hot tightness choked his voice, "He's...he's so tiny..."
"So were you, once. Now you know what I felt like the first time I saw your face." Doramu wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, easily recalling the day he had Mandorin. A happy lump swelled in his throat. He leaned forward to kiss Mandorin's forehead. Then he bent down to press his lips to the baby's moist, bald head. "What's his name?"
"Saxophone," Mandorin said, grinning with sore, cracked lips.
"The one who tried to fly," Doramu translated the name. He chuckled, "It suits him perfectly."
Mandorin kissed Saxophone's forehead once more and looked up, his eyes drooping, "I'm really, really tired. Could you take him for awhile?"
Doramu smiled from ear to ear. "Sure. But first...smile!"
Grinning, Mandorin held Saxophone close to his face and gazed at the camera. One click of a button froze the moment in time forever. Doramu put the camera down, took little Saxophone and wrapped him in a towel to dry him off. He watched Mandorin climb into bed, smiled and sat on the edge. Saxophone had already fallen asleep. Mandorin looked about ready to follow suit.
"My life has created life," whispered Doramu. He brushed a hand lightly over Mandorin's head, pushing his long antennae back out of his face. It was hard to believe his solidly-built seven foot, two inch son had once been as tiny as Saxophone. "I love you."
"Love you too..." said Mandorin sleepily. "You think grandpa Piccolo knows Sax is here?"
"Mandorin, he never left." Doramu glanced down at the sleeping bundle in his arms. At the tiny hands resting against the towel. "He's here in you, me....and now he's in Saxophone too."
The younger Namek smiled softly, "When will you tell me the story?"
Doramu patted his cheek. "I'll tell you everything when you've rested."
Satisfied, Mandorin turned his head to the side and went to sleep. Doramu smiled down at his sleeping face. Where Doramu himself was a nearly exact copy of his father, Mandorin was not. He was as a baby, but not as he grew up. He did look a lot like his grandfather, save his antennae were about four inches longer, his jaw was slightly more square and his fingertips ended round rather than tapered.
Doramu slid off the bed and carried Saxophone out into the living room where a slightly frosty-haired Gohan and family instantly surrounded him, cooing and smiling. He beamed joyfully at them. "Guys...meet my grandson. Saxophone."
. . .
Hush, love
I see a light in the sky
Oh, it's almost blinding me
I can't believe
I've been touched by an angel with love
. . .
Many, many years passed. Not just decades, but centuries. There were weddings, births... funerals...Doramu really had a hard time when Gohan died...and a new city was built at the base of the mountain where the Namek family lived. The forest thickened and left the landscape dappled in bits of light and dark.
Time waited for no one.
An elder sat in an easy chair by the window, gently thumbing through a large, black photo album. Wrinkled, round-ended fingers flipped past pages labeled with different names.
Piccolo and Doramu. Doramu and Mandorin. Mandorin and Saxophone. Saxophone...tall, slender and carrying on the trait of long antennae, and Violin. Violin, who grew up to be unusually short with slender ears and his newborn son, Trombone. Violin's first child, Horn, died before any pictures could be taken. Horn's name was marked with a small flower and footprints. There was a gap of several decades before Violin finally tried again and had Trombone.
The fingers stopped when they reached Trombone and Cello, and gently tucked the new photos into the plastic sleeve - right beside photos of a lean, gentle-faced Namek with tall ears and pale skin kissing the forehead of a newborn. Now it was home to photos of a big-eyed little Namek boy with a missing front tooth.
"Great grandpa?" A tiny voice popped up from the doorway.
Mandorin turned his clear eyes to the little voice so full of innocence. "Come on in, Cello. I'm just putting your pictures in here so we can show them to your great grandpappy. He's too old to come to us now."
"You're almost as wrinkly as he is!" Cello climbed onto the chair and perched on Mandorin's knee. "And then we get to take the big family picture and hear the story?"
The elder smiled at the goofy little boy, "That's right."
"Okay! Hey um..." Cello blinked and tried to remember what he wanted to say. His antennae bobbed. "Oh yeah! Maybe you shouldn't take so long in the bath. Then you won't be wrinkly."
Mandorin kissed Cello's head and laughed, "I'm afraid I'm going to be wrinkled no matter how fast I take a bath. You'll understand when you get to be my age."
Cello crossed his arms and tried to look fierce, but his large, black eyes just made him more adorable. "I'm NEVER getting wrinkles!"
"Heh, heh!"
"Cello, come along. You have to get dressed." Trombone's smooth bass voice filtered into the room. "Is he bugging you, pappy Mandorin?"
"Not at all," Mandorin chuckled, patting Cello's head. "We were just discussing my wrinkles."
Trombone stepped into the room and grinned. He'd been blessed with light skin, a beautiful hue bordering on lime. "I'll be getting a few of my own pretty soon here, I think." He scooped Cello up off Mandorin's lap and kissed his cheek. "Take your time, pappy."
Mandorin nodded and watched them leave the room. He closed the book and smiled through the sunlight streaming into the window. The little sapling he'd planted when Saxophone was born had grown into a tall, strong willow. "And the tree of life just keeps growing..."
. . .
Let the rain come down and wash away my tears
Let it fill my soul and drown my fears
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun
A new day has come
. . .
Cello, dressed in clean blue overalls, burst from his father's arms when the old Son house came into view. He scrambled across the dirt path and raced towards the hunched green form bearing a strong resemblance to Earth's old Kami. "Great grandpappy! Happy birthday!"
Doramu knelt to scoop up the youngest member of his growing family and swung him around in a big circle. "Oof! Ooh, my old back...you're getting too big for me to do that!" But he smiled and hugged him close.
Mandorin leaned on Violin and Saxophone, met Trombone's eyes and chuckled. Over time his father had replaced his gi with a long tunic and white cape without the weights. But for a Namek as old as he was, he thought he looked pretty good.
"Hey, dad..."
Doramu reached out and wrapped an arm around his son, pulling him close to kiss the top of his wrinkled head. "It's a beautiful day...let's take the picture outside."
Violin edged his six foot form over to lift Cello off Doramu's arm. He blew a big razz on his cheek and put him down to tie his shoe for him. "C'mon guys, I'm itching to try out this new camera!"
Saxophone nudged him, grinning. He had his father's smile. "You say that every year, you goof."
Trombone laughed his rich, bass laugh, his arms crossing across his chest. He had a thin grin that tilted sharply upwards on the left side and showed a lot of fang. "He's always been a camera junkie, what do you expect? Though he does break 'em pretty quick."
Violin glared playfully, "Only because I'm taking pictures of your ugly mug."
"Here we go again..." Mandorin covered his ears.
"And you're both noodle-heads!" Cello added in. "And you - " he fell silent when Trombone covered his mouth with one delicate hand.
Doramu just laughed and patted the boy's head. He walked over to the tall tree where, ages ago, the first photo of his father he'd ever seen was taken. It was a small tree then - now it seemed tall enough to steal the sun from the sky. He looked up and reflections of the sun-dappled leaves flitted across his clear, joyful onyx eyes.
Violin set the camera up on the tripod, adjusted the focus and checked the remote. "Okay, gather around great grandpappy."
Everybody gathered around the eldest beneath the tree. Mandorin stood behind and to the right of Doramu. Cello stood in the very front, Doramu's hands resting on his shoulders. Saxophone positioned himself on Mandorin's left. Violin and Trombone flanked them so they had a neat little gathering with the oldest and youngest in the center.
Violin lifted the remote. "Say cheese."
"CHEESE!"
Click-fwoosh!
. . .
Where it was dark now there's light
Where there was pain now there's joy
Where there was weakness, I found my strength
All in the eyes of a boy
. . .
"...and that was how I found out who my father really was. He was a great man who loved me as much as I love all of you."
Doramu closed the photo album, looked away from the dying fire in the fireplace and fixed his eyes on Cello, who was sitting on his knee. The others were all gathered around, dabbing at their eyes or staring down at the floor. Doramu studied each of their faces closely, hardly able to believe he was looking at four generations, five if he counted himself and his father.
They're all so strong, so beautiful, so amazing. His dark eyes reflected the remains of the fire as he gazed up at a framed photo of Piccolo above the mantle. That image of him standing beneath the tree, staring at a spot of sunlight off-camera. Gohan went and had it blown up as a birthday present ages ago.
Piccolo Daimaou Junior....his father...looked so strong, ageless and untouchable. The few memories Doramu had of him were vague at best. Mostly dusty desert smells, a heartbeat, gentle hands and a soothing voice that rarely rose above a whisper. Trombone's voice was the closest to it, save that it lacked the rasp.
"If he could see you all now....he'd be so proud." Doramu said as an afterthought, more to himself than them.
Cello yawned, prompting one from Trombone and Violin as well. Sax and Mandorin only stretched out.
"Looks like it's bedtime for a certain little guy," Trombone rolled to his feet, assuming his full seven and a half foot height. He was the tallest in the family so far.
"I'll put him to bed," Doramu smiled, heaving himself to his feet and settling Cello against his hip. "I haven't tucked a little one in for ages. And I think I'll turn in myself, I am pretty tired."
Cello squealed, "Yaaaaay great grandpappy!"
Violin climbed off the little futon he'd sat himself down on. He wrapped a strong hand gently around Doramu's shoulder, "Good night, grandpappy Doramu."
This prompted the others to get up and gather around their eldest relative, bombarding him with soft good night's and hugs. Doramu's heart swelled happily at being surrounded by his family. He said good night to them and carried a sleepy Cello into the bedroom.
Five extra sleeping mats had been set up around his bed. Doramu lowered Cello onto the mat nearest the door and pulled the blankets around his small form.
"Great grandpappy?"
Doramu gazed down at him, his wrinkled face pleasant in its age, "Yes, little one?"
Cello yawned a fangy yawn. "...If your daddy didn't die so young, would he be all wrinkly right now too?"
"I'm sure he'd have even more." Doramu leaned down until he was nose to nose with his youngest relative and grinned into his eyes. "And he would love you as much as I do. Which is about - " He spread his arms, "This much!" and he brought his hands down to tickle Cello's sides, making the child laugh and squirm.
"That's a lot!" Cello giggled and wrapped his arms around Doramu's neck. "G'night, great grandpappy."
Doramu eased Cello down, tucking him back in. He brushed his antennae back and kissed his smooth forehead, "Good night, Cello."
He struggled to get to his feet when Mandorin slipped in.
"Hey, dad? Need some help?"
"Thank you. Silly old bones don't quite work as well as they used to..." Doramu took Mandorin's offered hand and pulled himself to his feet. They came face to face. Doramu breathed out and reached up to touch Mandorin's creased cheek. "You're a beautiful man, my son..."
Mandorin's eyes watered. He wrapped his arms around Doramu's neck and hugged him gently, feeling his arms hug him back. "Let me tuck you in?"
"Sure."
A few moments later found Doramu resting comfortably in his bed with the blankets pulled up around his aged form. He reached out and took Mandorin's hand before he could leave. Mandorin blinked and looked down at him.
"Hm?"
He smiled, "I remember one word my dad said to me. Only one."
Mandorin perched on the edge of the bed. "What is it?"
The older Namek turned his head to look straight into his son's eyes. "Live." His eyes sparkled.
"And you sure do."
Doramu's wrinkled lips pulled into a soft smile. The lines around his eyes deepened, "I've had a very, very happy life, Mandorin. Five hundred years of happiness...I could not ask for better."
"It's a long time...and we saw so many people die."
"Yes, but," Doramu squeezed Mandorin's hand, "It's still a wonderful life because you're part of it."
Mandorin smiled over the lump in his throat, bent down and rested his head on Doramu's chest. "You're a great dad. I have a great life because of you. A great life."
"I'm glad." Doramu's smile became a wide grin. He stroked Mandorin's cheek with one hand, holding his shoulder with the other. Even breathing told him he'd already put Mandorin to sleep. Heh...but you know what, Mandorin? I never realized how wonderful a gift life was until you were born. I had to give it to someone else to feel it...and now look at us...we're a family. He chuckled to himself, kissed Mandorin's forehead and closed his eyes to sleep. I love you, my son...
. . .
Hush, love
I see a light in the sky
Oh, it's almost blinding me
I can't believe
I've been touched by an angel with love
. . .
The room was dark, lit only by starlight shining in through the open window. A soft breeze stirred the whispering curtains in perfect time with the breathing of six sleeping forms. Nothing else moved, even the crickets and frogs hardly made any sounds. As if the world didn't want to disturb the calm spring night.
Doramu stirred and opened his eyes when he felt warmth on his skin. He blinked at the foot of the bed where a peculiar red glow hovered inside the wall. That was odd...he didn't remember plugging in a night light.
Suddenly a foot clad in brown emerged and touched down on the floor. Heavy cloth rustled. Doramu's eyes widened as a shadow fell over him.
"I knew you'd come..."
Piccolo approached his bedside, the glow following his cape. His face remained stern and impassive as he leaned down to press a kiss into Doramu's forehead. His large, tapered hands splayed on the pillow, denting it. "I knew you'd be waiting for me to come get you."
Tears filled Doramu's eyes. He freed one hand from Mandorin and touched Piccolo's cheek for the first time. It was warm and smooth. "I have waited so long to meet you...daddy....so long to thank you for my life...so long to tell you I love you to your face..."
A soft smile tugged at Piccolo's lips, his intense eyes dancing in the light. Pulling away from Doramu's touch, he offered his hand. A hand identical to Piccolo's reached up. Their fingers touched and interlocked. Piccolo stepped back to help Doramu up. He came eye to eye with a face that once again mirrored his own and couldn't help but embrace him tightly. "Doramu...I'm sorry for leaving you like - "
"Dad, it's okay..." Doramu beamed so brightly he rivaled the light beside them. He looked so alive. "You gave me five hundred years of life, and I gave it to them. There's nothing to be sorry for. I had a great life just like you wanted."
"I know, I've been watching you...I lived again through you." Piccolo rested a hand on Doramu's shoulder, squeezing gently. There were no words for how happy he was right at that moment. "Ready?"
Doramu turned back to the room. He saw himself still lying in the bed, smiling as if having a pleasant dream. Mandorin's head was still on his chest. The others were sprawled out on their sleeping mats, dreaming happily. Such a strong, happy family, and it could only grow as time went on. Doramu smiled softly and turned to his father, nodding only once.
Together, they joined hands and stepped into the light.
. . .
Let the rain come down and wash away my tears
Let it fill my soul and drown my fears
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun
A new day has...
. . .
Mandorin stirred when sunlight cut into his eyelids. Something didn't seem quite right, but his brain wouldn't wrap around it until he woke up more fully. The chest he'd been sleeping on all night wasn't moving.
"Dad?" Mandorin sat up to look down.
Doramu was still laying exactly as he was when Mandorin tucked him in. The sun created bits of light and shadow on his wrinkled face. He was smiling pleasantly at something beautiful only he saw. His eyes didn't move beneath the closed lids. Mandorin knew they wouldn't open again. Tears raced down his cheeks.
"Daddy...oh no, dad...daddy..." Mandorin took Doramu's limp hand, kissed it and pulled him to his chest. He rocked back and forth, crying softly. "Goodbye."
"Great grandpa?" Cello climbed onto the bed, heavy-eyed with sleep. "Why're you crying?"
"Great grandpappy's gone, Cello." Mandorin fought to keep his voice steady, "He died in his sleep. It didn't hurt."
Cello blinked twice. He crawled to sit on Doramu's legs and touched his large hands. They were limp and like ice. He looked up at Mandorin with wide, innocent eyes full of tears. "But he's awake in Heaven now! He finally gets to meet his daddy! You shouldn't be sad for him, he missed his daddy like you miss him now. And now they can run and play and do all the things daddies and kids do." The child bounced slightly, "Don't be sad when he's happy...he'll come get you someday."
Mandorin snatched Cello close and kissed the top of his head. His tears poured down over the boy's ears. "You're a very, very smart little boy, Cello. I'm only crying because....I'm sad to see him go. I am happy, too, but I'm just sad to see him leave."
Cello kissed Doramu's cheek, then stood up on his knees to kiss Mandorin's cheek too. "You should burn him like Gohan did for great great grandpappy Piccolo."
Trombone came out of nowhere and lifted Cello off the bed. He pulled him close, tears in his eyes. "Shh, boy, quiet now...not the time to talk."
The others, also awake, came to surround the bed. Each kissed and held their dead elder, thanking him for being in their lives. Nobody in the room had a dry eye.
Over the next few hours, Mandorin and family cleaned Doramu's body, dressed him in his old fighting gi and laid him out on his bed. He looked so noble and peaceful in the attire from his youth. All but Cello remembered him when he was still a young man. A man who was still full of spirit right up to his final breath.
. . .
Let the rain come down and wash away my tears
Let it fill my soul and drown my fears
Let it shatter the walls for a new sun
A new day has come
. . .
Mandorin slipped the brand new family photo under the folded, wrinkled hands that once belonged to his father. Hands that soothed his tears, held him when he was afraid and helped him bring his son into the world. He looked over at Doramu's face. There were no shadows. Not even in his wrinkles. For a moment Mandorin could barely even see them, as if for a split second Doramu was young again just to 'wink' at him.
"Dad..." Mandorin stroked Doramu's hands. Tears trickled down his pitted green cheeks. "I love you so much. Say hi to grandpa Piccolo, Gohan and them for me, okay? I know you'll be back for me someday, like Cello said." He smiled sadly, bent down and kissed Doramu's forehead. "Bye..."
Mandorin stepped back, nodded to the others and aimed a hand at the pyre. Six small ki blasts ignited the wood, starting the fire that would turn Doramu's withered body into the same dust his father became part of over five-hundred years ago.
As the flames burned, they parted and shifted. Mandorin swore he saw two forms with white capes walking off into the distance, arm in arm with a familiar, dark-haired teenage boy.
He grinned as the flames rose to cover them, "Go, dad, go....and don't look back."
. . .
A new day has come
Oh, a light
Hush, now...
. . .
"And that, Trumpet, Guitar and Bassoon....and little Clarinet...is how it went. How it will always be."
The fireplace fizzled as Cello looked away. Orange light glittered across his wrinkled face and the faces of his aging son, his olive-hued grandson, his stocky great grandson and young, energetic great-great grandson. All four of their faces glowed in awe, the eldest looking a little sad.
"So no matter what happens..." Guitar leaned forward, "life will always prevail."
"You heard him," Bassoon poked Guitar in the side.
Clarinet climbed off Cello's knee, "I liked that story!"
Trumpet just looked over at his father, smiled softly and said, "I can't believe how far we've come." He gestured to the younger generations as they wrestled around on the ground, "Just look at them."
"I know," Cello grinned toothily and closed the large, black photo album. It was so full with over seven hundred years worth of lives that it barely folded shut anymore. "Isn't life a wonderful gift?"
. . .
I see a light in your eyes
All in the eyes of a boy
I can't believe
I've been touched by an angel with love
I can't believe
I've been touched by an angel with love
Hush, now
A new day
Hush, now
A new day...
A new day has come.