"Daddy?" He couldn't understand it. A man stood over his dad, his dad was fighting the man, but then the man hit him and his dad fell over. He cried for his dad to get up but his dad wouldn't. 'Why won't daddy get up.' Tears came to the boy's eyes. "Daddy?... Daddy!... Daddy!" Anger swelled with in his breast, churning loathing hatred for what this man did to his dad."... Daadddyyy!" the scearm rent the air, chilling the souls of all near. The man was now staring at him, so was another man, one who fought with his dad. He felt anger, hatred, and an odd feeling, a need, a need to vent the anger and hatred. He let the anger grow, drawing it out from all the corners in his soul. If his daddy and the other man couldn't win, he needed to get stronger. The boy reached deep, deeper than ever before. Before the astonished eyes of the two men, the child changed. His once dark eyes, so very dark, were lightning, to a pale green color. His hair too, turning from a dark black to a golden yellow. The very air was charged, the young saiyan's power rising beyond that of the two warriors. Rocks floated up around the boy, his anger belyingthe laws of physics. He Earth shook at the terrible rage growing, a rage that can only be satisfied with one mans death.
The boy sprang too fast for the experienced saiyans eyes to follow, the boy landing punch after excrutiating punch, never letting up the attack. The boy kicked and hit with abandon, relinquising all reason to the basic points of killing. The boy sprang into the air, stopping many feet above the barely concious saiyan. He positioned his hands, covered with the enemies blood, infront of him, power flowing just beyond the tips of his fingers, his power forming in his bared hands. He cried now, for he knew his dad was dead, he could sense no life force within the body. Yelling at the pain, anger and hate, he pushed the power from his body, all of it. The energy soared, aimed at the proned killer.
"Gohan?" Gohan who's that? "Gohan!" Gohan... I know that name... it's... mine. With a start the young boy sat straight, looking into the eyes of the green skinned man that was his fathers friend. "Gohan, I'm so sorry..." What was he talking about? Why was he sorry? The boy stood up, looking around. "Where's daddy?" The man, Mr. Piccolo, just looked away. Then he remembered, the man, his father dying, his loving, caring father. Tears welled in his eyes, blinding his sight of the namekian named Piccolo. "I'm sorry, Gohan. I'll take you to your mother. Come." In his grief, he never heard what Piccolo said next. "We'll get him back... we'll get him back."