Life at the lookout had grown far more intense since the Pendulum Room incident. Krillin and Chiaotzu had upped there training significantly, ever conscientious of there humiliating defeat to those Saiyans, while Yamcha upped his because he didn't want to be one upped. Not exactly the best reason to train harder, but it was enough. There was hope in the air, confidence was high. Tien could sense that. When the Saiyans came, they'd teach them a lesson or ten.

Difference was that the reasons he was confident were different than his more trusting friends. The reason why: he knew Kami deceived them royally at the Pendulum Room. They were completely and utterly outclassed. For now anyways.

Of course, he didn't figure it out immediately. Kami was a little too stoic for that. Unfortunately for his motives, Tien had spent most of his life as a swindler and first-rate assassin. Trusting people too easily in either job usually ended up with you in a ditch somewhere. It paid to spot, divulge or keep lies and half-truths, sometimes very literally. And a couple more clandestine sessions in the Pendulum Room to confirm the true nature of there foes put any lingering doubts of his to bed.

Tien didn't know why Kami had chose to keep the truth from them. Being honest, he didn't need to know why. The Guardian of the Earth must've had a very good reason to act the way he did, and Tien would never bet against the old geezer to lead them truly astray. The man had already done so much for them as it is. He deserved some leeway to act as he saw fit. It wasn't his job to question it.

What was his job was to get his friends through this alive. And that was setting up to be a Herculean task.

The Pendulum Room turned out to be a godsend for that. Equipped with Raditz's name courtesy of Krillin, the former student of the Crane Dojo went to work shadowing the long-haired Saiyan through his brutally short life. There was nothing about the man that was even remotely redeemable. A monster that could make even him at his worst blanch. His death must've been satisfying for somebody – at least it was for him. Sad part was he was pretty normal really. Was that what Goku was supposed to be like? Tien had pause to shutter slightly.

Raditz was dead though. No voodoo priest was bringing him back from the grave. Not like it mattered one way or another. No, his friends were both more powerful and vastly more terrifying. That Nappa and Vegeta – they were going to be a handful.

In fact, Tien had to say even with a year to train they'd be slaughtered in a fair fight. Assassins don't fight fair, though.

Shadow killers that fought fair didn't live long. Shame flowed through his veins at how underhanded he had been back in those days. Even the thought of having to embrace some of the ideology he once lived by sickened him. Maybe if it was just him on the line he'd refuse this path, but it wasn't just him. The entire Earth was on the line. Could he tell Krillin, Yamcha or even Chiaotzu in the afterlife that he honestly didn't do everything in his power to defeat these menaces if it came to that? Could he even look at himself after that? He had already failed against King Piccolo, he couldn't do it again!

Didn't help that these Saiyans really deserved to die and they were too strong to be killed by conventional means. At least for him.

Regardless, his training as an assassin had one cardinal tenant: all men are vulnerable. All men can be killed.

Tien didn't doubt this principle. No man was without flaws, fatally so. It was the job of an assassin to find them – bend them to his will – and make sure those flaws did them in. Preferably while he was a distance away.

Having quickly rooted out the identity of the two Saiyans that were going to attack the Earth, Tien decided it was best to trace the histories and personalities of the two attackers personally. Flaws aren't skin deep.

Truthfully speaking, he had never put much stock into appearances when it came to estimating threats. Oftentimes, the smallest opponents were the most venomous. But even Tien had a hard time comprehending how true this was for the Saiyans.

The hulking behemoth, Nappa as he was called, was a pissant in comparison to his almost normal looking superior. The contrast was so stark that it made Tien smirk disdainfully at the power dynamic between the two. Bleak thing was though that the brute was still at least five stronger than any of them put together. Compared to Vegeta, they may as well be nothing and he didn't doubt the prince would let them know it.

Pity that for all of their Saiyan pride, Saiyans weren't all that different from humans. Sure they were denser, stronger and faster, but there was more to martial arts than that. Energy doesn't just materialize for your use, it's has to be circulated throughout the body before getting expelled in a focal point. Sadly for them, those systems were exactly the same as any human. That would be there undoing.

Those Saiyans would be coming here looking for a fight, sure of their victory and consequent immortality. They'd get neither. Not if Tien had any anything to say about it.

Pride comes before the fall.

Goku was too trusting. Yes, nobody's world was going to be rocked by that admission. In fact, it was as obvious as saying the sky was blue – well, at least the sky on Earth, anyway. Still, sometimes he trusted people too much and he got burned. Burned royally.

Take Princess Snake for instance. He didn't notice anything remotely suspicious about her. Not her name, not the fact her mansion was out literally in the middle of nowhere, not that she was almost too accommodating and extremely resistant to even the concept of him leaving even after he pretty much said that was what he was going to do. Nope, nothing. But get burned he did later though.

That snake really was something else. He didn't know how that thing got so large or so menacing, but it didn't mean anything to him. Running away from it was all that mattered. He swiveled, he jived, he flipped. All in a gambit that the creature would foolishly tangle itself up with its own body. No dice, unfortunately. The creature was too smart for that tactic, too experienced to fall for such a naive trick. That thing was tough.

Too tough for him, sadly. No, it didn't kill him – he was already dead so that would've been redundant – but what happened in the end wasn't all that much more savory.

Growing desperate to escape, Goku fired a Kamehamaha at the encroaching beast. However, the beast was much too close and he was dangerously close to the golden clouds that separated the realm that Snake Way inhabited from the hellish plains of HFIL. Blown back by the might of his signature attack, the full-blooded Saiyan was helpless to stop himself from falling from grace.

Landing softly in the pits of hell, Goku sighed. He would've cursed and shouted if he was a more vulgar man, but he wasn't that type. This was his second time down here – he was confident he could get back out again if need be. But the damage was done. There was no way he'd get out of here, travel all the way across Snake Way, train with King Kai and get back before the Saiyans would come. That time table was hopelessly unrealistic, even to him. What was he going to do now? This wasn't how things were supposed to end?

For the briefest of seconds, Goku felt the anguish of pure failure run through his veins. Unaccustomed to the sensation, the savior felt the knot just twist in his stomach like a blow to the gut. He couldn't understand how he had let this happen? Where he had went wrong? Was it even possible to rectify the situation?

Then again, he was also Goku. Dark or self-defeating thoughts never lasted long against his unrelenting good cheer. Feeling sorry for yourself simply wasn't helpful when he could actually be doing something about it. Hope was not lost until the fat lady sings, after all.

First things first. He needed to get a ticket out of HFIL and the sooner the better. Easier said than done.

He wasn't in Kansas anymore. Life in this section of Hell was so much different than the side that he fell into earlier. In fact, if he didn't know they were one-and-the-same, he would've never guessed for himself. No fountains of blood (perfect for swimming), friendly ogres (demons from hell) or trees of knowledge (was this what that book was talking about?). Nope, these places were nothing alike.

White. Cleverer descriptions could probably be made up to explain the nature of this new tier of Hell, but white was all that Goku got. White. No definition, no shading, no other hues and a brightness that almost hurt the eyes. White. No sounds, no smells, no tastes, no textures. White. Get the white part yet?

Goku had to wonder what the point of the whiteness was. Since it was clear that hell was a hierarchical system where the wicked were punished in different and escalating ways, Goku had to wonder about what this place's purpose was in the immortal scheme. He guessed some very strong bad guys had been put in this place.

Walking around for even a couple hours had enlightened the heroic Saiyan of the nastiness of this punishment. It was like standing in a blank void. No matter how far he moved, the void remained the same. Not even a trace of his effort existed to even mark what he had been doing. Like nothing that he had done had ever existed or mattered. Only the sweat on his brow affirmed that he done anything at all.

Disorientation was the first effect of this realm. Saiyans, like humans, were sensual creatures. With his sense of smell, sound, taste and touch completely disabled and his sense of sight down reduced to a state of almost near blindness, the Saiyan had found himself struggling to even have complete control of his faculties. His mind started to play tricks on him, making colors that didn't exist blur or making his movements very wobbly. The hero shuddered to think about what long-term exposure could do in this realm. Gruesome stuff.

Frustration was the next feeling to join the party. How was he supposed to get out of this place so he could help his friends? Outside of the fact he wasn't supposed to get out of this place, the Saiyan had not even a single clue. This place was impossibly disorientating for reasons already stated and nobody was around to help him get out like the first time and there was no clues to hold onto too. He had to help his friends, but what could he do if he was trapped in this darn realm. Absolutely nothing.

Doubt came next, although much later then the other two. Weeks had pasted wandering aimlessly in this blank dimension before this particularly crushing emotion gripped Goku. No farther in solving the riddle of this nothing realm than when he started, the friendly pseudo-earthling was starting to wonder if he could even get out of this domain. Was this his true fate? Could he even break out? Good cheer had gotten him this far, but sadly even his unrelentingly positive mood had its limits too ironically. He needed something to happen soon or even the mighty Goku would submit to the will of this chamber.

Ironically, something would happen. And he had Raditz to thank for it. He may have been the villain to start all of this, but at least now he could say his evil older brother had done one good for him unwittingly.

Goku barely even felt it, actually. He was just continuing his direction-less wandering when he got pushed back hundreds of yards to land flat on his back. Strange, he didn't feel the slightest amount of pain from the blow. Pleasure he expected to be curbed in hell – but apparently this realm was against any sensation, even ones that were supposed to hurt.

That was neither here nor there. Picking himself up off the ground, the Saiyan couldn't contain a bit of his shock to see Raditz staring at him with a disdainful sneer on his face. The man spouted something, Goku could tell by his lips, but the man made no sound, which left Goku utterly baffled to how he was supposed to understand him. Goku couldn't even hope to lip-read the words coming out of the ne'er-do-well's mouth.

Apparently not appreciative of his lack of response, the long-haired Saiyan trudged forward and buried his fist in Goku's chest, causing the other man to curl around the blow instinctively. Using the involuntary response to his advantage, Raditz slithered his left hand under Goku's chin and clasped hold of the dead hero's neck.

Lifting him up by the underside of his throat, Raditz scowled ghoulishly as his estranged family member tried to pry his hand off his neck. Of course, by then he knew that even dangling by his own neck would elicit no sensation. No pressure or even weakness of breath. Still, old habits died hard and trying to prevent yourself from being choked to death was about as old of a habit as you can get.

The horror was far from over, though. Not if Raditz had anything to say about it. With his free hand, the deranged man powered up his Saturday Crush attack – without doubt to plunge it into Goku's chest. Personally caught up in trying to escape, the star pupil of the Turtle school didn't even have a hope of escaping in time. Fortunately for him, he wouldn't have to.

In an instant, with a snarl that the Saiyan could not hear, he was dropped onto his ass and the fearsome attack no doubt reserved for him disappeared from view. This was certainly not what Goku was expecting.

Casually walking into view was a Saiyan Goku had never seen before, but he almost instantly knew who he was. Or at least who he was supposed to mean for him.

Adorned in a uniform that Goku didn't have a ghost of a chance to recognize, the man's bodily features were entirely uninteresting to the Earth's greatest savior. No, the man's face was the important part. He had saw that face – he passed by it in the mirror everyday.

Suddenly, he swore he heard something. A connection – a sensation. Knowing instantly where it came from, the estranged Saiyan stared straight at the unnamed man. And then the sounds made sense.

"Hello, Kakarot."

"Hello, father."

Life can change fast. One morning you can be sleeping in your bed and the next your remains could be found scattered across the municipal beach. For the residents of a small fishing village near Mt Paozu, this morbid vision couldn't be more true.

It was the rainy season. Monsoons were to be expected. Tsunami's were too, if you were exceptionally unlucky. This community was that unlucky.

Isolated from the rest of society, no warning could be given. No help would come until it was far too late. In a matter of hours, a happy society would be leveled so completely that it would never be the same again.

Only a week had passed since that fateful day and the wounds of a town on the verge of death could already be seen. Hundreds were displaced, left without a home due to shear destruction brought forward by the capricious whims of mother nature. Streets were flooded in and buildings were left in soggy ruins. The harbor and its accompanying district had been destroyed so utterly that one would swear it didn't exist at all. And without that there no way for a fishing village to get back on tract. Of everybody in the village, only the people perched on the highest cliffs came out of this relatively unscathed. And that wasn't enough.

Provided your family was intact and you had at least some money in hand, which some had both fortunately, most likely you chose to pull out your roots and move elsewhere. Nobody could blame you. Everybody was thinking the same thing. Within a month, the only people left in this devastated community would be the ones so destitute they literally couldn't escape.

Perhaps the most tragic victims of this chaos were the herds of newly minted orphans that now teemed the streets. Without parents to care for them and rescue services hopelessly overrun by people who needed help, these large packs of children were left by the wayside to fend for themselves as further storms barraged the ruined town.

Forced to consolidate into packs for there own safety and welfare, these parent-less children chose an abandoned manor to the west of town to set up shop. It was the only place intact enough and large enough to shelter them all.

To make matters worse, once finding a lookout of relative safety, at least half of there makeshift group promptly got sick. Really sick. Fevers and stuff like that. Completely incapacitated and in need of much more assistance than any of the healthy orphans could provide. You could count on maybe two hands the number of orphans who were capable of doing just about anything to help the group at that time.

Things were bad. Dire really. People may start dying if things weren't improving soon, but hopefully the days to come would be better than the days that they left behind. Pigero hoped against hope for that to be true.

Of the ten or so orphans limber enough to do something, Rom and his sister Chico were told to scout out for anything useful on the beaches west of their abandoned manor. They expected to find driftwood; they expected to find shells on the beach.

What they didn't expect to find on the beach was a body.

Lying prone with his face buried in sand was a boy about as old as they were. How he ended up there was anybody's guess.

"Hey Rom," murmured Chico, pointing towards the body while turning her face so that she was staring at her brother. "Do you think he's dead?"

Rom moved in closer, squinting his eyes thoughtfully at the unmoving form of the other boy. A storm blew through the area the night before, so if he got caught in it he was probably dead. Still, he wanted to be sure.

"Chico, can you hand me that stick right to your left?" asked her brother, startling his sister for a second before she complied with his request. Stick in hand, the orphan trotted up to the mystery boy and casually started to poke him in the shoulder, eliciting no immediate response from the sleeping lad.

"Nope, I don't think there's anybody home," muttered Rom, poking the boy in the stomach one last time for good measure before sighing. Bummer that he was dead – maybe he could've been younger than him. He didn't like being the youngest known orphan.

Turning to Chico, who had gathered the same conclusions that he did, the boy doubled back to his sister before smiling at her mischievously. "Pigero told us to look for anything of value. Do you think if we looked through his things, we'd find anything we could use?"

Chico gave her rascal of a brother a withering look. Disturbing the dead, really? That just didn't seem like a good idea. The kind of thing that started one of those horror stories that she remembered frightened her before the tsunami.

Reading her apprehension like a book, Rom shrugged off her fears. "Come on, Chico. It's not like he's going to miss any of it."

"Miss any of what?"

Turning around reflexively at the voice, Rom and Chico blanched like a sheet and there knees buckled when they saw the boy they swore was dead stare at them blankly. They both had the same thought run through their mind at the same time.

"Aw, zombie!" they both screeched, although thankfully nobody could hear them except Gohan who was too preoccupied in his own haze to listen. Rom would be very grateful for Gohan's stupor soon. His reaction was very undignified.

Barely even registering their reaction, Gohan lazily extended his hand, staring deadpan at the two orphans. "Hey, what are you two–"

He didn't finish his sentence. Falling unconscious does that to you.

Staring at each other like they didn't just see what happened, Rom and Chico picked themselves up and dusted themselves off. Bit dazed by the strangeness of what they had just been witness too, the two youngsters grabbed hold of their new playmate and dragged him back to base. At least Rom wouldn't be the youngest known orphan any longer!

Gohan was confused. Happy but confused. The last memory the half-human boy remembered was being thrown around like a ragdoll in a terrifying storm and now he was sleeping in somebody's bed. He was happy about this drastic change of events, but he had to wonder where his memory was laying one hell of an egg.

Fate wasn't going to let him explore the mystery of how he was alive and why he didn't remember how, though. Preoccupied by his own muttering, Gohan didn't notice that he had company. Looking at him softly were the twins that had dragged him there, waiting patiently for him to wake up.

"Hey!" exclaimed Rom, catching Gohan by surprise the same way Gohan took them by surprise back on the beach.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" piped in Chico as well, causing Gohan to blush sheepishly at being addressed that way when he finally figured out what was going on.

Staring at his dilapidated surroundings for a minute, the demi-Saiyan returned his gaze to the twins inquisitively. "Where am I?"

Neither Chico or Rom knew exactly how to answer that. "Home, I guess," gathered Rom, offering the best explanation he could to what this manor meant to them.

Gohan only had one response to that. "Huh?"

"Most of us are orphans," clarified Chico helpfully, staring at the floor with a downcast expression. "A really big wave hit our town not so long ago and left a lot of us without parents."

Saddened greatly by the devastating news, Gohan lowered his head ruefully, offering his respects and condolences implicitly to the two of them. He could empathize with the pain of losing at least one of his parents after all. "Oh."

"Yah, we're here because there's a lot of us and this was the only place in town that could house us all," added in Rom glumly, still trying to dance around the topic of how his parents died. It was a touchy subject he'd rather not visit in too much detail. Too depressing and didn't sit well with his personality.

Time to change topics. "Enough about us though, who are you?" asked Rom, curious beyond belief about the boy in front of them.

Pointing to himself reflexively, Gohan looked at the other boy. "Me?"

"Yes you, silly," clarified Chico, she and her brother laughing good-heartedly at how demure there new companion was. They were very good at making new friends, it was probably one of their main good traits. People liked them because they never took himself too seriously despite all the chaos surrounding them.

Going silent for a split second to think about what to say, Gohan merely offered up his name to the other more rambunctious children. Of course, said boy and girl wanted to know a lot more than just the other kid's name.

"So Gohan, what were you doing out in that storm?" asked Rom, before his sister bopped him on the head for being rude and accidentally intimidating there new friend. The energetic boy immediately apologized while Gohan giggled in amusement. He really didn't mind.

"Trying to go home," replied Gohan lamely, still ashamed of how stupid he had acted earlier and as a consequence wasn't super convincing. The boy still failed to understand how he was still alive after doing the stupid stuff he did. Don't get him wrong. He was ecstatic to be alive, but the extra time to ruminate on his choices wasn't making him any more forgiving of his actions.

Could he truly return now? Forget everything that occurred out in the storm and just go home and live on as normal? Like he didn't know that the world could possibly end within the year? To hide out and do some pointless task that would ultimately mean nothing if the Saiyans won this upcoming battle?

Was he frightened of the Saiyans? Absolutely. He would've been an idiot to not feel that way. Did he truly think he could win on his own? No, either. In all actuality, his dad once he returned from the dead was probably the Earth's only chance. That didn't mean though that he couldn't make a difference. Anything was better than the demise that almost befallen him out at sea. And he couldn't afford to forget that lesson.

Rom and Chico interpreted his words differently. His long fought journey to go home resonated strongly with them, especially their own yearning to return to a home they knew didn't exist any longer. Admittedly, there was an undercurrent of envy that ran through them. He had family left, he knew he had family left, and they didn't. Still, they couldn't fault him for his efforts – they would've done the same thing. And they resolved to help him in any way they could.

"Who do you have left?" the two orphans asked almost simultaneously, curious to know more from their new playmate.

"My mom and grandfather," Gohan mentioned morosely, still saddened by his father's death. He didn't see it happen but it was still a bit sore for the boy. That entire battle would probably be a nightmare for him for a long time.

"And your father?" asked both twins, having a feeling they knew where this was going to go.

"Dead," stated Gohan, confirming the thoughts of both orphans.

Silence immediately settled in over the room, suffocating the atmosphere. Gohan didn't know exactly what to say to the other orphans and Rom and Chico didn't know what to say that wouldn't accidentally harm their new friend. Needless to say, things were very awkward until Rom figured out the words to diffuse the situation.

"Well, Gohan, until your ready to go home, you're more than welcome here," offered Rom, trying to plaster on his most cheerful smile. It wasn't as effective as it used to be, for obvious reasons, but it was still damn effective. "We don't got much, but we hope it will be enough for awhile. One rule though: no crying. But don't pay attention to it."

A mischievous smile then flashed across his face. "Most of us break that rule, especially Chico!"

Gohan laughed as the girl blushed and tried to assault her brother for embarrassing her. The situation utterly defused, the half-Saiyan climbed out of bed and started inspect his surroundings. He had certainly slept in better places. His home, his grandfather's castle, a couple roadside inns on occasion...the cave he frequented in his wilderness training. Yah, it was bad.

Not that he didn't appreciate the thought, but this place was falling apart. How this place was still standing was kind of a mystery to him.

Noticing their new friend look around, Rom and Chico approached him, asking whether he wanted them to show him around. Taught to act graciously by his mother, the boy blushed and accepted the offer formally, which caused the two more lax orphans to laugh at how stiffly he responded.

In whole, the manor wasn't much. Three floors and one basement in total. Probably like twenty rooms, enough room for a lot of people but only about twenty or thirty without getting too cramped. Of course, there were probably more orphans than that in the house so it was cramped.

The top two floors weren't anything too special. Essentially just rows of small bedrooms and bathrooms, probably meant for children or a single adult. Although you probably wanted to be on the second floor, because there were more rooms that were completely sheltered from the elements. No maintenance in years meant that the roof had been structurally compromised years ago. It was only a matter of snow build-up that determined what segments went down when.

Of course, that wasn't the only sign of neglect around. Paint and wallpaper were peeling off the walls virtually everywhere, exposing the wood underneath. Speaking of the wood, since this place got waterlogged every time it rained probably, rot had already been forming in some of the support members, the walls and maybe even the foundation. And yet this place was still standing. Man's creations can be very resilient.

The ground floor was where everything was though. It was the sight of the kitchen, which was thread-bare. Understandable given the place was abandoned and the number of mouths to feed, but Gohan's stomach was hardly rational. He hadn't had anything in ages and he would've been famished even if he was fully human.

Since he was part-Saiyan though too...well, let's just say he was more than a bit hungry.

Other than that, it was also housed the main parlor of the house and the dining room. Having had his tour of the kitchen, the boy was treated to the sight of at least another eight or so orphans laying down sleeping on the floor of the living room as one lone orphan watched over them from the shadow of the room.

It was clear that this orphan was the leader. For one, he was at least twice as old as anybody Gohan had met yet. Fifteen years old – maybe sixteen if he was generous he'd reckon was how old he was. Like his own, this teenager had silky black hair that hung just over his bangs with piercing black eyes that complimented his stern image. Unlike Gohan, this adolescent had scuff marks and scratches all over his face, only one of which was bandaged on his chin. Altogether, the character had a rugged yet boyish charm to him which Gohan failed to acknowledge for an assortment of reasons.

Still whatever charm he may have had couldn't hide the exhaustion in his eyes. He was clearly overworked, stressed to the limit and tired to the brink of collapse. Most likely wasn't taking care of himself either. After all, if he was out, who would take care of all these kids? They needed him.

"Pigero?" asked Chico, pretty sure that it was the teen in the shadows but wanting to make sure for some reason.

Nodding his head in affirmation, Pigero walked towards the two twins and their new playmate, his weakness a thing of the past now that he was back in the spotlight again. Noticing the other boy in tow, the teen's eyes zoomed in on him to Gohan's discomfort.

"I see you're the boy that Rom and Chico were talking about earlier," mentioned the teen, trying to put on his most affable smile to appease the easily startled boy. "My name's Pigero, what's yours?"

As always when put on the spot, Gohan found his throat closed up and garbled almost anything he said. Fortunately, he was still able to slur out his name before he went completely incoherent.

"Gohan, eh?" remarked Pigero in a questioning fashion even if it was a statement. Kneeling down so that they locked eyes on a level plain, the compassionate teen continued his probe. "Where are you from, Gohan?"

"Um...M-ah Mt Paozu, sir," Gohan replied, stuttering slightly from his shyness.

The teen immediately sported an inquisitive stare while Rom and Chico remained confused by the older boy's questioning glance. "Mt Paozu? That's not far from here. But it's enclosed by the mountains away from all this."

Pigero was confused. Why was a boy from a remote place like Mt Paozu doing over here and found washed up on a beach? Curiosity driving him on, the pubescent boy asked the tot up front about what happened.

Surprisingly, Gohan was able to answer fairly succinctly for him. Enough to satisfy his present company in any case. Of course, he didn't mention things like Saiyans or Piccolo's, the Saiyan menace or other things like that. Pigero and the others were none the wiser.

Satisfied by his answer, the conversation turned towards parents. Since most of Gohan's present company had lost both parents, the demi-Saiyan felt embarrassed to mention that he had a parent on Mt Paozu that was probably worried sick about him.

Of course, this revelation almost instantly led Pigero into asking him if he wanted him to scrounge for the money to take him home. As kind as the offer was, Gohan really couldn't let Pigero do that. Not after what he seen.

In all honesty, if somebody would've told him that somebody was willing to take him home less than a week ago, he would've taken the offer in a heartbeat. He would've been glad to be home, in his own warm bed with his mother who, despite her faults, loved him more than life itself. Now though, he just couldn't do that.

It was clear these orphans, many not much older or younger than him, were in need of help. Not world-ending help even. A place where he could make a difference; a place where he had the power to make a difference.

Deep down, he was his father's son. He couldn't turn away from people in need, not even if it benefited him to walk away. This place was in a dire state and it was his job – his duty – to help it in any way he could. It would've been what his father would do.

And the boy didn't forget the lesson he learned out in that hurricane. The past would not be forgotten now.

Just to set the record straight, I am aware of the fact that the orphans in canon had been living on ther own for a couple years. There stories have been modified along with a notable change in tone. other than that, I this chapter was to everybody's satisfaction