Tien's behavior had been funny lately. Not shockingly so, which is why Krillin and Yamcha were none-the-wiser. You had to be with him for a very long time to catch the slight changes and there was nobody around that knew Tien better than his best friend Chiaotzu.

Now, it wasn't that he was particularly alarmed by this. Chiaotzu had more faith than anybody in Tien's capabilities and soundness of mind. He'd wager his life on it in a heartbeat. Still, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong.

Although it was hard to tell with somebody as stoic by nature as Tien, Chiaotzu could sense that his scowl was grimmer and more focused than usual. Like a mountain lion tracking a calf from a high bluff. Predatory some would call it, but Chioatzu would've been highly sceptical of that interpretation. The man still smiled genuinely when he saw him or any of their friends come by.

In all actuality, the three-eyed man was probably just worried about the days to come. More than anybody, he knew his friend had been cut the hardest when the terror known as King Piccolo raged across the lands. He didn't need to ask him to know that his ally still felt extremely guilty over his role in his death back in those days, and nothing would be completely able to convince him that he wasn't to blame. He also knew that Tien would sooner saw off his arms than go through that again.

How far would he go though? It was common knowledge that neither he nor Tien were always the good guys. Raised by Master Shen, both warriors had been conditioned to be ruthless and unforgiving. And some of their techniques reflected this. Some truly nasty abilities that they fortunately hadn't found an opportunity or reason to use. That didn't mean that they weren't there though or couldn't be used. Tien had his and so did Chiaotzu.

Like everything in life though, power comes at a cost. Generally this price is your conscience. Power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. You start acting in ways unfamiliar to your very nature very quickly.

If Tien was resorting to this, and Chiaotzu wasn't convinced of this, he knew that it wasn't because his friend desired power or control for the purposes of world domination. It would be for the power to destroy their enemies. To protect his friends at any cost. But if it was true, well you know what they say about hell, paved roads and good intentions, right?

Speaking of the devil himself, Chiaotzu noticed his partner-in-crime slowly enter the room he was sitting in. As he kinda gleaned for himself, Tien's posture or mannerisms hadn't changed at all. Only the feeling he radiated into you was more...uncomfortable than usual. Similar to probably how he once was, but nowhere near to that same intensity.

"Hello, Tien," greeted Chiaotzu in his most happy, nothings wrong tone. Tien wasn't the only one who could change his moods at the tip of a hat.

"Chiaotzu," greeted Tien back, smiling softly before taking a seat beside his friend. Laying the palm of his hands on the top of his thighs while his elbows jutted out over his flanks and neck craned over his pelvis, the man closed his eyes and began to concentrate on something.

Knowing his friend's habits almost more than he knew his own, Chiaotzu patiently waited for his partner to leave his thinking pose. It wasn't the best idea to disturb him when he was in the zone, per se. The best course of action was just waiting for him to initiate a conversation on his own, which could take awhile. Chiaotzu had many faults, but patience wasn't one of them. He could wait.

Eventually, the triclops exited his pose and turned to his friend with a grim expression. "Things are much bleaker than what Kami implied," the former assassin said without preamble.

The psychic was expecting to hear quite a few things, but what Tien said actually took him by surprise. Why would Kami lie to them and for what reason? Intrigued, the boyish looking former student of Master Shen floated up to Tien's eye level and asked the question. "Why do you think that?"

Tien sighed. "Because I know what our enemies can do?"

This admission puzzled Chiaotzu. How did Tien gain knowledge of their foes and what they were capable of? Quite frankly, it sounded a bit outlandish. Heedlessly, the psychic pressed on. "How?"

"The Pendulum Room," stated Tien, ruefully smiling when his comrade's eyes widened at the simplicity of his explanation. "Since we knew who Raditz was, I was able to track his memories to his allies. It's fair to say they'll be the people we'll fight."

"What do you plan to do?" probed Chiaotzu, his worry for Tien starting to resurface again. He had a bad feeling about where this conversation was going and going quick.

"A couple things," vaguely replied Tien, his eyes starting to zero in on a spot of the ground right in front of his partner. "I won't lie to you in saying that we stand a very good chance. These opponents are in a completely different league to anything we've ever faced."

Chiaotzu gulped. Tien hadn't ever sounded this bleak, at least not while he was alive. The situation they were in must've been much worse than anything he thought conceivable. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," grunted the former assassin, closing his eyes again as he crossed his arms across his chest. "Strong enough that we can't win this by brute force alone. To go through this, we'll need a good plan."

"What do you have in mind?" asked Chiaotzu, fearing he already knew the answer to that question.

Tien smiled knowingly at his friend, dread etched out on both of their faces at the mutual thought that was shared between them. "I don't think we have any other choice."

"There has to be another way," murmured Chiaotzu, the tension in the room quickly growing tauter and tauter. Like a steel cable on the verge of fraying. The clown-like warrior smashed his eyes shut, scrambling in his mind to come up with a conclusion that wouldn't be relying on those skills. Nothing was coming and Tien smiled softly as the realization settled onto Chiaotzu's face. "Maybe Goku will..."

"Goku is a hero, probably moreso than I could ever be," stated Tien, using his hands to scratch an itch just above his eyebrows but below his bangs. Removing his hands from his face, the former assassin turned his face to the wall and stared blankly. "But that doesn't mean he can't be killed. Piccolo proved that. And Raditz isn't even half the warrior we'll be facing. We can't make that assumption. I can't let the Earth burn and die knowing I didn't do everything in my power to protect it. To protect you."

Exhaling deeply, Chiaotzu turned so that he was staring at the right side of Tien's face with a worn expression. Like he knew from experience that this was going to end badly. "Don't do this for me, Tien. The price is too great for that."

"Maybe so," replied the triclops, returning his friend back into a level position with a straight line of sight on his partner. "Most likely this will all be in vain. The difference in power is so vast that I'm not sure even those techniques will be enough to save us this time. But these abilities are the only way I can make a difference in the battle to come."

"The price of inaction is just as great. When Master Roshi and you were killed in front of me, the first thing I did was try to learn the Evil Containment Wave. It didn't matter if I died as a consequence of the technique; all I felt was a tearing feeling knowing that I was the only one left. That he was going to rampage across the Earth, slaughtering everything that got into his way and I would be helpless to stop it without that ability, no matter its drawbacks. If that container didn't break, I don't doubt I would've done myself in and sealed King Piccolo away for all eternity. I would've done it and I wouldn't have regretted it."

"I promised myself once Goku rose and defeated King Piccolo that I would train harder and be ready for the next threat. That didn't happen. Majunior was far stronger than anything I could've been prepared for. Once again, only the Evil Containment Wave would've made a difference and that plan got shattered fast. Then Raditz came by and I was none-the-wiser. Probably that was for the best. I would've just gotten in the way of that feud if I just relied on my strength."

"The point is that I have come to realize that my usefulness doesn't come from my power level or energy attacks. It comes from a conviction to do what needs to be done despite the damage it may do to myself. If I die, if I'm corrupted, then it's a sacrifice that needs to be made. Better me than somebody less deserving."

Chiaotzu listened to his friend explain himself. As he sifted through the talk, the psychic felt more and more disheartened by how cut his friend really was by the tragedies that King Piccolo inflicted upon the Earth, but most of all him. It hurt him much more than he ever let on. Sad thing was that despite his psychic powers, the white vampire-looking human didn't have a clue what to say or do to make his friend snap out of his thoughts.

Deep down though, the pygmy knew that Tien's mind was made up. And he wouldn't be able to make him reconsider. Goku wasn't the only bull-headed member of their group. Chiaotzu knew the path Tien was going down now was far more dark than light. The question was how far was he willing to go down that dark road to pull his friend back if it came to that?

That was a question he didn't know the answer too.

Life was full of situations you tried to avoid. Whether it be something as petty as homework, taking a bath or doing chores or things as serious as fighting in a war, there were always things that people wished not to involve themselves in if they could avoid it. Piccolo was no different than many people in regards to having to endure activities that he personally would rather gouge his eyes out rather than face.

And in this list of infamous activities, very few ranked lower than having to put up with Kami. Piccolo honestly didn't know why his "good" half riled him up to the degree that it did, but nevertheless there was an animosity between them that transcended his normal feelings of disdain and contempt he felt for the Earth's Special Forces. Despite their interactions, or lack thereof, it was like they were like forces, predestined to repel each other for the rest of eternity. Yin and yang. Dark and light. Fire and ice.

But when the old coot did come, the Namek-that-didn't-know-it could barely suppress a groan. That old geezer better have a good reason for interrupting his training!

For a moment, the two halves of the same soul said nothing. Piccolo, perched atop the tallest spire in the land, defiantly stared down his nemesis, whom was stationed confidently on a spire of his own. Neither said anything; preferring to just let the gusty wind blow across the lone spires of the wasteland, rustling their outfits as it blew by. The awkward silence had given Piccolo the time to judge his old adversary. His conclusions were very...non-conclusive.

Kami looked old. Okay, he always looked old, but older than normal. Dark bags were over the old leader's eyes, his wrinkly skin more defined than normal and his cheeks were sunken in like a deflated balloon. Sickly would be the best way of describing him, provided that demons got sick. Which they didn't.

In spite of his less than pleasing appearance, the younger demon knew not to judge his counterpart by his appearance. The old coot had a will made of solid iron and was next to unmovable when he set his mind to it. And it was clear that this mindset hadn't wavered for even a moment. But just what he desired escaped Piccolo. Whatever it was though, he was sure it was going to be a nuisance.

"Good to see you, Piccolo," calmly began Kami, almost instantaneously getting on Piccolo's nerves. Kami was infuriating him enough by being there, but pleasantries and fake politeness just added the cherry to the top of the crap sundae. Yes, he was in a very bad mood.

"What do you want, old man?" demanded Piccolo impatiently, trying to get this over with as fast as possible. "You better have a very good reason for wasting my time."

Piccolo's reply made Kami smile faintly. Although Piccolo and his forefather had their differences, those two acted the exact same way when they were dealing with him. Petulant and threatening at the first opportunity. Didn't faze Kami in the least.

Ignoring the insulting command, Kami let silence reign over the air as he looked back and forth. This place looked like somewhere Piccolo would train. Cold, barren and desolate. Only the hundreds of uniquely formed rock spires giving the place a kinda serene feeling of emptiness. The temperature was brisk; barely above freezing and if you exhaled hard enough you could see your breath. Things were calm, but the old Namek could just feel the dark storm clouds overhead.

"So, I assume you know about the Saiyans?" asked Kami, starting to feel the odd drops of water land on his uniform. The storm was nearing.

Piccolo damn near blew a gasket, as Kami could've surmised for himself by the exploding veins dancing around the younger Namek's temples. The guardian though had to admire the youth's self-restraint. His father would've started to shout and rave the minute he thought he heard something stupid.

"Yah, what of it?" tersely replied Piccolo, somewhat considering just flying away. If all Kami wanted to do was annoy him with one of his senior moments, then he should just leave and not humor the man. Normally he'd kill somebody for such insolence, but he wasn't in a hurry to die either. So that was off the table.

Another disjointed silence enveloped the clearing to Piccolo's chagrin and Kami's indifference. It was just inevitable when two souls that by fate were condemned to dislike each other for all eternity had to hold down a conversation. Awkward was the best way to describe it.

"The end is coming; I'm sure you feel it as well," noted Kami cryptically while Piccolo snorted in contempt.

"I wouldn't say that, old man," warned Piccolo, crossing his arms across his chest arrogantly. "These Saiyans coming may be tough, but it's going to take much more than that to bring me down."

Kami said nothing to that proclamation. Despite the bravado, Kami could tell that his younger alter-ego was nowhere near as confident as he let on. "Maybe so. But you can't hide much from me, Piccolo. You are nowhere near as confident as you believe. We are one; two sides of the same coin. Yet we aren't either, aren't we?"

"I don't have the time for your babble," dismissed the younger demon, walking off his spire and floating so that he stood level with his elderly counterpart. "Leave now. Your presence is a blight upon my eyes."

Kami stood rooted to the ground, not even flinching at Piccolo's threat. Didn't work the first time and wouldn't now. An audible gust of wind blew through the hinterland, symbolizing the cold tension emanating from the two Nameks.

"You aren't him, I'm sure you know that," Kami stated offhandedly, puzzling Piccolo before the younger Namek narrowed his eyes. Noticing the reaction but not feeding it, Kami pushed down hard on his walking stick as he looked down on the valley floor below. Such a pretty sight. Pity he couldn't admire it longer. "You look like him, you sound like him and you even act like him. But that doesn't make you him."

Piccolo's eyes darkened dangerously. For years, the demon had been trying to deny the hidden doubts buried in the back of his mind. The traitorous thoughts that served to question his very identity and life's purpose. What was he if it wasn't a demon king? What he was supposed to be? What was he supposed to represent? Why did it matter either?

Power without purpose wasn't power at all. Strength for strength's sake becomes redundant. But to learn to live, you first must know thyself. Piccolo knew that he didn't, he didn't know what he was. But he knew he existed, and he knew at least one side of himself. Therefore, he made that side of himself...himself.

"I know you're worried, Piccolo," admitted Kami, smiling softly even as Piccolo's eyes widened considerably. "I also know you don't want to think about it. I can understand how you feel about that. Just know this: the answer to your thoughts is out there and it's right in front of you."

And with that, Kami was gone.

Gohan was busy. Always occupied with the pursuit of...something. Food more often than not. Feeding himself was hard enough, but add up to another twenty children and he had a full schedule. Thankfully, the almost innumerable miles of forests, inlets and rivers provided much more plentiful options than the barren wasteland he once foraged in. Fish, game, fruits, vegetables - it was all easy pickings. What could take hours back in his former habitat would only take twenty to thirty minutes here.

Now, that wasn't to say that people were pigging out. Gohan's foraging may've brought desperately needed relief, but food still had to be rationed pretty severely. Many of the healthier orphans, including Pigero himself, often only had one meal per day if they had anything at all. Only the sick and Gohan were allowed to eat their fill. The sick because they needed to get better and Gohan because they couldn't afford to have him fall sick.

They couldn't afford for him to be sick. Those were the exact words Pigero told him when he protested being told to eat his fill. Afford. Very few words had sent a shockwaves rolling through him that were nearly as poignant. It was all very surreal to the young halfbreed. For most of his life, he was the child. It made sense, he was a child after all. He was the one that was dodded on. The one that people protected. Then Raditz came and Piccolo pretty much forced an immense load on him, one he believed himself incapable of handling. He still didn't believe himself capable to be honest. That wasn't the point.

These people needed him. And he could help them. You didn't always need to save the Earth to make a difference. He may not be the hero the Earth may need in the days to come, but that didn't mean his efforts couldn't bear fruit. Just the fruits were smaller, but size alone doesn't make them any less sweet.

Outside of Pigero, Gohan was the most respected boy in the makeshift orphanage. Most, if not all, knew he had family left and chose to let them stay on hold because he couldn't willingly let them all die. The fact that he had skills most of the others couldn't even hope to obtain didn't help either. Most adults, let alone children, couldn't hunt wild predators without tools, fish without a boat or collect fifty pounds of food in a day. To say that they were also appreciative and gracious of his efforts would've been the understatement of the century. They practically worshipped him.

Words couldn't quite describe what the sentiment meant to Gohan. Making good people happy made Gohan's chest swell in pride. His father helped people and he'd be damned before he'd let his father's example fall to the wayside. But it was different now that he was doing it, not just envisioning it.

Although he hadn't spent that much time with the orphans, he found himself caring less and less about doing what he did because he was his father's son. That wasn't to say he thought less of his father, in fact he loved his father even moreso now, but that now he was starting to empathize with him. The attention and adoration felt great, he couldn't deny that, but he felt something even more overpowering in him: responsibility. Gratitude was nice, but he didn't need it. He felt he had a duty to these kids, most not much older than him. Turning his back on them just wasn't something he could do. It would've went against everything he felt was right.

Was this what his dad felt everyday? He was the savior of the Earth! Did he have the same feelings of duty to not only a ragtag group of orphans, but to all of the Earth? To help his people and defend them from harm? Gohan couldn't even imagine the pressure of having those feelings towards an entire planet. But if it was a burden that had to be bore, the boy couldn't think of a better person to shoulder it. Apparently the universe agreed.

Another day, another successful hunt. He lost count of all the stuff he had picked up during the day, but it really didn't matter. He just dumped it all into one spot and went back to work, occasionally returning to add more to the pile. Of course, the half-Saiyan wasn't stupid enough not to just leave the stuff alone without at least some protection from scavenging animals. He made sure that any animal foolhardy and ingenious enough to get into his stash deserved to do so. Once the day was over, a couple of the other healthy orphans would come by and help him bring all of his stuff back.

Gohan wiped the sweat of his brow. It had been a long day. A long day but a fun day. He was always a boy that loved the great outdoors and a day consisting of fishing, swimming, hunting and foraging was wonderful. Kinda lonely at times but that deficit was covered when the sun fell behind the stars. He was having the time of his life!

Laying on a log as he watched the sun set, Gohan had to marvel at how pristine the landscape was. A lovely canvas of trees and shallow inlets punctuated by the gothic ruins of their "orphanage." If Gohan wasn't certain of where he was, he could swear he was in that "New England" place that was talked about in his history books. But he had doubts about whether a prettier place could even exist.

Suddenly, his help arrived. Creeping up from behind him, the demi-Saiyan was startled when a pair of hands slithered out and grabbed at his cheeks, pulling them apart as if he was making baby faces to a toddler. Utterly baffled, Gohan turned around to see Rom on the forest floor laughing his head off while Chico was trying to not laugh while shaking her head in dismay at her twin brother. He really could be a handful.

Like all the other orphans, Rom and Chico respected Gohan immensely for what the boy had done for them. In fact, Rom bragged to every other orphan that was listening that this was some part of his grandiose master-plan. Everybody laughed off his bold proclamations like water under the bridge, but Rom insisted on his interpretation even to this day. Gohan truly didn't mind. He just liked being appreciated. Rom didn't mean anything by it.

"Hey, man," greeted Rom, smiling mischievously as he picked himself up and patted the dust out of the rags-he-called-clothes. "How are you doing?"

"Great! Never been better!" exclaimed Gohan, feeling the pep that radiated from Rom seep into him. The boy was rubbing off on him somewhat. Although most kids by the time they turned five had at least some cursory contact with other children, Gohan had barely any. Nothing meaningful anyway. But now that he was interacting with scores of kids his age, he could sense that how they acted was starting to influence how he acted in return. For example, he was slowly ditching his more formal and restrained manner of speak for a more friendly and expressive one. Granted, this wasn't a significant change, but who knows how he'd behave if he spent any more time with them. Not like whatever happened was going to make him leave. Not until they could fend for themselves. "Just laying here waiting for help to come and help me carry all of this stuff back."

"Well, that's us," affirmed Rom, stepping forward to inspect the pile of food that Gohan had collected. The boy's eyes bugged out. "Gohan, I don't think I'll ever get used to how much you can collect in a day. It's awesome!"

Gohan blushed as praise was heaped on him. Not all of his former shyness and modesty was lost. Choosing not to reply to Rom's declaration, the demi-Saiyan and Chico stepped forward and started to grab clumps of collected rations and began the back and forth trek to shovel it back to base. Once the entire job was done, twilight had descended down on their humble abode and it was time to stop for the night.

Walking in past the front door, Gohan walked into a cacophony of playful yelps, shrieks and occasional whines. The ground floor had gotten a lot more hectic lately as more of the sick kids had gotten better recently. Apparently, bed rest and a full stomach did wonders when you're young. That being said, the kids that were still sick were really sick. Enough so were they had to be quarantined anyway.

Of course, Gohan had offered to care for these particularly sick kids. Pigero flat out told him he wasn't to get within ten feet of any of them. As said before, he was much more needed elsewhere and they couldn't afford for him to even risk getting sick.

Immediately joining into whatever game the rest of them were playing, Gohan had a blast as he tried to best the other kids at silly games like tag, hide-and-seek, pin a tail on Rom and other classic staples. And all the while, the boy noticed Pigero's gentle gaze on all of them.

Out of all the orphans, Pigero was the most respected. The most adored. Gohan made the place function, but it was Pigero that was the heart and soul of the operation. He was the leader that led this motley crew here and it was he who spent countless nights watching over every single head and protecting each one from harm. He was their hero and nobody was bothered to let the teen know it.

Gohan's feeling towards Pigero were different. It wasn't that he hated him or even was neutral to him. The boy loved the friendly teen. But his interactions with the scarred lad were different than the others. He wasn't dependent on him; he didn't have that ironclad devotion that only comes from being led out of certain disaster by somebody who asked for nothing in return. Somebody who would care for you for nothing in return. That was something that Pigero had never established with Gohan. Probably never would.

Despite that though, Gohan was certain that the way his fellow orphans treated Pigero and viewed him struck a bell with him. A resonance that he neither knew how to explain or apply to himself. It boggled his mind and plagued his dreams. And it wasn't until now that he felt he had an answer.

Pigero was their Goku. The soul they most looked up too. The soul that was made of materials that made steel and iron look like wet paper. The soul that you knew would sacrifice anything for you to be healthy and happy. The soul they believed could not fall.

Sadly, Gohan didn't have the same confidence in Pigero that the others did. He saw things that the others didn't, despite Pigero's best efforts to conceal them. He was over his head, bogged down and starting to feel overwhelmed by the absurd levels of responsibility thrust on him and him alone. Gohan didn't need the boy to say it to know it. He could relate, somewhat. Even heroes had chinks in their armour. Even heroes could fall if you kept pushing.

Gohan failed to see the comparison.

It was well past dark before the commotion died down. Children could play hard, but then they slept hard. Gohan's stamina was greater than almost anybody else, but even he had to succumb to the numbing call of sleep eventually. By the time he was about to collapse, only he and Pigero were left. Most likely, the teen would be spending the entire night up. None of the younger ones could be trusted to man the gate without falling asleep.

Last to go to bed, Gohan briefly nodded to Pigero slouching on the far wall near the open door way, the two sharing a brief nod as their silhouettes softly slithered across the shadowed walls of the foyer in opposite directions. It was pitch black in the reception room, only the dim moonlight illuminated their two faces sporting similar smiles.

"Come here, Gohan," whispered Pigero softly, closing his eyes warmly as he felt Gohan's footsteps approach him. The boy had proven to be such a godsend in recent times that the teen had started to question how they functioned without him. He wasn't going to like what he had to say, but he was out of options.

"Yes, Pigero?" asked Gohan, not knowing why his friend was asking him to come over. Especially when it was so late. Granted, he was glad he didn't have to adhere to a strictly enforced bed time, but that didn't mean he stayed up late anyway. Early to bed and early to rise. And the earlier he rose, the more food he could collect.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the scarred adolescent's soft smile had faded into a look of solemn concern. Gohan's back straightened. This was important.

"Gohan, do you want to stay here?" the teen inquired in a deadpan tone, taking his charge by surprise somewhat judging by the how the boy's brow line rose. He needed to point this out. For what he had to say next. "There's no shame in wanting to go back home, you know."

Putting one of his hands on his face, the boy curled his fingers and latched hold of the edge of his eye socket in a thinking posture. On Gohan's end of things, the boy's mind was scrambling to understand why Pigero was encouraging him to go home. Did he do something wrong? Had he overstayed his bounds? All the teen had to do was tell him what he'd do, and he'd say he's sorry! Why was he saying such things? It baffled him greatly. "Of course I want to stay here," insisted the half-Saiyan with a confused look in his eye.

"You've helped us greatly Gohan, more than you can realize, but you shouldn't put your life on hold for our regard," replied the teen, his demeanour dipping noticeably. Gohan could tell that the boy was concerned for him, which was flattering, but he was as much responsible for his friends as Pigero was. Abandoning them wasn't up for discussion.

"I'd love to go back home, Pigero," admitted the boy, scratching the back of his head sheepishly like a certain somebody that was once in his life. "But I don't think I can. I can't turn my back on you guys. Not until you're better!"

Pigero softly smiled at the boy's enthusiasm as he placed his hands on the floor and pushed himself out of his slouching position. The teen seemed to be reminiscing. "Most of us are better, kid. Without you, a lot of these kids would still be ill. It's tough to be an orphan."

"Huh?" muttered Gohan through a yawn, removing his hands from his head and back beside his flanks. His confusion with this entire conversation was magnifying by the second.

"Gohan, things...are bad," confided the teen, a bit of inner weakness leaking out of the otherwise impenetrable demeanour of the leader of the orphans. Even the dark of night, Gohan could see the bags under the older boy's eyes expand as his expression withered and posture crumbled. "I'm not sure those sick kids are going to make it."

The look that Pigero gave Gohan was frightening. Not because it was scary or menacing, but because it held no answers. The teen was at his wit's end, unable to conjure up the solution to get them out of this peril. Helpless to a degree. It frightened Gohan. He knew what his fellow orphans thought of him, but he understood now.

Even the noblest heroes sometimes didn't have the answer. Sometimes the heroes were the most vulnerable.

Yet, Gohan was an optimist. There was always a good ending. Life just needed the time to work out that ending. Putting his hand on the teen's shoulder, the boy flashed his most optimistic "child" smile. "Everything will be alright. I can feel it."

A little uncomfortable about the idea of a child comforting him, Pigero refocused and all of the weakness disappeared. The damage was done but oh well. "I won't lie to you, Gohan. Whatever is ailing those children will take more than a good night's sleep and food to heal. Without some medicine, we're pretty much helpless."

"So?" asked Gohan. If it was just a matter of getting them help, why weren't they moving and getting these kids the help they needed.

"No, the rescue crews are too hopelessly swamped right now to be of much use," mumbled Pigero, who had bad memories of hospitals and the like. He had been an orphan before any of these children, and services like that were more likely to shoo him off than help him when he was sick. "But they are also the only places that may have the things we need."

"Then the only way to help these kids is to steal them, right?" probed Gohan, having a feeling he knew where this was going.

With a nod of his head, Pigero confirmed what the demi-Saiyan had already assumed. The boy's palms began to sweat. He honestly could barely believe that he was considering it! His mom had taught him much better than that! Good boys didn't steal or become delinquents.

Yet he wasn't just thinking about, he was leaning towards doing it.

Maybe he would've been more hesitant before he was kidnapped, but the lives of his friend's were on the line. Didn't matter that he hadn't met them, they were his friends. He had to do everything in his power to get them the help they needed. If that meant stealing, then come what may.

"I'll do it," agreed the boy without a seconds hesitation, his back straightening up like a soldier being eyed by his officer. A bead of sweat ran down his back, but the boy's resolve thickened. "I'll do my best to help them!"

Nobody could say that Son Gohan would turn his back on people in need. His father's son indeed.