Dear Readers:
Thank you for taking the time to read a story I've spent so much time working on. Though this started as a revival of an old project, this story just seemed to take on a life of its own, and I'm just here for the ride! I truly hope you enjoy reading this tale as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and I do encourage you to leave a review on each chapter. I look forward to hearing from you!
The three suns shone in the sky as bright as ever, casting golden rays on the grass-hewn valley. A gentle breeze carried wisps of floral scents with it under the sapphire-tufted trees, and the water in the nearby lake was saturated with a gorgeous turquoise hue and yet, still crystal clear. Large blue fish with iridescent scales and open mouths leaped up from the depths, feasting on the massive dragonflies that skimmed the surface. Tranquil, quiet, and unassuming; this was New Namek.
A short distance to the east of the lake was a small abode, tucked between two uneven platforms of stone. It was an oblong white structure, with two circular windows on either side and a single port door in the front. To one side of the home was a small garden, with several flower bushes and brambles of pink and purple berries that jostled in the breeze. On the other side was a circular stone dais with the phrase, "For every light there is a darkness, against every evil there will be good," carefully carved in Namekian script along its edge. A young tree grew beside it, casting a dappled shade that danced in the wind.
Two distinct voices – one young and one old, could be heard from within the house, arguing with one another.
"Why don't you just ask Porunga to take this power away from me," said the younger voice, annoyance seeping through every syllable. "That seems a lot easier to me than having to travel to an entirely different star system just to learn how to control it."
"No," the older one responded angrily, "I will not ask Porunga to do any such thing."
"And why the hell not?!"
"You and I both know that it's impossible. To strip you of your power would be akin to killing you… You would be a shell of who you are now, a husk with barely any soul if one at all."
"At least we wouldn't be here arguing about it," the younger one said wryly. "I'm getting tired of having to be alone… I'd rather be a 'husk' among my own kin than to be a stranger among even stranger folk."
"I WILL NOT ASK PORUNGA TO KILL YOU," the elder screamed.
The silence that followed seemed to last eons. The sound of frogs ribbiting rhythmically just beneath the windows filled the space, and the creak of the port door opening a short while later was the only other sound that followed.
From the door emerged an aged figure, modest in stature but slightly round in the belly. He wore the traditional robes of his kin, a deep burgundy color that complemented his complexion, with a white cloth wrapped around the neck, and loose-fitting white pants. His emerald skin shone brightly, and with a deep sigh, he hung his round head and stared at his brown shoes. The aged alien pulled lightly at his robes and sniffled. His antennae dropped in front of his eyes, and one of his long, pointed ears twitched as the young one sighed behind him.
"Consider what I have suggested, as it is the only solution I can offer you apart from exiling yourself on our home world," he said softly. A knot formed in his throat as the words left his lips.
"It's still fucking exile, Elder Moori," the younger one scoffed.
"Watch. Your. Language," he said pointedly, turning briefly to give a stern look to the adolescent.
"Tch… Fine…"
"I'll see you again in three days, my child," Moori said as he closed the door behind him. With another deep sigh, he slowly floated upwards. He watched the house get smaller and smaller; with one last look, he flew west towards the main settlement. The knot in his throat seemed much bigger now, and a tear escaped his eye as he left his only child alone again.
Moori could see the settlement as he approached through the air, the wind whistling in his ears, the blue and green landscape zooming by beneath him. Several smaller round homes, like the one he had left over an hour before, dotted the plain. Larger structures, built for the bigger families of the village, towered next to them, shining bright and white in the sunlight. There were small gardens packed full of flowers; tall, thin saplings with vivid turquoise leaves that shined in the sunlight – ajisa trees – and thick bushes of bright purple and pink berries in between them all. At the center of the settlement stood a massive ajisa tree, its bright orange flowers in full bloom, leaving a delightful citrus scent in the air, and beside it was a small and ornately carved water well made from blue stone.
Namekians young and old were huddled together in groups. Families and friends walking amongst each other in harmony, a population of perfect green folk on a perfect green world. The village had come a long way since their new planet had been occupied some 16 years prior, and today was a day of celebration: the anniversary of Frieza's defeat. The white-skinned and long-tailed tyrant had come to Namek long ago, seeking the mystical, wish-granting dragon balls to secure immortality and crown himself as ruler of the universe. After searching the planet for all seven magical orbs and decimating the planet's population, the villain found himself rendered powerless at the hands of a kind-hearted and strong-willed fighter, a Saiyan by the name of Son Goku.
Moori knew that many others his age and some younger felt this a day to rejoice. But to him, it was a bittersweet moment for his people. Although they had been revived by the dragon balls sometime thereafter and relocated to New Namek with the help of Son Goku's allies, the Grand Elder of the Namekian people still firmly believed that none of his kin should ever have to experience a death steeped in pain and sorrow.
Moori tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat, his mouth dry and head swimming with worry. He breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, and allowed the sounds of voices, the laughter of children, and the songs of his fair folk to permeate his being. He opened his eyes again and smiled, greeting those he floated by as he descended.
As Moori made his way further into the settlement and planted his feet on the ground, he could hear the voices of children from underneath the other side of the big tree; three, to be precise. He chose to sit by a berry bush nearby and grabbed a handful of small purple berries that he knew were ripe, savoring their sweet taste on his tongue. 'Those three are usually up to some sort of trouble together,' he thought as he mentally identified the voices. 'Best to keep an eye on them.'
The great ajisa tree towered over three Namekian children. As the sunlight streamed through the canopy, they huddled next to the well, using hushed voices so as not to disturb anyone nearby. They looked curiously upon one another, their little jade faces dappled in the soft light streaming above.
"Doji, what is that," asked the first, pointing to the second with a small slender finger and a look of disgust on his angular face, "and why are you so filthy?" He looked at the other up and down and stepped slightly backward. "Just… whatever it is, I look good today. Don't ruin this for me."
Doji looked at his grime-caked hands, cupped together and held firmly enough to contain the writhing creature he had found in the mud by the bottom of the stone well. Doji's robes were completely stained. So much, it seemed, that their original color was indiscernible. A smile spread across his gentle face, his antennae perking up and his eyes shining. "This, if you must know, Hama," Doji said, "…is what I'd like to call… The violet fire salamander."
"Yeah, okay. Like you know how to name anything at all," said a third. Short, stocky, and dressed in maroon gi with a bright yellow belt, he pushed Hama aside with his wide shoulder, stepped forward, and chuckled harshly, having tilted his head to one side. The boy nodded toward Doji's hands and raised his brows. "I bet it's just a worm anyways." Kiba crossed his hefty arms and smiled challengingly at the dirt-stained little boy as if daring Doji to prove him wrong.
Hama brushed his shoulder and tugged at his white overcoat and blue robes nervously. "I can't lie Kiba," he said as he moved slightly behind the bigger child, "…that's just so much worse to me, somehow." The little boy's voice trailed off as he stared nervously at Doji's hands and clutched at Kiba.
Kiba scoffed and rolled his eyes at Hama. 'Some warrior-in-training you are,' he thought.
"Fine," Doji said confidently. "But here's a word of advice: don't let go of the tail."
Doji opened his little green hands slowly and used two fingers to grasp the long, stringlike end of what looked like a puddle of black tar in the center of his palm. As Doji slowly picked it up, it dangled in front of him, as if lifeless. It did, in fact, look precisely like a worm; a long, bulbous, slimy black and purple worm.
"See?!" Kiba let out a deep belly laugh, and tears formed at the corner of his eyes as one hand went to his stomach and the other covered his face. He continued to laugh, his stomach pulsing with each chuckle as he struggled to hold back his satisfaction. "I called it!"
Doji stood there with a smile on his face, still holding the creature, waiting patiently for it to move again. Hama looked at the two of them tensely before he affixed his gaze to the blob in Doji's hand. He struggled to make out a face of some kind on the salamander, and gasped; there they were, two eyes, like bright purple pinpricks, at the bottom of its larger side. Suddenly, the creature wiggled furiously in Doji's hand and opened its tiny, toothless mouth, sending small purple sparks crackling in Doji's direction. Two pairs of legs sprouted from the top and bottom, and as it frantically reached for Doji with tiny, slimy webbed fingers, it continued to wrestle itself against the grip of the child's thumb and forefinger.
"Hey! What the—" Kiba said, startled by the movement of the tiny creature.
"Didn't I tell you?" Doji smiled coyly. "I proved it. Now you have to quit being such a bully for a while, eh?"
Kiba's smile disappeared in an instant, and he let his arms fall to his sides. His little hands balled up into fists, and a frown draped his face. "I can do whatever I like, thank you very much."
Doji's confident expression quickly faded into nervousness, but he held his grip on the salamander, still squirming away between his fingers.
"I'll let you go, but…" Doji paused and raised the salamander to eye level at a safe distance in front of him. "You have to promise me that you won't go setting stuff on fire. Okay?"
The salamander squinted, its mouth wide open, a long and thin purple tongue hanging out. After a long tense look at the boy, its lengthy tongue flicked upwards and licked the side of Doji's finger, leaving a trail of warm slime, which Doji understood as 'Yes.' The slime stung slightly on his skin, and he admired the animal a bit longer before making a move to place it back on the ground by the well.
"Ew ew ew… blech," Hama exclaimed, still hiding behind Kiba, watching with a look of utter revulsion on his face.
Kiba looked at Doji with a mixture of hatred and disgust, and suddenly lunged forward screaming, "Gimme that thing!"
"Wait," Doji cried, trying to move away. "Kiba, NO!"
Kiba's heavy body fell upon him with such fervor that the air was pushed entirely from Doji's lungs. For a moment, the boy saw stars and released his grip on the salamander. As it landed on the grass beside them, Kiba lunged again, making a desperate attempt to trap the creature between his stubby fingers.
The salamander's eyes widened, and it let out a horrible sound like an angry firework, hissing and spitting at such a horrible volume for so small a thing. A deep purple flame sparked furiously at the end of its tail, trailing along its backside and up to its head like miniature indigo sparklers. Its body began to enlarge, and hard, iridescent black scales formed all over its body. It grew to the size of a large python, some twelve feet in length, and terribly large, pristine white fangs sprouted from its gums, covered in a viscous purple liquid that dissolved the grass beneath it as it hissed and spat. With every breath the creature took, a dark smoke came billowing out from the corners of its mouth and through its pointed nostrils. Its eyes were wholly black, like two great voids on either side of its face.
The other Namekians of the village turned their attention to the three boys and the massive creature before them, gasping loudly as they shrank back and watched from a distance. Moori's mouth gaped in horror as he quickly discarded the berries he'd picked and raced towards the boys with his arms outstretched. The creature quickly turned to the approaching elder and lashed its tail at him. Like a fiery whip, it burned through Moori's robes and left a smoldering wound on his chest. The Grand Elder cried out and clutched at himself as he tumbled backward onto the grass. Doji inhaled sharply, lifted himself off the ground, and ran to the elder, holding his hands out with fingers spread apart to lend energy and heal him.
The angry animal slowly turned to Kiba, hissing sparks and breathing smoke as it got closer and closer. The little boy stood as if rooted to the very spot, paralyzed with fear as he realized that this was precisely why his friend had warned them to not let go of the creature's tail. The giant salamander stood within inches of Kiba's face, spitting hot saliva and growling louder by the second. Moori tried to get up, eyes wide with fear, but Doji – as new as he was to healing arts – struggled to use his power to ease the blistering scar. Doji panicked, taking one last look at Moori before he shut his eyes and cried out.
"You promised!" Doji's voice cut through the air like a knife as he turned from Moori. Doji slowly opened his eyes, tears welling together and falling down his cheeks like liquid diamonds as he stood up and walked to face the terrible monster before them. Doji could sense the creature's hesitation and tried to plead with it. "Please," he said softly, "Please don't do this. Don't hurt my friend…"
The creature's eyes widened, and it stopped growling as it crooked its head away from Kiba to look at him.
"I let you go, and you promised not to burn anything." Doji cried silently, shaking and staring intensely at the massive creature.
By now, the crowd of Namekians had gathered a short distance away from the great ajisa tree and watched on in terror as the creature paused and turned back to Kiba. It peered at him through big black eyes, almost squinting at the boy as if to say, 'Not before I do this.' The salamander's mouth gaped wide, and it spat a small violet fire at Kiba's feet, earning a terrible scream from the portly boy.
"M-Monster," Kiba cried loudly, tears streaming from his wide eyes, "It's a monster!"
The little boy ran behind the great ajisa tree with Hama following behind, their little bodies shaking with fear and tears dripping from their eyes in thick rivulets. The creature slowly twisted back to Doji, and the fire along its back began to fade slowly. It began to shrink to its original, palm-sized form as its fire finally died, and crawled into Doji's open hand as he knelt forward to pick it up.
"I'm really, really sorry," Doji said sweetly, tapping the tiny creature's head gently with an outstretched forefinger. It licked Doji's finger again as if to say, 'I'm sorry, too,' before it slithered through the boy's fingers, landed on the grass, and paced back towards the well. It looked back at Doji and blinked slowly, three times, before burying itself in the mud under a massive blue stone at the well's base.
"Let that be a lesson to you boys," said a sharp, wizened voice.
The small crowd parted, and from the center appeared their village leader, Elder Porunaga. A stately-looking senior Namekian dressed in piercing blue robes held in place by a shimmering golden belt, he towered above them all, making both adults and children feel much smaller in his presence. His weathered, wrinkled face and serious eyes turned to Hama and Kiba as they were gathered together underneath the shade of the great tree. His countenance was grim, and he glanced down at his golden-hued shoes and sighed before looking again at Hama and Kiba. "Did your friend there," he said, antenna twitching to the side to motion to Doji, "…not warn you against letting go of its tail?"
Panic-stricken, Hama blurted out, "But… Elder Porunaga… I didn't do anything at all!"
The gasp from the onlookers only intensified the moment. "Precisely," Porunaga said, frowning, "The child of a warrior line diminished to a do-nothing. I'm not sure what surprises me more: your panic or your inaction." The silence that followed was deafening.
Hama looked at the ground, his eyes scanning the grass as if searching for a single blade of dignity he had left. He despised the fact, but Porunaga was right. All that training he had done for the past two years of his little life had just about gone to waste, and just when his friends needed him the most. Shame crept upon his shoulders like a leaden cape as he bowed respectfully, apologized, and stepped back.
"And you," Porunaga affixed his gaze upon Kiba, who seemed entranced by the stone well beside him. "What on our great green planet possessed you to such reckless abandon?"
Kiba's dark eyes slowly fixed upon the elder, his body still shaking from the adrenaline of what felt like a near-death experience. "I asked you a question, dear boy," Porunaga said sternly. Kiba tried to gulp, but his mouth hadn't anything left to help with it. The weight in his heart and stomach grew profoundly, and he opened his small mouth slowly. He didn't know what came over him at that moment, but supposed it was jealousy. Doji was always discovering something new and exciting, and Kiba felt he was always the last to see it before it was gone.
"I don't know, Elder. I am sorry, and I won't do it again." He stood before the old man, feeling smaller and smaller as the silence grew wider and wider. Finally, Porunaga spoke again.
"Yes, dear boy, for it may very well be the last time you ever survive one of those creatures. The next time the smartest of your kin warns you not to do something, I suggest you listen."
Porunaga walked towards Moori and held out his hand, pulling him up from the grass, and waved at Moori's chest; the scar disappeared, leaving the Grand Elder's skin smooth. Porunaga waved again, and Moori's robe repaired itself, thin maroon threads growing and weaving back together until the tear in his clothing disappeared, too. With his other hand, Porunaga gave Doji a gentle pat on the head before motioning for him to join the others. Doji bowed to Porunaga, thanking him for his time, and gave Kiba an apologetic look before disappearing into the small crowd. Kiba's eyes billowed with tears as he bent towards the ground and bowed in respect. He walked away silently, his head still lowered as he strode slowly towards the training grounds at the northern edge of the village, Hama trailing closely behind.
The small gathering of Namekians dissolved neatly back into their groups and began chatting amongst each other about the monster. Several could be heard discussing possible scenarios to deal with the violet fire salamander permanently; most advocated for relocation, but the warriors argued pointedly for outright extermination. The children were talking about it as well, still somewhat frightened and yet excited at the thought of seeing the creature the next time they drew water from the well. Doji could be heard as he sat among the others, entertaining the idea of catching it again, keeping it, and caring for it if only for further study to complete his encyclopedia.
Porunaga stood next to Moori, a look of amusement on his face. He held his hands comfortably together behind his back as he arched for a slight stretch. "Those three are always causing trouble of some sort or other, aren't they?" A wry smile danced on his lips.
"Yes, Porunaga. It seems you and I agree on that matter. But must you be so hard on them?"
Porunaga crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. He decided to change the subject. "Did you tell the child of the solution we found?"
"They need some time to think about it, I suppose. I feel three days should be enough, don't you?"
Porunaga's expression moved from amused to worried. He turned his back to the others, making sure only Moori could see the pained look on his face. "We don't have much time left. If they do not decide by that time, I fear the worst may happen when our world eclipses our suns, and the night takes over for a short time. My visions as of late are frightening, Moori, and almost painfully so. I come out of meditation in worse shape than I went in." Porunaga gazed at Moori with sorrow in his eyes, and Moori looked away, his shoulders shaking as he choked back tears.
He didn't want to hurt any of his brethren, especially the Grand Elder. But if Moori didn't encourage his only child to leave the planet and learn to control their power before it consumed them, Porunaga would have to use the dragon balls and make the worst wish of them all.
3 Days Later…
The clink of glass seemed to echo throughout the home as Porunaga poured himself a cup of water from a delicate glass carafe by the windowsill. He sat in a small wooden chair with a bright blue cushion, and glanced around the abode, eyes wandering past shelves of precious books and portraits of his favorite memories with friends and family, until they settled to view the sky outside the circular windows. He could smell the grass in the breeze, collecting dew as the air grew cooler. The three suns of New Namek danced precariously low on the edge of the horizon, great shadows forming where once sunlight had been. Porunaga could feel his heart sink deeper into his chest as he sipped the cool turquoise liquid. He dropped his head and sighed heavily, and his antennae dangled in front of his eyes as his ears twitched. He could hear his son approaching; as he listened to the grass bend underneath soft footfalls, the elder smiled.
A tall, muscular Namekian stepped through the door and removed his white overcoat, revealing his brilliant green skin and deep viridian training uniform, both of which seemed to shine in the remaining sunlight that still crept through the windows. He hung the overcoat on the small wall rack beside the door and adjusted his blue cloth belt. His eyes glistened and he beamed from ear to ear, as if he'd won a great prize. The young man stepped around, arms open wide, saying, "Father! How has today treated you so far?"
"Very kindly it has, Toriega, my son," the elder stood from his chair, opening his arms in a wide embrace, "…and how fares your training?"
"All the better after some hard work," Toriega grinned. His warm voice filled the air as he continued. "I managed to create a blinding ki blast from the center of my palm, just enough to cause a distraction and to help anyone nearby escape an imminent threat. I can throw it and make it explode at a distance or use it immediately as a flash from the center of my hand. I want to call it… a light grenade."
Toriega held up his right hand, the center of his emerald palm slightly scarred, likely from having burned himself several times. Porunaga frowned ever so slightly, realizing his son hadn't taken the time to heal himself. He reached for the young warrior's hand and patted it gently with a soft look of sadness in his eyes. A faint green light ebbed from his wrinkled hands, trailing through his fingertips, and the tendrils of light worked their way slowly into the scar tissue, making it glow for just a moment before the mark itself disappeared. The warrior's hand was now completely unblemished, and he looked at his father with a kind eye.
"Thank you, Father," the young man said sweetly as he flexed his fingers.
Porunaga breathed deeply, giving his son a slight sound somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "Must you rush when healing? It's as much of an important skill as sending forth fire from your fingers."
Toriega laughed lightly, caressing his right palm with his left forefinger, tracing the memory of the scar. "I know, I'm sorry," he said. "I'll work on that next."
Porunaga turned to sit back down by the window. As he grabbed another glass to pour his son a drink of water, he asked, "Have you had any visions of note in your recent meditations?"
The question hung in the air like a thick fog. Porunaga could feel his son's hesitation, and he held his breath until his son answered, "Yes, but… I'm not sure how to feel about it…" Toriega's gaze drifted to the window as the sky seemed to darken further. Toriega inhaled deeply while he took the glass, raised it to his lips, and drank slowly. When he finished, he let out a great, deep, sad breath, and sat on the tiled floor in front of his father.
"…I've seen visions of a great shadow descending upon our people, something horribly primal and monstrous. It pulls the very souls from within our bodies and devours them whole. It does not walk in our realm, but exists in darkness, weaving in and out of the shadows of people and trees." Toriega's voice trailed off, and he stared at the ground, a look of nervousness crossed his smooth face. This vision had repeated itself for the last three days; a fact that Toriega didn't want to admit in front of his father. "Oddly enough…" Toriega continued, his brows furrowed in a look of confusion as he stared at his father's feet, "I feel like I know this creature, like there is something… inside of it that speaks to me, that pulls me towards it. That deep down, past the darkness, there is light there. It confounds me…"
Porunaga eyed Toriega up and down and could feel the reluctance ebbing from his son's answer, but instead looked at him kindly and raised a brow. "I'm sure that… whatever it may be, we can turn to you, my brave son." Porunaga moved a hand to his son's face, lifting Toriega's chin to look him in the eye. "After all, who's afraid of a little shadow when you've found a way to wield the light?" Porunaga winked, smiling gently as he worked his way up from the chair and stood to face the window directly, hands held poignantly behind him. "You know the worst thing about growing old, Toriega?"
Toriega smiled and pushed himself up from the ground, brushing his pants off as he looked at his father. The sunset cast golden rays on Porunaga's wrinkled face, the faint marks along his skin telling the story of his long life like the rings inside a tree. His antennae swayed as the breeze passed through the window, bringing the dewy citrus scents of ajisa blooms into the home with it. He arched backward, and a slight popping sound could be heard as he exhaled in relief.
"What is the worst thing about growing old, Father," he asked, casting his eyes towards the sight outside.
"By the time you will have considered everything you have ever wanted to do or wanted to be, it is already too late. Our species, like many others in this vast universe, take considerable pride in the destination – the endgame – and not the journey as it is to be truly lived. Tomorrow will never be as sacred as today, as this, as right now." Porunaga turned to face his son and his voice shifted to a solemn tone. "Worst of all, we live such very long lives, each of us, but we grow so fast, and that… that confounds me."
There was a heavy silence between them as the sun began to make its way past the horizon. The deep and rich blue and green hues of their home world seemed to fade, and the stars came into view as the sky changed from green to turquoise, blue to indigo, and finally, to black.
"But enough of that," Porunaga said as he arched one more time. Still yet came another 'pop' from his old back, coupled with a sigh of satisfaction. "We're going to need candles and fuel for lamps. The night has come."
As the sun finished its descent, the Grand Elder flew eastward to the lonely abode in the valley with a look of worry thoroughly etched into his face. Flying through darkness frightened him deeply; the night came only once a year, when the great green planet eclipsed its three suns, causing a great shadow to envelop the majority of their world. Though some opted to travel to the brighter side of New Namek for this period, many more chose to remain at home, enjoying stories, meditation, and tea by candlelight, and admiring the massive awning of stars above.
Moori chided himself for not coming sooner with lamplight and fuel for his child. 'I should have gone earlier…' he thought, 'I wonder…'
After some time in the air, and with some considerable difficulty, Moori located the lonely house, nestled between its two pillars of stone. He could see a faint violet light coming from the words carved in the stone dais next to the abode; at its center was a lithe, yet sturdy feminine figure, seated in a lotus position, hovering inches above the platform.
Moori planted his feet on the ground, fumbling with the lamp in the dark as he added fuel and lit the wick using a small blue spark of energy from his fingertip. As the lamplight grew from a small pinprick to a bright blue flame, the feminine figure stood atop the dais, stepping down to greet the elder before her.
Standing at a full two feet taller than Moori, she could have been mistaken for what the humans called an 'elf' in their children's stories. Her fair emerald skin seemed to sparkle in the lamplight, and her antennae emerged from a tuft of vibrant indigo hair atop her round head, a mohawk. Silver rings poked through her elongated ears, and her angular face was serious, with piercing purple almond-shaped eyes to match. She rubbed at the bridge of her nose, where two dermal studs poked through her smooth green skin, and the silver bangles on her arm rang like soft bells as her hand fell back to her side. Young as she was, and courtesy of her people's rapid maturation, the life energy radiating from her body was subtle as she suppressed it, yet dominant amongst the landscape. She wasn't like the others, but there was no mistaking the sight: she was the first – and only – female Namekian.
"Elder Moori… what's bothering you?" Her voice was smooth as she asked her question, like velvet in the night air.
Moori groaned. "Would it be too much to ask that you call me 'Father?' And what on Namek have you done to your ears and face…?"
She sighed heavily, and a smirk danced on her lips. "I think I look amazing, and that's all that matters. Furthermore, it's hard to call you 'Father' when you're hardly around to be one."
Moori's mouth went dry as he gasped, the words feeling like a gut punch and a heart attack all at once. But, as curt as she was, 'She speaks the truth,' he thought. 'I almost hate it.' The Grand Elder spun around, walked a few paces, and grabbed a small branch from the nearby tree, jabbing it into the ground. He hung the lamp from one of its broken limbs, and the blue flame cast small shadows on the grass as it flickered.
"I… I'm sorry…" she said softly as she realized the harshness of her words. "I missed you… F-Father…" This time, her tone transitioned into genuine sorrow, her brow creased together, and her lips tightened. She looked at the ground as if to study the blades of grass as they glittered underneath the lamplight. Deep down, she felt he never stayed long enough for her to truly appreciate him, to be his daughter, for him to be her father. He was always the kind stranger, coming and going with news of the outside world, still keeping her a secret from the rest of her kin. She knew that this meeting, too, would end in yet another 'goodbye,' but for how long, she wasn't sure.
Moori stepped forward and pulled his daughter close for a hug, his head barely reaching above the center of her chest. His arms reached around, holding her tight; she grew so fast in so short a time that it frightened him to think of the sheer magnificence of her power and presence as she stepped into adulthood. She hesitantly hugged him back.
"I've missed you too, my child. Tell me…" The words lingered in the air for a moment before he continued, and his voice became noticeably softer. "Have you made your choice, Sanshiva?"
Sanshiva looked to the sky and pulled away from his embrace, exhaling heavily again. Her eyes met his and she asked in return, "Would it really be that bad… if I stayed? If we wished for the dragon to just take… whatever this is…" Sanshiva's head dropped forward, her eyes now concentrated on her hands as she turned her palms upward and examined the dark lines on her skin. "If he made it go away?"
Her question hit Moori in the chest like a ton of bricks. He knew if his daughter chose to stay, it would spell the end of her days; he understood precisely what Porunaga would do, and nothing would hurt him more than to see his child's colorful – albeit crass – personality and power stripped from her being. "Sanshiva," he said, "...you know as well as I do that such an option wouldn't make you happy, much less leave you intact."
"Well… What if he did to me what Kami did to himself? To take this darkness from me and make another person, who we could then wish away from existence?"
Though as sound a plan as it may have seemed, Moori made a long pause before giving her a concise answer.
"…I thought of this, too, some several years ago. For many months, in fact, I thought it possible. And yet, I can recall what happened when Kami did the same, splitting himself in two to avoid further mishaps while taking up the mantle as the Earth's guardian. If…" Moori hesitated, pursed his lips, and swallowed quietly. "If he were to split you in two… To separate you from the darkness that resides within, and have the dragon balls already at hand, we may very well end up giving that dark entity precisely what it wants. Our warriors are great, no doubt, but your power… has no discernable limits… It could be a greater catastrophe for our people than the likes of Frieza…"
When the words faded into the night air, Moori regretted making the comparison. The last thing he wanted was for his daughter to feel herself a monster, but as looked up at her face, he could see the tears form at the corner of her eyes, her long lashes struggling to keep the drops above her starlit cheeks. Sanshiva's face tensed and she closed her eyes, a pained grimace formed at the edges of her mouth as she struggled to hold back the sobs that racked her lean frame. The tears fell, darkening her face where they slid down her cheeks and descended from her chin onto her shirt. Moori moved his hand to wipe her tears away, but Sanshiva turned her back to him, facing the stone dais. She struggled to see through her tears but stared deeply at the dais and its faintly lit words.
For every light there is a darkness; against every evil there will be good.
"Father, how long… How long would I have to be there…?"
Moori paused, thinking that the phrase 'I don't know,' lacked the depth he needed to convey the real answer. "For as long as it takes for you to control the darkness… To harness it appropriately, in much the same way our people harness the light."
Sanshiva wiped her face with her hands and stuck them both in her pockets before sniffling softly and turning back to face her father. "So… it could be a few months or a few decades. Sounds fantastic." The sarcasm couldn't mask the pain she felt deep in her chest, or the strained sounds coming from her throat.
"Sanshiva, darling, I…"
She cut him off and turned to peer at him through angry, tear-laden violet eyes. "Who else knows," she asked pointedly. "You can't tell me that you came up with that idea on your own."
Moori swallowed hard before finally giving up the name, "Porunaga."
Sanshiva raised a critical brow as she asked, "So that old cricket is trying to get rid of me, too, eh?"
Moori's brows tightened together, his antennae twitching in annoyance. "Mind how you speak of your elders," he said sternly, "He and I are doing all we can to help. We're not trying to get rid of you."
"Oh yeah?" Sanshiva made tight fists and brought them to rest at her waist. She leered at her father as her tears evaporated and bared her fangs in a look of anger. "Then how come neither of you has found a way to teach me how to deal with this here? Right at home? Instead, I have to go all the fucking way to—"
"LANGUAGE, YOUNG LADY," Moori bellowed, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
"Honestly, Father," she exaggerated his title with a distinct sound of distaste eking from her lips. "The only thing I'm going to try to enjoy about this exile is not having to be policed on how I choose to speak or dress. Now, since no one on my home planet is going to actually help me, I have a meditation to finish and preparations to attend to so I can get the hell off this pebble at dawn."
"San-…. Sanshiva…"
"Goodbye, Father." Sanshiva snatched the lantern from its makeshift post, turning once more from her father and to the dimly lit stone dais. She resumed her levitating lotus position, hovering inches above the ground. She concentrated, using her power to make the lamp hover in the air beside her, and squinted at her father angrily before finally closing her eyes. Sanshiva allowed her breath to slow down, and the chirps of crickets and the buzz of dragonflies filled her pointed ears as she sat motionless in the darkness.
Moori wanted desperately to say that he was sorry, but he knew his daughter wouldn't listen. He knew the words wouldn't heal the hole in her heart that he, himself, had carved out through his repeated absences and constant secrecy. Moori cried silently as he flew hurriedly back to the village, his heart slowly breaking in two.
Back at the village, Doji sat at his small wooden desk, a candle sending gentle sapphire streams through his little room as he scribbled on a piece of parchment paper. He shifted in his seat, and it creaked from underneath him. With one last stroke of his pen, he lifted the parchment from the desk and stared at the page. At the top, in neat calligraphy, were the words, "Violet Fire Salamander," and beneath it two detailed sketches of the primary and evolved forms of the creature he and his friends encountered several days prior. A thorough description of the boy's observations filled the rest of the page, and he beamed with pride as he admired his handiwork.
Doji enjoyed searching for new things, giving them names, and studying them so that he and his kin might be better armed with the knowledge to handle them. This curiosity made its mark across the boy's room; the walls were filled with shelves of small glass boxes, each with a different ecosystem contained within, and a creature to match. Caterpillars and moths, spiders and small lizards, a snake, and several small fish could be seen faintly within the containers, motionless in the dark.
'I wonder if they sleep when night comes,' Doji thought, pinning his new entry on the wall in front of his desk.
All possible empty spaces on the walls were covered in a variety of pictures with notes that Doji, himself, had painstakingly sketched from memory, all of which contained as much detail as he could cover about every organism he'd come across. Doji walked to his window, reaching for the small carafe his father had brought to him earlier. The glass glowed faintly in the candlelight as the little one poured the water and took a sip, savoring the taste and noticing it was colder than what he was used to. 'I suppose that's to be expected when the light is gone…'
Suddenly there was a series of small raps at his window, right beneath the sill. Doji jerked slightly, spilling a bit of water on the floor. "Wh-who's there," he asked, visibly shaken.
"Psst… Doji… It's us," Hama and Kiba jumped up to the window, floating in the air just outside the house. Doji placed his glass on his desk, opened the window wider, and popped his head out as he spoke in a hushed voice.
"Oh… Are you two alright?" Doji hadn't seen the boys since the incident. He'd been worried, wondering if he still had any friends left after being called "the smartest," of the children. It was a kind of pressure he hated, especially when it was used to put the others in line. Hama and Kiba looked at one another, then at Doji, then at the ground beneath them. They could still feel the sting of Porunaga's open admonishments to them, the gasps from the onlookers, the humiliation of having put each other in danger over an animal, of all things.
"Listen, I didn't mean to get you guys yelled at or anything, I just… I wanted to show you my discovery, you know? At least now… Now you what to look for so you can avoid it…" Doji's voice trailed off. All he wanted was to be helpful; he couldn't fight like Hama and Kiba, and he felt that his healing skills were sub-par compared to the other children in his age group. Having the two of them as a part of his life meant the world to him.
"Thanks," Kiba finally spoke, and with a huff, he asked, "Wanna play with us?"
Doji paused, confused. "You're not mad at me still?"
"I mean.. kind of," Hama said as his brow creased together. "But all the other kids are too scared to play outside, and we're bored… And… and…" Hama pressed his two forefingers together nervously as if he wanted to say, 'We missed you,' but the words never left his lips.
Kiba snorted, breaking the silence. "You're our friend. We can be mad all we like about what the old man said," Kiba said, rubbing the tip of his nose with a stubby forefinger, "…but at the end of the day, he was right, and… so were you, as much as I can't stand it sometimes."
Doji blinked, shocked that Kiba would admit such a thing. He gave the two boys a big smile and said, "Give me a few moments, I need to grab a few things." They grinned back at him and nodded silently before darting to the front of the house to wait for their friend.
Doji raced away from the window towards the shelves in his room, gently grabbing a modestly sized blue glass jar from beside the tanks of other creatures. He picked up a small lantern on the floor by his bedroom door and the small vial of lamp fuel beside it. After he grabbed a cloth bag hanging from a wall rack by the door and placed the objects inside, he walked back to his desk and with a sharp exhale snuffed the candle, watching as the darkness enveloped his room. Doji stepped tenderly down the hall and into the main room where his father, Dokira, sat at its center in a lotus position, hovering above the floor.
The candles in the room gave off a faint glow that seemed to cast several dancing shadows beneath the man's body. His father's frame was massive and squarish, with large muscles rippling under the soft cotton of his white and brown robes. His closed eyes and slightly furrowed brow made him seem unapproachable, but Doji knew that was just how his father looked and not how he truly was. Eyes still closed, the colossal man spoke with a deep, smooth voice as one of his ears twitched, hearing his son's steps.
"And where are you going, my little one?"
"Father, I'd like to play with Hama and Kiba outside… with your permission, of course." Doji twiddled his fingers together nervously.
Dokira opened one eye to peek at his son, and then the other. He moved to stand, releasing his legs from their position, and walked across the stone floor toward Doji. He loomed over the child, and upon realizing Doji's anxiousness, came down on bended knee to address the little boy. Even kneeling, his form was still enormous and intimidating.
"Do you have what you need," Dokira asked, motioning with his antennae to the small cloth bag slung on Doji's left arm.
"Yes, Father."
"Then go have some fun," he said, smiling and pulling his son in his large arms for an embrace. Doji smiled into his father's arms, felt the warmth radiating from his chest, and hugged back, as hard as he could. "Be back by the first sunrise, son. We have training to do; that form of yours needs serious work."
Doji chuckled and nodded to his father. He smiled before pulling away from Dokira's embrace, and darted out of the house, running into the night with his best friends in tow.
Moori landed back at the settlement, his heart heavy and eyes visibly strained from crying on the way back. He sighed deeply, walking past the abodes as he made his way toward Porunaga's house to tell him the news. The crickets seemed louder tonight, a cacophony of clicks and chirps that almost hurt Moori's ears. As he approached the small white house close to the edge of the settlement, he looked at the bushes of large white flowers on either side of the door. He caressed a single petal of the largest flower, a single drop of dew falling to the ground, and sighed. He could hear a voice call from within, "Please, come in, Moori."
Moori tentatively grabbed the handle and pulled the door, and was greeted by Toriega and Porunaga, both seated on the tiled floor facing each other. Between them was a delicate tray upon which sat a glass teapot and three small cups, and two large lit candles placed beside them. Moori sat next to them, and a pop could be heard coming from his knee as he groaned.
"You know the worst thing about growing old," he asked the two men.
"What's the worst thing about growing old, Grand Elder," Toriega asked as he poured a cup of tea for him.
Moori grabbed the cup gently and took a careful sip, feeling the warmth of the liquid slipping into his belly. "You hear from your bones a lot more often," he said with a chuckle.
They laughed gently, both taking a sip from their cups. As the three Namekians sat together in silence, Toriega gulped the last of his tea and placed his empty cup down. He looked intensely at the Grand Elder and studied his face as he struggled to speak. Porunaga gave Toriega a serious look and twitched his antennae in Moori's direction.
'Go on, tell him, son.' Porunaga's voice sounded in Toriega's mind like a gentle phantom.
"…I know about Sanshiva," Toriega said in a soft tone.
The elder's head shot up from his cup in panic, and he looked at Porunaga with fear.
"Moori, I had to tell him. He alone is the only other person on our world with a power great enough to fight against your daughter's dark power."
"But she hasn't hurt anyone—"
"Not yet," Porunaga chided. "And hopefully she never will. Has she made her decision?"
Moori swallowed hard, doing his best to hide the fact that he hated that word at this very moment: 'decision.'
'She had to choose between leaving or not having a soul. Some decision indeed,' he thought.
Porunaga could sense Moori's antipathy to his question and probed further. "Well?"
"She will leave at dawn for Earth. When I left her earlier, she was in meditation. I presume she doesn't have much to bring with her aside from the books, water, and clothes I gave her." Moori sniffled and rubbed at his nose, trying hard to stifle the urge to cry again. His eyes still hurt, and he knew too well that Porunaga and Toriega could read the pain on his face like an open book.
"Father…" Toriega spoke up tentatively, looking away from Moori and towards the windows, out into the darkness. "You didn't explain to me why Sanshiva frightens you so. I know her power is of a dark nature, but must we send her away? Wouldn't we need someone like that to fight for us? Like… how Piccolo does for the Earthlings?" Toriega glanced at Porunaga.
Moori inhaled sharply; how had Porunaga explained Sanshiva and her abilities to Toriega, without mentioning that her powers were a harbinger of the return of the Demon Clan? Porunaga hesitated, struggling to find the words.
"…She cannot stay. The darkness within her is but a poison to our kind, and one that threatens centuries of mental and spiritual progress for our people," he explained, taking the last sip of his tea before placing the cup gently down before him.
Toriega slapped his hands on the ground in astonishment and anger, and his voice grew louder. "So, you'd send that poison to Earth? You'd endanger the lives of others to save your own?! The humans don't know how to fight that kind of power!" Toriega's questions stung Porunaga deep in his chest, with the urge to yell back at his son becoming harder and harder to suppress.
"You know as well as I do she cannot stay here, and we have no documented way to teach her how to control the great shadow within," he said solemnly in response. He motioned for Toriega to keep his voice down, lest someone overhear their conversation.
Moori's eyes darkened, and when Porunaga's declaration finally settled in his mind, he spoke once again. "My daughter," Moori emphasized the title, pausing slightly to let the word hang in the air, "…is not a poison. Once she learns to control her power, she is coming back home where she belongs."
Porunaga and Toriega looked at Moori with concerned faces, the three of them sitting in tense silence as the candle lights flickered next to them. Outside the windows, three familiar voices could be heard, laughing in the night.
"Ah," Porunaga said quietly, his expression softening, all too eager to change the subject. "It's the famed troublemakers... Best to see what they're up to."
Sanshiva huffed as she slowly exited her seated position. Her legs felt slightly numb, and her head throbbed. As of late, she'd left her meditations feeling worse than when she began. Her body ached, and for just a moment, there was a sharp pain like a needle through her heart. She grabbed at her chest through her black gi, the bangles on her arm chiming softly as she did so. The young woman breathed slowly and deeply and focused on the feeling of the cold, crisp air entering her lungs. She stepped clumsily down from the dais and walked into the small house, the lantern her father had brought trailing behind her in the air like a boxy poltergeist.
The door creaked slightly as she closed it behind her, and she used her psychokinesis to set the lantern down on a small circular table at the center of the room. The blue light pulsed and flickered, and as she stood by and stared at it, she couldn't help but notice the emptiness of the place she called home.
There were no portraits or decorations, just a bare room with a single round table at its center. There were open windows on either side and a small shelf on a lonely-looking curved white wall, now stripped of its contents. Her belongings – a few neatly-folded black uniforms with purple belts and a cape, a pair of black and purple boots, a large blue canteen, and several leather-bound tomes of Namekian legends and history – were tucked away neatly by the door, ready to be packed for her departure.
Sanshiva sighed heavily, the pain in her chest becoming more noticeable the longer she stood and stared at the pile of items on the floor. Her entire life sat there in front of her, and she shuddered as she traced a large square in the air with two outstretched fingers from her right hand, a thin purple line of hazy energy hanging still in front of her. She closed and opened her palm quickly, and thin black threads began to materialize at the center of the square, rapidly growing and weaving themselves together to form a large and heavy black cloth. With the same two fingers, Sanshiva made a quick flicking motion towards her belongings, and the cloth tidily wrapped itself around them from underneath, forming a knot at the top.
"Well, that was easy enough," she said to herself, huffing slightly. "Happy Birthday to me, I guess…"
Sanshiva opened the door once more, stepping out into the night. The cold air made her antennae shiver, and they twitched as she ran her hand through her hair. She moved again towards the stone dais; with no one to pass the time with, the female Namekian had gotten used to spending much of her time in a meditative state, and once again resumed her position as she hovered above the stone, glancing once more at the glowing words etched into the surface of the dais.
For every light there is a darkness; against every evil there will be good.
As she began to close her eyes and slowed her breathing down, she realized she had left the lantern inside. For a moment, Sanshiva thought that she ought to snuff the small flame and avoid wasting the fuel. But she remained where she was, inhaling the cool air, drinking in the silence pockmarked by the chirps of crickets. Her heart still felt heavy, and the stabbing sensation in her chest still seemed to grow. As she silently begged the gods to take her pain away, and with the lanternlight coming from the windows fading further and further, Sanshiva breathed deeply and let the darkness swallow her whole.
Doji, Hama, and Kiba rested with their backs against the great ajisa tree, breathing in the night air at a frenzied pace, having just finished a chase through the village for fireflies. Doji's bag lay beside him, the lantern and fuel unused. The blue jar he had brought with him sat on the ground before them and was filled with at least twenty of the tiny insects; their wings made a soft buzzing noise as they flitted hurriedly inside the glass, light pulsing from their bottoms in distinctive intervals, creating what the boys thought was a much nicer lantern. The three of them could hear the other Namekians in the village, chatting amongst themselves, voices like gentle white noise in the dark. It was quiet between them until they finally caught their breath.
Doji broke the silence, asking, "Do you think we'll see it again?"
"See what again?" Hama rubbed his eyes for a moment, trying to understand the question. Kiba beat him to it.
"The violet fire salamander," Kiba said begrudgingly, huffing slightly as he sat upright, arms crossed. "I hope we never do. That thing could have killed me!"
"Well, if you hadn't jumped for it, it would have just gone away," Doji retorted.
"Well, if you'd have let me hold it before promising to let it go—"
"Hey, hey, hey," Hama chimed in softly, stretching out his hands and making a downward motion. "Keep it down, guys, you're ruining the ambiance."
Doji and Kiba looked at him incredulously before peering back at one another and bursting out into laughter. They each settled again with their backs to the tree, looking up at the ajisa blooms that peered through the canopy in the darkness. As the stars peeked through the leaves above and a gust of air whipped through the top of the tree, it made the ajisa blooms look as if they were adorned in small, multi-colored gems. Hama took in the sight before he slowly closed his eyes and entered a minor meditative state, letting his body relax against the rough bark of the tree. Kiba followed suit, crossing his legs in front of him and closing his eyes, hands draped over his thighs. A few minutes later, after drinking in his fill of the starlight, Doji sighed and leaned back against the tree, wanting to meditate as well. As he closed his eyes, he felt a slight stinging sensation from underneath his left ear. He moved his finger towards it to scratch what he presumed to be an itch but was instead met with a single, tiny tendril that left a trail of warm slime along his nail.
Doji sat upright quickly, and a small black gelatinous mass fell with a tiny thwap against his pant leg. He gasped loudly and cupped his hands around it, closing them together gently. Hama and Kiba opened their eyes and sprang up, both asking, "What is it, what is it?"
Doji looked at Hama and Kiba, turning away slightly, and looked at his hands for what seemed like ages. With a deep exhalation, he turned back to his friends and opened his hands wide to reveal the creature that had come to him in the night: the violet fire salamander. Standing atop Doji's palm, with two impossibly small purple eyes it gazed upon Hama and Kiba before its legs spread out and it nestled further into Doji's hand, its purple string tongue hanging out of its tiny mouth.
"Mo-mo-mon—" Kiba was going to cry out, but Hama took one hand and covered Kiba's mouth, shushing him gently.
"That looks like a perfectly cute and harmless salamander to me," he said, shifting closer to Doji as he eyed the salamander with admiration. Kiba shuffled closer too, and moved Hama's hand away from his mouth, staring at the creature that had frightened him so horribly only days before. It seemed tame as it lay in his friend's hand like a pet Doji had since it hatched. They stared at the salamander, watching its tail gently sway back and forth, like an organic metronome. The grass nearby rustled, and Hama's ears perked up. He tilted his head and squinted his eyes, trying to identify the footfalls.
"Uh-oh," Hama whispered, pointing through the ajisa tree with a small hand, "It's the Elders!"
Kiba leaned back to look around the tree, realizing Hama was right. Moori and Porunaga were walking towards them, hands held behind their backs, with Toriega trailing closely behind. Kiba quickly turned back to the boys, mouthing "Hide it, hide it," to Doji while reaching for the jar of fireflies. Doji stood up and swiftly tucked the creature into his neck scarf, where it would hopefully remain while they addressed their elders. Hama quickly stood upright as well, nervously brushing off his robe, and wove his fingers together behind his back. Moori, Porunaga, and Toriega eyed the boys suspiciously as they stepped around the tree to greet them.
"And what manner of trouble are you up to this time, boys," Porunaga asked, stepping forward.
Kiba spoke first, confidently showing off the jar of fireflies in front of him. "U-uh, no t-trouble at all, Elder! W-we were just resting after catching some fireflies!" Kiba smiled, and Toriega could see the nervousness behind the façade.
"Hm… I'm not sure I believe you," Toriega said, eyeing Kiba further.
Sweat started to form at Kiba's temple and he grinned again, trying painfully to mask his anxiety as he gripped the glass jar close to his chest. The fireflies buzzed loudly from within their quivering glass prison, and the boy gave a nervous chuckle as he stared back at the warrior.
"Doji, dear boy," Moori greeted the little one and patted him on the head, "Have you added to your encyclopedia after your last encounter? I'm sure that was your most exciting discovery yet, eh?"
Doji's nervous countenance gave way to a wide smile, proud that his work was being acknowledged. "Yes, Elder Moori! The entry spanned a whole page, but I'm sure one day I'll find out more about the creature to finish the entry. I can make another copy for you to keep if you like?"
"That would be splendid! Um… By the way, you have something, just there…" Moori stretched out a wrinkled finger to a black spot on Doji's neck just behind his scarf, and Doji moved a hand to cover it before the elder's finger reached too close.
"Oh, it's nothing…" his voice trailed off.
"Then let him see," Toriega said, watching Doji's eyes dart back and forth as the words left his lips. Doji could feel Toriega's eyes scrutinizing every inch of him, almost as if trying to see through him, and hesitated.
"Um… Do you… Do you promise not to get mad," Doji asked, his hand covering the spot gently.
"…Doji, I shouldn't have to—"
"Promise!" Doji clutched at the black spot on his neck, wanting desperately to run away and release the salamander before the adults could get their hands on it. He looked tensely at the three men in front of him, Moori especially, who gazed at the boy with kindness and patience in his eyes.
The Grand Elder knelt before Doji, looking him in the eye before gently saying, "I promise, Doji."
Doji gradually removed his hand, the black spot no longer visible on his neck. He cupped his hands together, anxiously and slowly opening them in front of Moori. The elder recognized the black slime spot on Doji's hand and gasped slightly. "So…" he said, as a smile formed at the edges of his mouth, "it came back to you." The salamander stretched out once more in Doji's hand and gave Moori a curious look as it tilted its head to the side, its long tongue lolling out of its mouth like a thin violet thread.
Porunaga peered over Moori's shoulder with Toriega at his side, both staring incredulously at the boy's hands. "We must be rid of that creature," Porunaga said sternly. "Toriega, see to it that it is removed from the village." Porunaga turned away as if to walk back to his house, stopping shortly to say, "Oh, and don't let go of the tail."
Toriega raised his brow questioningly but nodded his head in response and knelt beside Moori, holding out his hand. "Give it to me."
Hama moved next to Doji; he could see his friend's heart breaking for the little creature and knew that Doji – ever the explorer and cataloger of all things strange and exciting – would have wanted to keep the salamander for further study, to care for it and see what else it was capable of. Hama looked intensely at Toriega, wanting to help his friend in any way he could.
"Can't he keep it," Hama pleaded. "If he keeps it safe and tames it, it could help us!"
"And while that might be true," Toriega said as he turned his head to Hama, "…it's still a very dangerous animal. What if it ends up hurting Doji or his father, or sets their house on fire? What then?"
Hama glanced sideways at Doji, his friend's eyes still focused on the salamander in his hands. Kiba stepped beside Doji, looking at the little black mass with sad eyes.
Suddenly, the salamander perked up anxiously and began pacing back in forth in Doji's hands as if startled by some unknown presence. Its eyes slanted, and its head whipped around as if searching for something in the darkness. The Namekians eyed the salamander nervously, paying close attention to its nervous body language. It began to hiss and spit small sparks as it looked away from the group and onto the plain stretched before them. Porunaga's head snapped around, and he turned to face the others with a look of mixed curiosity and worry stretched across his skin.
"What's wrong, my friend," Doji asked softly, his antennae twitching as he brought the salamander to his shoulder, where it stood hissing softly, purple embers crackling from its tiny lips in short bursts as it looked in the distance.
All of them looked in the same direction but could see nothing past the light of the fireflies, and the stars outstretched in the sky above. The salamander's head whipped towards the ground by the massive ajisa tree, and the shadows that danced under the light of the firefly lamp Kiba held in his arms. It began to make the same horrible sound as it had several days before, and its tail began to spark purple flames. It leaped off Doji's shoulder and continued to hiss, standing between Doji and the phantom outlines on the ground.
The Namekians' eyes affixed to the silhouettes that seemed to sway and coalesce under the great tree until they finally merged into one massive, thick shadow, like a black hole in the ground. The world fell silent for a moment before a piercing shriek hit the air like a demon incarnate, terribly long and impossibly loud. The salamander bowed its head low to the ground, wincing in pain; the Namekians quickly covered their ears in agony, their bodies paralyzed with fear by the ghastly cry. Toriega and Moori hoisted themselves up and motioned for the three boys to stand behind them. Doji grabbed at Moori's pant leg, and Toriega stood with his arms extended in front of Hama and Kiba. Porunaga remained motionless at the back, his frame wracked with terror as he struggled against the macabre sound ringing in his ears.
From the void came forth a massive, shadow-cloaked figure, slender and yet somehow still menacing, with flaming violet eyes and purple fire sprouting from its head. Larger than even Porunaga, only from the silhouetted antennae and pointed ears could any of them tell it was vaguely Namekian in form. It cocked its head to the side and smiled wide, rows of sharp white teeth revealing themselves from the great black maw. It made a horrible clicking sound as it walked forward, like a strange growl; malevolent energy, like wisps of mauve smoke, radiated from and wound around its body. With arms stretched before it, and massive black hands with sharp nails opened wide, it approached slowly, the ground shaking underneath it. Moori gasped sharply and his mind struggled to comprehend the sight before him. 'No… It can't be…'
"Wh-what is that," Toriega exclaimed shakily, eyes wide with fear.
Doji, Hama, and Kiba trembled behind them, stricken with dread. Kiba gripped the glass jar tighter to his chest and started to back up slowly. The three of them shuddered, their lips quivering before they formed a single word that they screamed together as loud as they could.
"MONSTER!"