Huddled together on the floor, the four companions seemed happier than ever, boisterous and wholesome laughter filling the spaceship as Yumena regaled them with another tale. Sanshiva giggled relentlessly, tears in her eyes as she struggled to breathe; Bowa clutched at his stomach, burbling happily and leaning into the old woman's shoulder, the bubbles within his slimy mass popping and reforming with each hearty chuckle. Hasana leaned back, chuckling and blushing from the combination of embarrassment and nostalgia.

Yumena slapped her knee and wiped a tear from her eye as she continued. "And you know what this boy said," she asked, pointing her thumb toward the young man.

Sanshiva giggled again and asked, "What'd Hasana say?"

The old woman leaned forward, shifting her tone and accent to mimic a young Hasana, "He goes, 'You know, I've always wondered what shark fin soup tasted like,' and he tore the fin off that boy's head like a piece o' paper from a notebook!"

"Woah," Sanshiva exclaimed, elbowing the young man. "Hasana! You really did that?!"

"Listen, in my defense, that blackguard pulled off one of my antennae the week prior and it took me three days to grow it back. Three days! An eye for an eye, a fin for an antenna… Seemed fair enough to me," he said proudly, elbowing her back.

"Shark fin soup! Shark fin soup," Bowa chanted happily.

The four of them laughed heartily again and Sanshiva asked, "So… did you make it?"

"Make what," he asked.

"The soup, silly!" Hasana blinked several times and stared back at Sanshiva before laughing hysterically. Sanshiva couldn't help but join him, and Yumena and Bowa watched her shuffle closer and lean playfully against his shoulder. "I'm guessing that's a no."

"Hell no is more like it," he chortled. "If someone told me I had to eat anything – and I mean anything – it'd be a fruit that I tried while I was on Earth: strawberries." He licked his lips and rubbed his stomach. "Mm… My gods, I could use a massive bowl of them, right now. I hope I can get my hands on some when we get there."

"Wait a damn minute," Yumena said, "You never told me you've been there!"

He nodded and chortled, "You never asked! It's been a very long time, but after our original home world was destroyed, we were relocated to Earth for a little over a year. It's a little strange, but… The closer we get there, the more I start to remember..."

"Well… D'you remember anybody who might have a ship I can borrow?"

"Hm… I remember we stayed with a young woman with blue hair and matching eyes." He paused, tapping his finger against his chin. "I know her name began with a B, and… I know she was a scientist that lived in a big city with a humongous, round yellow house in the middle… She was always very kind to me."

"Tch… That could be anybody and anywhere."

"I'm really sorry… I'm trying to remember, I swear. I was only three and after what happened on Namek—"

"Alright, alright," Yumena drawled, "No use beatin' yourself up over it now. If it comes to you, say the word. We're nearly there, anyways." The old woman nodded her head towards the window and winked.

Hasana and Sanshiva spun around; through the massive windshield, the four watched on as their vessel sailed through a colorful gaseous cloud. Streams of white and blue vapor lapped at the windows and brightened the ship's interior before finally giving way to a magnificent view of the Milky Way Galaxy; a glittering spiral of icy matter dotted with vibrant stray planets and immense clusters of rock and space debris that circled round a supermassive black hole. Halfway through one of its outer bands, they spotted a group of eight unique planets orbiting a bright yellow dwarf star. Mouth agape and heart racing, Sanshiva scrambled to her feet and ran to the window, pressing her body against the glass, peering among the planets with an overwhelming mixture of excitement and curiosity. She breathed shakily and heavily, fog forming on the glass just by her nose.

"It's that big blue one, isn't it," she asked eagerly.

"Yep," Yumena said, watching as Hasana and Bowa joined her by the window. "Third one from that big ol' sun there."

'Look at 'em,' the old woman thought proudly. 'Little troublemakers.'

Jarred by the initial barrage of information about Sanshiva's predicament, Yumena had holed herself up in the bedroom for the first half of their trip, coming out only for water and provisions before silently returning to the chamber. It wasn't until the eighth day when Sanshiva had gently knocked on the door and asked to speak with her – pleaded with her to open up and hear her out – that the old woman finally realized just why her favorite Namekian and endearing Bollejian were ready to follow the young woman wherever she went.

They sat together and talked for hours. Sanshiva offered her perspective on her abilities and the events leading up to their meeting, and Yumena offered her side of things – all her fears, her concerns for Bowa and Hasana, and her honest doubts. The young woman gently countered and provided her plan as concisely as she could, and Yumena had given the young woman pointers on how to maintain the stability of her moods if raw emotion was what spurred her transformation. Their conversation ended with Sanshiva tearfully promising to take care of Hasana and Bowa, pleading with Yumena to understand that all she'd ever wanted was to know she would never be alone again.

Yumena had come to realize that – just like any teenager – all Sanshiva wanted was to fit in and be loved, and the young Namekian had never gotten the opportunity to do so, having been forced to exile herself trillions of light years from her only true home as a result of something wholly out of her control. Much to her chagrin, the old woman came to understand that all she had done – with her snide commentary and suspecting behavior – was solidify all the worst Sanshiva had ever thought of herself. All she had done – having begged in hushed tones for Hasana and Bowa to reconsider – was threaten to take away the only people who had thus far managed to make the young woman feel safe, happy, and most of all, accepted. After all, it was hard enough, traipsing around a galaxy brimming with men of varied intentions, and Sanshiva's first experience with them had surely left her scarred in ways she willingly chose not to divulge.

Over the next few days, their relationship deepened; Sanshiva taught the old woman all she knew about her people, her powers, and the techniques she'd taken the time to hone on her own. She had even taught Yumena how to detect a person's ki through a series of exercises that pushed the old woman's senses to their limits. In return, Yumena had primed Sanshiva for the harsh criticisms of the Earthlings, knowing full well how unprepared they'd be to see and sense someone as unique as she, and helped devise a series of pointed affirmations the young woman could use to bring herself back to emotional equilibrium.

The old woman sighed and smiled as she watched Sanshiva bouncing about eagerly like a child waiting to open their first gift; Hasana placed his hand tenderly on her shoulder, and Bowa leaned into her arm, his wide smile still visible from the other side of his body. Yumena hummed and thought about the three of them, venturing to the fortuneteller's palace with only each other to guide the way. She reached out to their energies, sensing the vibrant life forces within each of them – Sanshiva's being the brightest, the strongest, the prettiest of all – and sighed deeply. Shame suddenly flooded the old woman's frame, and she looked towards the floor and gulped. They were all so young, so inexperienced in their own ways, and very much excitable; the old woman believed the three would likely end up sidetracked somewhere between their boundless enthusiasm and endless curiosity. Sanshiva was just fifteen years old; Bowa was only two years younger than Hasana, who had only just turned eighteen, himself, earlier that year.

'Not supposed to let young'uns wander off on their own, but… I feel like I might weigh them down. My heart's not what it used to be,' she thought, placing her hand on her chest. 'All the same…'

She stared at Hasana, memories of the young man's time with her flooding her mind, heart feeling swollen and heavy. Yumena recalled the little boy dressed in black and yellow, dehydrated and lost, begging for spare credits in the docking station to purchase a single bottle of cold water. She had observed him for days as he wandered about, his eyes sunken and his little body worse for wear. In the years she had taken him in, he'd changed drastically, going from shy and bookish to well-mannered and intellectually formidable in what seemed like the blink of an eye. She felt his energy, feeling something within the young man just as untapped and boundless as Sanshiva's.

'Maybe if I stick around a little longer… Make sure they've all learned enough to take care o' themselves… I'll finally be okay with him leavin' the nest,' she thought glumly. 'And honestly… there really is just somethin' about that girl that pulls me in, too… I almost… I almost wish I could be there to see her get better. See the look on her face when she finally gets to go home to that father o' hers and that little boy she talked about so much…'

Sensing the change in the old woman's energy, Hasana took his hand away from Sanshiva and turned around. "Are… you alright, Yumena?"

"Yeah," she said, removing her hand. "Just thinkin'…"

"…About?"

"Well… I was thinkin' of how dangerous it might be for you all. Y'know, all that talk a few days ago with Sanshiva about demons and transformations and that fancy witch lady… I gotta say, the more I think about it, the more I start to worry I might not ever see you again..." Hasana smiled sadly as she continued, "Now, don't get me wrong, I know you're grown and you can take care o' yourself, but I… I was wonderin' if… if it was alright if I stayed with y—"

With several long and quick steps, Hasana darted towards Yumena and grabbed her up in a fierce embrace. Stunned by the sudden movement, Sanshiva and Bowa twisted around and watched the elderly alien's expression change from shock to contentment, and she hugged him back. The young man's shoulders began to shake, and he clung to her as he fell to his knees, his head tucked tightly against her shoulder, tears fading into the fabric of her shirt, his cap falling to the ground beside them. He whimpered and held fast for what seemed like ages, silence prevailing where laughter had only moments before. Sanshiva smiled, reminded of how she used to approach her father as a child – eyes full of tears, hands digging into his robes as she grabbed ahold and refused to let go.

'She was never just your friend, was she, Hasana,' Sanshiva thought, reaching out to him.

'No… no, she was never just my friend,' he responded, still shaking, still crying.

"Oh, you big ol' softie, you," Yumena said quietly, rubbing his back. "You're a man now. Eighteen! No need for all this teary nonsense."

"I-It's not n-nonsense," he stammered. "I… I r-really thought I'd h-have to say g-goodbye when… We m-made it t-to a city… After all these y-years I'm still not r-ready to let go of my m-m'ateri…"

Yumena's eyes widened. "…W-what did you… c-call me?"

Hasana pulled away and sniffled as he wiped his face. "M'ateri," he repeated. "I c-called you… M'ateri."

The old woman's heart began to race, and her eyes welled with tears. "C-could you… say it… one more time…?"

He nodded and sniveled, "Te'chamo, M'ateri."

As the words left his lips, she pulled him back, clutching as tightly as she could and burying herself in the crook of his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. Bowa covered his mouth, tears forming in his amber eyes before plopping loudly on the floor.

"Oh, my gods… Meius filigi," she cried, pulling away slightly to cup his face in her hands. "Meius filigi," she repeated, rubbing her nose against his. "Te'chamo, meius filigi, te'chamo…"

Anticipating Sanshiva's confusion, Hasana reached out to her and explained, 'On Yumena's home world, Atlassia, children refer to their parents as comrades or companions until such time they feel they've earned the title of Mother or Father and for many, that's around my age. I called her Mother because for fourteen years, that is precisely what she's been for me and… I love her for that. She said she loved me – her son – because I know she's been dying to call me that ever since she found me all those years ago.'

Somewhere on Earth…

The crackle of the television filled the house as a blonde-haired newscaster in a stiff and starched brown suit continued his report from behind a shining metal table.

"…And in other news, even the sun, itself, seems to be having a hard time with the heat today! Solar flares have been sending massive waves of electromagnetic energy toward our planet! Expect some difficulties with technology, folks, as the waves will continue well into evening hours. Break out the books and board g—"

The broadcast was cut out, replaced by a fuzzy screen of black and white, and the unbearably loud hiss of fervent static.

"Ah, dang it," said the old man. "Guess he wasn't kidding about those waves…" He reached for a small remote on top of the square wooden table in front of him and turned the TV off, sighing as he got up from his plush red seat and reached for a knobby walking stick.

He looked around the tiny home, eyes wandering from the cozy seating area and across the shining wooden floors to the kitchenette. His eyes settled on the marbled island – a single empty glass and a half-full pitcher of water glistening in the sunlight atop a clean wooden countertop – before drifting to the pristine white walls. Pictures of more than a dozen smiling and energetic faces stared back at him, and he smiled wistfully.

"Maybe it's time I got out for a while," he thought aloud. "Should go check up on my favorite troublemakers…"

He sighed and walked towards a short set of stairs, savoring the cool sensation of his bare feet as he reached his bedroom; a relaxed, pink-carpeted room with several risqué posters, a modest and comfy-looking bed, and a matching wooden dresser and nightstand. He closed the door behind him and stared at his reflection in the large mirror hung over the door.

"Lookin' good, Roshi," he said. He ran his fingers through his long white beard before pushing a seasoned set of red sunglasses further atop the bridge of his lengthy, pointed nose. He smiled at the gleam of sunlight that bounced off of the top of his bald head and raised a thick and bushy brow as he said, "You can do better, though."

He took a few steps to the closet, searching through several brightly colored outfits before settling on an amber button-up with an extravagant pattern of multi-colored triangles and black embroidered letters, and a comfy set of crisp white shorts. After changing, he grabbed a snug set of sandals and wiggled his toes before walking back to the mirror, gazing at himself and grinning wide.

"Hide your daughters, hide your wives! Roshi's comin' to town," he said in a sing-song tone.

As he headed down the stairs and past the living room area, he grabbed a large and heavy purple turtle shell that sat by his front door, slinging it onto his back and tightening the shoulder straps on either side. The white screen door creaked as it opened, and the wizened master took in the scents of saltwater and sand as he stepped outside.

The sparkling blue ocean stretched out around his tiny island for miles in all directions, and the gentle sound of the waves soothed his ears. Knowing it all would soon be replaced by the noises and sights of a bustling city, he closed his eyes and breathed deep, relishing the peace of his isolated home. He took a few steps forward and turned around, gazing at the words in red above.

Kame House stood alone on its balmy, tiny island for years, serving as a shelter for the hermit for what felt like an eternity. In the years since he'd first opened the capsule that contained his abode, he'd soon found himself sharing it with strange faces and enemies-turned-allies as his star pupil – Son Goku – amassed a small army of great fighters and even greater friends. Roshi sighed, the memories of all they'd been through rushing forward, heart swelling with pride. If not for the bonds forged between them all, Earth would cease to exist, and his beloved island home with it.

"Master Roshi… Are you going out," asked a voice from behind the building. The crunch and shuffle of sand overtook the waves of the ocean, and from behind the modest pink home came a large brown and black spotted sea turtle with curiously large eyes, his massive flippers pulling him forward as he approached the old man.

"Hey there, Turtle! Have a nice swim today?"

"Oh, yes," he said, nodding his thick brown head. "Very refreshing!"

"That's good," Roshi said, nodding. "Well, I thought I'd get outta the house today. TV's not working so well and I'm not really in the mood for reading at the moment."

"…That's a first," Turtle muttered.

"Huh?"

"Uh, nothing," he said, sweat forming on his brow. Turtle opted to come back to the subject and asked, "…Where are you going, though?"

Roshi hummed and said, "You know, I was thinking of going to see Goku, but I remembered he's been hard at work, tending the fields, no doubt, because of Chi-Chi… So, West City, it is!"

"Ooh, that sounds nice! You can stop for groceries! We're… out of ramen and kamaboko, eggs and rice—"

"Alright, alright," Roshi interjected. "I'll grab up some food, and you hold down the fort. I'll be back before you know it."

The old man fished in his top, pulling out a bright yellow capsule attached to a string necklace. He pulled it over his head, undoing the knot around the button at the capsule's top before pressing down and throwing it ahead of them. With a loud flash and 'pop,' and a puff of thick white smoke, a round, bright yellow helicopter materialized, resting gently atop the sand and glimmering in the sunlight. He approached it slowly, smiling all the while.

Opening the door, he said cheerfully, "See ya real soon, Turtle!"

With that, he started up the engine, the blades slowly whirring as they spun faster and faster, sending waves of air pulsing across the sand beneath it. Turtle watched anxiously as the yellow copter soared further and further into the sky, before finally disappearing amongst the puffy white clouds and sailing through the bright blue.

"He'd better come back with real food," Turtle grumbled. "Last time he came back with more of those dirty magazines and some junk food. Hmph."

Hasana tapped his foot against the floor and leaned back into the seat, noticing a strange crackling sound coming from the speakers. Ever closer to their destination, the Namekian vessel sailed by a colossal cloudy planet, streaked in rustier shades of red and orange, a great and swirling gaseous storm at its center. Hasana raised a brow, thinking it looked very much like a tremendously large bloodshot eye in the blackness of space, and shuddered slightly.

"Everything alright," Sanshiva asked, leaning against the chair, arm hanging over the headrest.

"…Yes. That planet just sort of… creeps me out."

"Hm… I think this planet is actually kind of pretty," she said, staring at the gaseous giant. She turned to Hasana, making a circle over her eye with her thumb and forefinger. "That robot of yours though? Now that was creepy; just this fat… metal… eyeball that rolled around on the floor and beeped and blooped and… Ugh!" She faked a gag and giggled. "Weird," she said in Namekian.

Hasana let out a deep laugh, replying, "That it was, Sanshiva. That it was."

"Hey, you two talkin' smack about my scanner droid there?!" Yumena curled up her sleeve and hopped from one of the smaller seats, waving her hand about. "I might not speak your language, but I know that tone, boy."

Hasana quickly swiveled around and shrugged his shoulders. "What? We were just saying the robot was—"

"Droid," the old woman tersely corrected him. "A robot couldn't do half of what that scanner droid could."

"Droid, robot… Whatever you call it, it was weird. Repeat after me," Sanshiva offered, "Jinpowai. Weird."

"Jin-WHAT?!"

Bowa burbled heartily from his seat and said, "Jin… jinpowai."

"There you go," Hasana said, impressed as he clapped a few times. "Perfect inflection, too."

"Yeah, whatever," Yumena mumbled. "You're all a little jinpowai if you ask me, anyways."

"Oh, is that the frog calling the toad green, now," Sanshiva said, a coy smile dancing on her lips. She switched back to the common tongue and continued, "That's alright, I'll teach you. I'll even start with the fun part, too: the curse words," she said, rubbing her hands together mischievously. The old woman cackled in response.

In both shock and amusement, Hasana's mouth fell open before his lips curved back up into a smile. "No, we start with hellos and pleases and thank yous," he replied. "Where'd you learn curse words from, anyways? I didn't think the Grand Elder ever spoke like that…"

Before Sanshiva could respond, another loud crackle emanated from the speakers, followed by a painfully long and loud screech.

"Woah!" Bowa's frame wiggled to match the frequency and he bubbled shakily, "Jin… po… wai!"

Hasana shuddered, the ache in his pointed ears growing worse by the second. "Midori," he cried out to the ship's computer, "…a little help here would be much appreciated!"

The feedback suddenly stopped, followed by an anxious silence. What was only ten seconds felt like a lifetime until finally, Midori spoke once more. Still audible, yet considerably lower in volume than what Sanshiva and the group had become used to, it announced, "Alert: incoming electromagnetic pulse. Please remain seated, you may experience—"

Suddenly, the lights sputtered and faded, the computer went silent, and the four watched in horror as the ship became enveloped in impenetrable darkness, stars whizzing by the windows as the vessel continued to drift further towards the Earth, now just within reach. Hasana gasped as he turned back to face the windshield, spotting a menacingly large wave of pulsing and crackling energy heading straight for them.

"BOWA, YUMENA, SEATS! NOW!"

Sanshiva panicked, glancing as the others strapped themselves in. There were only two seats, and with no other option, she sank to her knees and clutched at Hasana's chair with wide eyes. In a split second, the young man swiveled and scooped her from the floor, pulling her onto his lap and strapping them into the captain's chair together, stretching the belt as far as it could go.

She blinked in confusion. "Wha—"

"HANG ON!"

With a blinding flash of light and the terrible thunder of a thousand storms, the massive pulse of energy smashed against the ship, sending it hurtling in wide and wobbling circles. Familiar with the sensation, Sanshiva's stomach churned, and her mind instantly flooded with thoughts of her first encounter with Makeru; the sickening force of gravity, the dizzying whirl of stars all around them, and the horrible uncertainty of it all in the cold darkness of space. She covered her eyes and screamed, shaking violently as Hasana held on tightly around her waist. She hunched over, straining desperately against the belt. Yumena and Bowa wailed as they, too, tensed up against the horrendously strong force.

"No, Sanshiva, head up! That'll only make it worse!"

All at once, every alarm, every speaker, every glaringly bright overhead light and crimson red inlet bulb turned on, flickering and buzzing relentlessly, and Sanshiva shrieked again, the pain and nausea too much to bear. Dizziness overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes, hyperventilating and trembling feverishly.

"I can't do this," she cried, "I CAN'T DO THIS!"

"YES YOU CAN," he bellowed, "YOU CAN! HEAD UP, SANSHIVA! HEAD UP!" He sensed her energy pulsing violently, the same as it had before she'd brutally beaten Makeru, heart pounding furiously as the ship continued to careen in the darkness. Hoping to prevent another of her transformations, he grabbed for her hands, fingers entwining and squeezing tight.

Sanshiva sat upright, head right beside Hasana's, whimpering as the vessel finally began to slow its spin. "Breathe," he said in her ear, "Follow me." She felt his chest expand from behind her, holding the air in his lungs before slowly and deeply breathing out. "Just breathe," he said again.

'I'm so scared,' she thought, 'I'm so scared…'

'I know, Sanshiva, I know. Breathe. I'm here, it'll be alright.'

Hasana grimaced through the pain, the sharp-sounding alarms bringing him back to Jae-Ujani; back to the crowded docks and the overbearing stench of fuel and waste, back to the memories of the rogue that had run amok and destroyed countless lives in the wake of his greed, and to their near-impossible escape from the smoking docks. Yet, through all the adrenaline, his breath remained steady – in through the nose, out through the mouth – and Sanshiva copied him as best she could. She opened one eye, watching the Earth drifting closer and closer, the vessel still making wide, shaky circles. Regretting her decision, she quickly shut her eye and squeezed Hasana's hands tighter. The alarms finally cut, and the lights stopped flickering, once again encapsulating the four in total darkness and horrid silence.

"I-Is it over y-yet," Yumena asked shakily. "I think… I think I'm g-gonna faint…" Her head lolled about, and she clutched at her chest.

"Almost," Hasana called out. "Sanshiva, reach underneath the console there, and find the emergency restart just in the middle; it's got four little ridges on it."

Sanshiva nodded, stretching her arm and feeling several buttons beneath the console. She soon found it and pressed it firmly with her forefinger before leaning back again, still dizzy, still shaking.

"Good," he said, leaning into her cheek. "It's alright, just breathe."

The rear thrusters finally roared, hot and bright, countering the wide spinning before bringing the vessel to a standstill mere light years from the Earth's exosphere. Sanshiva opened her eyes once more, watching strange ribbons of light form at the northern apex of the planet.

"Geomagnetic storms form auroras in the atmosphere," he explained. "Back home, they happen daily on the northern and southern sides, but they're much smaller and nearly invisible until the eclipse. The bigger the star, the stronger its waves. Two hundred of our suns could fit in Earth's only one, and there'd still be room for New Namek at least twenty times over. Forgive me, Captain, I should have planned for this," he said as the power came back on.

Blushing slightly, Sanshiva leaned in and whispered, "There's nothing to forgive. You've acted like more of a captain between the two of us…"

Hasana's cheeks reddened as he reached for the buckle. "Only because I've had experience," he said, clicking the button at its center. "Switch places with me. I should be able to handle the gravitational force if that happens again, but I need you in this seat until we've reached a cruising altitude above the planet. Your safety before mine."

"But I'm not good at dr—"

"No better time to practice than now. Come on," he said, pushing her up by the waist. He swiftly slipped from underneath her, and Sanshiva suddenly found herself seated firmly in the captain's chair, Hasana buckling her in as the power came back on with another screeching surge of feedback.

"Power restored," Midori said pointedly.

"Engage the Sanshiva Protocol," Hasana commanded, removing his crooked cap and placing it atop Sanshiva's head.

The computer's voice changed to a deep and fuzzy tone. "PROTOCOL 817-DX: ENGAGED. SHIELD POWER: ONE HUNDRED PERCENT."

Confused, the young woman blinked again as the ship became encapsulated by a strong and buzzing forcefield of bright golden energy – far stronger and more luminous than she remembered, the patterns forming a shining pattern of Namekian script that scrolled by like a great spell had been cast over the vessel. She adjusted the cap and looked up at Hasana questioningly.

"Sanshiva… Protocol?"

"I'll explain later," he said. "Hand over the flight controls, Midori." The console whirred and once again, the small steering wheel popped up and clicked into place from just beneath the young woman's feet. "Now, for the next part. Sanshiva, you're going to take the helm again, and drive us around the waves we see coming for us."

"But I—"

He gave her a stern look as if silently refusing to sit back in the chair and take the controls from her. She hesitantly grabbed for it, staring out the window as another massive bubble popped at the surface of the sun, a second colossal ripple of magnetic energy heading straight for them.

'I'm so scared,' she thought again. 'I'm so scared…'

'You're not alone this time, Sanshiva, we're all scared. But for all of us, you need to keep trying. Now… Push on the wheel and send us down. Count to three, and then pull back up.'

She acquiesced, following his orders to the letter; the wave passed right over the ship, sending a gentle thrum across the top of the shield.

'Almost there. Here comes another one. See how the sky almost bends around it? This time, pull back on the wheel, count to three, and then push it back down.' She followed, and the ship teetered gently as the wave passed beneath them.

"See? Not so hard, is it now," he asked. "Just a little further. We're at the exosphere – the outermost layer. It'll be smoother sailing soon, I promise."

"Tch… 'Smooth,' my ass. Didn't I teach you better? Geomagnetic storms still have effects that can disable—"

"M'ateri, not now," he said between clenched teeth.

Yumena raised her hands and turned her head away. "Alright, alright. Just sayin'."

Sanshiva's heart raced within her chest, the thought of the vessel careening and crashing straight into Earth's surface amidst another strange and powerful wave, plumes of smoke, and pillars of fire where the ship and its occupants once were, and shuddered.

'I can't do this,' she thought. 'What everything turns off again? What if I mess this up? I don't know how I could… I wouldn't be able to… I can't—'

'Remove that word from your vocabulary this instant. You can do this,' Hasana replied, '…and you will. Do not borrow future anxieties in favor of being present. You are here, you are piloting the ship, and right now, you've got things under control. Focus," he urged.

'You're the one controlling things, here.'

'No, I am guiding. There's a vast difference between the two. Pay attention, here comes another one. It's small, so turn the wheel left until your right hand is at the top of the wheel, then count to three again before bringing it back.'

She followed once more, and the computer announced, "APPROACHING THERMOSPHERE. PLEASE REMAIN SEATED, YOU MAY EXPERIENCE SOME TURBULENCE."

The vessel shook, the friction of its entry heating the very air around them, the Earth's gravitational force sucking them in faster and faster. Through the corner of her eye, Sanshiva could make out another wave, and asked, 'Up? Down? What do I do now?'

'You choose this time.'

She pulled up and counted to three; the ship jostled once more and she grimaced, painfully aware that had she chosen any later, the ship would have been sent tumbling through the air. She gave Hasana a nervous chuckle before the familiar crackle and screech of the speakers filled the ship again.

'Oh no…'

"INCOMING ELECTROMAGNETIC PULSE," Midori blared. "IMPACT IMMINENT."

Sanshiva gulped and said, "But… I don't see—" As if anticipating her response, the computer provided a holographic display, showing the view of a colossal wave – invisible to the naked eye, and yet, recognizable by telltale bends within the sky and clouds – approaching from just behind.

Hasana's sighed and raised his brows, asking plaintively, "Abandon ship already, huh?"

"…What?"

WHOOSH.

The vessel lurched forward, and the electronics within the ship began to fizz and spark. The dials and meters on the console began to waver frantically between full power and none, and Sanshiva winced as a great pulse of static shocked her hands, the wheel now crackling with electricity.

"…Um, Midori," she said hesitantly, "Do you have any gear to land… in water?"

"NE… GA… TIVE…" Midori said, the deep voice cutting out between electric pulses.

Remembering the computer's ability to provide a course when she couldn't think of one herself, she asked, "What is the recommended course of action."

The computer whirred and fizzled with static before responding pointedly, "ABAN… DON… SH—"

The power cut off, and the ship stopped mid-flight, hovering for one last moment before dropping through the sky. Sanshiva reached for her buckle and Hasana grabbed her hand. "No! Stay in that seat. I worked too hard on this ship to let it get lost in the sea. Bowa, on me!"

Bowa saluted and slid out of his chair, his gooey form melting through the belt and buckle before he burbled and shifted shape once more, just as he had on Jae-Ujani. As Hasana approached, the Bollejian fashioned himself into a long and thick coil of slime that wrapped around the young man's right arm, holding tight as Hasana darted towards the platform and kneeled.

"Bowa, together now. You ready?"

"Bowa ready," he gurgled determinately.

The young man raised his arm and the Bollejian curled around his fingers, his head forming a massive amber fist that struck hard against the platform, metal caving slightly just beneath the force of their strike. Hasana did it again, the speed and heat from their descent sending hot air jutting through the cracks just around the rim of the platform. He raised his fist one more time, pushing his energy forward and lending it to Bowa. "Damnit," he cursed in Namekian, "Open… up!" The platform finally fell away, flaming jets of hot air spewing into the ship as he glanced one last time at a shaking Yumena and a frightened Sanshiva.

"Hasana," she cried out, reaching for the buckle.

"STAY! IN! THAT! SEAT," he bellowed from outside. "WE'RE NOT ABANDONING SHIP YET!" Hasana struggled to hang on, fingers digging into the metal of the open platform. "Bowa," he called out, "Trust fall!"

"Ooh! Bowa see what Hasana means! Bowa make big pillow for trust fall into water!"

"Yes! Yes, that's it! Can… can you stretch that far?"

"Bowa don't know, but Bowa has to try," he burbled loudly. The Bollejian took several deep, bubbling breaths and uncoiled himself from the young man's arm before leaping away, screaming his people's equivalent of 'Geronimo' as he plunged through the sky.

"BOLLEJELLO!"

He thrust himself forward, struggling against the force of wind before forcing his body to stretch once more into a single stream of aerodynamic goo; his head seemed to wobble slightly before forming into a pointed, sharp tip, and he thinned his body, eyes squinted against the rushing air as he cut down and through to the sea like a gigantic golden spear.

Hasana looked back up, realizing that to avoid injuring Bowa, he would have to slow the ship's descent. With no other option, he braced himself, pushing hard against the underbelly of the great white vessel, bellowing against the wind, willing every ounce of energy within him to counter the breakneck speed. His arms and chest ached, and dizziness wreaked havoc with his head; yet still, he persevered, pushing with all the force he could muster. He directed his ki towards his feet in great waves, pulses of golden energy forming just beneath his shining black shoes, and he grimaced, the soles burning his feet with every gust of power.

"Come on, come on!" He pushed harder, until the vessel finally began to slow, and the gusting flames around it began to fade; he looked down, watching as Bowa stretched himself as far as he could go, forming a colossal and squishy circular platform just atop the ocean waves.

Hasana bellowed against the air, further slowing the ship before leaping back inside just as the ship finally collided with Bowa's gelatinous frame. The Bollejian cried aloud, the force of the ship like a gut punch the likes of which he'd never experienced before. The ship bounced and tottered atop his gooey body, its heaviness and heat clashing with the cold seawater below.

Panting, the young man looked down, realizing Bowa had shifted his face to fit neatly into the platform's singed niche. The Bollejian smiled wide and gurgled loudly and proudly, "TADA! TRUST FALL!"

"Fantastic! That was absolutely fantastic, Bowa" Hasana exclaimed. "How are you feeling? The landing didn't hurt too much, did it?"

"Nuh-huh! Bowa has little tummy ache, but Bowa okay."

"Yumena, Sanshiva, are you alright?"

"Just… peachy," the old woman panted, one hand clutching at her chest and the other reaching for her buckle. "Tell me it's over, son. I ain't got another heart attack in me today."

He chuckled and nodded. "It's over, M'ateri. Sanshiva…?"

Sanshiva sniffled from the captain's chair, removing Hasana's cap and tracing the violet-stitched star with a single shaking finger. Hasana had truly acted as she felt a captain should, risking himself without hesitation to ensure her and Yumena's safety, and saving the ship in the process. Bowa had followed – almost instinctively so – and done the same, pushing his strange and slimy body to its limits as he held the ship above the waves. She breathed heavily and sadly, the urge to sob too great to hold back as shame washed over her.

"Sanshiva. Look at me."

She shook her head and covered her face with his cap, tears dripping down her cheeks, shoulders shaking, and heart aching. Hasana watched as she seemed to shrink in her seat, sadness emanating from her lithe form in waves as he knelt beside her. He tenderly reached for the young woman, only for her to recoil from his touch, and sighed softly.

"Sanshiva, please… Look at me."

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, "I c-can't… I'm s-so sorry… I'm… I'm useless—"

"Stop that. Stop that right now, Sanshiva…" He pushed the cap slightly down, his heart stopping at the sight of two violet eyes filled to the brim with tears. She pulled it up again, hiding her face in shame, still shaking as he pulled it down once more and reached to wipe the tears from her face. "Why… why are you saying all this about yourself? Because you didn't know how to handle this? Sanshiva… who the hell could have ever handled something like this on their first flight with a crew?"

"…You, obviously."

Hasana chuckled and retorted, "But it's not my first flight with a crew."

"You're still… s-so much better… th-than me… at this…"

"It's like I told you earlier, Sanshiva, that's only because I've had experience. Why is it you presume you must be perfect at everything to be called a captain? Some of the best crews in the galaxy aren't led by someone that has more experience than their peers. They simply bring people together, and the experience between them all is what makes them successful."

"Yep!" Yumena unbuckled her belt and hobbled towards the two of them. The old woman gently laid a hand on Sanshiva's shoulder as she said, "Listen, Sanshiva… A captain is just… somebody who leads the way. You're too young to know it all right now. That's what you got a crew for."

"Hasana seems to know it all…"

Yumena tsked and said, "Hasana got to explore and learn whatever he wanted 'cause he was a plain ol' Namekian. No offense, son."

"None taken," he chuckled. "I am rather… plain, I suppose."

Sanshiva sniveled, "I'm still horrible at all this and a terrible cap—"

"Don't talk about yourself like that. I ain't havin' it anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, not any day."

Suddenly Bowa pushed up his head through the entryway, straining and burbling angrily, "Yeah, you good captain! Better than good! You stop that! Stop that right now!"

"Ooh boy… Look who's mad," Yumena teased. "Seems he doesn't like you talkin' about yourself like that, either."

"But I am horrible at—"

"NO! NO, NO, NO," Bowa bellowed.

Hasana stood up and Yumena backed away, the two of them gently swiveling the chair round for the young woman to face the furious Bollejian. Sanshiva shuddered at the sight of an enraged Bowa; his colors had shifted from a honeyed yellow to a raging crimson, his eyes had gone from amber to bright red, and he gurgled in the same deep and furious tone she remembered when he had spoken to their pursuers at Jae-Ujani.

"Sanshiva, captain is like big shiny sun, and crew is like planets. Got it?"

"I… got it, I think…"

"Okay. Planet need sun for new life and good things. Got it?"

She sniffled and chuckled weakly. "Got it."

"Okay. So, if you sun, and we planets, you stay there. You stay there and… be bright and pretty for planets. Do good, be good, be big sun. Got it?"

"Got it," she answered, wiping her face.

"Good," he said, finally shifting back to the Bowa she knew, voice softening and colors blending and brightening. Hasana," he called, like a command.

"Yes sir!"

"Open big window! Nice and warm and pretty day. Like her!" He winked quickly at the young man and backed out of the platform, peering at the sea life just beneath him. Sanshiva watched Hasana grab a small tool from underneath the console and pace toward the massive windshield.

As he began to unfasten each hinge, the warm sea air assailing her nose the more it peeled from the bow, she thought, 'I still don't understand what you see in me… What makes me… a captain… There's just no way I'm really a leader of any kind…'

West City, WST 3338926…

Roshi gasped slightly as a vibrant, blue-haired, and sapphire-eyed woman opened the wide turquoise door at the front of a colossal dome-like structure. Fair-skinned and taller than he, and dressed in a simple outfit of a white t-shirt with blue jeans, she smiled wide at the Turtle Hermit, and he smiled back.

"Bulma! Looking wonderful as always!"

"Oh, hi, Master Roshi! What brings you here?"

"Oh, just thought I'd pop by and see how my favorite scientist was doing," he said bashfully.

Bulma chuckled, "Aww, that's sweet of you, Roshi." She tugged at her bright red neckerchief and tapped her long brown boot on the ground and said, "Just relaxing today. I've been working hard on a prototype for another ship. It's been almost three months and I still can't seem to get some of the connections right. It's been snag after snag, so I figured it's time to take a break."

"That's a first," the old man muttered slyly.

"What was that?!" She blushed in anger and balled her hands into fists.

A bead of sweat coalesced at his forehead and he waved his hands back and forth, saying, "Nothing! I'm sure you'll find a way to get it to work soon. How's the family? Vegeta still around?"

"Hmph." She crossed her arms, irate at the sound of her hardheaded husband's name. "Training in the gravity room, as usual. I was hoping he'd take some time just to rest and spend some real quality time with us. I feel like he's missing out… Trunks has grown up so fast and it's like he barely knows the kid…"

"Oh, give it some time. I'm sure he'll come around. He just wants to stay strong and protect you, that's all. Where's Trunks?"

"Right here," called a voice from behind. A little boy dressed in a baggy yellow shirt and blue shorts zoomed out of the house, barefoot and carefree, flying straight towards the old man and grabbing tight. His soft blue locks brushed lightly against the tip of Roshi's nose as he said, "Hi, Master Roshi! It's good to see you!"

"Oh ho! There you are," Roshi said, making a fist and rubbing it playfully against the boy's head. "My what a strong grip you have there!"

Trunks backed away and posed confidently, fists resting atop his waist as he said, "I've been training ever since the fight with Buu. You never know when another bad guy is gonna show up! …Today's a rest day, though. Kinda stinks, honestly…"

"Oh, come now, rest is just as important as training!"

"But I don't wanna rest," the boy whined, "I wish we could go do something fun! Like… go for a trip or see something new or—"

Bulma jumped slightly, a sudden and pleasant melody ringing out from her pocket, the unexpected vibration of a cell phone jarring her from the conversation between her son and Roshi.

"Sorry, I have to take this," she said, walking just a few feet away.

'That's weird,' she thought, staring at the caller ID. 'I'm getting a call from… Kame House?!' She craned her neck and gazed at the old master before returning to the phone in her hands and pressing the green icon on the screen. The voice at the other end was frenzied, yet familiar.

"ALIENS," Turtle screamed, "ALIENS ARE HERE! PLEASE HELP!"

"Huh? Hey, calm down!"

"ALIENS!"

"Uh… Turtle? How did you manage to dial—"

"THERE'S NO TIME FOR THAT! THERE'S THIS BIG WHITE SHIP OUTSIDE! NOBODY'S COME OUT YET BUT I KNOW THEY'RE NOT FROM HERE! ALIENS! ALIENS!"

Bulma sighed deeply. "Alright, alright, Turtle, just relax and stay inside. Don't come out until we get there."

"ALIENS," she heard one last time before hanging up. She turned around and called out, "Well, Trunks, looks like your wish just came true, so go get ready. We have to take a trip back to Kame House. Turtle just called."

The little one's eyes lit up and he nodded, racing back into the house with all the speed of a hundred happy children.

Roshi's eyes widened. "Turtle?! But… How did he manage to dial—"

"Beats me," she said, pocketing the phone and shrugging her shoulders. "But there are some aliens at your place. Turtle said a white spaceship just showed up."

Shocked, the old man shrank back slightly. "A white spaceship?!"

"Mm-hmm," she nodded. "Now the only question is… your ride, or mine?"

Back at Kame House…

Sanshiva stared out the window at the boxy pink home all alone on its tiny beach, feeling a single, frantic energy from within.

'I hope whoever in there isn't… too scared… We just needed to get our bearings, is all…'

She heard the crinkle of paper as Hasana unfolded the map slowly and carefully, and laid it across the floor. "Sanshiva," he called to her, "… what did that bartender tell you to look for?"

"Um… a strangely shaped oasis in the middle of a desert."

Hasana hummed and trailed his finger across the map until he found a round oasis in the shape of a large wisp, a series of large, interconnected structures at its center. He dragged his nail across, ki streaming from the tip of his finger and forming a golden line as he traced it back to their current location. "About… four-thousand miles to the west. That's… a rather long trip. I'd take us in the ship, but if that geomagnetic storm continues, I'd rather we fly there ourselves."

"Can't go anywhere with that door broken. We need supplies, too. We're outta food n' water," Yumena said, her stomach growling.

"You're right, and therein lies yet another problem… We've nothing to trade for those supplies."

"Sure, we do," she said confidently. "We have… a tough gal who can kick nearly anyone's ass – for a price now, mind you. We've got a smart man who could build just about anything, and a slime that could turn into just about anything he imagines. Then, there's me," she continued, pointing to herself, "…Who knows just about anything these humans want to ask about the kind of aliens they haven't met yet and tech they've never seen or used before. Knowledge is just as good as any other bargaining chip; worked for me last time!"

The female Namekian chuckled. "So… I fight for a living, is that it?"

"Yep! And we'll charge… a million of whatever kind o' coin these people use."

"Seems like a steep price," the young woman said, shrugging. "Might not get any takers," she teased.

"You'd be surprised. I hear that humans can be rather ruthless towards one another. Coin is nothing next to revenge for some of them," Hasana said sadly. "Seems rather strange… how prone they are to violence…"

"Says the guy who asked me to kick Makeru's ass for him."

"…Fair point," he said. "But you know that wasn't revenge, it was… justice, long overdue."

"That it was, Hasana," Sanshiva said in Namekian. "That it was."

"Bowa want to go outside," he burbled excitedly. "Bowa saw big red shell on beach."

"Yeah, let's go," Yumena said. "Gotta stretch these ol' legs."

"Don't approach the house, you two. We'll wait for whoever's in there to come out and introduce ourselves," the young man advised.

"Yeah, yeah, kid, See you two outside… Oh, and no funny business while you're in here, either," she pointed to Hasana. "I saw that move you pulled earlier. Little lady over there doesn't need another lap ride."

Once again, Sanshiva cursed the blood in her cheeks as she blushed profusely; Hasana's cheeks turned color to match, and he countered, "M'ateri, she is fifteen! FIFTEEN! You raised me better than that!"

"Damn right, I did. Still… no funny business," the old woman warned, walking backward and squinting at the two of them before jumping through the rampway.

Bowa burbled and giggled, copying Yumena. "No funny business, Hasana."

Shaking with both fury and embarrassment, the young man bellowed, "COULD YOU NOT?!" The Bollejian chortled and leaped out of the opening onto the sand below. Hasana turned back to the young woman and said, "I am so, so sorry… I… I'm not sure why they seem to enjoy embarrassing me like that…"

The young woman chuckled and offered, "Too tempting when you put yourself in situations like that." She turned her head, smelling the scents of the sea and the sand, feeling the heat that crept in from the open rampway, and said, "I think you might need to change… Seems a little warm out there for such a dark and heavy suit…"

"I suppose you're right," he said, tapping his chin. "It's a shame… I quite liked the black and purple."

"Keep the colors, then! They look good on you," she said, winking as she removed her cloak. She tossed it in the air and quickly waved her hand, the cloth folding several times before twisting around her waist, forming a long violet sash that fell gracefully away from her body. "See you out there!" She zoomed out of the ship and into the open air, Hasana watching as the last of her slender form disappeared outside.

"Hm… They look good, huh?" He looked down at his starched suit, the glistening purple buttons and trim set against the dark fabric, and sighed as he placed a hand on his chest. Focused on the mental image of the female Namekian, his suit melted away, and in its place formed a set of comfortably loose black gi held in place by a shimmering golden sash, with golden-hued shoes and thick wrist wraps to match. Satisfied with the return to a more familiar outfit, he snatched up the map and folded it, pocketing it as he walked to the open rampway and jumped out.

Outside of the ship, Hasana inhaled deeply, savoring the briny scent of the water surrounding the tiny island, the sounds of the ocean waves, and the warm summer air. He raised his arms and stretched, eyes closed and heart swelling with pride. They'd made it in one piece, and though the real journey itself was yet to begin, he was happy he had brought Sanshiva to the surface of the great blue planet and that she was finally free of the anxieties space travel had repeatedly stirred up within her.

He let his eyes drift across the island, noticing Yumena stretched out atop a large white lounge chair, head resting over her hands, the sun beaming onto her body. She yawned and muttered, "I could used to this," before turning over to let the sunlight warm her back. Hasana smiled, and his eyes wandered further, where he saw Bowa hunched over a strange, six-legged, and red-shelled creature that sidled back and forth and snapped its large claw the closer the Bollejian got.

It snapped its claw again, inches away from Bowa's eye and he slithered backward, burbling before transforming himself and mirroring the creature's form, snapping a slimy amber claw back in its direction. The creature quickly sidestepped and burrowed into the sand. Bowa changed back, gurgling in a confused tone, and the Namekian chuckled as he watched the Bollejian look around worriedly for the small animal.

He looked away and towards the pink house, with its red 'Kame House' painted across the front, and thought to himself, 'I wonder who lives here… I know someone's inside but… it feels like an animal, not a person…'

"Boo!" Hasana jumped and spun on his heel, hands raised in a defensive position.

Sanshiva giggled and said, "Sorry. You made that way too easy."

"Oh, did I, now? How do you suppose I make it harder, then?"

"You practiced ki sensing with Yumena and me, Hasana, you should already know to scan your surroundings before entering an unknown area; that way, you know who's around you!"

"Duly noted, Captain."

"Don't call me that," she said glumly. "I… I'm no leader."

"And I told you that you are, you just need more time and experience. I will be here every step of the way, that I promise you."

"Well… I need to teach you to fight if you're going to keep up. I don't mind coming to your rescue, don't get me wrong. There's… this weird… pride I feel in being able to do that, but… I want to know you'll be okay if we ever get separated."

"…Separated?"

"Hasana, we don't know what will happen when we leave this place. We don't know who we'll see, or what we'll come across and I just… I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"I can fight, I'm just not as… strong as you. I used to train with my best friend, but when I left New Namek I never picked it up again. My studies overwhelmed everything else, and I… I didn't have much room to practice. You saw how crowded Jae-Ujani was."

"You've never done image training?"

"Against whose image, though?"

"Why not Makeru? I know you hated the guy but… seems like good practice to me. That's who I've been image training against since we left Jae-Ujani..."

"Hm… That is an idea… But what if I just trained with you, instead? You're here. Makeru's dead and I'd rather him stay that way, in both thought and presence."

"But what if I… hurt you? Like… really hurt you? I… I don't know how to heal anyone…"

Hasana laughed heartily and said, "In combat training, pain is the quickest teacher. Can't get tougher without a few bruises and broken bones, as my father used to say. I'm no good at healing, either, but I'm sure we can come up with a workaround; a word or signal we can use to stop if the pain becomes too great for either of us to handle."

"Either of us? Are you saying you'll be able to land a punch?"

"Excuse me? Are you insinuating that I can't?"

"I'm too quick for y—"

Hasana instantly stepped away, disappearing and reappearing behind her. "I don't know, I may be rusty, but I like to think I'm still just as quick," he said, mimicking a punch at her back. She twisted around, faking a punch to his cheek before hopping backward.

The young woman crossed her arms and nodded toward him. "You sure about that?"

Sensing a duplicate of her energy he swung around, a grinning Sanshiva just behind him. He turned back, noticing the copy he'd spoken to had faded from sight.

"What the—"

She did it again, several afterimages of her body standing around him as she continued to run in blindingly fast circles. Shocked and impressed, he looked about, struggling to keep up with the flurry of black and green, unable to differentiate between copy and original. In a split second, the afterimages dissipated, replaced by a single female Namekian with her fist mere millimeters from his face, and his eyes shot wide open. She lowered her hand and punched him playfully in the chest before trailing her finger across his black gi, and he blushed slightly.

"We'll start when we've found a more spacious area to train in. Oh, and… Hasana?"

"…Yes, Sanshiva?"

"There's only one rule when you train with me: fight like your life depends on it. I refuse to go easy on you."

"I don't get a starting level? Not even a warmup?"

"No."

"B-But… Why?"

She gave him a stern look, mirroring the one he'd given her before, and he swallowed hard, terribly nervous at the thought of facing off against Sanshiva's near-boundless potential. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "This whole time I thought I was just traveling with another one of my kind. But then you stepped out wearing this…" She paused, tugging at his top lightly, "And I realized you're not just any Namekian – you're the Namekian. You're the one I used to idolize, the one I used to pretend to be when I was a little girl, the one I even modeled my clothes after. I called myself your biggest fan for years, Hasana, and I'm almost ashamed to admit I'd forgotten your name. You're the boy who bought time, aren't you? The one who… sacrificed himself… for us?"

"I-is that… what they call m-me back home?" Flustered by the young woman's commentary, Hasana found himself unable to respond concisely, stammering through his words. "U-um… Y-yes, I g-gave my life willingly, b-but… I st-still wasn't able t-to… I still c-can't—"

"Remove that word from your vocabulary this instant," she said, copying him. "You used your smarts and bought our people the time they needed to hang on for just a little longer, without even knowing if help really would ever come. I may be strong, but you? Hasana, even to this day, my father calls you the kindest, the bravest, the best of us all. Even he thought you were…"

"…Dead?"

She nodded. "I'm really glad that's not the case, and… I kind of feel obligated to keep it that way, now. It'd be pretty cool if I didn't go back home with just Dokira, but with a better version of one of our people's greatest heroes, too. Little Hasana, all grown up, stronger and smarter than ever…"

With that, Sanshiva walked away with a gentle smile as she joined Bowa's search for the elusive crimson crustacean. More nervous than ever, Hasana shook feverishly and turned away, gazing toward the sea, heart pounding furiously within his chest.

'No pressure,' he thought to himself anxiously. 'The only woman of your kind just said she… idolized you… modeled her clothes after you… and wants to help you be… better. Wants to bring you back home, where you belong… No pressure,' he repeated. 'None whatsoever…'

10 Miles from Kame House…

The constant putter of the boat engine drowned out the noise of the seagulls above, and Bulma sighed as she thought about the white ship Turtle mentioned. She brushed a few stray locks of her blue hair from her face and tapped a button on the massive white dashboard in front of her, placing the boat on autopilot to Kame House before turning away.

Trunks had changed into his training uniform, a set of forest green gi with a bright orange belt and snug weighted boots, opting for comfort over fashion. He sat cross-legged across from Roshi, a thick set of cards in his hand, his tongue peeking out from his small mouth as he hummed and thought about his next move. Roshi sat with his back against the starboard side, one arm draped over the starboard side, covered in cooling sea spray, and the other in front of him, holding his own hand of cards.

"Hm… Do you have… a seven," he asked anxiously.

Roshi chuckled and said, "Nope! Go fish again, kid!"

"Darn it! I've been fishing this whole time," the boy whined.

"Tell you what, I'll take it easy on you. Go again."

"Um… Okay! How about a… three?"

"Oh, dear…" Roshi eyed the cards in his hand and said, "I've got… three of 'em," he said, handing the cards over.

"Alright!"

"Hmph. How do you expect him to get better if you keep letting up?"

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Really, Vegeta? It's just a game…"

Sat atop the boat's stern, arms and legs crossed as if to block himself off from everything and everyone else, her husband gave her a look of pure annoyance. Dressed in his usual dark form-fitting attire, with crisp white boots and gloves to match, the Prince's spiked hair wavered as the wind gust past him, fair skin glistening with sea spray. "Tch… You're going easy on him too, then," he asked, visibly displeased.

"IT'S A GAME, VEGETA."

"So is combat, and the loser dies."

"IT'S A REST DAY."

"Rest is for the weak."

"HEY!" Trunks threw his cards down and raced to his mother's side, staring indignantly at his father. "I AM NOT WEAK!"

"IF YOU KEEP LETTING PEOPLE TAKE IT EASY ON YOU, YOU ARE! YOU ARE MY SON! YOU ARE THE PRINCE INHERIT! EITHER YOU'RE THE BEST AT EVERYTHING YOU DO, OR YOU'RE NOTHING AT ALL!"

The little boy whimpered and shrank back, clinging to his mother's pant leg as he uttered, "I'm… not… nothing. I-I'm strong… I know I am… It was just a game…"

Roshi's bushy brows raised high, shocked at the man's tone; he understood full well that the Prince of Saiyans was hard on his son, but had no inkling how bad it had been for the little one. The Turtle Hermit had been hard on his students, too, but never to such an extent, and never to make them feel any smaller than they already were. He watched as the little one released his grip and slowly shuffled back towards him, a set of tear-laden eyes staring at the floor. Trunks sniffled and sat back down, glumly gathering the cards and shuffling slowly.

"Don't worry," the old man whispered, shielding his mouth with his hand. "The proof was most certainly in the pudding when you squared off with Buu, my boy." He winked, and Trunks smiled briefly and sadly, taking Roshi's hand of cards and mixing them in with the rest.

"Thanks, Master Roshi," the boy sniveled, dealing out the shuffled stack. "I just wish… he didn't act like he hated me or something. It's like… It's like I'm not allowed to be a k—"

"FOR ONCE, VEGETA, LET YOUR KID BE! A! KID!"

"HE IS NOT JUST ANY CHILD, HE IS MY CHILD! I WILL NOT SUFFER COMPLACENCY OF ANY KIND LIKE THE REST OF THOSE GODDAMNED LOW-CLASS WHELPS! WE JUST BARELY DEFEATED THE LAST THREAT, WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I'LL STAND FOR THIS POSH NONSENSE?! WE'RE ON OUR WAY TO YET ANOTHER POSSIBLE THREAT, AREN'T WE?!"

Bulma's brow twitched and she crossed her arms, angered at her husband's readiness to force their son to forego a proper childhood. Though she understood Vegeta never had a childhood of his own – or at least a past that didn't reek of unfettered rage and pure malice – she lowered her voice and spoke in a devastatingly pointed tone, a wretched mixture of ire and disappointment ringing in every syllable. The prince seethed and remained silent, ki pulsing with an equal amount of irritation as he stared right back.

"Your Majesty," she spat, "…I want you – for once – to think the way that the rest of us weak people do. Sometimes, we feel that the reason any of you ever really existed is so that all of us could know some real peace… Some real happiness." Vegeta opened his mouth to counter, and Bulma held up a finger to silence him. "We've given up a lot to be with you every step of the way. We've all been through our own kind of… invisible battles to see you live another day and use those fists for something good. But the rest of us…? Tch… All we have to fight with is this," she paused, pointing at her head, "…and this," she finished, pointing to her heart. "You really don't think we're tired by now? You don't think that for once, all we want to do is have nice, normal little moments in between all of this… extraterrestrial, supernatural, world-ending crap?!"

"…Fine," Vegeta grumbled, looking indignantly toward the archipelagos to the east.

Trunks' jaw dropped, and he anxiously turned away, impressed at the strange way his mother seemed to read his mind. Roshi's eyes widened, and he copied the boy, gazing through dark-tinted lenses at two small dots just above the horizon before them. Bulma stared at him, her fury dissolving in the face of the prince's acidic tone. She turned away and sat in the captain's chair, her sniffle barely audible against the engine's drone and the steady parting of the ocean as the great blue boat sailed further to Kame House.

Roshi cut the silence in half, asking, "Hey, Bulma? You got any binoculars on this pretty ride, by any chance?"

Bulma carefully wiped a tear from her eye and reached under the dash, pulling a large pair of black binoculars out of a rectangular compartment. Ready to feel anything else but the concoction of pain and sorrow that seemed to vibrate through her body, she held up the binoculars and smiled, sniffling one more time.

"Wait a minute… That's… A Namekian ship!"

Roshi scrambled forward on his hands and knees. Trunks raced to his mother's side, shielding his eyes with a hand and staring into the distance. "I've never seen one before," he uttered excitedly.

"M-may I see," the old man asked hesitantly.

"Sure."

She handed them over, and Roshi removed his glasses before peeking through the large lenses. "Well, isn't that curious? I wonder what they're doing all the way out here? Did Piccolo or Dende know they'd be coming?"

"I never heard anything. That… knucklehead keeps leaving his phone at home, anyways, and I haven't heard from Dende in a while… I wonder if everything's alright?"

"Hm… I don't see any damage to the outside of the ship, but… there seems to be… four people… just by the house, there…" Roshi squinted harder, hoping to recognize at least one face.

"Hang on!"

Roshi yelped as the boat lurched forward, digging his fingers into the captain's chair to hold himself in place. Vegeta instantly stood up, bracing himself as his wife revved the engine, the boat's stern dipping sharply downwards. Relishing the cool air, he stood motionless, lifting his head and staring at the pinpricks of color in the distance.

'You want a normal moment, do you, woman? You want some real happiness? Fine. I'll show you what normal and happy moment looks like for a Saiyan family.'

Like a stern command, he called his son's name. "Trunks!"

Trunks looked back, nervous at his father's change in tone. "Y-yes, Dad?"

"Let's play a different game. Whoever loses their balance first owes the other one a knuckle sandwich."

"Alright! It's on!" Trunks floated onto the bow and planted his feet firmly against the gleaming metal. He struggled against the sea spray and turned to face Vegeta, arms crossed like a mirror version of his father. He slowed his breathing and counted the seconds between the dips and raises as his mother raced to Kame House – one, two, skip, one two, skip – and focused his energy through his core and to the soles of his feet. They tingled and tickled and he smiled, heart swollen with joy as he successfully rode the bow and the sea split before him.

"Bulma," he said challengingly, "Is this all the faster this… hunk of junk goes?"

"HUNK OF JUNK?! I BUILT THIS WITH MY OWN TWO HANDS! I'LL SHOW YOU!"

"…Mom?" Trunks stared at her, nervous at his mother's tone.

"WE'LL SHOW HIM, TRUNKS! HOLD ON AND DON'T YOU DARE LET GO!"

"Y-yes, Mom!"

The little one turned around, heart racing as his mother pressed several massive buttons on the dash. The boat sped further and veered left, then right, left, and right again, the scientist pushing her creation to its limits. Great waves of cold, briny water smacked against his face, and still he endured, Kame House just within reach. The clash of warm light and frigid water shocked and comforted him, the strange sway of the boat beneath his feet and the force of the wind against his body became a rhythm he soon followed with ease.

Vegeta closed his eyes, sensing his wife's and child's ki, savoring the pulse of adrenaline and waves of satisfaction he felt rising from them as they showed off together. Bulma's seasoned experience as a pilot kept the boat at a fast yet steady skip, regardless of all her wide motions and wave-making turns; Trunks followed her lead with all the effort and grace the prince had come to expect from all the work the little one had put in, all on his own, just as he had.

'We rise together, or not at all,' he thought. 'I expect great and good things from the both of you, just as you expect great and good things from me. This is our normal. This is our pride on full display, and I know damn well you're loving this just as much as I am.'

He smirked the closer they raced, knowing soon that Bulma would cut the engine and swerve hard to avoid sending the boat flying through the old man's house.

"TRUNKS, HANG ON! ALMOST THERE," she called out, "I HAVE TO MAKE A HARD TURN!"

"CAN'T YOU SLOW DOWN, MOM?!"

"NOT IF WE'RE GOING TO WIN THIS THING!"

"OR DO YOU WANT A KNUCKLE SANDWICH FROM YOUR OLD MAN THAT BADLY," Vegeta called out.

"Grr… NO! LET'S GO, MOM!"

Bulma sped onward, and as the boat skipped over an incoming wave of water and flew through the air, she made a hard turn at the wheel and cut the engine. The vessel swerved to the left, splashing a wave of salt water in its wake, and landed just a few feet away from the huddled group of aliens taking shade underneath the Namekian ship.

Thoroughly drenched and thoroughly overjoyed, the boy looked over his shoulder, watching as Vegeta leaped from the stern and onto the shore, faking a clumsy landing.

"Come on then," the man said, crossing his arms.

Trunks smiled wide and flew straight to his father, arms outstretched as he grabbed around the prince's neck. He faked a punch, rubbing his fist on Vegeta's face before squeezing him quickly and landing on the ground. Bulma smiled and nodded to Vegeta before jumping away from the boat and onto the sand. Roshi, at a complete loss as to why and how the interaction truly unfolded between the three of them, could only marvel at the family as they approached the three intruders.

"That was fun," the old master chortled, wiping the salt water from his glasses. He grabbed his walking stick and joined them, cheerfully greeting the aliens. "Hello there! I'm Roshi! What brings you to my island on this beautiful day?"

A young Namekian draped in dark gi and a golden belt stepped forward and bowed deeply. Vegeta found himself raising a brow as the young man spoke up, impressed by the prim and proper accent, and the way his R's seemed to roll off of his tongue, like a sigh.

"My apologies if we've worried you in any way, sir. My name is Hasana," he said, standing tall. "This is Yumena and Bowa. We got hit with a magnetic wave on the way down here, and I wanted to give my crewmates a moment of respite before heading out again."

"Wait a minute," said the scientist, "Did you just say… Hasana?"

"Y-yes ma'am."

Bulma smiled wide and asked, "You don't remember me, do you?" The Namekian shook his head and she said, "Here, I'll give you a hint: my name begins with a B, and I live in a huge yellow house in the middle of West City."

"B… B… B-Bulma?! Mrs. Bulma, is it you, really?!" Hasana's eyes lit up and he grinned, thrilled that even on stranger shores he'd found a familiar face and just the one he'd thought of not several hours before.

"Aw, you do remember!"

"My goodness, Mrs. Bulma, it's been ages!"

"Tell me about it! And just Bulma is fine, no need to be so formal! Look how big you've gotten! Did you ever get to go to school out there?"

"School?" Trunks stepped forward slightly. "Even these guys have to go to school?"

Hasana blushed slightly and chuckled. "Well, yes, if we want to do anything other than tending soil and saplings." He knelt and said, "You know, your mother is the reason I kept pursuing my love of technology. My people only have but so much they're willing – or even able to – develop, and so I left home. Yumena here," he said, pointing to the old woman behind him, "Took care of me during all that time and pushed me further. She even managed to help me get into the Interstellar Academy before they let me study alongside her, instead. It was hard work, but very much worth it."

"No way! Was it fun?"

"It was… an experience," Hasana said, "But yes, there were moments when it was a lot of fun." He tousled the boy's hair, noticing his sopping wet clothing, and waved his hand. The boy's gi wavered as if struck by a harsh gust of wind, saltwater separating from the fabric and forming a strange ball in the air. Hasana pointed towards the ocean, and the dripping orb floated away, bursting like a bubble atop the waves.

"Woah," Trunks uttered. "I wanna control water…" Hasana winked and mouthed, 'I'll teach you later,' and the little one beamed back at him.

"Hmph… Where's the other one," Vegeta asked tersely.

"…The other one?" Hasana tilted his head slightly.

Roshi cleared his throat and stepped forward, cheerfully adding, "When we were just across the way, there, I thought I saw four people. I can sense another one inside the ship. Are they… alright?"

"Oh! She's fine. She'll be right out in a jiff."

"She?" Bulma elbowed Hasana and gave him a teasing grin. "Hasana… Do you have… a girlfriend now?"

"…I thought Namekians weren't interested in that sort of thing," Vegeta muttered.

Hasana blushed profusely and stammered as he waved his hands back and forth, "N-no, she's n-not my g-girlfriend. She's j-just a f-friend and she n-needed a m-moment to herself after the s-stress of the t-trip, is all."

Bowa chortled and burbled lowly, "Hehe, girlfriend."

Yumena raised a brow and nodded, "Mm-hmm. Startin' to look that way from where I'm standin'."

Hasana turned to them, the look on his face one of deep embarrassment and desperation as he hissed quietly, "Could you not?! Please?! We've been over this!"

"Yeah, so what," Yumena retorted.

"Fifteen," he whispered, covering his mouth. "Have you any idea how that makes me look?!"

"Alright, alright, don't get your antennae in a knot over it," she chortled.

Roshi and Bulma laughed heartily, recognizing the tell-tale face of a heart enraptured and too polite to admit it. Trunks and Vegeta glanced at one another and shrugged their shoulders.

"Well, it's about time I let Turtle know the aliens aren't here to take over anything," Roshi said, chuckling. "Would you care to stay for some lunch? I'm making some ramen noodles!"

Yumena's eyes widened and her stomach growled. "Is that stringy stuff in broth? With those swirly-looking fish cakes and egg and—"

"Oh ho! You've had it?"

"Been here a long time ago, myself. Got to try some but never brought any with."

"Well, follow me! I'll show you how it's done, and you can help yourself to as much as you like!"

Smiling, Bowa and Yumena nodded happily and followed the old man into the pink house, the screen door closing with a loud thud amidst the sound of waves against the sand.

"Mom, can I go, too?"

"Oh yeah! You've definitely earned some ramen after that. Good job, sweetie!" Trunks nodded and raced away. Bulma turned to Hasana and asked, "So, Hasana… What brings you to Earth?"

'Here it comes,' he thought. "W-well… My friend was told to seek out a fortuneteller to help her with a problem she's been having. As she's gotten older… her problem has gotten worse, and, as a result… she had to exile herself from home until she can solve it."

"Oh wow… Sounds like a lot to go through so young… You said she was fifteen?"

"U-uh… Yes…"

"Where is she from?"

"She… She's from…"

"Out with it, boy," Vegeta spat. "We don't have all day." He rolled his eyes as his wife elbowed him in the side.

Hasana gulped. "She's from… New Namek."

"There are no women on New Namek," Vegeta countered. "What are playing at?"

"I'm n-not hiding anything, I s-swear! She really is from New Namek!"

"But, Hasana…" Bulma paused and swallowed hard. "There… aren't any girls on New Namek. I mean, I know all of you don't necessarily relate to the same gender specifics as every other species but—"

"There are no women on New Namek now because the only one that exists is currently on Earth," called a voice from within the ship.

Sanshiva took several deep and quick breaths; reaching for the affirmations Yumena had given her, she thought, 'I am more than what they see, more than they could ever imagine, and more than they can comprehend. I am a woman, I am a Namekian, and I am the only me there ever was or ever will be.'

She leaped out of the open ship with her hands resting atop her hips. Mouth agape, the young man spun on his heel, blushing slightly and recognizing the mimic of his favorite posture.

"Hi," the young woman said cheerfully. "I'm Sanshiva."

Three Hours Later…

In a nervous and yet respectful tone, Hasana said, "Vegeta, I am terribly sorry to have disturbed you and yours in any way—"

"And yet, here you are," the prince hissed, "…more trouble, right after we just finished dealing with the likes of Majin Buu. Tch… you are indeed a sorry lot."

"But you don't understand—"

"I understand perfectly well what her presence really means. If she's capable of such a transformation, then the rest of your kind are, too, and if you have any respect for me and mine, you'll get her the hell away from us immediately. Whatever my wife needs of you and that supposed 'genius mind' of yours, I couldn't care less. But the more you wander about with that hell maiden, the more likely you'll end up just as monstrous as she is."

"But we need—"

"Food, water, whatever the hell you need, get it and go away. I'm beginning to see just what my wife meant earlier when she said she was tired of all this extraterrestrial, supernatural, world-ending crap. We have our own demons to fight; we don't need to add another one into the mix."

Irritated at the Saiyan's consistent insults towards his companion, Hasana countered, "We weren't trying to involve any of you in this and—"

The prince held up his hand, speaking tersely as the ki within his body flared for just a moment like an unspoken decree: remain silent or face the consequences. Hasana's eyes widened and he shut his mouth, head hung low as the man addressed him one last time. Vegeta began to hover just inches above the sand, the sun lending a fierce gleam to his angry charcoal eyes.

"Your very presence here commands us to be involved; every single one of us, including those of your kin who have come to live here on Earth. This is our home and one we have had to fight far too hard for just to let some cursed little whelp wander around freely until she hurts someone else. Slip up just once – either of you – and I assure you my fists will be the last things you or that wretched girl will ever see." Vegeta purposefully directed his energy to create a gust of wind that sent sand and shards of shells flying at Hasana's face as he flew higher into the sky, westward, and back to his city home.

Hasana spat and wiped the sand and dirt from his face, cursing in Namekian all the while. "Grrr… Fuck you, you ignorant, single-minded, spiky-headed garden gnome! We'll show you! We'll show all of you! She's not a monster! She's not a demon! She is a Namekian! A Namekian!" He kicked at the ground, sand flying back into his face; he spat again, slightly embarrassed at himself, before stomping back to the ship.

From inside the house, Sanshiva tried hard to mask her pain as she watched Hasana fly into the vessel. During his heated conversation with the Saiyan prince, the young man had left himself telepathically open without realizing she had been listening to them the entire time.

Noticing a familiar sight among women, Bulma nudged Sanshiva gently and asked, "…Hey, are you alright?"

"Oh, me? I'm fine," she fibbed, waving her hand as dismissively as she could manage. "All good."

The scientist raised a brow. "Mm… No."

"Huh?"

"Nope," she said, shaking her head and grabbing Sanshiva's hand. "Come with me."

Enraptured in another round of cards and an exchange of stories around the kitchen island, the rest of the group paid no mind as Bulma quickly and quietly dragged Sanshiva outside, shutting the screen door quietly behind her and guiding the young woman to the back of the house.

"Come on. Out with it," she said softly, crossing her arms. "I know that look."

The Namekian looked nervously at Bulma before shifting her eyes to the ground. "L-look, I… appreciate what you're trying to do, but… I don't want to burden you…"

"It's not a burden if I'm the one asking to carry it. What's wrong?"

Sanshiva swallowed hard and asked, "Is your husband always so… direct?"

Bulma sighed heavily. "Sanshiva… You heard them, didn't you…?" The young woman nodded and stared at the ground. "What did he say?"

"That I… that I'm a… monster… and Hasana will be, too, if he doesn't stay away. The more I think about it… the more I start… to believe him." Sanshiva shuddered and gasped, the urge to sob once again overwhelming her.

"Don't you believe anything my husband says. He doesn't know the first thing about being anything other than himself, much less the only female Namekian in the universe."

"But what if he's right? What if I somehow end up… poisoning Hasana just by being around him? What if… what if this darkness is… contagious somehow?"

"Have you 'poisoned' him yet?"

"Well, no, I don't think so, but—"

"Well, alright then," Bulma interjected, placing her hand gently atop the young woman's shoulder. "Look at me."

Sanshiva looked up, struggling to hold back tears, breath quickening and chest tightening.

"You don't think the smartest Namekian in the galaxy thought about that already?"

"Wha—"

"Hasana is an absolute master at calculating the one thing most people can't ever wrap their heads around: risk. It's the hardest thing to grip, whether we're talking about helping pilot a ship's trajectory in the middle of a geomagnetic storm..." Bulma paused, lifting Sanshiva's chin ever so slightly as she continued, "Or staying beside someone who is fighting to understand themselves and a power they didn't ask for."

'No… no way,' the young woman thought. 'He wouldn't—'

"And I know what you're thinking," Bulma said dryly, crossing her arms again, "There's no way he'd thought that far. There's no way he'd really be okay with being around someone that could hurt him or turn him into something he's not ready or willing to be. But he got you this far, and I can tell he wants to help you go farther. He wants to help you bring Dokira back, wants to help you understand what you are, and wants to help you get back home."

Bulma walked slowly back to the front of the house and pointed to the ship. "If you don't believe me, just ask him." She winked before pacing back to the screen door, taking one last kind look at Sanshiva before going back inside.

She gulped and hesitantly paced toward the ship, trembling as she peered through the open rampway. She sighed and called up to him. "H-Hasana…?"

Hearing the pain in her voice, he darted to the entryway and stared down anxiously, wondering why all of a sudden his captain seemed to suddenly radiate grief. "Sanshiva, are you alright?"

"Mm-hmm," she fibbed. "I just… I wanted to ask you something. You're not… b-busy are you?"

"Not at all," he said, smiling in an attempt to cheer her up. "I was just cleaning up. Bulma offered to help fix the ship for our trip back home when this is all done, so I figured I'd get it ready for repairs. Care to join me? I… found a gift that was left for you up here."

"A… gift?" Hasana nodded and watched as she floated through the entryway to join him. "But… who would… give me anything?"

"With how well it was hidden in plain sight, I'm rather inclined to say it was Porunaga. He used to love giving gifts and then leaving them in obvious spots," he said wistfully.

"Plain sight?"

"Yes. He left it in a box in your room. Right beside the bed, actually."

"That stern old cricket gave gifts?"

Hasana's jaw hung open, shocked at her use of the slur. "Mind your manners, Sanshiva, he's one of our elders and you'll have to thank him when we get home. It shattered when we entered the atmosphere, but it's… rather beautiful, even after I fixed it. I'm almost jealous if I'm being frank."

"…Where is it?"

Hasana waved to the captain's chair and it swiveled round as if to follow his silent command. Perched atop the seat was a delicate tray carved from a single slab of marbled purple and indigo stone, glittering with specks of silver and gold throughout. Two cups and a round, wide teapot hewn from shining obsidian, with inset amethyst stars around the rims and bottoms of each, sat just on top. Though there was evidence that each item had indeed shattered, every crack had been filled in, every item now held together by a shimmering golden filament. As Sanshiva approached, she saw a small ball of parchment paper and reached down to grab it.

The crinkle of paper filled the space as she uncovered a small, pressed ball of what looked very much like the leaves and skin of the fruit from the ajisa trees on New Namek – Porunaga's homemade tea. The familiar, citrusy scent took her back to green skies and soft, turquoise grass, and she smiled sadly, tears forming in her eyes as she stared at the tea set again.

"Why would he… do this…?"

"Sanshiva, the day of the eclipse was the day of your birth. Porunaga's never been one to forget a hatch day. Did he… give you a letter? He always gave letters with his gifts."

She gazed at the tea ball, realizing its parchment wrapping was, in fact, a thoughtfully handwritten letter etched in glittering violet ink.

'Dearest Sanshiva,' it read, 'For years I had hoped to gift you this tea set under much better circumstances, though today I find myself leaving this here for you in lieu of a proper celebration. Had we been able to keep you home – and keep you whole – know that we would have. Your father and I have come to realize that though your existence heralds a darker path and a darker power than we have known since times long past, your very spirit holds within it a light vastly brighter than anything we could have ever imagined. You, Sanshiva, have the potential to end worlds or begin them anew; to burn with rage or set the galaxy alight with peace and prosperity. You have the power to further our species or end it, and the choice is up to you now.'

'I know the pressures of this undertaking must seem like an incalculable weight upon your shoulders, and once more I find myself wondering if there truly was a way we could have sent someone with you to ease some of that burden. However, I do not imagine you remaining alone for the entirety of this journey you have been forced to take. I do not see you wandering around that strange blue planet with naught but yourself for comfort and companionship. After all, we thrive best when surrounded by those who care for us, and for whom we care in return.'

'So, dearest Sanshiva, when you finally find yourself in the company of anyone – even just one person – who pledges to stay by your side and help you conquer the darkness within, know that they have done so out of love for all you are and all they believe you ever will be. Never question their resolve, and instead, pour them tea. Sit with them, talk with them, laugh with them, and slowly but surely you'll see everything in yourself that they see in you.'

Sniffling quietly, she folded up the letter and pocketed it. Her first question had been so eloquently answered, and so she turned to Hasana, smiling as she asked a different one.

"Care to join me… for tea?"

Somewhere in Deep Space…

Bound together on the floor with a series of firm cuffs and chains, Kiba and Hama winced against the sound of the soldiers' fervent cackling and the rhythmic thud of fist and foot against flesh and bone. Their faces and hearts ached all at once, eyes stiffly shut, bodies tensed as their friend and brother endured terrible and relentless torture; Hama sobbed loudly, Kiba begged for them to stop, over and over again, and yet they refused to listen, pummeling the little one repeatedly.

Doji spluttered in the captain's chair, his hands tied behind him in tight, cold metal cuffs, and a strange, bulky collar fitted against his neck. Blood dribbled down his nose and out of his mouth in thick rivulets, a puddle forming on the floor as he groaned against the force of Saba's foot against his knee and Pogi's fist deep within his gut.

Pogi grabbed hard at Doji's right ear, intrigued at the starry gem that swung back and forth. "What happened with your little magic trick, stupid slug? Huh?" He pulled hard at the boy's earlobe and teased, "Not so tough now, are you?"

Doji looked up weakly and closed his mouth, pooling a great wad of spit and blood on top of his tongue. He clenched his teeth, patiently awaiting yet another swift jab to the cheek for his refusal to respond. Saba pushed down on his knee, the joint stretching horribly in reverse, and he growled loudly. He sobbed, tears clouding his vision as slowly but surely, the joint separated and wedged within neighboring layers of muscle. The boy could feel every strained nerve, every blood vessel pulsing feverishly; he screamed against the strange tugging sensation of thick bundles of tendon stretched in the wrong direction, and floundered in anguish.

'Please… Let me stop this,' Himura begged, watching on from beneath Kiba's scarf, trembling all the while. 'Please, Doji I can't watch them do this to you! This isn't fair!'

'Stay! With! My! Brothers! Close your eyes if you have to,' he commanded. '…but don't you dare move! Don't you dare show yourself yet!'

'But—'

"You know what," Pogi mused, "…I think the boy's got one detail of that stupid getup wrong. You see, her earring didn't go in the right ear. It went…" He paused, and Doji let out yet another guttural, closed-mouth scream; Pogi had torn off the boy's ear, ripping the jewel away and forcing the pointed tip of the silver chain through the boy's remaining ear. "In the left!" He punched Doji in the cheek one more time before turning his attention to the two little Namekians crying together on the floor. "And you two… Need to shut the hell up!"

"You got that right," Saba spat.

"Please, stop! Stop this," Kiba cried, "We're doing what you asked! We're taking you to her!"

"Please, leave him alone," Hama sniveled, "Please, this isn't right!"

"Shut up," Pogi bellowed, pacing away from the captain's chair.

Doji cried again, urging Pogi away from his brothers through a deep and throaty shriek, a bloodcurdling sound that echoed across the bridge. He glanced back at the beaten and bloodied boy before kicking Kiba hard in the stomach, digging his boot deep into the little one. The portly boy's vision blurred, and he retched, blood and bile pooling atop his tongue and dribbling onto the floor as the shockwave of pain sent him spiraling into unconsciousness. Pogi reached down and grabbed Hama's antennae in one quick motion, cartilage ripping from the boy's head before he chopped quickly at the back of his slender neck and he dropped to the floor, the clang of his head against the metal shocking Doji to his core.

"There," Pogi said, chewing on the antennae, a strange gummy sound echoing back to Doji. "I get a little snack, and they get a little nap." He slurped them down and licked his lips, glowering at the little one as he said, "I'm gonna get a bath ready for you, little demon. Can't bring you to your sister all covered in shit, now can we?"

Saba cackled and punched Doji on the opposite cheek before leaning forward, nose to nose with the little one. "You actually are a tough one. I've killed plenty of tykes like you for kicks, and whew… I haven't had this much fun since… Well, since that little wimp Hasana and I went to school together. Used to punch him around, too… Such a wonderful punching bag he used to be, right before he got so fucking conveniently placed in self-study courses. Little… fucking… smartass."

Saba's fist sailed straight into the boy's stomach between each word, waves of stomach acid frothing forth, burning his throat and stinging his eyes. Doji's cheeks bulged, struggling to contain the bile and blood that seared his tongue and made the sickening feeling in his gut all the worse.

"I hate him, I hate you, I hate all of you disgusting little cretins."

'The feeling is mutual,' Doji thought, smirking slightly.

Irritated, Saba reached for the collar and pulled hard. "What the fuck is so funny all of a sudden, huh?" The boy spat forth the bubbling mixture he'd been holding back, chuckling weakly as the soldier recoiled in disgust and wiped the stinging cocktail from his eyes, gagging all the while. "ARGH! YOU FUCKING LITTLE—"

"Now that," Doji said, spitting from the side of his mouth, "…is funny."

"OH YEAH?! YOU THINK IT'S FUNNY, DO YOU?" The scaled soldier reached for the blaster at his side and shot twice into the same knee he'd dislodged, blood spurting forth, the sizzle of skin and the stench of burnt flesh wafting through the bridge. Doji screamed, long and loud, the shock and terror and pain overwhelming his body. "Not so funny now, is it, you wretched little bastard…" He holstered his gun and slapped the boy across the face. "Ugh… Now I need to clean up …"

Doji watched through furious purple eyes as the man walked away, the bathroom door shutting behind him. A moment later, Pogi was hurriedly shoved out of the room. The soldier took a glance at the boy, laughing at the pathetic and gory sight before stepping into the bunk room.

'Himura,' the boy reached out, 'Please… I need your help for a moment…'

'Can I—'

'Stay small. I need you… to try something on these… cuffs.'

'But what about the bullet wounds—'

'I'm working on it… come here, please…'

She poked her head above Kiba's scarf and glanced about before crawling as quickly as she could to the beaten chair, slipping slightly as she inched upwards and reached the boy's back.

'Do you see… a little hole in these cuffs? Like… like a keyhole?'

Himura squinted, head bobbing as she searched for a small opening. Her eyes settled on a strange square space, just at the center of each of the cuffs. 'I see it,' she replied. 'Which one should I—'

'Right hand. I need you to see if you can melt the lock from the inside.'

'But… I'm small… My… my mouth can't hold that much—'

'You can do this, Himura. I know you can. It's alright… take as much time as you need, and when you're ready to start, I'll guide you. If you can fit your tongue in between the notches you feel inside, you might just be able to melt it loose.'

The creature nodded and smacked her mouth, gathering as much saliva as she could before probing her long and stringy tongue forward and into the metal recess. She felt around, frustrated as she felt only one notch, then two, before lashing it back.

'This is hard,' she whined.

'It's okay,' the little one reassured her, 'I know, and I'm sorry. Don't rush, take your time. I thought I heard a click when you went up after the second notch. When you're ready, say the word, and I'll listen better.'

'O-Okay… Doji?'

'Yes, Himura?'

'How are you so… so calm right now? I… I'm scared, Kiba and Hama were scared… Aren't you?'

'I am,' he responded, sighing heavily. 'I am really, truly scared but… I can't… I can't let it go like this. If they get to her before she's controlled her power, she'll… She'll be exactly what we first thought she was, and not… not a goddess…'

'…Goddess?'

The little one nodded and explained, 'Yeah… I think… I think Sanshiva's name is a contraction of something else. Like… like putting several words together to make a new one.'

'Con-what now?'

He smiled weakly. 'Contraction. There's this really old language that Elder Hiro started teaching me last year. I haven't gotten the chance to go back and learn more, but… He told me two stories spoken in the Breath of the Ancients. The first one was about a Namekian named Zalama, who created seven planet-sized dragon balls that he spread between this universe and others. The dragon balls on our planet, and the ones on Earth, are really just… tiny imitations. They're limited in what they can grant, but the ones Zalama created can do anything.'

'What's that got to do with her, though,' Himura probed.

'Well, that's where the second story comes in. A demon queen, Muira, found out about them and tried to take the super dragon balls for herself; she wanted limitless power, and thought that if she sole them and asked the dragon, he'd grant her wish. For some reason, that story left out exactly what species she was, or where she even came from… But when she fought Zalama, over and over again, something inside her… changed. They became friends, and soon, she taught him how to best to fight and defend himself and others, and he taught her patience and peace. They fell in love, and Zalama was heartbroken when he had to leave this universe to spread out the other dragon balls, and so, he left her a gift remember him by; a sword made out of the energy of his favorite star, "Sa Hoshii Viirva," the Star of Life.'

Doji's left ear twitched at the sound of a soft click and he winced through the stinging of the sensation in his lobe as the earring swayed back and forth. 'Up, then left,' he urged, before continuing the story. 'Muira ruled over the Demon Realm as a goddess of darkness for thousands of years, and she used her new sword and powers for peace instead of chaos; demons were used as tools to keep people from straying too far from their destinies, to scare them into acting right. She couldn't save every soul, but she tried.' He paused, hearing yet another click. 'She thought if she was good enough, acted better, did her best to be good no matter how tempting it was sometimes to be her old, evil self… That she'd earn the right to be with her love in the next life.'

'I thought stories are supposed to have happy endings…'

'Not all of them do, but they lead the way for future stories that will. And ours is one of them. Did you get it yet?' The boy's ear twitched; the sound of rushing water from the bathroom finally stopped and his breath hitched.

Himura chuffed lightly, feeling the metal slowly give way around her tongue, the sickening metallic taste sending a wave of nausea to her little belly. 'Ew… You owe me big time for this. This stuff tastes gross.'

'Don't you worry,' Doji said, stretching his hand slightly. 'I promise I'll make it up to you soon.'

'Do you want me to free the others, too?' Himura scurred to his lap and peered curiously at him, noting the nervous look on his face as the boy stared at the bathroom door. '…Doji?'

'Himura, in my pocket, now!'

The bathroom door swung open, and Saba yawned as he paced out, his face and hands cleansed after a quick hose down. Himura quickly stuffed herself into Doji's pocket, quivering as the man paced closer and closer.

"Messy little bugger, aren't you," he said, kicking the boy's broken knee.

"Argh! Cut it out! Haven't you done enough already?!"

"…No." He kicked again.

"Grr… you ass," the boy grumbled in Namekian, "You putrid, scaley piece of garbage…"

"The fuck did you just say to me?" Saba kicked once more, even harder, splitting the little one's tibia in half. He chuckled as the crunch of bone filled the air and the boy cried out in agony. "Care… to repeat… yourself," he asked, kicking between the words.

"I…SAID… YOU'RE A… PUTRID… SCALEY… PIECE OF GARBAGE!"

Saba quickly grabbed for his belt, this time taking out the same small tablet he'd used when he arrived at Porunaga's village. A few moments later, with a cruel smile upon his lips, the man pressed firmly at a single symbol on the screen, a great green lightning bolt. At once, Doji's neck became enveloped in searing hot pain, and he struggled to keep his free hand hidden behind his back as electricity violently thrummed through his body.

The scaled menace laughed uncontrollably, his sharp-sounding cackle sending waves of pain through the boy's head. He pressed the button again, and Doji felt the pulse and crackle of the collar, more power surging through in agonizingly slow increments. Smoke began to fill the bridge as the little one's scarf smoldered and burned against his tender skin; saliva pooled in his mouth, and his vision clouded, fading in and out with every violet upturn of the torture device.

'DOJI, PLEASE! LET ME STOP THIS!' Himura's desperate psychic shriek chilled him to the bone, and he screamed and cried, foaming at the mouth, heart feeling ready to explode, his only ear bleeding profusely as the eardrum popped against the surge of energy.

'NO! STAY! IN! THAT! SPOT!'

Suddenly, the sensation stopped, and Doji gasped and spluttered, sobbing as he felt his heart finally slow and the pain finally ebb.

"Pull that stupid tough guy shit again," Saba threatened, "And I will make you watch as I tear your brothers limb from limb as slowly as possible."

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!" Doji panted and puffed, his chest ablaze from the torture. "DO WHATEVER THE HELL YOU WANT TO ME, BUT YOU LEAVE THEM ALONE, YOU HEAR ME?!"

"How noble of you. I'll make sure you regret saying that to—"

A sharp alarm sounded throughout the ship. The computer's voice rang aloud – a static and stiff tone that hurt Doji's ear – and announced, "Incoming transmission from GA Control Tower C914-68."

The crackling sound of a beaten communicator unit filled the bridge; the hologram sizzled and popped before the visage of a monstrously large man with great black eyes, scarred grey and white skin, and a mouth full of sharp, serrated teeth appeared above the main console.

"Commander," Saba saluted, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"The pleasure's all mine this time. It seems you're quite the sleuth, Saba… Your hunch about Hasana's failure to have the tracking implant removed after his time at the Interstellar Academy was… correct," the man growled in satisfaction. "Well done, son. Well done."

"Thank you, sir," he said, bowing slightly, "I thought I didn't see him the day we all got them removed."

"I thought them rather useless, myself. Let the weak wander off and get themselves killed on their little excursions. Survival of the strongest, as I always say. In any case, I'm uploading the tracking protocol to your ship's computer as we speak. Once you're within range of Earth's exosphere, you and your brother should be able to track him with near-perfect accuracy, give or take a few measly feet."

"Glorious! Thank you, Commander. I won't let you down."

"Good, good. Oh, and… Colonel Saba?"

"Yes, Commander," he said, saluting once more, proud of the sudden addition of the title.

"Do speed it up. I'm rather… starved to get this over with. Pogi told me all about how you sampled the local fare and found it… intriguing in taste, so I think… Well, I think I'll be joining you two soon enough," he said, his wide and malicious smile sending shivers through Doji's spine. The commander nodded his head and continued, "Ditch those little worms. You won't need them as much as they made you believe."

"May I perhaps suggest… saving at least one of them?"

"Hm… why?"

"Well, this one here," he said, pointing to the beaten boy, "…seems to share a special connection with that… wench. He might prove useful. The other ones, though?" He paused and looked back at the unconscious children. "…Not so much."

"As you wish. See you very soon, Colonel."

"Thank you, Commander."

The hologram fizzed and faded, and Saba turned his head to Doji, smiling cruelly as he watched tears pool in the boy's eyes.

'My plan… my plan was… for nothing,' he thought glumly. 'I dragged my brothers away from home… Got them hurt, and in trouble… for nothing…'

Saba laughed and grabbed hard at Doji's shoulder, squeezing as hard as he could, the sound of the inevitable snap and crunch of bone sending shivers down the boy's spine. He grimaced and cursed again before receiving another hard slap to the side of his cheek.

"Bottom feeder," he growled, watching as Saba silently walked away.

The scaled soldier looked back and said, "I'm gonna take a nap, little bug. We'll clean you up real good later," he cackled before closing the door to the bunk room behind him.

Doji thought he heard Pogi from beyond the door, chattering excitedly to his brother about 'tenderizing the bugs' before chowing down, and the little one shuddered.

'Screw them,' he thought angrily. 'We'll show them. We'll show both of them!' He shook his aching head and growled lowly. 'Time to change the plan.'

'Now can I get you out of this?!' Himura wiggled herself out of his pocket and scrambled to his leg, bobbing her head up and down. 'This is… this is pointless! Don't let them keep doing this! I can take 'em! We can take 'em!'

'No… Letting them think… that they're still in control is not pointless. I'd rather they… take it out on me instead of my brothers. I never meant for Kiba or Hama to be treated like this. Himura, do you think… Do you think you can do the same thing to the collar on my neck?'

She crawled up his shirt and onto his bruised shoulder, searching for an opening. To her disappointment, there was no way to unlock it. 'That… that remote thing he had,' she thought, 'Do you think if I… caused a distraction you could grab it with that floating thing you do?'

'…Telekinesis, you mean? But what would you do?'

'I can fit inside the computer there,' she said, bobbing her head towards an opening beneath the console. 'Maybe if I melted a few wires in there…?'

Doji smiled weakly and replied, 'Fantastic. Absolutely fantastic idea, Himura. If you go in there and you see a thick white wire, that's the communicator. Get that one first. Then look for a striped green and white one, just as thick. That's the navigation. Even if the ship makes it to Earth, they won't be able to track Hasana right away. Not without some difficulty.'

'Got it,' she chuffed. 'A big white one, then a big white and green one.'

'Yes.'

'And… then?'

'When they come out here to try and fix it, I'll try and take that remote without him noticing.'

'We're gonna escape?!' She bobbed her little head in excitement and asked, 'I can set them on fire, then?!'

'There's nowhere to escape to, as much as I'd love for you to do that. I'll hold onto the remote until the right opportunity. I'm sorry that… I'm sorry that you have to see me like this, but… I promise once we make it to Earth, you can transform as soon as that platform opens.'

Himura licked her lips. 'I wonder… They look like fish, so do you think—'

'You'll be able to eat them up. We won't need them where we're headed,' he winked and offered a brave smile. 'And if they try to hurt you, they'll have me to answer to.'

'But you don't know how to do that again! All the damage they've done—'

'Yes, I do, Himura. It's emotion. It's… it's fear and anger, hate and sorrow made real. I felt it back home… I felt it all like I'd never felt it before, and I let it all out. So right now, I'm just… stalling for time and storing that power, holding all that… darkness and all that energy in. The more I hate them, the more I get angry…'

His violet eyes sparked, and he breathed heavily, something deep within yearning to tear the door from its hinges and rip the two men apart piece by bloody, scaled piece.

'…The bigger and scarier I'll be.'