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