Three magnificent suns shined bright in a great green sky, casting warm rays on a cerulean grass-hewn valley. A gentle breeze carried wisps of floral scents under sapphire-tufted trees, and the water in the nearby lake glistened with a gorgeous jade 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, dome-shaped abode tucked underneath an outcropping of stone. Alone, with its white curved walls, spiked top, and round windows, it resembled a massive cephalopod resting still upon the grass. 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 wind. On the other side was a circular stone dais; a young tree grew beside it, casting a dappled shade that danced across its surface. Hidden from prying eyes and curious ears, the relatively peaceful location was disturbed only by the sounds of two distinct voices – one young and restless, the other wizened and exasperated – coming from within the home.
"Come on, Dad, just make the wish for me already! Just have the dragon take this power away," cried the youth. "Then I could stay here, where I belong! That seems much easier to me than traveling to Earth on the hope this Piccolo guy can help me figure something out!"
"No," the older one responded angrily, "Piccolo is far more insightful than you believe him to be. I would rather you meet and train with him than do something that would irrevocably rob you of something as precious as your soul. You'd be nothing but a husk of who you are now."
"I still think we should just have the dragon get rid of this stupid curse and—"
"It is not a curse but an ability unique to you and only you. If Porunga were to strip you of that ability, our universe would be all the poorer for it."
"It's killing me, having to be alone all the time to protect everyone else from it, and it's killing me not to use it altogether! I already feel like a useless husk, and I'd rather be one among my own people than to be a stranger among even stranger folk—"
"WOULD IT KILL YOU TO LISTEN?! IF PORUNGA WERE TO TAKE THAT POWER FROM YOU, ALL THAT YOU ARE – YOUR MEMORIES, YOUR VOICE, YOUR CONSCIOUSNESS – WOULD BE DESTROYED! IN AN INSTANT! ALL THAT WOULD BE LEFT IS YOUR BODY, NOTHING MORE!"
"I DON'T CARE! WHAT'S THE POINT OF BEING ME IF ALL I AM IS A FREAK?! A DEMON! A MONSTER!"
"DO NOT EVER SPEAK THAT WAY ABOUT YOURSELF, DO YOU HEAR ME?! EVER!"
The world seemed to fall silent momentarily as if awaiting the finality of the tense exchange with bated breath. The breeze stilled, and the creak of the port door opening a short while later was the only other sound that followed.
An aged, emerald-skinned alien figure emerged from the home, modest in stature but round in the belly and draped in loose-fitting clothing: a maroon vest that showed his bare chest and a pair of crisp, puffy white pants held in place with a lavender belt. He tugged at the white scarf wrapped around his thick neck and harrumphed quietly before leaning against a knobby walking stick. A set of thin antennae drooped above his wrinkled brow, and he sighed, staring through tired, ebony eyes at his brown shoes. One of his long, pointed ears twitched as the adolescent sighed in response behind him. A knot formed in his throat as he spoke again.
"You are a Namekian, my child, and an exceptionally gifted one at that."
"Exceptionally cursed, you mean."
"How dare you lie to yourself like that."
"You know it's the truth."
"NO! The truth is that you're so frightened to—"
"I almost killed you and nearly lost my mind! I was ten! Ten! Can you blame me?!"
"I forgave you for that the moment I came to my senses! Five years is a long enough time to avoid your potential! Or do you prefer to stay in limbo? Do you enjoy being stuck somewhere between 'damned if I do, and damned if I don't?'"
"Hell no!"
"Then why do you think I told you to seek Piccolo?!"
"Because he's just strong enough to put me out of my misery?!"
"NO! Because that man is living proof that a demon and a god are just two parts of a whole! Be you demon, we find your gods. Be you god, we find your demons! But none of this can happen, and you will never be fulfilled, if you continue to take the easy way out!"
The youth gulped and remained silent.
"You have begged me consistently for the past five years to make that wish. You don't… really believe I could do that, do you? That I could… live with myself? After condemning my child to oblivion?!"
More silence before a cold shudder. The old man's heart felt ready to burst.
"Do you?!"
"…N-no," the teen whispered.
"Then why ask?!"
"B-because I'm a m-monster… I'm a monster, I'm a monster," they wept, their hurried breaths and pained cries like a stab to the heart. "Whatever I am, I… I shouldn't exist! I—"
"You are not a monster, and I would see you made whole, made happy, made free before I would ever consider ridding this plane of your existence entirely. I want what is best for you, my child, and destroying your soul… is not it."
He gradually floated into the sky, listening intently as the door slammed shut, and the teen cursed and wept. With a heavy heart, he soared eastward, vacantly staring at the landscape beneath him, his mind filling rapidly with a muddled mess of anxieties and his eyes brimming with tears.
For nearly fifteen years, Grand Elder Moori struggled to explain the bizarre, dark life force that lingered somewhere past the western mountain ranges. He tried to devise numerous excuses and warned the warriors and curious children of the nearby village to avoid going into the valley. Though the Grand Elder had done his part to allay his people's fears and buy his ward more time on the Namekian home world, he knew there would be no such opportunity this year. His elder brother, Porunaga, had informed him that those of his charge had had enough vague indications and cryptic warnings, and he'd soon have to send a group to investigate the area and locate the mysterious entity to stifle their worries entirely. The more the Grand Elder thought of it, the further his heart sank into his stomach.
Moori hadn't realized he'd flown listlessly for almost an hour until the blues and greens of a lush plain came into view. Tiny houses, like the one he left behind, dotted the verdant expanse of land. Larger homes, 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 and rows upon rows of tall, thin saplings with vivid turquoise leaves that glittered against the green sky – newly planted ajisa.
At the center of the settlement stood a massive ajisa tree, its colorful pink flowers in full bloom and a delightful scent wafting around it. Moori inhaled deeply as he descended through the sky, masking his anguish beneath a kind smile and greeting those he passed by. He looked around as Namekians of all ages gathered about the grounds. Children darted to and fro, chasing one another with broad smiles on their faces; adolescents gathered in smaller groups, playing card games or exchanging gossip and stories; the elderly sat within their cozy, shaded homes, doors and windows wide open to invite the light and the wind as they chatted, meditated or enjoyed tea with one another.
'My perfect green folk,' he thought, '…on this perfect green world… I wish my child could have been part of all this…'
He tried hard to swallow the lump in his throat, his mouth dry and head swimming with worry. Suddenly, he heard three familiar voices on the other side of the grand ajisa tree. As he walked around, his concerns melted away as he recognized the children huddled about the base of a sizeable cerulean stone well just a few yards ahead. He grabbed a handful of berries from a nearby bush and hummed as he leaned against the tree.
'I wonder what they're up to…'
The first was on his hands and knees, his white and lavender robes stained and sopping wet with mud. The second – a spindly child in a bright blue uniform with a white belt – nervously backstepped and stared at the first with a look of utter revulsion stretched across his face. The last and largest of them – a portly boy in maroon gi – crossed his hefty arms and chuckled harshly.
"I got it! I got it," exclaimed the first.
He slipped and scrambled to his feet, his hands tightly clasped together, looking at the second and third enthusiastically.
"Ew, Doji! You're all dirty," cried the second.
"Can't do anything, really, Hama trying to stay clean. Must be a bit boring, being a pretty boy," Doji teased.
Hama blushed and gave the boy a look of indignance before sticking his tongue out in a mocking fashion.
The third chortled and nodded towards Doji's hand as he asked, "So, wait a sec, you called us over here to show us… a worm?"
"No! It's not a worm, Kiba," Doji asserted. "It's a uh… um… salamander. I think."
Kiba raised his brow and guffawed. "You… think?"
"W-well… That's the point of all this. I'm making new discoveries to fill the encyclopedia, remember? I need to study it for a bit if I can, and I thought you guys might want to see—"
"In-cycle-what now?"
"En-cy-clo-pe-di-a," Doji sounded out. "You know… a book that tells you everything about everything?"
"Okay, but… What is that thing, though," Hama asked, shuffling behind Kiba and grabbing for the bigger boy's gi. "It looked so gross… squirming around in the mud…"
Before Doji could answer, Kiba interjected, "A worm."
"Oh, come on! A worm doesn't have legs," Doji stressed.
"Doji's new discovery, the 'legged worm,'" Kiba declared jokingly. "Well, whatever... Let's see it already!"
"Okay. We just have to be extra careful with it. We don't know what it could do if it gets too scared."
"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it."
Doji slowly un-cupped his hands and used his thumb and forefinger to grasp the long end of what looked like a puddle of tar at the center of his palm. Hama retched and turned away as it swayed weakly back and forth; it looked precisely like a worm. A bulbous, slimy, black and purple worm. Kiba began to laugh at once; tears formed in his eyes, and one hand went to his face while the other went to his belly as it pulsed and jiggled through every hearty chuckle.
Doji's curious and confident expression withered into nervousness while he waited for it to move again. He held the creature closer to his face, going against his better judgment to get as good a look as possible before it reacted in fear and wrestled away.
"See? I called it! I called it," Kiba exclaimed gleefully.
As if to confirm Doji's prediction – and defy Kiba's laughter – the salamander suddenly began to writhe and contort against the boy's grip, reaching for him with slimy webbed fingers. It opened its tiny, toothless mouth, hissed, and spat violet sparks in his direction. Doji smiled wide and pulled it away slightly, noting the animal's form, markings, and colors as he examined it.
"Hey there, it's okay," he cooed. "Relax, my little friend. I just want to get a good look at you, that's all."
After a long struggle and a tense stare at the boy, the creature calmed down and slowed its movements. Doji held it atop his palm, and it flicked its lengthy tongue out to lick the side of his finger, leaving a trail of warm slime. Immersed in his observation, the little one strolled away towards the great tree, nearly bumping into Elder Moori.
"Oops," the little one said, looking up from his catch. "Oh, hi, Grand Elder!"
"Hello, dear Doji! How are you faring today?"
"Fantastic! Do you remember that thing I told you about last week?"
"Er… Which one, exactly," Moori asked sheepishly, finishing the last of his berries and leaning for his walking stick.
"The little black salamander thing that kept following me. Wanna see?"
The Grand Elder nodded excitedly; Doji grinned and held up the creature, resting atop his grime-caked hands with a look of contentment on its tiny face.
"How peculiar," the old man remarked. "I wonder what it could be…"
"I'm not sure," Doji breathed, "But it's the only one I've ever seen…"
"Gimme," said Kiba, reaching for it. "I've never seen anything like that, either. My turn to hold it."
"No, wait, it just got comfortable," said Doji. "I want to take some notes and maybe sketch it and—"
"I'll keep it comfy, alright, just lemme see!"
Moori gave the portly boy a cautionary glare. "Now, now—"
"Kiba, stop!"
"Come on, Doji, gimme!"
"No! Cut it out! We need to be gentle!"
"I! Said! Gimme!"
Kiba ignored the silent warning in the Elder's eyes and reached for it with greedy hands. Doji tried to clamber away, but the hefty boy leaped upon him with such force that the air was pushed entirely from his lungs. He saw stars and released his grip, coughing and wheezing while he struggled to push Kiba off. Moori reached for the boy and tsked, turning to admonish the older one for his rash behavior; at that exact moment, Kiba spotted the salamander on the grass, staring at him with two glowing violet eyes. He sprang forward and clutched it between his pudgy fingers, laughing and smiling. His victory, however, was short-lived.
The salamander spat and squealed in his grip, producing a thick layer of acidic mucus across its body. A bizarre scalding sensation began to spread between Kiba's palms, and what first seemed like a warm itch soon felt like a lump of steaming hot coal. He yelped, unable to keep hold through the rapidly growing pain, and hurriedly threw the salamander away before whining and wiping his hands against his pant legs.
The animal thwapped against the great tree before tumbling to the ground. Moori and Doji gasped, and Hama ran to Kiba, grabbing for him hurriedly and examining his hands. The quiet shock between the group lasted mere seconds before the salamander stood upright and let out a horrible sound like an angry firework, shrieking at such an appalling volume for so small a thing. The noise drew the village's attention, and they watched – equally captivated and horrified – as the tiny animal transformed into a massive, dragon-like monstrosity the likes of which they'd never seen.
A deep purple flame sparked furiously at the end of its tail, trailing along its backside and up to its head like a hundred miniature sparklers. Its body began to enlarge, and the heat emanating from its fiery mane seemed to scorch the air around it. Hard, opalescent black scales formed all over as it grew to some twenty feet, and large, pristine white fangs sprouted from its gums, covered in a viscous purple liquid that dissolved the grass beneath it. With every breath, a dark smoke came billowing out from the corners of its mouth and through its pointed nostrils. Its eyes were black, save for the cosmic purple irises at their center. It moved about clumsily, stumbling momentarily as if still getting acquainted with its larger form.
Kiba screamed, "It's a monster!"
"It's not a monster," Doji yelled back.
Hama wailed, "M-monster! Monster!"
Hama and Kiba raced away and hid behind the well; Moori and Doji stood as if rooted to the very spot, hearts racing in tandem at the sight. The villagers cried for their strongest to attend to the scene and chose to huddle within the safety of their homes. Doors and windows began to close in rapid succession, creating a cacophony that seemed to rile the lumbering animal further. Moori watched as seven of the village's warriors – each stout and hardy men in their own right – surrounded the ajisa tree, creating a ring that parted the group from the rest of the settlement. The giant salamander stomped and roared as it stared down the gathering of green men.
The Grand Elder gulped and glanced down at Doji, who by now was shaking feverishly, but if through fear or frustration, Moori couldn't tell.
"Elder Moori," he whispered, "Why didn't he just listen to me?"
Moori didn't know how to respond. He glanced at the children huddled by the well before returning to the draconic terror.
"Doji, Moori! Get away from that monster," yelled one of the warriors. "Hama, Kiba, over here, now!"
The boys acquiesced, running away from the well to cling to a tall fighter draped in white and emerald robes. The giant salamander grumbled sadly and began lumbering towards Doji with an imploring look, like a silent plea for assistance.
"It's not a monster, Toriega! Give it some space! It just got scared, is all," Doji asserted. "Just let it run away! It won't hurt anyone!"
"Toriega," Moori uttered, "Listen to him, please."
"He is a child, Grand Elder! A child! And a reckless one at that!"
"Hey," the little one whined, "I'm not reckless! It's Kiba's fault that—"
"I don't care who started this," Toriega spat, "But we're getting rid of that thing immediately."
Toriega nudged the boys aside before he leaped forward, landing just before the animal. Startled, it bellowed and backed away, spitting acidic saliva at the ground as if to draw a line. Toriega took an offensive stance, pushing Moori and Doji away with a burst of ki that spread like a wave of hot air from his body.
"Stop scaring it! You're only going to make this worse! Stop!"
Doji ran ahead, grabbed his pant leg, and pulled hard before Toriega grabbed a fistful of his scarf and threw him aside. The little one whimpered as he fell; Moori inhaled sharply and helped him up, appalled at the young man's actions.
"Toriega—"
"Moori, you and that kid have about three seconds to back away or get caught in the crossfire."
The Grand Elder's eyes widened as he asked himself the same question that Doji had moments before.
'Why… won't he listen to me?'
He scooped up Doji and flew just outside the circle, visibly disheartened. The little one stared at the scene, noting the frightened look in the creature's eyes as Toriega and the others tightened their formation.
"Please, Toriega," he begged, "Please don't hurt it! Give it a chance to—"
"A chance to what, eat us all?"
The giant salamander bucked and snarled before it spat a burst of flame toward the young man's feet. Undeterred, Toriega sprang forward and reached for its head, wrapping his arms around its snout before swinging the creature in a great arc and tossing it further away from the village. It screeched and tumbled; scales scored through dirt and grass, and as it scrambled to its feet, the flames jutting from its back and tail brightened. It adjusted its stance and turned toward the band of approaching fighters. It opened its mouth, inhaling deeply while a violet ember grew at the back of its throat and unleashed a torrent of amethyst flame, forcing the men back, scorching the earth until it ran out of breath. Just as it turned to dash away, one of them darted forth, grabbing the beast's tail and forcing it back.
"Oh no, you don't," he said.
"Stop it," Doji screamed, struggling against Moori's grip. "Stop! Leave it alone!"
Its tail thrashed about, slamming the man against the ground before whipping him again across the face and chest with its igneous tip. The stench of burnt flesh floated through the air, and the warrior cried out in agony before scrambling to his feet, hand upon the wound, as another of their number grabbed him and flew him back. Toriega seized the moment, flying and landing mere feet before the creature with his hands in front of him.
"This is the end of the line for you, monster," he uttered, raising his ki.
At the center of each palm fizzed a bright white spark that steadily grew into a great orb of scorching light. The energy crackled and sent waves outward from Toriega's hands as he held them steady, aiming for its face. The animal inhaled sharply once more and spewed another violet inferno to push him back, but the young man evaded and jumped up in the air; he lobbed the ki blasts against its head and shoulder, smiling in satisfaction as it hunched down and released an anguished cry. A sizeable portion of the scales across its brow and shoulder fell away, revealing rough black skin that bled and blistered from the heat of the Namekian's focused blasts.
It snarled again and leaped for Toriega, who tossed more of his focused ki charges toward it as it chased him back through the village. The rest of the warriors gave chase, with some attempting to reach for its legs or tail, only to be kicked or swatted away. Clods of dirt and burned grass shot into the air as the beast zigzagged between Toriega's shots with relative ease before reaching its target. Acid-soaked fangs pierced through the flesh and bone of the young man's calf, and Toriega screamed, the pain like a sword stab and a branding iron all at once. As if to mimic his initial attack, the animal jumped high and swung him around before tossing him against the ground and toward the other warriors.
One of the men remained behind with Toriega, pulling him from the ground while the others moved to circle once more. Each began to copy the young man's attack, gathering their energy to cloak their palms in white hot light as they hovered above the ground. Unable to evade further, it shrieked and turned in circles, panicking as it felt the heat of the ki sizzle the air around it. Doji floundered and screamed, tears streaming from his eyes as he finally freed himself from the Grand Elder's grip and raced through the air toward it.
"Doji, no," Moori cried out, "NO!"
Suddenly, the warriors unleashed their ki blasts with an explosion of blinding light. The detonation echoed across the plain, and the grass waved as surges of hot air shot outward from the impact. Moori's heart dropped into his stomach as he uncovered his eyes, expecting to see Doji mortally wounded in his effort to defend the creature. But a shocking sight greeted him when the light faded and the dust finally settled.
Doji stood tall, arms outstretched in a defensive posture. A crackling barrier of bright orange energy arched around him and the animal, like a tremendous domed shield from the heavy-hitting blasts, ringed by blackened earth. Steam and smoke swirled about as the heat dwindled from the ground, and the scent of charred dirt and grass carried away with the breeze. With his body severely weakened by the sudden outpour of ki, the little one breathed heavily and collapsed to his knees, and the barrier fizzed and sputtered before disappearing entirely. The giant salamander chuffed, sniffed, and snuck closer, curious about the peculiar green child that protected it from a blazing barrage of attacks.
"S-stop," the little boy wheezed. "J-just stop… Let it… Let it go…"
"Doji! I told you to get the hell out of here," Toriega screamed, infuriated. "We need to kill that thing! Dokira, get him away, will you?!"
A towering young man in lavender and white gi stepped forward, eyeing Doji with an acute mixture of anger and disappointment. The boy clambered to his feet, huffing and puffing as he stretched his arms out again, giving the man an equally frustrated scowl. Just as Dokira harrumphed and stepped forward to grab the child, the animal rushed to stand between them. It warned him away with a loud shriek before facing the little one. Doji's heart skipped a beat as he stared straight into its celestial eyes.
All across their world, there were many animals that could increase their size or change their appearance as a measure of intimidation: frogs and toads that expanded nearly four times their size when they inhaled; serpents with large, vibrant expanding hoods and long, retractable sharp fangs, and birds with massive, feathery fronds that mimicked larger beasts in their patterns and coloring. There were also plenty more that could downsize themselves: insects that coiled tight to use their exoskeletons as shields; varied lizards that could remove limbs or tails to escape predation or fit within tighter hiding spots, and fish that could expel the gaseous buildup within from their gills to thin their bodies and swim faster through rushing currents. Doji was familiar with the low-level energies that pulsed through those creatures. Still, whenever he encountered the elusive amphibian lookalike, he sensed something far different, far greater than anything else he'd found during his miniature expeditions. A lightheartedness, almost; a youthful, bright aura that spoke of something like a child nervously approaching a potential friend.
He knew nothing of the strange animal, save for what he'd seen of it in passing in various spots across the settlement. Small creatures like newts or salamanders usually didn't survive for very long on the Namekian home world – usually trodden on or eaten by larger beasts – but Doji swore that this very salamander had not only managed to survive on its own but had tailed him consistently for almost a month. Whenever he fetched water from the well, there it was, staring at him from between the crevices in the stone. Whenever he tended to his father's tea plants, there it was, eyeing him from just beneath thick clusters of leafy shoots. Whenever he sat at his desk to work on journal entries or practice sketches, there it was, sprawled out across the windowsill, soaking in sun rays while it watched him placidly. Yet, each time he tried to get close, it scurried off faster than he could give chase.
Now, as it stood before him, dwarfing him in size and sniffing away at his muddied robes, Doji felt a pang of remorse. In his effort to capture and catalogue it, he'd exposed its safest hiding spot, endangered it to the whims of a hulking child, and forced it to become something it quite clearly did not know how to control. With a shaking hand, he reached for it, hoping to apologize before it shrank and scampered off again.
Dokira fought hard against the urge to pull the beast away. Toriega struggled against the desire to lob yet another ki blast at its burned face while one of his brothers tended to his wound. Moori swallowed, hoping the lump in his throat would disappear, and as Doji held out his hand, the rest of the village held its breath.
Eyes shut tight, Doji flinched slightly when an unexpected push against his hand grew, forcing him to backstep to keep steady against the pressure. Before long, he lost his footing and fell upon the grass, heart racing at an impossible speed, eyes now wide open. The creature plopped awkwardly on the ground and rested its sizeable head upon his chest, releasing a purr of contentment that seemed to tickle him down to his very bones. Doji giggled while gliding his hands across its scaled face before settling atop the blistering wound Toriega had created. Relief flooded the two of them, and they lay there together for quite some time until, at last, the little boy finally spoke.
"I'm really sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean for you to get hurt like this."
Doji closed his eyes and pushed his ki forward through his fingertips; citrine tendrils of light sank into its skin, and the blisters and scars disappeared slowly but surely. It hummed again before standing tall and giving him a toothy grin. The fire along its back faded, becoming but a single stripe along its body, and its tail swayed eagerly while it nudged him up from the ground. The sudden sound of eager applause from a single set of hands startled the group.
"Marvelous, dear Doji! Simply marvelous," praised a buttery voice from across the way.
A stately gentleman in glittering blue robes sauntered out from the grandest of all the homes overlooking the village center, having watched the entire affair from his window. He gave Toriega and the others a coy smile before addressing Doji.
"How strange and marvelous it is," he mused. "Yet another entry for your growing encyclopedia, eh? Will you be keeping it for further study?"
Doji laughed and nodded eagerly. Toriega looked hurriedly between the Elder and the boy, panic swelling within him once more.
"B-but, Elder Porunaga, it burned a child! It bit my leg! That thing is a mon—"
Doji circled about and interjected, "Kiba was squeezing the life out of it, and you threw a fireball in its face! I'd act like a monster, too, if someone was trying to kill me for no reason!"
Porunaga nodded and added, "How right you are! Wouldn't you agree, Toriega?"
"Th-that doesn't matter! It's not safe with that thing around! I'm supposed to be a leader, aren't I? I'm supposed to protect my kin, to destroy threats, to take charge and—"
"Is that the lie you tell yourself to justify such spiteful behavior?"
"What?! What are you talking ab—"
Toriega was immediately shushed with a wave of the Elder's hand.
"Heed my words, my son: a leader is not one who carves the way by his own hand or destroys every perceived threat, but a person who joins others in their quest to protect the peace and prosperity of the world they reside in. Never ignore your peers in times of hardship or moments of conflict – be they far younger or far older than you – for it is their knowledge you will partake of, their happiness you will participate in, and their success you will share."
Toriega huffed and limped away, face flush with embarrassment and body shaking with fury. His brothers followed, and bystanders wandered off in small clusters until only Dokira, Doji, Porunaga, and Moori remained. Kiba and Hama darted away, hoping to disappear within the gaggle of green folk and avoid their Elder's admonishment. While Dokira questioned his little brother and acquainted himself with the draconic wonder, the Elders slipped away unnoticed, languidly walking past several patches of ajisa saplings.
"My, my, how exciting! A dragon," Porunaga mused.
"How strange that it… changes like that," Moori chuckled weakly.
"Just needs a bit of time, apparently, to get used to its… growing pains," his brother chortled. "Poor thing looks like it's never had to do that in its entire life. So… blundering and awkward in that form. It's almost adorable, really. Seems to have taken quite a liking to my dear little Doji…"
"He's a wonderful child, truly," Moori added, smiling softly.
The two passed by homes and gardens until, at last, they stood at the very edge of the village, looking out across the plains and the great forest of ferns and ajisa in the distance. Moori jabbed his walking stick into the ground and sat down, groaning as a slight 'pop' erupted from his knee. Porunaga followed, gracefully sitting down and folding his legs. The Elders continued to stare into the distance as they spoke quietly to one another.
"She's still asking you to make that wish, isn't she?"
The question hit Moori in the chest like a ton of bricks, and Porunaga instantly regretted asking as his brother's vacant expression melted into anguish.
"Y-yes," Moori sighed. "We live such long lives… She could grow to be just as formidable and righteous a warrior as Piccolo… But she shuns it in favor of something so… So final, and it confounds me…"
"Hm… Perhaps she's so set on that option because it is… merciful."
"Merciful…?"
"Yes, of course. Think about it: she loves you dearly and feels herself a burden to you enough as it is. Why expound upon that, and have you constantly worried about her safety and well-being when the dragon could effectively end it all with a single wish? Why bother exercising a power that threatens to consume her with each use and endanger those around her? Why pain you at all when mercy is but a summoning away?"
"I've told her a dozen times or more that she could just… abstain! She could serve in any other capacity if using her powers proved too much… Couldn't she?"
"Would you want to abstain from your strength? When such a time comes that our people have need of that power, would you refuse to wield it? Would you not do the same as that poor creature back there and become something equally terrifying and nearly uncontrollable if it gave you just one shot in the dark to overcome the trial set before you? One chance to secure the peace?"
"When," Moori asked, confused by his brother's word choice.
"'Tis never been a question of 'if' for our people, you know that."
"But… why, Porunaga, why would she want to leave her body behind? That's not a mercy for anyone; it's torture! No afterlife for her, no daughter for our people, and I… I just don't understand…"
"Lose yourself in the speculation of someone else's decisions – even hers – and you will find yourself lost as to how to react. She could have any number of reasons for wanting that, but… If I've paid enough attention to her – and you – then perhaps… Perhaps she believes it might still offer you some comfort to have her live among our people, in some way, when it's all over…"
"But it won't. It never could. It's not the same, Porunaga! You know that, I know that… She knows that…"
Moori curled over and sniffled, now at a loss for words.
"You know… I've noticed something eerily similar about the two of you. It's astoundingly noble and saddening all at once."
"Wh-what would that b-be," the Grand Elder sniveled.
"In deference to those around you, you choose to suffer in silence. You choose to carry your burdens entirely on your own and pray you can find somewhere deep and dark and quiet to bury them all. You crave to be of some real use to your people, lest you feel yourself an inconvenience to those around you, and your failures and shortcomings feel magnified under the weight of what the both of you mean to our people. So… You stifle and shrink yourselves, especially since it means everyone else is all the safer and happier for it. She does it for you, you do it for us… It's commendable in some aspects, really, but it's rather… unhealthy for the two of you."
Moori winced through silent tears. Porunaga reached out and gently grabbed his shoulder, shifting round and catching the Grand Elder's attention as he motioned to the side with his antennae. Doji's new scaled companion seemed to be practicing its newfound skill, chasing the boy and his older brother around homes and between flower patches, changing its size to playfully catch them off guard.
"You and your child deserve a life lived freely in the sun – just as any living being does – but it has to come with an understanding that life is still very much uneasy, no matter what you might do to change that. There is uncertainty, there is heartbreak, there is chaos. Yet still, there is also joy, there is love, there is peace past all that."
"I've really t-tried," the Grand Elder sniffled. "I really have tried to teach her that, trust me. I want an end to the secrecy as much as she does, but she's still so… So frightened of herself…"
"That's why this has to be the year, Moori. My children have no ill will toward this 'mysterious energy' in the valley. They're merely curious, much like Doji was earlier. They grow impatient, and I've no more excuses left to give them. The sooner she understands that the only person afraid of her is her, well… The sooner she can become all she was ever meant to be."
There was a soft period of silence between the two until Porunaga sighed and smiled again.
"I've decided to change the travel party for that evening. When she meets my chosen few, I'm sure she'll want to change her mind, and that wish won't seem nearly as appealing as traveling to seek Piccolo's assistance."
"You think so? Really?"
"Oh, I know so," Porunaga uttered, smiling as he stared at dear little Doji, still playing with his new friend.
Three 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. Sat atop a sizeable chair with a bright blue cushion, his eyes wandered 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.
The three suns of New Namek danced precariously low on the horizon's edge, and great shadows formed where once sunlight had been. He could smell dew in the breeze as the air grew cooler. Porunaga's head dropped, and he sighed heavily, listening to the grass outside his door bend beneath angry footsteps.
Toriega stepped into the home, a scowl plastered firmly across his face as he slammed the door.
"What's this about a different successor?! What is the meaning of—"
"Good evening to you, too, my child."
Toriega guffawed. "Answer my question!"
"Not until you consider why I would contemplate such an option."
"Just tell me! I don't have the patience for your crap right now!"
"You've never had any patience, dear boy."
Porunaga chuckled and set his glass down. His son tore off his white overcoat, hurriedly hanging it on one of the hooks by the door, revealing brilliant green skin covered loosely by a deep viridian training uniform. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, and he growled lowly.
"Come on, now, out with it! Why would you change your mind all of a sudden?!"
"'All of a sudden?' Ha! My child, this was a decision months in the making! You are the only one to blame for speeding up that choice within the last few days."
"Excuse me?! What the hell do you think—"
"Oh, you're quite excused from my presence if you think that attitude is doing you any favors."
Toriega fumed and threw his hands in the air in frustration.
"You're mad! Senile, even!"
"Oh yes, you made that opinion quite public during the incident with Doji and Himura."
"…Himura?"
"That poor creature you tried to kill just a few days ago?"
"He named that thing?!"
"It's a violet firedrake, not a 'thing,' dear boy."
"Oh, now he's also got a species title for it?! Ha! You decided to make someone else your successor over an incident with a stupid animal?"
"You ignored your Grand Elder and little brother. You damaged several of the ajisa patches and tea gardens in the village during your pursuit, and you assaulted a creature that had every intention of running away. Tell me… you call any of that… stupid?"
"W-well… I—"
"That occurrence was one of many that have shifted my perspective on your readiness to take over my place. Our village needs not a warrior to lead but a listener. And I've just the boy in mind who can fulfill that role rather nicely."
"Wait a minute… DOJI?!"
Porunaga nodded and motioned with his hand, silently requesting Toriega lower his voice lest someone outside hear their heated conversation. Toriega acquiesced, hissing at the old man with as much quiet fury as he could muster.
"You really have lost your mind! He is a child and—"
"Our Grand Elder has Esca, who himself is but a young lad."
"Doji's irresponsible, naïve and—"
"Is the kindest and bravest among all who reside here," the old man finished. "An exemplary student of life and an excellent judge of character. The perfect choice, if I do say so myself."
"I am the perfect choice," the young man asserted, "Not that ridiculous little… nerd!"
Porunaga laughed heartily and picked up his glass again, taking the last of the water with one long sip before placing it back on the sill.
"I've never been one to play favorites," he said, "…but that little boy effortlessly and ceaselessly embodies our species' true nature, Toriega, and you would do well to participate within and emulate that truth just as he does. I've learned much watching him grow these past five years."
"Oh, really, now? And what did this hatchling teach you," the adolescent spat.
"Through his mere existence, he has taught me that we are but conduits for things larger than ourselves, things great and small, divine and monstrous, equal parts enlivening as they are destructive. Our people are pure magic, Toriega, and magic itself is a duality of energy that can be wielded in service and in honor or in preference to our own selfish desires. Doji chooses the former without so much as a 'thank you,' while you choose the latter, saying 'you're welcome' when you've all but completely ignored the input of others around you."
Toriega scoffed and crossed his arms.
"You will stay here tonight in the village while Doji leads the charge into the valley," his father declared.
"Oh, come on! I've been training for this for months! Whatever's out there is extremely powerful, and Doji can't fight! You know you'll need me! It's definitely got to be another—"
"Another monster? Well… Who better to lead the way than the little beastmaster himself? Dokira will be there, as will Motoki and Tobi. You and your younger brothers will remain here. There's no need for so many of you to be with us all at once. You all tend to frighten animals enough as it is, eh?"
The Elder gave his son the same coy smile he had three days prior, and the young man turned on his heel. He stopped short of the door, grabbing his overcoat and shredding it to pieces before huffing, puffing, and trudging out, leaving the door wide open. The cool breeze pushed the coat remnants to the old man's feet, and he shook his head, waving a hand toward the floor. As if pulled by strings, each scrap lifted away and danced in the air before him. Sighing, he waved his hand again and closed his eyes, willing the energy forth to pull the fabric apart. Like a prayer, he spoke in a hushed tone, and between every few words, he gestured back and forth, fluidly guiding stray threads together to form something entirely new.
"Only daughter of New Namek," he whispered, "Tonight… will be the last we see each other. So… unto thee, I send the last of my gifts. The last token I could ever offer to give you some light, some comfort in this, your most distressing hour. To thee, I send a brother, a companion, a guide through the valley of death, that you might understand, appreciate, and protect the gift of life. And you will know him by this, the color of pure magic."
What was once a shredded white overcoat transformed into a glimmering violet sash; embroidered into its hems was a series of geometric and linear symbols, Namekian script that spelled out a single stanza from a poem Porunaga had learned from the late Elder Guru.
'For every light, there is a darkness; against every evil, there will be good,' it read. 'Embrace the duality within, as always you should.'
The Elder waved his hand one last time, and the fabric folded upon itself, forming a neat purple square. He reached for the sash, smiling as he traced a wrinkled finger across its edge, satisfied with his creation. He stood straight and headed for the open door; his eyes wandered about the village center as he looked for his new successor.
"Now," he said quietly, "Where is my precious Doji? I've a hatchday gift for that one…"
As the last of New Namek's suns finished its descent, the Grand Elder flew to the lonely abode in the valley with a look of worry thoroughly etched into his face. The sky progressed through its colors, going from jade to blue, indigo to violet, before finally settling upon black. A canopy of stars stretched above him while the pit in his stomach grew.
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 expansive awning of stars above. Moori chided himself for not leaving sooner with a lamp and fuel for his child.
'How could I have lost track of time? What was I thinking?!'
After some time in the air, and with some considerable difficulty, he located the lonely house, nestled underneath its stone hide. At the center of the dais beside it hovered a sturdy, feminine figure, legs crossed in lotus position. Moori planted his feet on the ground and fumbled with the lamp in the dark as he added fuel. He lit the wick using a blue spark of energy from his fingertip, and as the ember grew from a pinprick to a bright blue flame, the figure stepped down from the platform, eyeing Moori while he jabbed his staff into the ground to serve as a makeshift post.
Standing nearly two feet taller than the Grand Elder, she could have been mistaken for what the Earthlings called an 'elf' in their children's stories. Her fair emerald skin and amethyst eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and her antennae emerged along either side of a tuft of vibrant purple hair atop her round head, a mohawk. Silver rings poked through the elongated ears that emerged from either side of her smooth and supple face. She rubbed nervously at the bridge of her nose, and the bangles on her arm rang like soft bells as it fell back to her side. Young as she was, the life energy radiating from her overshadowed all else in the valley. There was no mistaking the sight: she was the first – and only – female Namekian.
"Sanshiva," Moori said softly.
Her name tied a knot in his throat, and he swallowed hard against it. She smirked and reached for him, squeezing tight, nearly picking him up from the ground.
"Hi, Dad… I missed you…"
He clutched back at her and replied, "I missed you more. So much has happened these last few days, and I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, and—"
"Hey, hey, relax," she assured him, "I know it always gets a little… busy this time of year."
He chuckled and said, "Too right you are. I'm glad I still had time to make something for your hatchday."
Moori reached into his pocket as he pulled away from her and retrieved a small purple gift box held together by a delicate silver ribbon.
Sanshiva gasped and smiled wide, bowing slightly as she took the box from him.
"Aw, you didn't have to do that, Dad."
"I beg your pardon? Not give you a gift on your fifteenth hatchday? Pah! What a load of frogs' breath! The day I don't give you a gift for your hatchday, my child, is the day you should probably kick me."
She laughed and brushed her bangs aside.
"Listen, um… I'm… I'm sorry about the other day. I shouldn't keep asking you to do that, and I—"
"That was then, and this is now. I forgave you the moment the door slammed shut."
"Another bad habit of mine… I'm… I'm still sorry."
"And I still love you, so don't you worry your pretty little head."
"Thanks, Dad," she said sweetly. "Would you… like to come inside?"
Moori nodded and grabbed his walking stick, and the lantern light swayed in time with his footsteps as he followed the young woman into her modest home. She took his walking stick from him, heading for the table at the center of the space.
The walls were sparse, save for a few of their people's songs and prayers painted in dainty silver lettering above a cozy bed covered in violet linens. There was a single bookshelf full of sketchbooks and hide-bound journals. Laid neatly across its top were small trinkets – rare crystals, animal bones, snail shells, and bird feathers aplenty – and a single statuette of a little girl and her father, meticulously carved from cerulean stone. Moori grinned; the figure was a new addition to his daughter's curious collection.
"You… made this," he asked, reaching out to it.
Sanshiva looked up from the table, where she'd set the lantern and the gift, and darted forward to block him from it. No sooner did she stop before him did her father's staff clatter to the ground as if she'd disappeared and reappeared in the time it had taken to fall.
"Oops! You… um… weren't supposed to see that quite yet," she said sheepishly, reaching behind her back and grabbing the figure.
The old man's stomach fluttered, and he gave her a teasing expression. He'd seen it for only a moment but recognized the memory etched in three dimensions: the morning of her tenth hatchday.
"Oh… that's a shame… I'm horribly impatient when it comes to receiving presents."
"Here, let me just… finish this up."
She turned around, and the air around the young woman grew hotter for a moment. The smell of molten rock – mineral turned magma – seemed to waft across the home before she darted away to the window, prying it open and blowing her breath across the bottom of the figure. As the near-metallic scent evaporated, she felt across the base until she was satisfied it was cool enough to the touch; she carefully stepped back to him and held out her creation.
"Tada," the young woman exclaimed gleefully. "I know your hatchday's not until tomorrow, but… I'm pretty impatient when it comes to giving presents, so… Happy Hatchday, Dad."
Tears welled in his eyes as he cradled the statuette. The form of a little girl with long, flowing locks seemed to float beside the figure of the Grand Elder himself. Her arms were wrapped around his neck in a warm embrace as she hovered beside him, cheek to cheek, and two broad smiles stared back at him. He choked back joyous sobs and reached for his daughter, squeezing tight and thanking her over and over again.
"Oh, m-my heavens," he sobbed, "It's wondrous! Absolutely wondrous. Thank you, Sanshiva… Th-thank you, thank you…"
"You didn't even finish seeing what I did," she chortled. "See the inscription on the bottom?"
He pulled away and ran his hands along the crystalline base of the statue. Spiraling from the Elder's foot and all across the bottom was a set of glistening characters written in Namekian. He gasped as he recognized the words each character spelled out, a stanza from a poem he hadn't heard since his father, Elder Guru, had passed away.
'For every light, there is a darkness,' it read. 'Against every evil, there will be good. Embrace the duality within, as always you should.'
"Sanshiva," he breathed, "You… You remember it?"
"I um… I recite it every day," she said, walking away and rubbing her neck nervously. "Every day for the last couple of years, actually. The whole thing, from start to finish…"
"…Really?"
"Yeah. It helps, sometimes, you know? Makes me feel a little better when I'm feeling sad or scared. Especially… over these last couple of days…"
He looked up from the figure and watched as she stared out the window towards the lake.
"They're coming, aren't they," she asked.
"Well, the plan has changed a bit… But yes, they're on their way. Porunaga wouldn't give me the slightest clue as to why he would choose to take them through the caves to get here when they could just fly over the—"
"WHAT?!"
Startled by her reaction, Moori jumped slightly before quickly pacing to the table and placing the statuette down.
"Is… Is something wrong with that route?"
"My gods, yes! Everything is wrong with that route! They can't go that way! What was Elder Porunaga thinking?!"
"Er… They left earlier than I did, and I came from my home up north... I was so wrapped up in finishing your present that I hadn't noted the time. They're probably already—"
"Dad, we need to go now!"
She grabbed his arm, snatched up his walking stick, and pulled him through the home. As she barreled through the door and hovered in the air, Moori slipped from her grip and stared at her from the ground.
"Sanshiva, what is the meaning of this? What is down there?! Why are you—"
"Dad, they'll die down there! There's… there's a monster in those caves, and it's a bigger one than I could ever be!"
