DBZ
At first, Gohan felt relieved to be on his own again. After months of wilderness survival training back on Earth, he couldn't help but find Bulma and Krillin's constant supervision a bit claustrophobic. It wasn't their fault, and Gohan craved their friendship, but having a few hours of solitude to process their complicated predicament would do him some good.
Unfortunately, it proved more than he bargained for when Bulma's dragon ball radar led him to the ruins of a Namekian village—destroyed by Vegeta. He still remembered sensing the attack. He remembered the Saiyan prince's aggressive and all-too-familiar power level overwhelming his opponents.
Somehow, Gohan should have prepared himself for this nightmarish discovery. He had advanced warning, but it didn't make a difference. Observing the aftermath of a slaughter, in person, with bodies littering the ground, was considerably worse than detecting it from a safe distance away.
As Gohan surveyed the damage, he felt the true weight of his isolation. Vegeta had spared no one. He killed indiscriminately, targeting both young and old, weak and strong. Whatever lesson Goku had tried teaching him by sparing his life had clearly been ignored. Vegeta remained as cruel and heartless as ever.
Even the Ajisa fields were punctured with craters. Gohan had only just learned about the precious crop from Dende. The Namekians were attempting to reforest their planet, restoring its natural beauty after a severe global storm brought all life to the brink of extinction.
Vegeta, not to mention Frieza and his minions, had interrupted a peaceful recovery process, and if they weren't stopped, the Namekians would lose everything. Their hope for the future would be in vain.
These were Mr. Piccolo's people. It wasn't right.
None of this was right.
Grappling with a rush of emotions—grief, anger, fear, helplessness—Gohan began the lengthy task of putting the dead to rest. He probably didn't have the time to spare, considering all they were up against, but neither could he just abandon them to the elements. They deserved better.
They also deserved funeral rites that aligned with their cultural beliefs and values… but Gohan lacked that information, so he defaulted to a traditional human burial. Hopefully, the Namekians wouldn't mind.
One by one, Gohan laid the bodies in separate graves he made in the Ajisa fields. He covered them with the soil they had hoped to fertilize and marked each mound with wooden poles that he shaped from the nearby fragments of a shattered tree—another victim of Vegeta's attack.
With nothing more he could do for them, Gohan briefly stood vigil. "I promise… me and my friends will try to bring all of you back if we can."
Easier said than done, but Gohan meant every word. He would either use the dragon balls to wish them all back to life, or he would die trying—a very real possibility, considering the evil he had to fight.
With a heavy heart and a growing list of obligations, Gohan returned his attention to the dragon ball radar. It led to a nearby lake where he could only assume the Namekians hid their dragon ball from Vegeta.
The surface of the green water glistened from the sunlight. How refreshing would it be to rinse off the dirt, sweat, and stink of death? Gohan eagerly dove in. Despite his age, swimming came naturally to him—a skill he inherited from his father, who enjoyed fishing with his bare hands. Plus, they could both hold their breath for much longer than normal humans, which came in handy since Namek's underwater terrain featured multiple peaks and ravines, an assortment of rocks and aquatic plants… making it an excellent place to hide a dragon ball.
Gohan briefly wondered if he should leave it safely concealed down here. He was having enough trouble finding it, even with the dragon ball radar. How much more difficult would it be for his enemies to find?
But, no. It wasn't enough to simply hide the dragon balls. Gohan would also need to collect them if he ever wanted to wish his friends back to life. For the sake of efficiency, he really should obtain it now.
There!
Nestled between some rocks, an orange globe with four red stars served as the perch of a large mollusk with a beaked face, tentacles, and a coiled shell. Gohan quickly paddled toward it, relief and affection overriding his prudence. Not only did he pick up the dragon ball, disturbing the mollusk, but he also startled it with a celebratory "All right!"
Black ink sprayed out of the mollusk, obscuring the water so it could escape.
Caught by surprise, Gohan blinked in confusion. He had not meant to threaten the poor creature, but in hindsight, he could understand its fear. It must have felt as vulnerable next to him as he felt next to Vegeta.
Just like his father, Gohan treasured life in all its diversity, no matter how small and delicate. Next time, he would try to be gentler.
He took a few extra moments to swim around, dragon ball in tow, hoping the ink would wash off his body before he made his way back up to the surface. The water soothed his muscles, and the weight of the dragon ball—so much bulkier on this planet—assured him of its existence. This wasn't some kind of hallucination. It wasn't another trick.
It was real.
Against all odds, he managed to find his first dragon ball!
He couldn't help but laugh as he emerged from the lake, allowing his pent-up stress to find an outlet, however small. Maybe there was still a chance they could succeed—a chance he could keep his promise to the fallen Namekians.
His laughter faded as he glanced over at the Ajisa fields, now a graveyard. His heart still ached for them, and he struggled to comprehend the malice required to commit such an atrocity. But for the first time in far too long, he dared to hope for a favorable outcome where the good guys triumphed.
With renewed determination, Gohan sprang into the air and hastened back toward the cave where Bulma would be waiting for him, no doubt impatient for his return. Would she understand his delay? Or would she consider it a sentimental waste of time to concern himself with the dead?
What would Mr. Piccolo think?
What would his father think?
Gohan didn't want to second-guess himself, but the farther he flew, the more anxious he became. Something wasn't right. He could sense it.
Gradually, he picked up traces of hostile energy clashing in the direction of the cave. He clenched his teeth, wondering if Bulma was somehow involved. She had been left alone, with no one to protect her—and if Gohan had not been distracted by the massacre behind him, he could have reached the cave before this new threat. So, if anything happened to Bulma, his own negligence would be at fault.
"I better hurry…"
Gohan accelerated—a futile attempt to make up for lost time. As he covered more ground, the remote energy sharpened, coming into focus. Gohan could discern two unique power levels… both aggressive… one familiar…
Vegeta…
Gohan's blood ran cold, and he tried not to panic. Maybe Vegeta's opponent would defeat him. Maybe their proximity to the cave was pure coincidence, and Gohan could sneak past them.
Regardless, he needed to pull himself together. Speculation wasn't going to help. All that mattered was reaching Bulma, and if he had to cross paths with Vegeta to protect her, then he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
For now, he had to keep flying. He might not be able to ignore the conflict ahead of him, but he would be wise to concentrate on the intel he could actually use.
Both power levels were strong, confident, and on the offensive. It wasn't immediately clear who held the advantage. Vegeta and his opponent were testing each other. But all too soon, the situation escalated as the power of Vegeta's opponent abruptly spiked.
How was that even possible? It easily surpassed anything Gohan had faced before. Including Vegeta.
But to Gohan's astonishment, Vegeta's ki did not waver. Instead, it likewise swelled with barely an effort. Somehow, Vegeta was stronger than he had been on Earth.
A lot stronger.
In that moment, the hope Gohan felt when he hauled the dragon ball out of the lake began to crumble. Even if they were able to wish their friends back to life, then what? Vegeta would come looking for vengeance, and they would be right back where they started.
True, Goku was on his way, but… he needed to hurry.
The fight went on for several more minutes, energy fluctuating as Vegeta's opponent pursued different tactics to outclass the Saiyan. All in vain.
Finally, in one decisive attack, Vegeta plowed through his opponent's defenses, and the warrior's ki plummeted. Vegeta briefly basked in his victory, but then he powered down, and Gohan could no longer detect him.
The sudden hush shrouded him with a sense of isolation, unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt more alone and more vulnerable than ever before, and Mr. Piccolo's absence ached in his heart.
He needed to rendezvous with Bulma and Krillin as soon as possible. He wasn't sure if he could cope on his own, and he prayed they were both ok.
DBZ
Gohan had to be getting close to the cave by now. He didn't remember it taking this long to reach the Namekian village. But time and distance were both hard to calculate on this planet with three suns, and Gohan's emotions—his fear and urgency—were distorting his judgment.
Thankfully, he wasn't too distracted to notice an awful presence heading straight towards him. Of course. Of all the directions Vegeta could have traveled in, he had to come this way. Typical.
Heart pounding, Gohan stopped and surveyed the world beneath him for a place to hide. Perhaps underwater? There seemed to be lakes everywhere.
But that was too risky—his hearing would be compromised.
There!
On the edge of the lake, Gohan glimpsed a rocky mesa where he could take cover. It was just tall enough to block him from sight, as long as he remained huddled at its base… assuming Vegeta didn't search for him.
Gohan bolted to the ground and ducked behind the mesa. He crouched down low, clutching the dragon ball tightly.
Please don't find me… he silently willed. Please don't find me…
DBZ
No matter how hard he tried, Vegeta could not stop thinking about Kakarot's death as he retraced his path to the other dragon balls. The unwelcome news weighed on him, putting a damper on his pride. After killing Zarbon and reaping the seventh dragon ball, he should have been ecstatic. At long last, he was about to win, and no one—not even Frieza—could prevent it.
So why should he allow Kakarot's death to upset him? The fool meant nothing. He was a low-class soldier, weak, sentimental, and naive. Vegeta had loathed him from the moment they met.
But there had been something… compelling about him. Like all Saiyans, he clearly loved to fight; he had a warrior's spirit despite objecting to the bloodshed of the weak. He inspired his own inferiors, commanding their loyalty even in his absence. He led them to victory, against all odds, but then stole it from them by sparing Vegeta's life.
He was a paradox. He made no sense, and he was better off dead. Vegeta had no reason or inclination to mourn for him.
At least, that's what he told himself. He wasn't mourning for Kakarot. If he was mourning for anything, it was the genocide of the Saiyans. He was still grappling with Dodoria's confession that Frieza was to blame and not a meteor.
Frieza.
Vegeta fumed at the mere thought of the deceitful tyrant. The son of a bitch had lied to him, exploited him, killed his people, and destroyed his home world.
Oh, there would be hell to pay. Frieza had much to answer for, and as soon as Vegeta made his wish, he would exact retribution.
Immortality would not only empower him to avenge the Saiyans… it would also ensure the preservation of their race… because without Kakarot, only Vegeta remained.
He was the last of his kind.
He was truly alone.
Or was he?
Out of nowhere, an unexpected power level caught Vegeta's attention. Hackles rising, he braced himself for an attack that never came. Instead, the thing—whoever or whatever it was—quickly shied away and concealed itself, hiding its ki like a wretched spy.
Vegeta paused with an impatient scowl and took stock of his surroundings. This was the last thing he needed… another interruption. Maybe he could just ignore it.
But that might backfire. What if the pest followed him to the other dragon balls and interfered with his wish? He couldn't risk it. Best to eliminate all threats at the first opportunity.
"Where are you?" he muttered. He cautiously advanced, hunting. The sky was clear, but the landscape beneath him offered various protrusions—not to mention the lake—where someone could seek refuge.
Vegeta narrowed his eyes and considered the lake, but the surface of the water seemed calm. Undisturbed. He focused back on the dry ground. "Come out! I know you're down there, so you might as well show yourself and save us both time."
No response.
Ridiculous. Vegeta was hardly in the mood for hide and seek.
"Well!" he exclaimed. "If you won't come out on your own, then I'll flush you out like a rat." Pulling back his arm, Vegeta generated a small but potent fistful of ki and prepared to hurl it at the nearest target. If he had to systematically demolish the whole area, then so be it.
But at the last possible second, someone screamed, "STOP!"
A wild surge of desperation accompanied the cry, catching Vegeta off guard. He froze, wondering what sort of freak he had stumbled upon. It was so unlike anything he had ever encountered among Frieza and his minions. What could—?
A small, dark-haired boy peaked out from behind a rocky mesa. "Stop," he whimpered. "I surrender."
Comprehension immediately brought a smirk to Vegeta's face. "Ohhhh," he taunted as the timid halfbreed climbed up onto the flat precipice with an unfamiliar device in his hands. "The son of Kakarot…"
That explained it. The runt was a prodigy, untrained, undisciplined, but oddly dangerous when provoked. He had unprecedented strength for his age, but like a powder keg, he lacked the necessary experience to control it.
Despite the risk, Vegeta allowed himself to relax. The boy seemed docile enough, at least for the moment. "The son of Kakarot. Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise? I was just catching up with your friends a short while ago, but I'm sorry to say I didn't think to ask if you were here."
It was negligent, to be honest. Halfbreed or not, the boy had Saiyan blood in his veins. Didn't that make him Vegeta's responsibility, especially now that both his Namekian mentor and Kakarot were dead?
The boy flicked his gaze nervously from Vegeta to his dragon ball and back again. "My friends?"
"Oh, yes," Vegeta assured him, relishing his dismay. "The bald one. And that gorgeous girl he was with."
The color drained out of the boy's face.
"In fact," Vegeta continued mercilessly, "I have them to thank for this dragon ball." He flaunted the orange globe in the crook of his elbow. "I don't know where they found it, but they were all too eager to share." His suggestive tone brought the boy to the brink of panic.
"What did you do to them?" he demanded, assuming the worst. "Did you hurt them? You animal!"
Vegeta chuckled. "Actually, I didn't even touch them. But if you want, I could easily be talked into going back."
The boy flinched, as pathetic as his father. His concern for the safety of his friends would be his undoing. However… unlike Kakarot, the boy was still young enough to learn. Much to Vegeta's surprise, the thought appealed to him.
"You see, kid," he boasted. "Since I've acquired all seven dragon balls, I was feeling… lenient."
Instead of gratitude, the boy stared up at him in blatant horror. Then, his eyes began darting around, no doubt seeking an escape route.
Oh, but he wasn't going anywhere.
Vegeta swiftly crossed the distance between them, landing directly in front of the boy. He recoiled, barely able to stand his ground—but even that was an improvement. He must be stronger now, too. Why else would his chaperones allow him to fly around this planet by himself?
What was he doing out on his own, anyway?
"Tell me," Vegeta said amiably. "What's that thing in your hand?"
Startled, the boy yanked the device behind his back. "It's… it's just a watch! That's all."
Vegeta scoffed. They would need to work on the boy's lying. "Right. With all the scientific technology on your planet, you expect me to believe that giant clunker is a watch?"
The boy hesitated, obviously scrambling to think of a reasonable explanation. "It's an antique watch!"
Vegeta clucked his tongue, sorting through his memory for the boy's name. "Oh, Gohan. You're a foundling now. If you want to survive, you'll have to do better than that."
The boy frowned, apparently struggling to process Vegeta's words.
Interesting.
"You don't know," Vegeta said, cocking his head. The news must still be fresh. Krillin had not broken it to the boy yet.
"What…? What are you talking about?" he asked cautiously.
Vegeta's amusement diminished as he considered the best way to proceed. Somehow, gloating did not feel appropriate in this situation. Kakarot's death had been an accident without honor, leaving his son's future in question. If the halfbreed lived, in whose footsteps would he follow? The Earthlings'? Or the Saiyans'?
"Before I left your friends," Vegeta finally explained. "They made an unfortunate admission. I know your father isn't on this planet. He was still recovering from our battle when you and your friends embarked on this foolish quest of yours. Wasn't he?"
Gohan fell back a step but didn't deny it. So far, they were on the same page.
"And wasn't it your plan for Kakarot to follow you here? To catch up with you as soon as possible?" By sharing details that Vegeta must have obtained directly from Krillin, he was building credibility. Gohan would find it difficult to dismiss his next statement.
And judging by the boy's mounting dread, Gohan had arrived at the same realization.
Still, he would not welcome the news. Anticipating an objection, Vegeta reached out and set his hand on Gohan's head. The boy cringed, but Vegeta was gentle, stroking his cheek with feigned pity.
"I don't expect you to believe me," he conceded. "At least, not yet. But I wouldn't lie to you about this. And the humans confirmed it. Your father's ship was destroyed by an asteroid."
Gohan choked down what might have been a sob, his power level fluttering erratically. "No!" He nearly launched himself off the ground, but Vegeta was prepared for that. He cupped the back of Gohan's head, yanked him forward, and brutally kneed him in the gut.
Shockwaves coursed through the boy's body, knocking the wind out of him. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his stomach in agony.
Just for good measure, Vegeta planted his boot on Gohan's face, pinning him where he lay. "You can't run from this, kid," he admonished. "Your father is dead. Do you understand?"
When Gohan failed to reply, Vegeta bore his foot down on him, threatening to drill his head into the dirt. It was for his own good, really. The abuse would make him stronger.
"You and I are all that's left of our people," Vegeta informed him. "Honestly, we might as well be brothers. And from now on, I will make it a point to raise you properly."
"No," the boy murmured faintly, but he was in no position to resist.
With the dragon ball in one arm, Vegeta scooped Gohan up in the other. "I think we'd best stick together. Besides, you don't want to miss my moment of glory. Do you? Little brother."
Satisfied, the Saiyan prince soared into the air and resumed his mission. It was long past time for him to summon the dragon.
DBZ