A soft, unfamiliar scent was the first thing Gohan became aware of. It drifted through the air—earthy and sharp, like dried herbs crushed beneath careful hands. His nose twitched, prompting a deeper breath that pulled him back into his body, slowly grounding him in sensations he hadn't felt in what seemed like lifetimes.
His eyelids felt heavy, like lead weights, as he struggled to lift them. The space beyond his lashes was dim and filtered, streaked with light that peeked through gaps in what he guessed were thick, rugged curtains. When he managed to open his eyes fully, the world swayed, and his vision blurred, bringing everything into sharp focus only for a second before fading back into vague, dark shapes. The very act of seeing was exhausting.
He felt a prickling sensation at the edge of his consciousness, a low, constant ache that pulsed through his arms, legs, and chest. Weakness clung to him like a second skin, unfamiliar and unwelcome. His muscles, stiff and atrophied, refused his initial attempts to move, leaving him half-sunken into the rough bed beneath him. Even his fingers, lying limp at his sides, felt like they'd forgotten how to obey him. A trace of frustration tightened his brow, but he forced himself to breathe, calming his mind as best he could.
A faint creak echoed as he tried to shift his weight. The noise, oddly loud in the stillness, made him pause. The bed—if that was what it could be called—was crafted from solid, aged wood, each joint worn and softened with time. As he moved, he felt the rough weave of a blanket draped over him. It scratched against his skin, too warm and heavy, yet oddly comforting in its weight. His skin prickled beneath it, sensitive to every fiber, every brush against his arms and legs, unused to touch after so long.
The room's scent became clearer now: herbs mixed with a metallic hint of old weaponry, and a faint trace of smoke that hung in the air. He sniffed again, noticing how the herbal notes had layers, hints of lavender and mint mingling with sharper, more medicinal scents. They reminded him of the times he'd come home after hard training, bruised and aching, only for his mother to sit him down with medicinal ointments and bandages. It made him feel, strangely, like he was safe.
As his eyes adjusted to the low light, he began to make out the shapes around him. The walls—wooden and weathered—rose to a pitched ceiling that seemed far too close for comfort. Shadows clung to the corners, shifting with the pale, streaky light that filtered in through small gaps in the curtains. Dust floated lazily through the beams, catching the light just enough to give the room a hazy, dream-like quality.
Across the room, a small wooden table stood against the wall, cluttered with objects that made Gohan's brow furrow in curiosity. Small bottles lined one edge, their glass cloudy, each filled with liquids of varying colors and viscosities. Some held dried plants, the stems brittle and twisted within the glass, while others contained powders that shifted like sand when disturbed. Among them lay tools—small, wicked-looking knives, a handful of round metal trinkets engraved with intricate patterns, and a thick leather-bound book whose cover was worn from countless hands.
His eyes drifted to the other side of the room, where a series of shelves lined the wall, each weighed down with odds and ends that looked as though they had been gathered from all corners of the world. Strange feathers hung from strings, some tipped with beads or tiny carved bones, swaying slightly as if recently touched. The shelves themselves were lined with weapons, too—an odd assortment of knives, daggers, and what looked like parts of larger weapons he couldn't quite identify. Their edges glinted in the dim light, clean and well-cared-for, though aged like everything else in the room.
There were signs of someone else's presence everywhere—a jacket draped across the back of a chair, the scent of lingering smoke, and scuff marks on the floor where someone paced often enough to wear down the wood. Despite the clutter, nothing felt out of place. Every item, from the smallest feather to the largest weapon, had a purpose, a story behind it. It made Gohan wonder who lived here, what kind of person would collect such an assortment of artifacts.
The air was cool but carried a stale, musty quality that felt like it had lingered for ages. When he breathed in too deeply, his chest tightened in protest, and he realized just how empty his body felt, as though it had forgotten its own strength. He tried to stretch his arms but could barely lift them an inch. It was like his muscles had been drained, leaving behind only ghostly echoes of the power he once knew he possessed. His stomach ached, the emptiness of hunger gnawing at him in a way that felt almost foreign after such a long slumber.
As he lay there, he could feel his memories trickling back, though disjointed, broken. He remembered the fight—the last one, the struggle against Cell, the overwhelming surge of energy and anger and desperation as he'd pushed himself past his limits. Then... darkness. He couldn't remember how he'd arrived here, or why. All he knew was that the familiar power, once as close as his own heartbeat, now felt distant, as if buried under layers of ice and silence. He reached for it instinctively, but his ki flickered weakly, barely responding. A pang of frustration shot through him, mingling with a dull fear.
How long had he been out? Where was he?
Another creak sounded from somewhere beyond the door, and the faint murmur of voices reached his ears, too muffled to distinguish but close enough that he knew he wasn't alone in this place. His muscles tensed instinctively, though it cost him to even shift his head in the direction of the sound. Someone was there—probably the person who had brought him here, who had kept him safe. But he couldn't shake the instinct to be on guard, even in his weakened state.
He took another steadying breath, trying to push away the dizziness that threatened to swallow him. His eyes drifted back to the small, smoky lamp on the table beside him, its light flickering against the dark walls, casting shifting shadows that danced like specters. He traced its glow as it crawled up the wall, only to settle on something he hadn't noticed before—a small emblem carved into the wood just above the table. A simple raven, etched in with an artist's hand, its wings spread as if mid-flight. The carving was old, its edges softened with age, but it had been placed carefully, deliberately. He had a feeling it held meaning, something important to the person who stayed here.
Finally, he let his head fall back against the pillow, his gaze drifting up to the ceiling. The world felt foreign, unreal, as though he was adrift in a half-remembered dream. Memories stirred in his mind, fragmented and disorienting, each one slipping away like sand through his fingers. All he could do was lie there, forcing himself to breathe, to stay present, to remember that he was alive and that there was still a way forward.
For now, he would wait. He would gather his strength, little by little, until he could stand on his own two feet again.
The creak of the door made Gohan's eyes snap open, breaking the silence. Through his blurry vision, he saw a figure standing in the doorway, framed by light that spilled into the room. As the figure stepped inside, details came into focus—a tall man with a wiry, rugged build, dressed in dark clothes that looked like they'd been through one too many fights. His shoulders were broad, though a bit hunched, as if he carried a weight that was just a part of him now.
The man's eyes were sharp, a deep, weathered gray that seemed both haunted and amused, like he saw the world as a dark joke and was tired of being the punchline. His face was shadowed with a day's stubble, and a hint of a smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth. A red, tattered cloak hung from his shoulders, brushing the tops of his worn boots, while a well-used scythe hung from his back, the blade gleaming wickedly despite its age.
Gohan's mind struggled to piece together what he was seeing, the man's image at odds with the kind of healer or monk he might have expected to find in such a strange place.
The man took a few steps into the room, eyeing Gohan carefully before speaking. "So, you're awake," he said, his voice rough yet oddly casual, like he was commenting on the weather. He crossed his arms, studying Gohan with a calculating look. "Didn't think you'd wake up anytime soon, to be honest."
Gohan blinked, still adjusting to the sound of another voice in the quiet. The man's words took a moment to sink in, and he struggled to form a response. "Who…who are you?"
The man's smirk grew a fraction. "Qrow Branwen. Professional pain in the neck, hunter of all things creepy and crawly. Call me a Huntsman if you like." He paused, glancing at Gohan's bewildered expression. "And who are you, kid?"
Gohan hesitated, his throat dry as he tried to speak. He'd been unconscious for so long, the mere act of forming words felt foreign. "My name is Gohan." He struggled to sit up, his muscles protesting, but he managed to prop himself against the headboard, staring up at Qrow with a mix of curiosity and caution. "Thank you for…helping me. But…where am I?"
"Where are you?" Qrow echoed with a wry chuckle, scratching the back of his head. "You're in the kingdom of Vale, in a little shack I call home. At least, when I'm in town." He leaned back against the wall, crossing one ankle over the other. "Found you half-dead in a forest, looking like you'd been through hell. Took you back here to let you sleep it off."
Gohan's mind reeled. "Half-dead…? How long was I asleep?"
"Three years." Qrow watched Gohan's reaction closely, eyes narrowing. "Coma like that doesn't happen often, even with Huntsmen. Consider yourself lucky you're breathing at all."
"Three…three years?" Gohan felt the words echo in his mind, disbelief sharpening into panic. Three years—the battles, his home, his mother and friends. What had happened in the time he'd been out? Had anyone been looking for him? Did they even know he was alive? His fists clenched, though the weakness in his arms was a painful reminder of his current limitations. "Has…has anyone come looking for me?"
Qrow raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of sympathy flickering in his expression. "Not that I've seen. Like I said, I found you out in the middle of nowhere. Whatever mess you were in, no one followed you here."
Gohan's chest tightened, a mix of worry and frustration bubbling up inside him. "I…I have people waiting for me. Family, friends. I need to get back." He looked up at Qrow, hoping for some reassurance, some sign that this stranger could help him find his way home.
But Qrow's gaze remained impassive, tempered by the kind of pragmatism Gohan found unsettling. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but you've got a long road ahead of you if you plan to get out of here." He took a seat in the chair beside the bed, his movements slow and unhurried. "You barely have the strength to sit up, let alone run around looking for a way home. Whatever happened to you did a real number on your body."
Gohan's shoulders slumped, he glanced down at his hands "I don't even know how I got here."
Qrow studied him for a moment, his face unreadable. Then he shrugged. "Well, sometimes it's not about how you got somewhere—it's about what you're gonna do now that you're here." He tipped his head, looking Gohan over with a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.
"What's a…Huntsman?" Gohan asked, testing the term. "I've never heard of it before."
"A Huntsman is someone trained to fight the monsters that live here," Qrow replied, his voice carrying a weight that hadn't been there before. "We deal with Grimm—the nastiest things you'll ever see—and try to keep people safe. It's a rough job. Only the strongest survive." He paused, his smirk returning, though it was softer, more genuine. "And only the crazy ones keep doing it."
Gohan absorbed Qrow's words, trying to piece together the fragmented picture of this strange world. "So…that's what you do? Fight monsters?"
Qrow nodded, his expression growing distant. "Yeah, that's what I do. Though it's not just about the monsters. It's about people, too. There's a lot going on in this world—things you wouldn't understand without seeing it for yourself." His gaze sharpened, meeting Gohan's. "So if you're gonna survive, kid, you'll need to learn the lay of the land. Fast."
Gohan frowned, feeling the weight of Qrow's words settle over him. He didn't know what kind of world he had found himself in, but one thing was clear: it was a dangerous place, one that wouldn't let him leave without a fight. But as he looked at Qrow, he felt a flicker of determination. He'd survived battles before, trained harder than anyone he knew, and he wasn't about to let himself be overwhelmed now.
As Gohan sat there, watching Qrow move about the room with an easy confidence, his mind drifted back to memories he'd tried to bury. Memories of the battle against Cell—the relentless horror of that fight—began to stir.
The image of Cell, tall and imposing, loomed large in his mind, every detail painfully vivid: the dark emerald of Cell's armor glinting under a blood-red sky, his eyes narrowed with sadistic glee. Gohan could feel the weight of Cell's power even now, heavy and cold, pressing down on him with each memory. He'd been just a child, standing before a monster, but he could still feel the shiver of terror that had run through him.
The battle had begun with an eerie calm, Cell's arrogance painting his every move as he toyed with them, grinning as if it were all a game. And then, suddenly, the fight had turned brutal. Cell had lashed out, his attacks faster, more vicious. He struck with a cruel precision, like a predator savoring the hunt. Gohan remembered the helplessness in those moments—the feeling of being utterly overpowered as Cell had pummeled him again and again. His friends and father were helpless to stop him; even their combined strength couldn't match Cell's Perfect Form.
Then came the moment that would haunt him forever: his father's sacrifice. Goku's face was etched into his memory, a mix of determination and sadness as he made his choice. Cell had grown desperate, a dangerous desperation that led him to inflate his body, ready to explode and destroy the Earth in a final, twisted act of vengeance. And that's when Goku had turned to him with a soft, almost reassuring smile.
"I'll take care of this, son," he'd said, his voice calm but filled with a finality that made Gohan's blood run cold. Before Gohan could protest, his father had placed two fingers to his forehead, locking eyes with him one last time before vanishing in an instant, taking Cell with him.
But Cell hadn't stayed dead. Even that ultimate sacrifice hadn't been enough. Gohan remembered the sickening feeling of Cell's return, the horrific realization that he was still alive. And worse yet, Cell was now stronger, having survived near-death and returned with a viciousness that was only more terrible.
Gohan clenched his fists, feeling the phantom pain of the battle. Cell had struck them down without mercy. He'd killed Trunks effortlessly, his laughter echoing in the silence that followed. When Vegeta had attacked in a rage, Cell had swatted him away as if he were nothing, like an insect. And then, the moment that had seared itself into Gohan's mind, was when Cell had fired that energy blast, a concentrated force of power that would have killed Vegeta in an instant.
Gohan didn't even think—he'd leaped in the way, shielding Vegeta with his own body, taking the full force of Cell's attack. Pain had exploded through him, breaking his arm and leaving him half-crippled, but he'd barely registered it. The only thing he could focus on was the look in Cell's eyes—the triumphant glee of a creature who believed he'd already won.
With his arm shattered, his spirit nearly broken, Gohan had felt the weight of it all pressing down on him. The cost of his power, the lives that had been lost because he hadn't acted sooner, the shame of failing to protect his father—it all settled in his chest like a stone, threatening to crush him. He could still hear Cell's mocking voice, taunting him, savoring every moment of Gohan's pain. And then, as though sealing his victory, Cell had charged his own Kamehameha, a blast so powerful that he claimed it would destroy the entire Solar System.
Gohan could still feel the fear that had surged through him, mingling with his guilt and anger. The desperation had been overwhelming—there was nothing he could do to stop Cell, not with one arm broken and his energy nearly drained. He'd been ready to give up, to let Cell win, feeling that he'd failed everyone. But then, in the darkest moment, he'd felt something—his father's presence, warm and reassuring, like a whisper in his mind.
"Gohan, you can do this. I believe in you."
The memory of those words gave him strength even now. He'd felt a surge of power then, a spark reigniting within him, a fierce, defiant hope that had burned brighter than his fear. Gohan had raised his good arm, channeling every ounce of his remaining energy, every piece of his soul into one final attack. Cell's Kamehameha had roared toward him, a tidal wave of destruction, but Gohan hadn't faltered. He'd met it with his own Kamehameha, fueled by all the rage, sorrow, and determination he'd held inside.
He remembered the strain, the pain coursing through his body as he pushed back against Cell's blast, feeling his father's presence beside him, guiding him, lending him strength. With a final, desperate cry, he'd poured everything he had into the attack, but now all he could see were the faces of those he hadn't been able to protect.
Sitting there in the dim light of Qrow's room, Gohan felt that familiar guilt return, mingling with a fresh wave of grief. He'd come so far, pushed himself beyond his limits, but at what cost? He was alive, stronger than anyone else on Earth, but he'd never truly felt more alone.
Qrow's voice brought him back to the present. "Kid?" he asked, tilting his head. "You zoned out there for a minute. Everything alright?"
Gohan glanced at Qrow, forcing himself to take a steadying breath. "It's just…a lot," he murmured, trying to shake off the weight of his memories. "I lost…someone important to me. Someone I couldn't protect." He clenched his fists, the ache in his broken arm a phantom reminder of his failure.
Qrow gave a slow nod, his gaze softening. "Yeah…sometimes life doesn't give us a choice. We lose people. And we live with it, one way or another." He sighed, the weariness in his voice laced with a strange kind of understanding. "But I get the feeling you've got something to live for, even if it's just to keep fighting."
Gohan nodded, swallowing back the emotions that threatened to spill over. He didn't know what awaited him in this strange world, but he knew one thing for certain: he'd carry his father's memory with him, and he'd fight—no matter what.
Days had passed as Gohan sat on the edge of the bed, he felt a strange mix of vulnerability and determination. He had just opened up about his past, his struggles, and the loss he felt from the battle against Cell. But as Qrow listened, his expression shifted from curiosity to confusion, clearly struggling to comprehend the concepts of ki and energy that were so intrinsic to Gohan's life.
"Cell, huh?" Qrow said, scratching his chin. "Sounds like quite the foe. But…ki? What exactly is that? Sounds like something out of a fantasy novel."
Gohan took a moment to collect his thoughts, sensing that he needed to break it down for Qrow. "Ki is… well, it's the life force or energy that every living being has. In my world, we learn to harness it to enhance our strength, speed, and even to fly. It can be used for powerful attacks, like the Kamehameha I mentioned."
Qrow nodded slowly, but the look on his face indicated he still didn't fully grasp it. "So, you're telling me you can shoot energy blasts because of this ki? And you can fly?" He seemed to consider it, tilting his head. "Interesting. But here in Remnant, we have something a little different."
Gohan leaned in, intrigued. "Different how?"
"Well, here we have aura," Qrow explained, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's like the manifestation of your soul. Everyone has it, but not everyone knows how to use it. It provides protection, enhances your abilities, and can be used for all sorts of things. But the strength of your aura, the way you can use it, depends on your training and your natural talent. Some people can even develop a unique power from it called a Semblance."
Gohan raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "A Semblance? What's that?"
"It's like a personal ability that's unique to each person," Qrow continued, his tone lightening. "For instance, my Semblance is called Misfortune. It generates bad luck around me, and unlike most Semblances, it's always active—I can never turn it off."
The concept fascinated Gohan. "So, everyone has their own unique abilities tied to their soul? That's incredible." He felt a flicker of hope at the idea of training and discovering what he could do in this world, just like he had in his own.
Qrow's expression shifted again, becoming more serious. "But it's not all fun and games. In this world, we have to deal with the Grimm—monsters that exist to hunt and kill us. They're a constant threat, and that's where the Huntsmen come in. There's also a lot of prejudice in our world—especially against the Faunus."
"Faunus?" Gohan repeated, leaning in closer, intrigued by the shift in Qrow's tone.
Qrow replied, his voice dropping slightly, as if the topic weighed heavily on him. "They're humans who possess animal characteristics. Some might have cat ears, while others might have wolf tails or even claws. They're just like us in many ways, but society hasn't always seen it that way."
Gohan frowned, "So, they face discrimination? That's… really unfair."
Qrow sighed, nodding. "Yeah. The Faunus have fought for their rights for a long time, but the scars of that fight run deep. Some humans view them as lesser beings, which leads to all sorts of tensions and conflicts. It's a complicated situation, and it's hard to see people suffer just for being who they are."
Gohan felt a surge of empathy wash over him. "That's terrible. No one should be treated that way just because they're different."
Qrow's gaze hardened, a mixture of frustration and sorrow etched into his features. "You'd be surprised how often it happens. Fear is a powerful motivator for hatred. People often see the Faunus' differences and immediately assume the worst. They don't see the individual, just a stereotype. It's like they're painted with the same brush."
Gohan's brow furrowed as he absorbed Qrow's words. Although he had never experienced such prejudice firsthand, he felt a deep understanding of the pain that came from being judged based on differences. "That's not right. Everyone deserves to be treated with respect, regardless of how they look or what they can do."
"Exactly," Qrow said, his tone softening a bit. "But it's not easy to change people's minds. You can't just walk in and tell them they're wrong; you have to show them. Actions speak louder than words, after all. But not forget about things like the Grimm, who constantly remind everyone of the dangers that come with being different in this world. The Grimm don't care who you are; they just want to kill. That creates an environment where fear thrives, and unfortunately, that fear often gets misdirected toward the Faunus."
Gohan nodded, the weight of Qrow's words sinking in. The idea that a group could be persecuted simply for existing, for being different, stirred something within him. He had faced monstrous threats in his own world, but he had never had to contend with the kind of discrimination Qrow described.
"What do the Huntsmen do about it?" Gohan asked, genuinely curious. "I mean, if they're supposed to protect everyone from the Grimm, what about the Faunus?"
"That's the tricky part," Qrow replied, his expression turning serious again. "While some Huntsmen are advocates for the Faunus and fight against the prejudice they face, others are not. Some see the Faunus as less than human, and they think that being a Huntsman gives them the right to ignore their suffering. It's a constant battle, not just against the Grimm but against the ignorance and hatred in our own ranks."
Gohan's brow furrowed as he took in Qrow's words, the complexity of the situation weighing heavily on him. "That's frustrating," he admitted, feeling a familiar anger bubbling up at the injustice. "How can they call themselves protectors if they refuse to protect everyone?"
Qrow nodded, a hint of respect in his eyes for Gohan's indignation. "Exactly. But it's not an easy battle. People can be stubborn, especially when they're scared. The Grimm are a constant reminder of the dangers we all face, and that fear often gets misdirected toward those who are different."
"I understand," Gohan replied, feeling the echoes of his own world's prejudices resonate within him. "But if the Huntsmen are supposed to be heroes, then they need to act like it. Everyone deserves to feel safe and respected."
"True, but words alone won't change hearts," Qrow said, his voice growing more serious. "It takes time and effort. You'll see that for yourself. And right now, you need to focus on getting your strength back. There's plenty of time to think about changing the world later."
Gohan opened his mouth to argue but paused, realizing the wisdom in Qrow's words. He had spent so long fighting for others; perhaps it was time to allow himself the space to heal. "You're right," he finally said, letting out a small sigh. "I need to regain my strength first before I can make any difference."
"Exactly," Qrow said, clapping Gohan on the back. "For now, let's get you settled. You've had a long awakening, and pushing yourself too hard could set you back. Get some rest, and when you're ready, we can dive into training."
Gohan awoke each morning to the soft light filtering through the window, its rays illuminating the dust motes floating lazily in the air. The room still held the scent of herbs, a reminder of the care Qrow had taken to nurse him back to health. But today, there was something different—something stirring deep within him.
As he sat up, Gohan noticed the familiar weight at the base of his spine. His heart raced, and he hesitated, feeling a rush of mixed emotions. Slowly, he turned to look behind him. There it was: his tail, once lost to the battle with Cell, had regrown. It hung there, a dark, furry appendage, swaying slightly as he shifted. A rush of nostalgia washed over him, bringing back memories of his childhood, training under the watchful eyes of Piccolo and Goku.
"Great," Gohan muttered, a mix of amazement and concern coloring his voice. "Just what I needed—a reminder of how different I really am." He sighed, feeling the weight of expectation settle on his shoulders. The tail was both a gift and a curse, a reminder of his Saiyan heritage that was now more pronounced in this unfamiliar world.
With determination steeling his resolve, Gohan swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. His legs trembled beneath him, unsteady as he tried to find his balance. It felt as if his body had forgotten how to move, each motion a reminder of the three long years he had spent in a coma. He steadied himself against the wooden frame of the bed, the rough texture grounding him as he took a deep breath.
"Alright, let's do this," he said to himself, setting his sights on the training area Qrow had set up outside.
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a warm glow over the grassy expanse. Gohan took his first steps outside, each one feeling heavier than the last. The air was crisp, filled with the earthy scent of the surrounding forest, and the soft rustle of leaves added a gentle soundtrack to his awakening. He pushed through the weakness, willing his body to cooperate as he began his warm-up.
His first exercise was a series of squats, a fundamental movement that he had performed countless times in the past. He lowered himself slowly, feeling the strain in his legs as they quaked under his weight. The familiar burn in his muscles reminded him of his training days with Piccolo, but this time it felt different—more intense, more frustrating.
"Come on, Gohan," he muttered under his breath, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. "You can do this. Just like before."
With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself back up, but his legs buckled, and he stumbled back, catching himself on the wooden fence. "Ugh!" he groaned, frustration creeping in. "Why can't I just do it like I used to?"
He took a moment to catch his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow as he shook his head. "You're just out of practice," he reassured himself. "It's been three years. You can't expect to be at full power right away."
But the words did little to quell the storm of frustration brewing within him. He had faced stronger foes than this, yet here he was, struggling to complete a simple squat. Gohan forced himself to take a deep breath, centering his thoughts. He tried again, this time focusing on the movements, visualizing the strength he had once possessed.
As he lowered himself once more, he channeled his thoughts back to his training with Piccolo. The Namekian's teachings echoed in his mind: Strength comes from the heart, Gohan. Believe in yourself and your abilities. With that thought guiding him, he pushed through the discomfort, managing to complete a few more repetitions before finally collapsing to the ground, panting heavily.
"I'll get there," he promised himself, the resolve hardening in his chest. "I just need to keep trying."
After his morning training session, Gohan made his way back inside, still feeling the strain in his muscles but a little more determined. As he entered, he found Qrow sitting at the small table, a steaming bowl of something that smelled rich and hearty placed in front of him.
"Good morning, sleepyhead," Qrow greeted, his voice laced with amusement. "You look like you've been through a battlefield."
Gohan chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "I guess it feels like that. Just trying to regain my strength." He hesitated, glancing at the food. "What's for breakfast?"
"Just some stew. Thought you might need a good meal to help you recover," Qrow replied, gesturing for Gohan to sit. "You might want to dig in before you head back out."
Gohan took a seat, eyeing the bowl curiously. The aroma wafted up to him, making his stomach growl in response. He had to admit, he felt hungrier than he expected. "Qrow, I think I might need a bit more than this," Gohan admitted, glancing at the bowl and then back at Qrow. "I usually eat a lot more."
Qrow raised an eyebrow, a smirk creeping onto his face. "Is that right? Well, you're in luck. I might not have the best cooking skills, but I can whip up a few more portions for you. Just tell me what you need."
"Thanks," Gohan replied, a grateful smile on his face. He quickly dug into the stew, savoring the warm flavors. The moment the food hit his stomach, he felt a surge of energy returning, revitalizing him. It was a welcome relief.
As they ate, Gohan took the opportunity to ask Qrow about his experiences as a Huntsman. "So, what's it like being a Huntsman? You've mentioned fighting the Grimm and protecting people, but what's your story?"
Qrow paused, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. "It's not all glory and heroics, I can tell you that much. It's about sacrifice, pain, and often losing people you care about. You train hard, fight hard, but it's never enough. The Grimm are relentless."
Gohan listened intently, fascinated by Qrow's insights. "That sounds… really tough. How do you keep going?"
Qrow shrugged, a hint of sadness in his eyes. "You learn to find moments of joy amidst the chaos. You have to. And sometimes, it's the bonds you form with others that keep you grounded. They remind you why you fight."
Gohan nodded, understanding the weight of Qrow's words. It mirrored his own feelings about his friends and family back home. "I get that. My dad used to say that you can't protect the ones you love if you don't have the strength to fight for them."
Qrow smiled at that, his expression softening. "Smart man, your dad. He's right, you know. Strength isn't just about power; it's about heart."
With their bellies full, Gohan felt invigorated and ready to continue his training. But before he left the table, he turned to Qrow. "Thanks for the food, Qrow. And for sharing your story. It really helps."
"Anytime, kid," Qrow replied, a genuine warmth in his tone. "Just remember, we all have our battles to fight. You're not alone in this."
Gohan returned to his training, his determination renewed after the hearty meal and heartwarming conversation with Qrow. He practiced basic forms—stances and movements he had perfected in his youth. Yet, each motion felt like a monumental challenge. His muscles burned, protesting against the unfamiliar strain, and each time he faltered, frustration gnawed at him.
As he practiced, he focused on his ki, trying to feel it pulse within him. In his mind, he recalled the warmth of his father's energy, the bright glow of his mother's love, and the unyielding strength of his mentors. He tried to tap into that energy, to harness it, but it felt elusive, like trying to grasp water in his hands.
"Focus," he murmured, shaking his head to clear the frustration. "Just like with Piccolo. Visualize it." He stood in the center of the clearing, closing his eyes to center himself. He pictured the warm light of his ki swirling around him, a golden aura he had once wielded so effortlessly.
Yet when he attempted to draw it out, nothing happened. He clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening. "Come on, Gohan. You can do this!" But the more he pushed, the more it eluded him, leaving him feeling hollow and powerless.
After a particularly grueling session, he collapsed onto the ground, panting heavily. The evening sun cast long shadows across the grass, and he stared up at the sky, feeling the weight of his failures pressing down on him. "What's wrong with me?" he whispered to the wind, frustration boiling inside.
As darkness began to settle, Gohan sat in quiet contemplation. He reflected on his day, replaying the exercises in his mind. Each misstep, each moment of weakness, and the sense of powerlessness weighed heavily on his heart. But even amidst that frustration, a flicker of determination ignited within him. He remembered Qrow's words about strength coming from the heart.
"I won't give up," Gohan vowed softly to himself.
The next morning, Gohan awoke with the sun's rays warming his face, an embrace of light that felt both comforting and invigorating. He sat up slowly, still savoring the sensation of his tail, which swayed gently behind him. It was a reminder of his heritage, a connection to the power he once wielded and the legacy he sought to reclaim. Today felt different, as if he could sense a shift within himself.
After splashing cold water on his face and downing a quick breakfast, Gohan ventured outside to the training area. The grass was still wet with dew, and the fresh scent of earth filled the air. He took a deep breath, inhaling the vitality around him, and reminded himself that this journey was not just about regaining power but reconnecting with his true self.
"Alright," he said quietly, standing in the center of the training area. "Let's try something new."
Gohan decided to start with meditation, something he had learned from Piccolo. He remembered how calming and centering it had been during his early training. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. The sounds of the forest became a symphony—birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the distant babble of a stream. He let those sounds wash over him, allowing his mind to clear.
He concentrated on feeling his ki, but instead of searching for a specific sensation, he opened himself to whatever came. Images of his family and friends flooded his mind—his father's encouraging smile, his mother's warm embrace, and Piccolo's unwavering guidance. Each memory felt like a thread weaving a tapestry of strength and love around his heart.
But then, as he sank deeper into his thoughts, darker memories crept in. His mind's eye was suddenly filled with the faces of those he had lost. The devastation of Cell's attack, the moment he had watched his father sacrifice himself, the helplessness he felt in the aftermath. The weight of grief was overwhelming, and it felt as if a heavy stone had been dropped in his chest.
Gohan's breath hitched as he fought against the wave of sorrow. He tried to focus on his ki, to channel the energy that he so desperately needed, but the pain of loss became an anchor, dragging him deeper into despair. "No," he whispered, shaking his head.
He struggled to regain control, but every time he tried to visualize his ki flowing freely, he was met with a flash of Goku's face or a glimpse of Chi-Chi's loving smile, only for it to twist into the painful reality of their absence. Gohan felt the warmth inside him flicker, replaced by a cold void that threatened to consume him.
The energy that had once felt like a gentle stream now felt like a turbulent storm, chaotic and unyielding. He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why can't I do this? Why can't I just focus?" The tears he had been holding back began to spill over, and he buried his face in his hands, allowing himself to feel the weight of his sorrow.
As the grief washed over him, Gohan's ki flared erratically, pulsing in response to his emotional turmoil. He felt his heart racing, the energy swirling chaotically around him, reacting to his distress. "I'm supposed to be strong," he choked out, the words barely audible as they were lost in his anguish.
After several moments of despair, Gohan took a shaky breath and forced himself to remember what he was fighting for. He thought of his friends and the world that still needed protection. "I can't give up. I owe it to them to be strong," he whispered, trying to find a way to channel his emotions positively.
Gohan opened his eyes, wiping the tears away with the back of his hand. He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs and steady his heartbeat. "I will not be defeated by my past," he vowed, trying to reignite that spark of hope within him.
Rising to his feet, Gohan began to move through his warm-up exercises, but this time he focused on integrating his emotions. He acknowledged the pain but refused to let it control him. Instead, he channeled it, allowing it to fuel his determination.
As he transitioned into basic martial arts forms, he allowed the warmth of his ki to surround him. He didn't force it but let it flow gently, like a river carving through rock. With each strike, he visualized the energy building within him, the warmth returning. He began to feel that connection again—more profound and more nuanced, reflecting both the strength of his family and the weight of his loss.
He performed punches and kicks, each movement infused with purpose. "Control," he reminded himself, feeling the energy surge steadily within him. "Control is key." With every strike, he pictured his ki flowing through his body, connecting him to the earth and the sky.
After an hour of training, Gohan took a moment to catch his breath. He leaned against a tree, feeling the rough bark against his back. The sun was higher in the sky, and the warmth enveloped him like a comforting blanket. Just as he was about to resume training, he heard footsteps approaching.
"Looks like someone's getting serious," Qrow remarked, a smirk playing on his lips as he approached. "Mind if I join you?"
Gohan straightened up, a smile breaking through his earlier haze of emotions. "I'd love that! I'm just trying to find my rhythm again."
Qrow nodded, his demeanor shifting slightly as he assessed Gohan. "Well, let's see what you've got then. Show me what you've been working on."
With a sense of determination flooding through him, Gohan took a deep breath and stepped into a fighting stance. The energy within him surged, and he could feel his heart racing, a pulse that matched the rhythm of his movements. Gohan initiated the spar with a series of rapid punches aimed at Qrow, each one infused with the ki he had begun to stabilize. He moved quickly, his body flowing like water as he danced around Qrow, who prepared to counter. Gohan felt the energy surging within him, his confidence bolstered by the previous training session.
However, the moment his fist connected with the side of Qrow's weapon, the unexpected force reverberated through his arm, sending a shockwave through the air. Qrow had been trying to deflect Gohan's punch with his weapon, but the impact was overwhelming. Gohan watched, wide-eyed, as Qrow was knocked off balance, his feet skidding across the grass before he was launched backward, landing in a heap several feet away.
"Qrow!" Gohan exclaimed, rushing forward, his heart racing. He had underestimated his own strength, and the reality of what had just happened sank in. "Are you okay?"
Gohan helped Qrow to his feet, still feeling the weight of guilt on his shoulders. The light-hearted banter between them lightened the mood, but the reality of what he had done lingered.
"I'm really sorry," Gohan said, his gaze fixed on the ground as if the grass could somehow offer a solution to his unintentional mistake. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Qrow grimaced but managed a pained chuckle. "Well, just make sure not to let anyone know about ki if you can hit this hard," he replied, his tone shifting to something more serious as they started walking toward a nearby tree to take a breather.
As they settled against the trunk, Qrow's expression darkened. "Speaking of keeping things under wraps, there's something you should know about this world," he began, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "There are powerful forces at play, and one of the biggest threats we face is Salem."
Gohan looked at Qrow, his curiosity piqued. "Salem?"
"Salem is… complicated," Qrow said, his eyes narrowing. "She's the one pulling the strings behind a lot of the chaos in Remnant. Salem is the cause of the situation with the Grimm. We have to meet with Ozpin too." He paused, gauging Gohan's reaction before continuing. "This war is escalating, and you'll play a vital role in what's coming."
Curiosity piqued, Gohan turned his attention fully to Qrow. "Who's Ozpin?" he asked, a mix of concern and eagerness in his voice.
"Ozpin is the headmaster of Beacon Academy," Qrow explained, his tone serious but edged with a hint of admiration. "It's one of the most prestigious schools for Huntsmen and Huntresses in Remnant. He's been around for a long time, and he knows more about the Grimm and the war than anyone else. If anyone can help us figure out what happened to you, it's him."
Gohan nodded slowly, processing this new information. The world around him was still a maze of mysteries, but the thought of meeting someone who might have answers was reassuring. "So, you think he'll know how to help me get home?" he asked, his voice filled with hope.
"If anyone knows Ozpin will," Qrow replied, his gaze steady.
As the moon cast its pale light over the forest, Qrow's scroll buzzed, breaking the silence. Ozpin's message was brief but urgent: a village on the outskirts was under attack by Grimm, and their help was needed immediately. For Qrow, this wasn't just a mission—it was a chance to see if Gohan's training was truly paying off. Despite the lingering ache from Gohan's last punch during their sparring session, Qrow couldn't pass up this opportunity.
"Alright, kid," he said, turning to Gohan with a challenging look, his voice a blend of pride and caution. "Tonight's not just about hitting hard. I know you've got power, but we're gonna focus on control. Think you can handle that?"
Gohan nodded, his gaze steady, filled with determination. "I understand. I won't let you down."
Without another word, they set off, moving through the forest with swift, silent strides. Gohan could feel his heart beating faster, not from fear but from a mix of excitement and nervousness. This was his first real chance to put what he'd relearned into action. Qrow had been pushing him hard, helping him rediscover his power and control it, and tonight he intended to show just how far he'd come.
As they approached the outskirts of the village, the scene before them was chaotic. Fires flickered in the darkness, illuminating the desperate villagers who scrambled for safety, some darting into their homes while others fled toward the trees. The low, guttural growls of Beowolves echoed in the air, punctuated by the sharp yelps of the Grimm circling their prey, their glowing red eyes scanning the area with predatory intent.
"Let's go!" Qrow called, his scythe already spinning in deadly arcs as he charged forward. Gohan followed closely, his own energy gathering within him, simmering yet contained. The familiar hum of his ki coursed through him, steady and fierce.
As they reached the first wave of Grimm, a Beowolf lunged at Gohan, claws outstretched, its jaws snapping just inches from his face. Gohan stepped aside smoothly, dodging the creature's attack with practiced precision. He centered himself, drawing a quick breath to focus, and then, with a single controlled punch to the side of the creature's ribcage, he let his power flow just enough to neutralize the threat. The impact sent a subtle shockwave through the Beowolf, instantly reducing it to a cloud of dark ash. Gohan relaxed slightly, satisfied that he'd held back enough to avoid collateral damage.
Qrow, meanwhile, was handling two Beowolves simultaneously. His strikes were as precise as ever, but Gohan could see his mentor's movements were slightly stiffer than usual, a result of the bruised ribs he'd sustained earlier. One of the Beowolves swiped at Qrow, its claws coming dangerously close. Acting on instinct, Gohan darted forward, placing himself between Qrow and the creature. He delivered a swift, powerful kick that sent the Beowolf crashing back with enough force to reduce it to a fading wisp.
"Thanks, kid," Qrow muttered with a nod, catching his breath and regaining his stance.
They barely had time to regroup before a loud, earth-shaking roar filled the air. Emerging from the shadows, a massive Ursa Major lumbered into the clearing, its red eyes glaring menacingly as it focused on the two fighters. The creature was easily twice Gohan's size, its armor-like hide gleaming in the firelight, and its claws flexing as it prepared to strike.
"We'll go at it together!" Qrow called out, diving to the left to draw the creature's attention.
Gohan nodded, mirroring Qrow's movement and flanking to the right. His muscles tensed, his ki pulsing in anticipation. The Ursa swung one massive claw down at Qrow, who dodged to the side with a grimace, leaving the creature briefly exposed. Gohan saw his chance, rushing forward to deliver a punch aimed at the Ursa's shoulder. He held back slightly, controlling the impact to avoid overdoing it. The punch landed solidly, creating a deep dent in the Grimm's thick armor and sending a tremor through its body.
The Ursa staggered back, momentarily dazed, and Qrow seized the opening. He swung his scythe in a wide arc, slicing into the creature's neck with a precise, powerful strike. The Ursa roared, stumbling as dark wisps began to rise from its wound. Before it could recover, Gohan moved behind it, channeling his energy into a final kick that sent the creature crashing forward.
With one swift, final motion, Qrow brought his scythe down across the Ursa's back, cleaving it in two. The Grimm dissolved into ash, and silence fell over the clearing.
As the last of the Grimm faded, Gohan took a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline slowly fade. Villagers began to emerge from their hiding places, some staring in awe and others murmuring words of gratitude as they realized the danger had passed.
Qrow leaned on his scythe, looking at Gohan with a hint of a smirk. "Not bad at all. You didn't just fight—you controlled it. That's how it's done."
Gohan nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment mixed with relief.