The Namekian's home sat quietly at the edge of a high cliffside, where stone pillars jutted toward the clouds and wind whispered through the sparse trees. Peaceful. Empty. Isolated, just the way Piccolo liked it.
He sensed Gohan's energy long before the boy landed.
When Gohan touched down, the night wind tugged at his father's orange gi, his expression set like stone. His eyes were darker now, not in color, but in weight. There was no smile. No hesitation.
Piccolo emerged from the shadows beneath the overhang, arms crossed.
"I figured you'd come here eventually," the Namekian said simply. "Though… not like this."
Gohan didn't answer right away. He walked to the cliff's edge and looked out at the horizon, where the last traces of sunset melted into night.
"Everything feels different now," he said. "I thought defeating Cell would make everything go back to normal. But it won't. It never will."
Piccolo said nothing, waiting.
"I could've stopped him. I had the power. I let my pride get in the way. I played with him like it was some game. And Dad… Dad had to die to fix my mistake." Gohan's fists clenched. "I don't deserve peace."
Piccolo's gaze hardened. "You think punishing yourself will bring him back?"
"No," Gohan replied. "But I can make sure it never happens again. I can become stronger. Stronger than him. Stronger than anyone. If another threat shows up, I won't wait. I won't hold back. I'll end it, fast."
Piccolo slowly stepped forward. "And what does your mother think of all this?"
"She wants me to go back to school. She says I'm acting like a delinquent." He hesitated. "She told me she's pregnant."
Piccolo blinked.
Gohan turned away, his voice heavy. "She wants me to be a good big brother. She wants me to be a scholar. But that dream... it's not mine anymore. I'm not who I used to be."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, finally, Piccolo sighed. "You've changed. That much is obvious."
"I need to train," Gohan said. "Harder than ever. Push me. Break me if you have to."
"I'm not going to break you, Gohan," Piccolo said, voice low. "But I will train you. Because I see it in your eyes, the fire, the drive. It's like mine was, back when I first wanted to defeat Goku. But this... this is different. Yours is colder."
"I'm not here to feel warm," Gohan muttered.
Piccolo gave a slow nod. "Then we start at dawn."
"No," Gohan said. "We start now."
That Night
Under the pale moonlight, the two warriors faced each other in a quiet clearing. Piccolo removed his weighted cape and turban, revealing his sharp form beneath.
"No holding back?" he asked.
"No mercy," Gohan said.
They charged.
The air cracked as their fists collided, Gohan faster than Piccolo expected, angrier too. The boy moved with purpose, with raw instinct sharpened by guilt. His strikes weren't just to train, they were to purge.
Piccolo blocked, parried, and tested him, his expression unreadable. But inside, the Namekian felt it, a tremor of unease.
This wasn't the same Gohan he'd once trained in the wild.
That Gohan had fought with hope.
This one fought with vengeance.
One Year Later
The sky above the cliffs cracked open with thunderous blows.
Gohan moved like lightning, a golden blur surging through the air in his Super Saiyan form. His fists landed with devastating speed, hammering Piccolo with relentless precision. The Namekian grunted as each strike drove him further back, his arms already bruised, his body battered.
"This is pointless!" Gohan snarled as he drove a knee into Piccolo's gut and sent him crashing into a rock wall.
Dust billowed from the crater. Piccolo lay inside it, coughing, struggling to lift himself. Gohan floated above him, breathing heavily but controlled, his golden aura flaring like a wild flame.
He looked down with cold, disappointed eyes.
"You said you would train me," Gohan said bitterly. "But all you are now… is a green punching bag."
Piccolo's eyes narrowed as he wiped blood from his mouth, slowly standing. "You've grown stronger, Gohan… but this isn't how strength is measured."
Gohan didn't reply.
"I'm not like you," Piccolo continued, panting. "I'm not a Saiyan. I've pushed you as far as I can… but I can't make you any stronger than this."
There was silence, long and heavy.
Then Gohan turned his back, his aura flaring.
"…Mr. Piccolo," he said, voice low. "Then I'll be leaving."
Piccolo's eyes widened slightly. "What?"
"I know someone who can push me further."
With that, Gohan blasted into the sky, leaving behind only dust and the faint echo of thunder.
Capsule Corp
Bulma nearly dropped her wrench when Gohan landed at the front of Capsule Corp's main building, gold and blue boots touching the concrete with silent authority.
"Gohan?!" she called from her workshop doorway, brushing grease off her fingers. "You've grown! And what's with the serious look, wait, wait, no hugs?"
Gohan gave a polite but brief nod. "Sorry, Bulma. I'm here for Vegeta."
Bulma raised a brow, then pointed across the courtyard toward a large training dome humming with artificial gravity.
"He's in the chamber again. Been pushing himself all week," she said. "Typical Vegeta stuff."
"Thank you," Gohan said, already walking toward the dome.
As the doors hissed open, the pressure inside hit him like a wall. The gravity chamber was roaring with 150x Earth's gravity. In the center of it, surrounded by weights and broken machines, Vegeta trained alone, sweat steaming from his body.
Vegeta turned as Gohan entered, smirking slightly.
"Well, well," he said, arms crossed. "If it isn't Kakarot's son… the scholar."
Gohan didn't flinch. "I'm not here to talk."
Vegeta tilted his head. "No? Come to lecture me on biology? Or maybe debate quantum mechanics?"
"I want to train with you," Gohan said simply. "I want to become stronger."
Vegeta studied him for a moment. The kid's aura had changed. No softness. No hesitation. Just raw focus.
"…And what are you waiting for?" the prince said, smirking wider. "Come at me."
Gohan's aura flared gold.
And the gravity chamber shook.