Mount Paozu was a slice of earthly paradise, with crisp air, verdant peaks, and bamboo forests whispering in the mountain breeze. Nestled within this tranquility was a traditional oriental house, the secluded home of Gohan, a disciple of Master Roshi and the adoptive grandfather of the infant soon to be known as Goku.
Whoosh.
A figure materialized soundlessly at the doorstep. Rhode had arrived.
The doors were open, and from inside drifted Gohan's voice, a mix of exasperation and deep affection. "Goku! How many times must I tell you? Eat with some elegance! Elegance!"
His words were followed by the unmistakable sounds of clattering dishes and enthusiastic, messy gobbling. The lesson, clearly, was not taking hold.
"Quite lively in here," Rhode commented amiably, stepping into view.
Gohan started, surprised by the sudden arrival. But as he focused, a familiar resonance in the young man's energy registered. "Rhode? Is that you?"
"It's me," Rhode confirmed with a smile, his gaze shifting from the old martial artist to the tiny Saiyan currently trying to inhale a bowl of rice. "I came back to see you, and to meet the little one."
"Over a year, and you've not only grown... you've changed profoundly." Gohan's eyes held a master's discernment. Rhode's aura was now deceptively calm, like the surface of an impossibly deep lake. In terms of martial essence and control, Gohan sensed Rhode had already surpassed him—a staggering thought.
Taking a seat on a nearby stool, Rhode accepted the observation with a humble shrug. "I've made some progress. Still a long way to go, though."
His foundation was rock-solid, his power multiplied. Yet, his deliberate avoidance of rage-fueled growth and the sterile environment of the Time Chamber had left one key aspect underdeveloped: the S-Cells necessary for a Super Saiyan transformation. His power numbered in the millions, but his spirit was too serene, his life too controlled. The intense emotional crucible required for the legendary transformation remained absent.
He wasn't overly concerned. With his current arsenal—millions in power, the Great Ape multiplier, Instant Transmission, and a host of Yardratian techniques—few in the cosmos could threaten him. He could afford patience. He would build his base power steadily, research the mysteries of time and technique, and let the transformation come when it may, either through emotional trigger or sheer, overwhelming might. A peaceful life on Earth, punctuated by cosmic adventures, sounded like a perfect balance.
"You came because of him, didn't you?" Gohan asked gently, his eyes moving from Rhode to the baby, their shared tails telling the silent story of kinship.
"He is indeed of my race. His name was Kakarot, and he has no kin left in the universe." Rhode's voice was soft. "Since you found him, that is fate. And I think the name 'Goku' you've given him... it suits him perfectly." There was a finality in his tone, a blessing and a release. He was acknowledging Gohan's role, entrusting the child's future to this kind-hearted hermit of the mountains. The Saiyan infant's path would now be an Earthling's journey.
Rhode offered no denial to Gohan's deduction. As he spoke, he reached out and gently ruffled the hair of the infant Goku, who was entirely focused on his meal. The texture was surprisingly soft, not spiky at all.
"Hahahaha!"
A wave of pure, uncomplicated joy washed over Rhode as he watched Goku pull back with a start, his big, black eyes wide with a mix of wariness and innocent curiosity. He couldn't help but laugh aloud.
Scooping the tiny Saiyan up, Rhode proceeded to thoroughly muss his already wild hair into an even more spectacular bird's nest, his own heart feeling lighter than it had in years.
A childhood dream realized! He'd always wondered, back in another life, whether Goku's iconic hair was soft or prickly. Now he knew.
Little Goku squirmed and flailed in protest, his tiny fists batting uselessly against Rhode's arms.
"You seem to really like the little fellow," Gohan observed with a warm chuckle.
"I do," Rhode admitted freely, his smile genuine. Setting aside the legendary warrior Goku would become, this infant was simply pure, innocent, and full of life—qualities Rhode found utterly endearing.
He stayed on Mount Paozu for several days, sharing simple meals with Gohan and quietly imparting a few crucial pieces of information about Saiyan biology—specifically, the danger of the full moon. With that duty done, it was time to leave.
"Grow up strong, Goku!" Rhode called out with a final wave as he prepared to depart.
The baby, however, having decided Rhode was a source of hair-based torment, ducked behind Gohan's leg and stuck his tongue out.
Rhode's laughter echoed once more before he turned to Gohan, his expression sobering slightly. "Take care of yourself."
He had done what he could. With the warning about the Great Ape transformation, history should not repeat its tragedy here. Gohan's fate was now in his own, and the universe's, hands.
With a final nod, Rhode vanished from the tranquil mountainside. Goku had his own path to walk, and Rhode would not steer it. His visit was for closure, for a glimpse of a legend in its cradle, and for a personal wish fulfilled.
His journey continued. He visited the lonely, perpetually-horny Master Roshi on his island, bearing a gift of "artistic" picture books that brought tears of gratitude to the old hermit's eyes. After a few days of enduring his lecherous commentary, Rhode moved on.
Next was Korin Tower. Remembering his long-overdue promise, Rhode arrived with a sizable shipment of fresh and dried fish, enough to appease the cat sage for years of missed payments. Korin, perched on his staff, merely smirked and accepted the tribute without a word.
A month drifted by in this manner, a circuit of visits and settled debts. Returning to West City, Rhode felt a rare sense of earthly routine settle over him. It was time to delve back into his research, to continue honing his power and unraveling the secrets of time.
He had just begun to organize his notes in the quiet of the Capsule Corp guest suite when the air before him shivered.
An unexpected figure materialized, not with the silent grace of Instant Transmission, but in a burst of displaced energy that spoke of urgency, not control. It was Aira. But she was not as he had left her. Her eyes burned with a fierce, hardened light, and the power radiating from her was no longer that of a promising student, but of a warrior forged in a crucible of compressed time. She had used the Dragon Balls. She had entered her own chamber.
"Rhode," she said, her voice edged with a new, steely resolve. "I'm done waiting. Spar with me. Now."
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