The turtle hermit's island appeared on the horizon like a tiny oasis of pink concrete in an endless expanse of blue. Kame House sat peacefully under the afternoon sun, its cheerful exterior a stark contrast to the somber mood of its approaching visitors.
As their capsule plane touched down on the water, Master Roshi sighed heavily. The flight had been quiet, everyone lost in their own thoughts about what had transpired and what lay ahead.
The plane touched down on the water with barely a splash, its advanced design making the landing look effortless. As the passengers disembarked onto the dock, the weight of recent events hung over them like storm clouds.
Sage was the last to emerge, moving hesitantly as if expecting an attack at any moment. His eyes darted constantly between the Z-fighters and potential escape routes. Fifteen years of paranoid survival didn't disappear overnight.
"Welcome to Kame House," Master Roshi said formally, his tone carefully neutral. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances."
Bulma was already unpacking her capsules, trying to keep busy rather than dwell on their loss. "I'll set up some extra accommodations. We're going to need space for everyone if we're planning our next moves."
Krillin hadn't spoken much during the flight, his grief still raw. He kept glancing at Sage with barely concealed suspicion and anger.
"So this is where Earth's martial artists gather," Sage observed quietly, his voice carrying that familiar stutter. "It's... peaceful."
"It was," Krillin muttered.
Piccolo shot him a warning look. "We all need rest. Tomorrow we start planning how to find the Dragon Balls and prepare for what's coming."
As they settled into the house, the atmosphere remained tense. Sage positioned himself where he could see all exits, a habit that didn't go unnoticed by the others. Every few minutes, someone would glance at him – assessing, judging, trying to figure out if he was friend or foe.
The interrogation began after dinner, once Gohan had been put to bed in one of the guest rooms. The adults gathered in Roshi's living room, forming a loose circle around Sage, who sat stiffly on the edge of a chair.
"Alright," Master Roshi began, his voice carrying the authority of someone who'd trained Earth's greatest fighters. "We need answers. Start with the basics – what exactly are Saiyans?"
Sage took a shaky breath. Speaking about his people was still painful, but these humans deserved to know what they were facing.
"Saiyans were... are... a warrior race," he began, the stutter less pronounced when discussing facts rather than emotions. "We're naturally stronger than most species, and our power increases through combat and training. We can fly, manipulate energy, and..." he paused, looking uncomfortable, "we transform under certain conditions."
"Transform?" Bulma leaned forward, her scientific curiosity overriding her wariness. "Into what?"
"Great Apes. Under the light of a full moon, Saiyans with their tails become massive, destructive creatures with ten times their normal power."
Krillin's eyes widened. "Goku... when he was little, he turned into a giant ape! That's how his grandfather died!"
"His tail was removed as a child," Piccolo noted. "That must have prevented further transformations."
Sage nodded. "Removing the tail stops the transformation permanently. It's... it was sometimes done to Saiyan children being sent on certain missions."
"Missions like destroying planets?" Master Roshi's question was pointed.
Sage flinched. "Yes. Frieza used us as his army of conquest. We were conditioned from birth to be ruthless, to see other species as inferior. But Kakarot... Goku... he must have hit his head when he landed. Lost those instincts."
"Lucky for Earth," Krillin said grimly.
"Tell us about these two who are coming," Piccolo pressed. "Vegeta and Nappa. What are we facing?"
Sage's demeanor shifted, fear creeping into his voice. "Vegeta is the Prince of all Saiyans. Even as a child, his power was legendary. Nappa was one of the royal guard – brutal, sadistic, incredibly strong. Both of them are elite warriors who've had decades to grow stronger under Frieza's training."
"Stronger than Raditz?" Master Roshi asked.
"Much stronger. Raditz was... was considered low-class, like Kakarot. These two are in a completely different league."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in. If Raditz had been that difficult to defeat, and these two were significantly more powerful...
"There's something else," Sage continued reluctantly. "They're not just coming for conquest. They want the Dragon Balls for themselves. If they gather them first..."
"They could wish for immortality," Bulma finished, her face pale. "Or greater power."
"We can't let that happen," Piccolo stated flatly. "Which means we need to find the Dragon Balls first and bring Goku back before they arrive."
"How long do we have?" Roshi asked.
"One year," Sage replied. "Maybe less if they decide to come early."
The weight of their timeline settled over the group. One year to find seven magical orbs scattered across the planet, revive their strongest fighter, and somehow prepare for an invasion by beings that could destroy cities with casual effort.
"Can you help us?" Bulma asked suddenly. "I mean, you know how they fight, their weaknesses..."
Sage looked surprised that she was even asking. "I... yes. I'll do whatever I can. It's the least I can do after what I've cost you."
"Your power level," Piccolo said. "During that fight, it was significant. With proper training..."
"I'm not strong enough to face Vegeta," Sage interrupted. "But maybe... maybe I can help train others. Teach them Saiyan combat techniques."
Krillin looked skeptical. "And we're supposed to just trust you? After what happened to Goku?"
"No," Sage replied quietly. "I don't expect trust. But I'm asking for a chance to make things right."
Master Roshi stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Everyone makes mistakes, Krillin. The question is what they do afterward."
The conversation continued late into the evening, covering tactics, training regimens, and the logistics of their Dragon Ball search. Gradually, the initial hostility began to fade into wary cooperation. They all knew they needed each other if they were going to survive what was coming.
As the night deepened, the adults finally dispersed to get some rest. Capsule houses had been set up on the beach, providing enough space for everyone. The day's emotional toll weighed heavily on them all.
Sage found himself assigned to a small room in the main house, close enough to be watched but far enough to not make anyone too uncomfortable. He lay on the narrow bed, staring at the ceiling as the sound of waves lapped against the shore outside.
Sleep wouldn't come. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Goku falling, saw the accusation in little Gohan's tear-filled eyes. The guilt was a physical weight on his chest, making even breathing difficult.
After an hour of futile tossing and turning, he gave up. Moving quietly, he made his way through the house and up to the roof. The night air was cool and salt-scented, a gentle breeze carrying the sounds of the ocean.
He wasn't alone. A small figure sat near the edge of the roof, legs dangling over the side. Gohan was wrapped in a blanket, staring out at the star-filled sky with the hollow expression of a child trying to process something far too big for his young mind to handle.
"Couldn't sleep either?" Sage asked softly, not wanting to startle the boy.
Gohan turned slightly, his eyes still red from earlier tears. "I keep thinking Daddy's going to come tuck me in. But then I remember..."
Sage's heart clenched. He approached slowly, sitting down several feet away to give the child space.
"It's okay to be sad," Sage said gently. "Losing someone important... it's supposed to hurt."
"Did you lose someone important too?" Gohan's voice was small, curious despite his grief.
Sage was quiet for a long moment, watching the stars reflect on the water. "Yes. Many people. My whole family, actually."
"What happened to them?"
"They died when our planet was destroyed. I was very young, like you. For a long time, I thought I was the only one left."
Gohan shifted slightly closer, something in Sage's tone resonating with his own pain. "Were you scared?"
"Terrified," Sage admitted. "I didn't know how to be alone. I didn't know how to keep going without them."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, two survivors sharing the weight of loss under the starlight.
"Sage?" Gohan's voice was hesitant. "Uncle Piccolo said you and Daddy are the same... species?"
"Saiyans, yes. We're both Saiyans."
"What does that mean? I don't understand what I am."
Sage studied the child's face, seeing genuine confusion and need there. Despite everything, Gohan deserved to know about his heritage – the positive parts of it, anyway.
"It means you're part of something ancient and proud," Sage said carefully. "Saiyans weren't always what Frieza made us become. Before him, we had families, traditions, culture. We cared for each other."
"What kind of traditions?"
Sage hesitated. Sharing Saiyan culture felt strange after so many years of hiding from it. But looking at this grieving child who didn't even know what he was...
"There's one tradition that might help," he said slowly. "When Saiyans lost someone important, especially family, we had a way of honoring them. Of making sure they weren't forgotten."
Gohan turned to face him fully, interest flickering in his sad eyes. "What did you do?"
"We called it the Ritual of Stars. We believed that when warriors died, their spirits joined the light of distant suns. So when we missed them, we would go outside at night and..." Sage paused, emotions catching in his throat. "We would speak their names to the stars and tell them what we wished we could say."
"Did it help?"
"Sometimes. It made the missing hurt a little less, knowing they could hear us."
Gohan looked up at the brilliant canopy of stars above them. "Do you think... do you think Daddy can hear me?"
"I think fathers always hear their children, no matter how far away they are."
The boy was quiet, processing this. Then he stood up slowly, still wrapped in his blanket.
"Will you show me? The ritual?"
Sage felt his chest tighten with emotion. "Are you sure? It's... it can be sad."
"I'm already sad," Gohan said simply. "But maybe this way, the sad will mean something."
Sage stood as well, moved by the child's courage. "Alright. In Saiyan tradition, we face the brightest star we can see. That one," he pointed to a brilliant point of light directly overhead. "We believe it's where the strongest spirits gather."
Gohan tilted his head back, focusing on the star. "Now what?"
"Now we speak their name three times, and then we tell them what's in our hearts."
The child took a shaky breath. "Goku. Goku. Goku." His voice broke slightly on the third repetition.
"Daddy, I... I miss you so much. I don't understand why you had to go fight the bad man. I don't understand why you had to get hurt." Tears began flowing down his cheeks, but he kept going. "Uncle Piccolo tries to be nice but he doesn't know how to hug. And I'm scared because everyone says more bad men are coming."
Sage listened, his own eyes wet as he watched this brave little boy pour his heart out to the stars.
"But they say there's a way to bring you back, Daddy. With the Dragon Balls. So I'm going to be strong while they find them, okay? I'm going to be brave like you taught me. And when you come back, I'll show you all the things I learned while you were gone."
Gohan wiped his eyes with the blanket. "Is that right? Did I do it right?"
"Perfect," Sage whispered. "Your father would be very proud."
They stood together in the starlight, the ritual creating a bridge between their different kinds of grief. Finally, Gohan looked at Sage with curiosity.
"Don't you want to do it too? For your family?"
Sage's breath caught. He hadn't performed the Ritual of Stars since he was a child himself, had been too afraid that it would make the pain worse. But something about sharing it with Gohan, about not being alone in the darkness, gave him courage.
He faced the bright star and took a trembling breath.
"Toma. Toma. Toma." His father's name felt strange on his lips after so many years. "Father, I... I failed again. I was so scared, so angry, that I helped hurt an innocent person. Someone who was kind and good, like you always told me to be. I don't know how to carry this guilt, and I don't know how to be worthy of surviving when so many better people didn't."
His voice grew stronger as the words poured out.
"But I met Kakarot's son tonight, Dad. Your grandson's friend's son." He corrected himself, realizing the complexity. "He's brave and good, just like you'd want any Saiyan child to be. I'm going to try to help him, to help all of them. Maybe I can't bring back our people, but maybe I can protect what's left of our blood. Watch over us both, okay? We're going to need all the help we can get."
When he finished, the silence felt different somehow. Lighter, despite the sadness that remained.
"Was your dad nice?" Gohan asked quietly.
"The best," Sage replied. "He used to tell me that a Saiyan's true strength wasn't in their power level, but in who they chose to protect."
"That sounds like my daddy too."
They made their way back down to the house together, both feeling emotionally drained but somehow more at peace. At Gohan's door, the boy paused.
"Sage? Thank you for showing me that. It... it did help."
"Thank you for letting me share it with you. I haven't done that ritual in many years."
"Maybe... maybe we could do it again sometime? Until Daddy comes back?"
Sage felt something warm bloom in his chest – a feeling he'd almost forgotten. Purpose. Connection. Hope.
"I'd like that very much, Gohan."
As the child disappeared into his room, Sage made his way to his own quarters. For the first time since arriving on Earth, sleep came easily. And for the first time in fifteen years, his dreams weren't filled with screams and explosions, but with starlight and the sound of a brave little boy honoring his father's memory.
Outside, the waves continued their eternal rhythm against the shore, and somewhere among the countless stars above, two fathers watched over their sons with pride.