Azule-san
The grass surrounding 10-year-old Trunks waved furiously as his energy burst forth from his feet. A golden aurora leapt from him into the sky as his hair turned from a stringy lavender to gold spikes. His eyes, fraught with a boiling rage, blazed green. Visions of the androids flashed before him, as if he lost touch with reality.
Standing a good distance away, arms crossed over his now broad chest was Gohan, observing as his young pupil struggled to master the switch to super saiyajin. The energy generated winds from Trunks caused his short hair to ruffle, along with his orange gi. A proud smirk was perched on his lips. Gohan was the same age as Trunks when he�d become the super saiyajin of legend, the crown achievement of the warrior race. He also recalled, as he stood there watching his pupil, that someone else had watched him in such a way, an all-too-familiar figure with green skin and pointed ears.
The confident smile disappeared. Tomorrow, ten years would have passed since Gohan last saw Piccolo. He couldn�t believe that he�d survived this long without his mentor�s protection. Piccolo not only defended him with his life in battle, but he also kept him from depression. With Goku dead from a heart virus, the namekian sort of filled in as the boy�s father. He virtually kept him on his feet in a world that threatened to send him to his knees.
Now he was gone, and Gohan now had his own pupil to look after. Trunks needed him in the same way that he had needed Piccolo. This was one of the things that gave the young man the urge to keep going. That and what Piccolo had told him in his final moments. Gohan remembered it well.
Gohan gasped as he saw Piccolo lying facedown in a pile of ash and concrete, covered with dust. A sense of foreboding in the pit of his gut, the demi-saiyajin sped to the ground and rushed to his mentor�s still form. �Piccolo-san! Are you okay? Piccolo-san!�
As he turned the namekian overly gingerly, Piccolo drew in a shuddering breath, the sound of his ribs cracking making the boy�s stomach lurch. There was no hole in his body, so it seemed like he�d just burned himself out. All the same, Gohan�s eyes filled with tears.
Smiling weakly, Piccolo placed a shaking hand atop his pupil�s head, spending a great deal of his remaining ki to just tousle the child�s hair. �G-Gohan�are you alright?�
He was referring to the fact that Gohan had just escaped being killed. Blood was drying on his face and forehead. Gohan nodded, gulping loudly to choke back a sob. �H-Hai, Piccolo-san. What about you?�
�I don�t know�kiddo. It looks�like this could be�it for me��There was no fear in the namekian�s voice, same as always. Despite having to hold back his hysterics and the urge to throw up, the demi-saiyajin felt a flash of admiration for him. Nothing ever scared Piccolo. He wasn�t afraid to die right then and there. But what would Gohan do without him?
As if sensing his young friend�s thought, Piccolo continued. �Y-You must live, Gohan�to fight�You were born to be�a warrior�and so is the�son�of Vegeta. Train him�as I trained you. Make him�a super saiyajin�like I know you will become��
�Piccolo-san��
�See you someday, Gohan�� Piccolo�s eyes began to close. �Don�t�ever give up�Take them�down�Gohan�� Satisfied with his final words, the brave namekian warrior slipped away. The hand on Gohan�s head fell.
The rest was just a blur.
�Gohan-san?� Trunks stood in front of his master, waving his hands in front of his face. �Gohan-san, are you okay?�
Shaking himself to rid his mind of the memories, the young master eyed his pupil. �Need a break?�
�Yeah, I�m tired,� the son of Vegeta, whined. �And I�m hungry!�
Oh brother, Gohan sighed. The appetite of true saiyajins. Cuffing the child lightly behind the head, he answered, �Sure, let�s go back then.�
�������
Lunch was at the Son House. It was closer to the training grounds of the two saiyajins and Gohan wanted to see his mother. As Chi Chi went about her cooking, cheerfully, Trunks noticed a picture on top of the TV. Grabbing it, he handed it to Gohan. �Gohan-san? Who are they?�
The young man was astounded. �Trunks, this is me, my dad�and Piccolo-san!�
�Piccolo-san?� Trunks apparently didn�t remember being told about the green-skinned namekian.
�He was my mentor!� Gohan answered, excitement in his tone. He couldn�t believe that his mom had a picture with him in it. �Man, this was almost twelve years ago. Back when dad was still alive!� He got up from the table and marched into his room, Trunks at his heels. Fumbling through his massive shelf of books, he gasped when he found an old binder. �My photo album!�
�So, what�s the big deal?� Trunks asked, slightly annoying his mentor as they headed back to the table.
Not answering, Gohan sat back down at the table and flipped through the pages. Just then, his face lit up in a wide grin. On one of the pages was the picture he�d been looking for. Piccolo stood, surprisingly smirking for the camera. One arm was extended outward, as though he was showing his biceps, but hanging off his arm, giving a peace sign with his other hand was Gohan, that brilliant Son smile across his face.
Gohan chuckled as he remembered how Piccolo was once a frequent visitor to the Son House. Goku and Gohan used to spar with him on a regular basis, Goku doing it for fun, Gohan to learn some pointers. But Piccolo stayed for good after the demi-saiyajin�s father died from the heart virus. He lived mostly in the thicket across the field from the house, well out of Chi Chi�s way. Gohan visited all the time, ignoring his mother�s angry stare and his studies. Until ten years ago�
Brought out of his wandering thoughts, the young man proceeded to swallow his plate full of rice whole.
������..
Night found Gohan standing before a small graveyard, the tombstones neatly distributed over the frost-covered hill. Silently, he strode past each one, smiling bitterly as he recalled who occupied them. Goku- his father and the greatest of saiyajins, Kuririn-an old friend, Yamcha-one of Goku�s first friends, Tien- a warrior to the end, Chaozu- A dedicated little fighter, Vegeta- The noble saiyajin prince�
Gohan stopped as he came to the last tombstone. Piccolo had been the last warrior to die, having sacrificed it all so the boy he pictured as a son could survive. Swallowing back the pain of it all, the demi-saiyajin knelt before the stone, placing a hand on top of it. �Piccolo-san, if you can hear me, I hope this doesn�t make you roll over in your grave.�
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the picture he�d found and set it down against the gravestone. �This was taken before dad died�and before those damned androids came.�
He waited for the longest of moments, thinking that Piccolo would somehow reply. Nothing happened. Standing up, he gazed down at his surrogate father�s resting place. A soft wind ruffled his hair, and blew away the tears that flowed freely from his pain-filled eyes. �It�s been a tough 10 years without you, Piccolo-san. But Trunks continues to grow stronger�closer to becoming a super saiyajin. I guess I kept my word to you.�
After a few more moments that seemed to be eons, Gohan turned to go. �I hope things are okay in Other world.�
Just then, a peculiar feeling overtook his senses. A powerful, yet familiar life-force! Something large and warm came to rest on his broad shoulder. A deep voice caused his eyes to widen. �Gohan,�
Instinctively knowing who it was, Gohan spun around and threw his arms around Piccolo�s waist. �Piccolo-san!�
The namekian smirked as he peeled the demi-saiyajin off. �Look at you. You�re all grown up.�
Gohan grinned through his tears. �I�can�t believe it�s really you!�
�They can�t keep me in Other World forever.� Piccolo told him, chucking him under the chin. �I figured I�d come back within ten years, so here I am.�
�Gohan-san?� a small voice called from below the hill.
The demi-saiyajin spun around, �It�s Trunks! Wait till he sees you, Piccolo-san!� He ran down the hill to his small pupil. �Trunks, come here! I have someone for you to meet!� He seized Trunks by the arm and dragged him up the slope. �Come on, kid!�
�Gohan-san? What�s going on?!� the ten-year-old squealed.
Gohan pointed towards the tombstone, �Look, it�s Piccolo!�
The son of Vegeta cocked his head. �Where?�
The older demi-saiyajin looked himself, only to gasp in shock. No one was there. Releasing Trunks, Gohan ran up to the spot. �Where did you go, Piccolo-san?�
The younger demi-saiyajin sighed. �I think you�ve been out here too long, Gohan-san. Your mom told me to come get you.�
Drawing in a deep breath, the young man waved, �Okay, I�ll be right there.�
As Trunks took off into the night, Gohan suddenly noticed something. The picture he�d set by Piccolo�s gravestone was gone. Looking up at the star-filled sky, a sudden feeling took over him. It was as if Piccolo was up there somewhere, watching over him like he had for ten years straight. The soft breeze came back, but this time, as Gohan took off after his student, it was a little
warmer.