Chapter 85
The air on Earth still tasted of ozone and scorched earth, the aftermath of a battle that had leveled a good portion of the countryside. In the center of the devastation stood the Farmer family's modest home, its front door hanging crookedly on its hinges. On the porch, a red-faced man in overalls was waving a shotgun, not that it would have done any good.
"I don't care if you saved the radishes from that… that *she-devil*!" the farmer shouted, his voice cracking. "Look at my fields! Look at my barn! You're all… you're all *monsters*! Get off my land before I call the army, or the FBI, or whoever deals with… with whatever you are!"
And so, the Son family found themselves unceremoniously evicted.
At the head of the ragged group was Mother Gine. Her kind eyes, usually so gentle, were hard with determination as she shepherded her family down the dirt road. Her simple Saiyan battle armor was scuffed, a testament to the recent clash with the berserker Fasha, whose rampage had only ended when Gine had managed to talk her down using a long-forgotten lullaby from their homeworld. On her hip she carried a small, woven satchel—the only thing she'd managed to grab from the wreckage of their temporary home.
Beside her, Father Bardock glowered, his arms crossed over his chest. A low-grade scouter, cracked from the fight, was still attached to his ear. "Pathetic," he grumbled, not for the first time. "On Vegeta, we would have taken the land. And the house. And the shotgun." He kicked a stone, sending it careening into the forest. "This planet makes you soft."
"It makes us alive, Bardock," Gine said softly, her hand finding his. "And it's our home now. We find a new one. A peaceful one."
Trailing behind them was Raditz, their eldest. At sixteen, he was all lanky limbs and simmering adolescent fury. His wild, knee-length black hair was a tangled mess. "This is humiliating," he seethed, clenching his fists. "We're Saiyans! Warriors! We shouldn't be getting kicked out by some dirt-grubber with a primitive projectile weapon!" He shot a glare at the retreating farmhouse. "I say we go back and *show* him what a real monster looks like."
"You will do no such thing, Raditz," Gine said, her voice leaving no room for argument. It was the voice that had calmed Fasha's murderous rage. Raditz scoffed but fell silent.
Between Raditz and their parents walked the two youngest. James, the middle son at ten years old, was the quiet observer. He had Bardock's intense eyes but Gine's thoughtful demeanor. He held a small, dented capsule he'd found in the fields—a human "Capsule Corp" toy, he assumed—and was turning it over and over in his hands, studying its mechanics. He was already calculating shelter options, water sources, and the nutritional value of the local flora.
And then there was Kakarot. Just five years old, with a mess of spiky black hair even wilder than Raditz's, he was currently trying to ride a terrified grasshopper the size of his head. "Giddy-up! Faster!" he yelled, before tumbling off into a ditch with a gleeful shout. He popped up, covered in leaves, his tail wagging excitedly. "Did you see that? He almost flew! Can I eat him?"
"No, Kakarot," Gine sighed, brushing leaves from his hair. "We don't know if it's poisonous."
For three days they walked, a strange, armored procession through the serene landscapes of East County. They slept under the stars, Bardock grumbling about the humidity, Raditz training relentlessly to burn off his frustration, James cataloging everything, and Kakarot trying to befriend (or eat) every creature he encountered. Gine kept their spirits up, foraging for recognizable fruits and telling stories of the stars—edited, of course, to remove the more genocidal parts of Saiyan history.
It was James who found the clue. On the morning of the fourth day, he spotted a discarded newspaper in a bin. The headline blared: **LOCAL SCHOLAR MAKES BREAKTHROUGH IN EXO-BIOLOGY!** Below it was a picture of a kindly-looking old man with a bald head and a warm smile, standing in front of a large, pagoda-style house. The caption read: *Dr. Gohan, retired anthropologist, continues his independent research.*
"Look," James said, pointing. "He studies 'exo-biology.' Alien life. And he lives alone in a big house in the mountains." He looked at his parents. "He might… understand. Or at least, he might not shoot at us."
Bardock's scouter whirred as he input the location from the paper. "Hmph. Low power level. Negligible. It's a risk."
"Everything is a risk now," Gine said, hope blooming in her chest for the first time since the eviction. "We have to try. For them." She looked at Kakarot, who was now trying to balance a frog on his nose.
Following the directions, they arrived at the foot of a mountain by late afternoon. A long, stone staircase wound its way up through dense, tranquil woods. At the top, just as the picture showed, was a beautiful, traditional Japanese house with a sweeping roof. The air was quiet, filled only with the sound of wind chimes and distant birds.
"Everyone be on your best behavior," Gine instructed, straightening Kakarot's gi. "No powering up. No threats. Raditz, tuck your tail. James, you'll do the talking. You have the calmest head."
They ascended the steps. Before they could even knock, the wooden door slid open.
Dr. Gohan stood there, not in a lab coat, but in a simple robe. His eyes widened, not in fear, but in profound, astonished recognition. His gaze swept over their distinct hairstyles, their builds, their *tails*. It lingered on Bardock's scouter and Gine's armor. He saw not monsters, but a family—tired, displaced, but together.
He didn't see warriors. He saw refugees.
"My goodness," the old scholar breathed, his voice full of wonder, not alarm. He looked past the adults to the children—to curious James and wildly grinning Kakarot. A soft, grandfatherly smile spread across his face. "I… I've spent my life looking to the stars, hoping for a sign. I never imagined it would climb my front steps." He stepped back, opening the door wider. "You all look exhausted. Please, come in. You must be hungry. I was just about to make some tea. And," he added, his eyes twinkling as he looked at Kakarot, "I believe I have some candy."
Bardock stood rigid, suspicious, his warrior instincts screaming about vulnerability. But Gine placed a hand on his arm. She looked at Dr. Gohan, at the safe, quiet house, at the hope of a sanctuary not won through battle, but offered through kindness.
Tears welled in her eyes for the first time since leaving Vegeta. She bowed, a human gesture she'd seen in the farmer's town. "Thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Our family is in your debt."
As they filed into the warm, welcoming home, the door closed softly behind them, shutting out the wilderness. For the first time on Earth, the Sons were not invaders, not squatters, not monsters. They were guests. And perhaps, in this house on the mountain with the kind old man who studied the stars, they could finally learn how to be a family at peace.
The end