Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marron's ki is … wrong.

He can feel it now. As a baby, her ki was always there, but it was a tiny colorless spark just like any other human. While she grew older, Krillin put aside the life of a martial artist to become a police officer, and he's rarely focused on his daughter's ki since. It's been years (thank Dende) since his baby girl was in danger.

But now he's stretched out his senses idly, and he can feel her just outside the house. One lone eight-year-old ki signature bobbing along happily as he hears her voice chattering and Juuhachigou-san's low, amused responses. It couldn't be anyone else but Marron.

And her ki is wrong.

No! Not wrong. Nothing about his daughter could ever be really wrong, just …

Tainted.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs to himself from his place on the couch. He's been switched off the afternoon shift and is home early for once, hoping to surprise his family, but now all he can do is focus on the approaching voices and try not to feel the heavy sensation of dread in his stomach.

“Focus, Krillin, focus. You're probably panicking.” No surprise there. “Okay. Close your eyes. Concentrate.”

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and relaxes as best he can. The voices are drawing closer, and the bright flare of ki is coming up the sidewalk towards the house.

Focus, Krillin, and be sure before you start a riot.

It's hard to describe a sense of someone's ki in words, but the visible auras give him a place to begin. Human ki is white, shining, occasionally tinged with blue. It's bright and pure and feels undiluted, but doesn't shine so bright as some others. Namekian ki feels whiter, without that tinge of blue, and thinner somehow. Still strong, but more evenly distributed.

Saiyan ki leans more blue. Heavier, thicker, brighter. If human ki is drinking coffee with cream, saiyan ki is eating used coffee grounds directly out of the filter: more of a buzz, but gritty and weird. Not the preferred choice. Super Saiyan ki is yellow and harsh, but also smoother across the senses, like the mind has given up processing what it's feeling and just letting the rush pass by. Like drinking a gallon of syrup, and just as bad for you.

Krillin hasn't tried to sense anything beyond a Super Saiyan, and would prefer not to. Life is hard enough without having your brain turned inside-out.

All right. Focus. What does her ki feel like?

Human. That's a good place to start. In his mind's eye he can see his daughter, barely as high as her mother's hip, with her pink dress and golden hoop earrings and messy blonde hair that she's taken to wearing long—as human as human could be. White ki. But—

The door bangs open as Marron comes bouncing in. She has her arms held straight out in front of her like Chiaotzu, and her pigtails flop as she hops along. “He said he wasn't!” she's saying, looking back at her mother. “But I think he is! Only he can't be, because he's nice, but maybe the stories were wrong and they are nice? What do you think?”

“I think I already told you not to slam the door,” says the cool voice of Juuhachigou-san as she follows Marron into the house. She's wearing a white knee-length sundress, and the soft material floats around her as she walks. She's still almost painfully beautiful.

“You said not to slam the door closed!” Marron chirps. “I slammed it open!”

“Either way, the door gets broken—“ She pauses. “Krillin?”

“Hey, Juuhachigou-san!” Krillin says, forcing a smile. “I got off early today. How're my favorite girls?”

“Papa!” Marron rockets forward and crashes into him, wrapping her arms around him. Bulma's warned him that there'll come a time when a kid abruptly decides they hate their parents, but Marron hasn't hit it yet, and Krillin gladly hugs his daughter. Juuhachigou-san is smiling from the doorway as she sets down her shoulderbag. Noodles and vegetables poking out of the bag, and Marron's a little muddy and worked up: shopping and a visit to the park. An ordinary day.

“Hey, sweet pea,” Krillin says, tousling her hair. Marron squawks and makes a face. “Were you talking about Chiaotzu?”

“Yeah! He was at the store!” Marron is beaming. “He was buying a pineapple, and I asked him if he was a jiangshi like in the movies!”

“What? Uh … honey, I'm not sure you should be watching those movies.” Oh thank Dende, a distraction. “How do you even know what a jiangshi is?”

“I watched it with Mommy! She said it's good to know your enemy.”

Krillin shoots a glance at his lovely wife, who's putting the groceries away. “You let her watch scary movies? Juuhachigou-san!”

The android scoffs as she closes the cupboard. “They weren't that scary. Juunanagou's boys are big fans, and Marron wanted to know what the fuss was about.”

“His boys are older than her! And it's not like they're in harm's way, out there in the wilderness. Knowing that scary stuff is real isn't gonna hurt—“ Krillin halts. “Wait. 'Know your enemy?' Juuhachigou-san, you don't, uh, think there's gonna be a jiangshi problem any time soon?”

Juuhachigou rolls her eyes. “You did just say some monsters are real. Marron needs to see that monsters can be killed.” A small smile quirks her mouth. “Besides, if the boys turn out to be Marron's enemies, we need to know what scares them.”

“I don't think we need to plan any cousin-killing just yet. Marron, sweetie, Chiaotzu is human. He's just pale and likes wearing old-fashioned clothes. Jiangshi aren't real.” Though there was that one time with Yurin …

Marron pouts. “I like it better when he's a jiangshi.”

“Give it up, Krillin,” Juuhachigou says. “Stop fussing about things you can't change.”

We'll see about that, he thinks. Panicking has, on occasion, been his specialty. “I don't know about that,” he says aloud, playing it off with a grin. “How fast can I get the Dragon Radar?”

* * *

It's a quiet evening at home. Krillin is doing his best to make it a good evening for his family, joking and helping with the dishes, asking Marron about her day and complimenting Juuhachigou-san on the meal. Marron chatters about playing at the park with some other kids, about splashing in the mud, about what she wants to do tomorrow. Chiaotzu figures largely, which doesn't entirely surprise Krillin: Chinese vampire movies aside, Chiaotzu is great with children.

(Even better than Puar. And as far as a kid is concerned, it's hard to beat an adorable shapeshifting cat.)

But while he's talking with his family and picking up the empty plates, he's having trouble focusing. He's a policeman now, but he's been a member of the Turtle School a lot longer, and the memory of that strange, tainted—tinted?—ki signature is gnawing at him. He catches himself focusing once or twice, trying to read Marron's ki.

It's still wrong. Like prodding a painful tooth.

Juuhachigou-san doesn't notice anything. She's in a good mood, chuckling at his lame jokes and talking about the latest report from Marron's teachers. With her iron grip on the household finances and occasional “presents” from Mr. Satan, she's certain they can afford a nice vacation this year—someplace cold, she thinks, where Master Roshi can't magically turn up to ogle anyone.

When Marron goes upstairs, though, Juuhachigou-san turns back to Krillin. Her eyes narrow, and the good mood drops faster than Goku diving for a fallen egg roll.

“All right,” she says. “What's wrong?”

Krillin jumps. “Er. What?”

The blue eyes are suddenly knife-sharp. “Don't play games with me, Krillin. Something's been bothering you all night.”

“Um. It's …” Krillin hems and haws for a minute. “It's … nothing? I think?”

“Krillin.”

“All right, all right!” He holds up his hands in defeat. “It's just something strange I noticed today. About … Marron.”

A flash of panic crosses Juuhachigou-san's face, but she forces it away before it can more than register. She's good at putting on a cold front, so much that it's automatic, but Krillin feels a pang at the sight. He's the strongest human alive, and Juuhachigou-san is light-years past him in power—yet in the circles they travel in, their daughter is barely a gnat. Beyond a kid's self-defense class, Marron has never shown any aptitude for ki manipulation or anything to do with fighting. She wants to be a dancer.

“I don't think it's bad!” he interjects hurriedly. “I mean … I don't … um. I don't really think it's bad. It's just strange.”

Juuhachigou's fists clench, but she doesn't yell or throw anything. She thrums with tension like a taut wire. “I know when you're lying, Krillin. I can read your heartbeat and blood pressure.”

Oh, right. His wife's a cyborg. “Juuhachigou-san!” he says desperately. “All right, it does scare me! It's not …” His brow furrows. “Juuhachigou-san, it's not quite human ki.”

“What?” The cold mask cracks again. “What do you mean, not human?”

“Not QUITE human! There's definitely human in there. Lots of human. There's just something extra.” Krillin laughs, trying to play it off. “I mean, it's not like I think you cheated on me or something! Hah, anyone can tell she's our daughter! I know her dad's human!”

“But her mother isn't.”

“No! Juuhachigou-san, I didn't mean—“

A growl, and then a sigh. Juuhachigou closes her eyes, and to his surprise, her fists uncurl. “No,” she says resignedly. “I know you didn't.”

“I'm probably just out of practice at sensing ki,” Krillin said hopefully. “Or maybe she's coming down with something? Ki is funny that way. We can take her to the doctor tomorrow, just to make sure.”

“Yes. We'll do that.” Juuhachigou frowns. “But if there isn't anything wrong with her, then I'm taking her to Bulma.”

“Wh—why Bulma?”

“Because Bulma has the blueprints for my brother.” Juuhachigou's voice is flat. “And blueprints for my brother are a lot like blueprints for me.”

“Juuhachigou-san, I'm sure there's nothing—“

“Krillin. Can you sense my ki?”

Awkward. Krillin swallows. “No.”

“Human father with ki. Cyborg mother with no ki. Daughter's ki is 'strange.'” She quotes his word back at him with a kind of despairing scorn. “We're not arguing about this.”

“No,” Krillin says sadly. “I guess we're not.”

* * *

Marron's doctor appointment goes badly. She's perfectly healthy: no colds, no fevers, not even food poisoning or lapsed vaccines. “I wish all my patients were in such good shape!” says the doctor, happily offering Marron a lollipop.

Krillin comes home to an ultimatum. Juuhachigou-san is taking Marron to Bulma that weekend, and Krillin can choose to come with or not. Either way, it's going to happen. Juuhachigou's eyes are hard and cold, her mouth set in a firm line. Krillin says he'll drive them.

“We just want to make sure you're healthy, sweetheart,” he says as he makes sure Marron is buckled into the backseat. Juuhachigou is loading overnight bags into the trunk, just in case. “Bulma knows a lot more than a lot of doctors. And I bet she has better lollipops, too.”

“I hope so,” Marron says, pouting. “He gave me watermelon flavor.”

Krillin recoils. “Watermelon! Hang on, I need to call the station. That doctor has to be arrested!” Marron giggles, and Juuhachigou-san manages a small smile.

The drive goes smoothly. Juuhachigou already called ahead, and the Capsule Corp. security waves them around back, to the big steel-and-concrete machine workshops. A slim figure in a blue jumpsuit is already waiting on the lawn, a roll of blueprints under her arm.

“Bulmaaaaa!” Marron calls, jumping out of the car and dashing across the lawn towards her. The blue-haired genius laughs and lets out an “oof!” as she receives fifty pounds of laser-guided Marron in the legs.

“Oh, wow! Look at you!” Bulma's fallen on her butt in the grass, but she manages to laugh and pat Marron's head. “You've gotten so big!”

“She sure has!” Krillin says. He's doing his best to keep the cheerful look on his face, but he's sure Juuhachigou's sensors are picking up his suppressed fear. His palms are sweaty. “She just keeps growing and growing! Guess which side of the family she gets it from.”

“Well, just so long as she's healthy, right?” Bulma says as she picks herself up, dusting off the grass clippings. “A very loud Prince of All Saiyans will be happy to tell you that height doesn't mean anything. Meanwhile, I know for a fact he's glad Trunks takes after me. Shall we go on in and get started?”

The machine lab Bulma shows them to reminds Krillin of an auto mechanic shop. There are several long metal tables and computer consoles, but also a number gutted engines and mysterious energy projectors in various states of completion. One table is completely covered in blueprints for new capsule vehicles. But the place is spotless, and per the terms of their agreement, there's a candy dish sitting on the blueprints.

Marron squeaks and aims straight for the sugar, but Juuhachigou outmaneuvers her. “No,” she says firmly, impervious to her daughter's puppy eyes. “Examination first, then candy. Bulma, get started.”

“Oh, of course! Don't mind me, just a scientific genius being ordered around like the maid,” Bulma mutters. “Climb up here, Marron, and we'll see what's going on.”

Marron can't quite make it up onto the table by herself, so Krillin lifts her up. As Bulma's eyes meet his past his daughter, Krillin knows he isn't hiding his fear well enough. Juuhachigou steps up beside him, and her hand makes its way into his. Bulma nods to them both and turns back to Marron.

“All right, this won't hurt at all,” Bulma chirps. She's dropped her roll of blueprints onto another table, but isn't opening it. Instead, she grabs what looks like a modified Saiyan scouter from the table and puts it on, plugging a long trailing wire into a socket over her temple. The other end of the wire goes into something that Krillin, if he didn't know Bulma, would call a graphing calculator. “You know what ki is, don't you?”

Marron nods. “It's a special energy. Everyone has some, but some people have lots, and they can use it to do stuff. Daddy uses it to make things go KABOOM! POW! FWA-SHH!” She throws up her hands, mimicking the motions for the Kienzan. “And sometimes like this!”

Juuhachigou's hand tightens on Krillin's, hard enough to make the bones creak. He knows that if he looks up at her, she'll be perfectly stone-faced. Practically glacial. But she's afraid for their daughter, and the pressure of her hand says more than her expression could at times like these.

“Okay. Well, I'm going to use this little thingy here to scan you, and then we can get a read on your power levels. Just like going for a checkup.”

“I still get a lollipop, right?” Marron knows what her priorities are.

“After,” Juuhachigou interjects again. Marron pouts, but settles down as Bulma turns on the scanner.

Krillin expects more—flash, for lack of any better word. Flash and pizazz. Instead, Bulma just looks Marron up and down a few times, squinting through the tinted glass of the scouter eyepiece. She holds up the strange calculator thing and waves it back and forth, a gesture familiar from years of watching her operate the Dragon Radar.

She frowns, but quickly wipes the expression off her face before Marron can see it. Adjusting a dial on the side of the scouter, she circles the table, still looking back and forth between Marron and the handset.

“Now that's interesting,” she says to herself. “Very interesting." A pause. "Very, very interesting."

“She's doing that on purpose,” Juuhachigou murmurs. Krillin leans into her a little bit, his head resting against the top of her ribcage, and tries to mutely offer comfort.

After five minutes of Bulma circling and muttering and making notes, Marron is clearly getting bored with the whole business. “Is it over now?” she demands. Her expression is threatening to ascend to Super Pouting 2, and Krillin knows he and Juuachigou-san's nerves are frayed enough already without Marron having a tantrum miles from home. Fortunately, Bulma nods and takes off her scouter.

“For now, sure. We might need another checkup soon.” She grabs the candy bowl off the table and offers it to Marron. “We have grape, cherry, apple, raspberry, chocolate, orange, and blue-flavored. Take your pick.”

“Chocolate!” Marron demands, and her request is granted. She beams up at Bulma. “Thank you, Miss Bulma! Can I go play with Trunks?”

“Sure,” Bulma says before Krillin or Juuhachigou can object. “He should be up in his suite, in the green tower. Level Four. Tell him I said you can play his video games.”

“Yay!” And Marron dashes out.

“That sounds like a diversionary tactic,” Juuhachigou says. Krillin agrees, though some part of him is still wondering what the heck blue flavor is.

“Oh, definitely.” Bulma is plugging the handset into her computer, which lights up as it begins downloading data. “Trunks hates it when people go in his room, but he'd never hurt Marron, so he has to shut up and take it. I have to knock my Saiyans down a peg whenever I can. Now.” She turns. “Krillin, what did you see when you sensed Marron's ki?”

“I … don't know.” Krillin winces a little at that admission. “It was human, definitely human, but sort of … not right. Like it was, I don't know, malfunctioning or something.”

Juuhachigou's mouth twists at the word 'malfunction,' but Bulma nods. “That's interesting, because I got something very similar. Her power level was extremely inconsistent. It was like her ki was constantly in flux, developing holes and strange off-shoots and patterns. I'd say 'chaotic,' but it's not even close to the strangest thing we've seen.”

“How can you say that?” Juuhachigou demands. “Something is wrong with Marron, and you're calm and casual about it? Fix her!”

Bulma glares. “First, I've barely started, Little Miss Crazypants. Second, you don't get to tell me to do anything—I'm the smartest, richest woman on the planet, and I have a very scary husband who doesn't like you very much, so back off. Third, we don't know that anything's wrong yet, so cool your jets!”

“Uh … Holes in her ki sounds pretty bad,” Krillin volunteers. He really hates it when women start fighting: youthful experience with Lunch and Chi-Chi has taught him that even if the men are often stronger, the women are scarier. And Juuhachigou-san doesn't appreciate being smarted off to by anyone who can't even punch through a wall. Krillin squeezes his wife's hand. “But Juuhachigou-san, Marron seems fine. She's happy and healthy. We can fix this, but Bulma's still the best person to help figure it out.”

Juuhachigou inhales. “Fine. But if you want to send your husband after me, Bulma, remind him who broke his—“

“Juuhachigou-san, please,” Krillin pleads.

Bulma looks back and forth between them. To Krillin's surprise, she visibly softens, and the angry line between her eyebrows smooths away. “I understand,” she says. “If I thought someone was keeping me from helping Trunks and Bra, I'd kill them too.”

Juuhachigou nods mutely. Krillin allows himself to relax a fraction.

“She does seem to be healthy,” Bulma continues after a pause, looking at the data currently compiling on her computer screen. “If there's anything physical affecting her ki, it must be pretty sneaky. The problem is that the scientific study of ki in humans is still a very new and inexact science. Me and Gohan have pretty much had to build it from scratch, and Gohan's all about theory and meditation. Me, I like numbers and control groups. If I had more samples to work with, we might get somewhere.”

“Well, you have power readings on us,” Krillin offers. “Do you need new ones?”

“No, not just power readings. DNA samples.” Bulma leans back against the desk, tapping her fingers on the metal. “I mean, we have the blueprints for Juunanagou—“ She gestures to the roll of prints still lying on the other table “—but, Juuhachigou, he's even better than you at avoiding me. I don't even have blood types for either of you. The whole organic aspect is a blank. If Juunanagou had a kid, we could compare the readings from that one and see if it possibly is an inherited condition. It could be something entirely mundane, or possibly the result of gestating in a ki-free environment, or just a bad day for my diagnostic equipment.”

A spark of hope. “But Juunanagou does have a kid!” Krillin exclaims. “Three of them! Okay, wait, two are adopted. But—“

Bulma's eyebrows shoot up. “He does?” She looks to Juuhachigou for confirmation, and Krillin would feel slightly offended by that if Juuhachigou wasn't suddenly perking up as well. (Which, by Juuhachigou standards, means that her eyebrows have raised a quarter of an inch.) “Is that true?”

“It is,” Juuhachigou confirms. “A daughter, about two years younger than Marron.”

“And Juunanagou hasn't reported anything odd about her ki?”

At that, Juuhachigou snorts. “He wouldn't be able to tell,” she says. “Ki sensing is very hard for us, and he didn't bother try learning.”

“That does fit with what I know of him,” Bulma says wryly. “Listen. I do want to help you. We all have to stick together, right? But while I'm analyzing the data I've collected today, it would be a huge help if you could persuade your crazy brother to hand over some samples. Blood and hair from him, his wife, and his daughter would be perfect, plus a base power level reading if you can get it. I'll give you a scouter model that'll sync up with my databanks and transmit the results remotely. I can have my team call your doctor's office and get Marron's latest test records, so we won't need to scare her by asking for blood here. And then we can figure out what's going on, and if this is a sign of any strange incoming disaster, we can head it off before it gets to universe-level. Sound like a plan?”

Never mind the scary stuff, Krillin loves Bulma. Platonically, but right then, oh boy does he love Bulma. “That sounds perfect,” he says fervently. “Thank you, Bulma! We owe you one.”

“Actually, by my count you owe me about fifty-seven, but that's okay.” The scientist winks. “I'll give you this one for free.”

Juuhachigou says nothing, but she and Bulma share a long look. Then the android nods, once, and turns away. “Krillin, you go call Juunanagou,” she says. “I want to talk to Bulma about those blueprints.”

Recognizing a cue when he hears it, Krillin nods. He stretches up to give his wife a kiss and leaves the machine lab.

* * *

Contacting his brother-in-law is something of a new development for Krillin. The twins had occasionally called each other, but an in-person encounter was somewhat rarer. Between seeing him be devoured by Cell and meeting him again on the island before the Universe Survival Tournament, Krillin met Juunanagou precisely once—when the android abruptly dropped by Kame House two months after Marron was born. Krillin still isn't sure who was more surprised, him or Juunanagou. Juuhachigou, of course, had handled the whole thing with her usual aplomb and merely smiled at the sight of the gobsmacked Juunanagou. In her brother's defense, Juuhachigou had been nursing an infant when Juunanagou landed on the beach, and of all the things he might have expected that probably hadn't been among them.

Since the Tournament, though, relations have been somewhat warmer. Krillin actually has a number for Juunanagou now, and the two families have met a few times so that the cousins can get to know each other. In Krillin's mind, Juunanagou has been tentatively downgraded from “future murderer of all humanity” to “my wife's weird brother who lives in the woods,” which involves just as many guns and creepy remote cabins but fewer massacres. Krillin is okay with that.

(Though he still doesn't understand how his brother-in-law managed to find and marry a woman who's not only nice, but not even a bit scary or dangerous. It's a mystery for the ages.)

The phone rings six times before picking up. “It's Juunanagou,” says the familiar flat voice on the other end. “What do you want?”

“Juunanagou-san! Hey, it's Krillin!”

“I know. I have caller ID. What is it?”

“Uh.” Not in the mood for small talk, then. “Juuhachigou-san and I … sort of need a favor.”

Juunanagou chuckles. “Babysitting again? I keep telling you, Marron is old enough to look after herself for a couple of days. Just leave out water and let her forage.”

Krillin would resent that, but he knows that if he suggested Juunanagou do such a thing with his own children, the android would leave Krillin's corpse on a stake in his front yard. If jabs, insults, and a facade of being uncaring are the price to be paid for getting along with Juuhachigou-san's only brother, Krillin can survive.

“Not quite. I mean, yeah, we'll be bringing Marron, but it's a little different than that. Sort of … awkward.”

“More awkward than normal?”

“Uh, maybe …”

“Hmph, it figures. But Koseki and the kids will be glad to see—wait a minute.” A burst of static makes Krillin wince, followed by the sound of wind as the holder of the phone cuts into a run. Then Juunanagou's voice comes through again, slightly distant. “Hey! Hey, you! Yes, you with the idiotic hair. You know, you set up a pretty nice campsite for a blind man—“ He's cut off by a remark Krillin can't hear. “You're not blind? I thought you must be, because you clearly weren't able to read the signs that prohibit fires in this area … Yes, that does include your cigarettes. … Yes, because of forest fires, and no, they're not 'nothing.' Have you ever had to clean up the corpses of animals that were roasted alive? … Well, I don't come to your place of business and murder your coworkers in front of you, so don't come to my park and set fires … Say that again, friend. Please.” The android's voice comes back clearly. “Krillin, I have to go. There's a man here who's really needs me to check his eyes. You and Juuhachigou drop by any time.”

The phone clicks off. Krillin puts it down and feels a slight twinge of pity for the errant camper who's attracted Juunanagou's wrath. From what he'd heard of them, they hadn't been exactly cooperative, but Juunanagou takes his job very seriously. And after lasting through the Universe Survival Tournament together, Krillin has little doubt that his android brother-in-law is willing to abuse Solar Flare x100 (or any other technique he can steal) to make his point to the alleged blind man.

A quick phone call won't have given Bulma and Juuhachigou-san the time they need to discuss the blueprints. Krillin decides to take the long way around and explore the Capsule Corporation grounds a little first.

Chapter Text

Juuhachigou-san comes out of the machine shop looking tense and irritated. When she crosses the lawn, though, she finds Krillin, Marron, and a deeply embarrassed Trunks engaged in a lively game of Battle Monsters. (Trunks, being a sophisticated teenager, has recently disavowed his Battle Monsters card collection. But if playing cards will keep Marron out of his video game collection, then just call him Monster Master Trunks. Gotta kill 'em all!) Krillin looks up from mourning the loss of his Flammazoid to see his wife watching them, arms crossed, a strangely lost look in her eyes. When his gaze meets hers, though, a small smile flickers across her face.

“Having fun?” she says, crossing her arms.

“No,” Krillin says. “Marron and Trunks keep ganging up on me.”

“That's what you get for building a team that's all Elementals,” says Trunks, with the self-assured, oh-so-punchable attitude of the expert.

Marron points at Trunks' cards. “You have Elementals too!” she points out, making Trunks shush her before she can give away his whole hand.

“Get away! You can't peek at my cards!”

“Too late! Nyah, nyah, nyah!”

“Ugh, get off me!”

“Did you call my brother?” Juuhachigou asks, averting her eyes from the sight of a Saiyan princeling being affectionately mauled by a small blonde human.

Krillin nods and pulls out a pair of capsules. “He says drop by any time, so I thought we could go now. Since the road's gonna be pretty jammed with the weekend vacation crowd, I encapsulated the car and the luggage already. Flying will be much faster.”

“Efficient.” Juuhachigou nods. “Marron, let Trunks up. You're going to muss your dress.”

“But Mama—“

“No buts. We're going to stay with your uncle and aunt tonight.”

Marron lights up at that, and she willingly jumps off the pinned Trunks. “Really?”

“Yes, honey,” Krillin chips in. “And we're gonna be flying fast, so you need to hold on tight. Do you want to ride with mommy or me?”

After a moment of agonizing choice, Marron elects to ride with her mother, and Krillin stows the capsules and thanks Trunks for his forbearance. Trunks mutters something about it being good training, though Krillin suspects he'll be trying to forget the whole thing once the family is out of sight. Poor Trunks: combine adolescent awkwardness with Saiyan royalty and near-unthinkable power, and you have one hell of a confused kid.

They lift off easily, ascending to a height of about a thousand feet. Marron is used to riding with them and is easily tucked up in Juuhachigou's arms, holding tightly to her mother's shirt. If something happens to them while they're in midair, Marron's emergency pack will sense a sudden drop towards terminal velocity and activate a protective anti-grav shell to ensure she lands safely. It's an expensive piece of tech, too expensive for them, but Bulma gave it to them for free. (One of the fifty-seven favors Krillin's sure he owes her.)

Marron loves flying. She smiles and wiggles closer to Juuhachigou-san, big blue eyes sparkling as she looks down at the world below. The coast sweeps away underneath them, and then there's nothing but the vast expanse of the ocean, dotted here and there with ships and tiny islands. Marron's grin is as big and bright as the horizon.

When she was born, Krillin and Juuhachigou had wondered what kind of life they were going to give her. They still wonder. At birth her power levels were considered normal, even low for a human. Barely able to be sensed. As she's grown older, she's had her temper tantrums and rough patches, but even Juuhachigou-san—the somewhat more critical and hard-eyed parent, a necessary evil since Krillin is shamelessly under his baby girl's thumb—has to admit that Marron doesn't have much of a killer instinct.

They've done what they can. Given her self-defense training, taught her emergency procedures in case of another Cell or an alien invasion, written their wills, and established a chain of custody so that if they die permanently, there will be someone to look after her.

But should they be doing more? Should they be insisting that she learn to fight—not like a normal human, but like a Z warrior? Should she learn to fly and fling the Kienzan?

Krillin has nightmares about the future. Sometimes Juuhachigou does too, though she hates to admit it. Krillin knows the scene vividly: himself and his wife, bound by some unspecified power (Freeza? Cell? Buu? Beerus? Zen-Oh? There's so many to choose from), as Marron is cut down or carried off, screaming, into the darkness.

She shows no inclination to be a fighter. She's never asked to fight. But neither did Gohan, and look how that worked out.

But then again, Gohan has Saiyan blood. Krillin's seen the Saiyans at work and knows that even the best of them, even the ones with mostly human ancestry, have some kind of fighting drive that humans can't equal. Goku, at least, can't stop training any more than he can stop breathing. Marron doesn't have that worry.

But Gohan probably wouldn't be fighting these days if it hadn't been for enemies presenting themselves. Shouldn't Marron be prepared?

But human strength means so little now, in battles against gods.

But they survived the Tournament partially thanks to human ingenuity …

But that was a chance in a million …

Around and around the arguments go. They no longer even need to voice their concerns; Krillin and Juuhachigou-san each know that the other is wrestling with the same question. Now Krillin can't help wondering if what's wrong with Marron's ki is going to push them in one direction or another—and whether he's awful for feeling a little glad that the decision could be taken off his hands.

Not that he says that out loud, of course. Morality and his particular parenting failures aren't exactly sparkling conversation for a family day out. Especially not when Marron is eagerly pointing out the pod of whales far, far below, and demanding to know if they have names and what they like to eat.

Juuhachigou-san answers her questions patiently. She's not smiling, but while her smile is still a rare thing, the fondness in her voice is unmistakable. Once again, Krillin feels his heart fill to overflowing.

His wife and his daughter. Could he have ever imagined this? In his temple days he'd barely dared to go further than wishing himself a girlfriend, and now he sees his wife cradling his daughter as they soar through the clouds …

… on his way to his brother-in-law's, all right, which is kind of a different problem, but a lot less of a one than it used to be.

Despite everything, Krillin has a life he barely dared to dream of. He only hopes they'll find some answers, and that this isn't the beginning of some new battle.

* * *

Juunanagou's home is on the edge of a nature park on Westbridge Island. All the rangers attached to the island chain keep their homes in that area, with their families forming a small community that supports each other when the rangers are sent away on long assignments. But as could be expected, Juunanagou happily scoffs at the idea of community: his house is the one furthest from anyone else. Krillin's brother-in-law likes privacy.

At the very end of a long dirt road is what must have once been a hunting cabin, now awkwardly tacked onto a small capsule house. A well-worn truck is pulled up outside, with a bed containing two bolted-down cages big enough for lions. There's no fence or backyard (unless you count the whole park as the backyard), but a decent-sized patio has been laid down for some outdoor chairs, a grill, and a very carefully screened fire pit. Judging by the char marks on the concrete, someone has been experimenting with either ki blasts or so-good-they're-probably-illegal fireworks. A couple of toys are scattered around, and the cabin part of the house can use a fresh coat of paint.

Juuhachigou-san touches down on the edge of the patio, followed a moment later by Krillin. He's barely gotten both feet on the ground before the back door slams open and two brown-haired boys come stampeding out.

“You're here!” one of them hollers. Krillin just has enough time to strengthen his stance before both of them crash into him.

Krillin has, for some reason he can't figure out, found favor in the eyes of Juunanagou's adopted sons. Something to do with being closer to their height, perhaps, or maybe it's his willingness to abuse his flight and ki abilities for their amusement—something Juuhachigou-san will only do at home, for Marron, behind at least two locked doors. The boys call out greetings to his wife, but it's Krillin they happily maul. Marron, seeing an opportunity, jumps down from her mother's arms and joins in the dogpiling, while Juuhachigou-san watches in amusement.

“Tennen! Toishi!” a woman's voice calls. A moment later Koseki emerges from the backyard shed, a heavy hiking backpack slung over one shoulder. Her curly brown hair is pulled back in a bun, and there are fresh patches of sunburn on her cheeks. “Down! No attacking your uncle!”

“But Mommmm,” Tennen and Toishi chorus in perfect harmony. It would be creepy if they weren't also wearing identical hangdog expressions of suffering. Clearly, no one has ever been so cruel to them in their entire lives as Koseki is now.

“But nothing. You know either of them could break you in half.” Koseki gives each of the boys a light swat on the head, one with each hand. “So let's all behave nicely, all right? Krillin-san, Juuhachigou-san, Marron-kun—welcome! Sorry about the reception.”

“That's okay,” Krillin wheezes from the ground. Affectionate trampling is still trampling, after all. Juuhachigou-san helps him up and nods to Koseki.

The news that Juunanagou was married had been difficult for Krillin to get his head around. Ever since their first meeting, Juunanagou has been the more off of the two twins: stealing cars he doesn't need, carrying guns he doesn't use, facing Imperfect Cell from pure Vegeta-like arrogant pride, and thrashing Piccolo so badly that the Namekian had to fuse with Kami himself to stand a chance. Even after the Cell Games, when the androids' failure to go on a rampage eased the tension somewhat and Krillin himself had begun courting the cool blonde love of his life, said love's brother always was filed in his mind under “Will probably try to kill me sometime soon.”

So even now, when the Tournament has brought them all closer together than ever before, the thought of Juunanagou being married to a normal woman without the slightest hint of ki power—well, that's still just kind of weird, frankly. And kids? He has kids? What is he teaching them?

The first meeting of the extended families had been somewhat awkward.

Koseki, though, helped smooth things over. A zoologist specializing in wild animal rehabilitation and release, she—as Krillin has occasionally joked—possesses the perfect skill set for controlling Juunanagou. Now she does the same thing with the currently escaping boys, scooping one up and snagging the other by his shirt collar.

“I'm afraid they've been waiting for your next visit,” she explains a little apologetically. “Tennen started martial arts classes in town, and Toishi is taking up gymnastics. But both want to learn to fly, and Juunanagou can't teach them.”

“He won't teach us,” Tennen corrects. The shorter and more aggressive of the twins, he appears to have taken Juunanagou's lack of teaching skills as a personal affront. “He just says all martial artists are assholes—“

“Tennen!” his mother scolds.

“Well, he does!”

“And if he jumped off a cliff, would you do that too?”

“Maybe if he taught me to fly, I could!”

“In the house,” Koseki says firmly. “Both of you. You can bother your aunt and uncle later, once they've settled in.”

The two boys retreat, Tennen much more disgruntled than the vague and amiable Toishi, and Koseki shakes her head and gestures Krillin and Juuhachigou-san to come into the house.

Inside, the place feels … homey, albeit rougher and more, er, rustic than Krillin thinks of as comfortable. (So sue him. The number of times he's died for humanity, he deserves a comfy couch.) Most of the fixtures are fifteen to twenty years old and beaten up in one way or another: the kitchen table is scarred from years of spills and misplaced knives, and the stovetop has man-sized fingermarks pressed into the metal. Clearly, an android lost his temper with his cooking at some point. There's a rifle hanging over the kitchen door and a dart gun in the cabinet. Krillin can sense a small, low energy, barely on the edge of existence, asleep in the bedroom.

There are faded patches on the wallpaper that show where hunting trophies used to hang, but several pieces of décor are newer: mostly framed photographs from the family's world cruise. One in particular draws Krillin's attention. It shows the family group leaning against the ship's railing, a vast jungle coast in the distance behind them. Koseki is smiling with the baby in her arms, but Tennen and Toishi have been caught in the act of climbing their father, who's actually striking a pose and has one twin hanging off each arm. Krillin fixes the goofy image in his memory and, despite the seriousness of their errand, can't help grinning a little.

Koseki drops her backpack by the door and bustles around, doing her best to making them welcome. Soon there's a kettle boiling on the stove, and the tea she serves them is hot and strong enough to stain the ceramic mugs. It's probably the kind of thing you're grateful for when it's three in the morning and you're freezing your feet off out in the woods.

(Nevertheless, Krillin is glad that Oolong isn't there to make a fuss about it. The pig can be surprisingly snobby about odd things.)

“So,” Koseki says, once they're all seated with their drinks. “Did you just want to get out of the city for a few days? If so, I don't blame you—it seems like every other day, we're hearing reports about things blowing up out there. But I warn you, the kids will be all over you while you're here.”

“That's not quite it,” Krillin says cautiously. “We, er, wanted to talk to Juunanagou about some stuff. When is he going to be home?”

“In about an hour.” Koseki sips her tea. “You're lucky you came when you did; he's not going back out to Sentry Island until next week. They still have him doing the rounds of the campgrounds, though, and it's making him a little annoyed.”

Krillin chuckles, and Juuhachigou-san smiles a little. “Someone must be punishing him,” she says, tapping her fingertips against her mug of tea. “Or punishing the campers with him.”

“Well … He did tell Hagiwara-san that letting tourists camp on Site B would just lead to seeing natural selection in action,” Koseki admits, looking somewhat exasperated. “Hagiwara-san doesn't like having his decisions questioned, especially when increasing the number of camping spots is good for park revenue. But since Site B has multiple semi-active geysers, most of the other rangers agreed with him. When it comes to tourists, you know, posting signs that say 'These are not hot springs, please do not bathe here' just isn't enough. So Hagiwara-san did eventually change the plan, but now Juunanagou is on campsite inspection duty whenever he's on the main island.”

“It did sound like he was, uh, negotiating with a camper when I called him,” Krillin volunteers.

Koseki frowns. “Negotiating or negotiating?”

“I'm not sure what the difference is, but apparently this guy wasn't practicing fire safety and throwing away lit cigarettes.”

“Oh, well, that's different.” Koseki shrugs it off and pours more tea. Clearly, anyone not practicing fire safety in the park deserves to have Juunanagou happen to them.

Krillin can't help wondering if all the rangers and park personnel feel the same way. If so, no wonder his brother-in-law fits into this life so well: Krillin knows how much it can change the outcome of a dangerous situation to have someone with ki training helping to hold the line, whether it's against bank robbers or a forest fire. Even if that someone is short and noseless, or prone to creepy cold-eyed stares.

(He tries not to use his own ki abilities when he's at work, but he can only survive so many gunshots before the other officers start wondering.)

They spend a pleasant few minutes in conversation, sharing news of the other Z warriors and life in general. Koseki is especially interested in news of the Saiyans and Piccolo: though she's married to a cyborg, the fact that aliens live on Earth still seems incredible to her. If she ever gets to the Lookout, she'll spend hours pestering Dende about Namekian flora and fauna when he's supposed to be guarding the planet.

But then, if she ever gets to the Lookout, it'll probably be because the universe is ending again and they're all gathering their loved ones for a last stand. Under those circumstances, talking about Namekian animals can hardly hurt anyone.

Time passes quickly in good company, and Krillin is a little surprised to be jolted out of a discussion about Saiyan eating habits by the roar of a truck engine. It's followed immediately by a cry from Marron. “Uncle's coming!” she says, jumping up from the table.

“Not yet,” Koseki says, checking the clock. 

But Marron shakes her head. “Uncle's coming home!” she insists.

And sure enough, the truck pulls neatly to a stop just outside the cobbled-together house. It's an odd beast of a vehicle: seemingly built on a Jeep structure, but that engine sounds like no Jeep Krillin's ever encountered, and it's clearly been modified and loaded for bear. If he has to pick a name for it, it would be “sport-utility tank.”

The kids swarm Juunanagou as he gets out, balancing two bags of groceries and an enormous jug of kerosene. Tennen and Toishi demand to know if he's brought them anything special from town, while Marron settles for hypersonic squealing and clinging to her uncle's leg. The killer android—destined terror of the future, murderer of Dr. Gero, warrior who crushed some of the most powerful, desperate combatants in all the multiverse—struggles to make his way through the circling children without stepping on anybody.

“I told you,” Juunanagou says to Koseki as he drops the groceries on the table. “We need to put them on leashes.” Koseki rolls her eyes and kisses him, making Juunanagou smile just a fraction and put his arms around her. He affects not to notice Krillin and Juuhachigou until Juuhachigou clears her throat.

“Oh, you're here,” he says, with surprise that fools absolutely nobody. “What was it you wanted, anyway?”

“Hello to you too, little brother,” Juuhachigou deadpans, making Juunanagou's eyes narrow just a fraction. The twins still don't know which of them is older, and yes, it absolutely is something they use when the other is acting immature. “We wanted to get out of the city for a couple of days. Marron hasn't been feeling too well.”

So clearly, the task of explaining the “hi, can we have some of your DNA” thing is falling to Krillin. That's all right with him; as warm and loving as Juuhachigou-san can be in private, she's never been good at talking out difficulties like this. Juunanagou just shrugs, either accepting the explanation or simply making a show of not caring, and tells Tennen and Toishi to lay out futons for the guests. The twins don't seem terribly eager to do so, and Juunanagou pointedly escorts them to the guest room to make sure it gets done.

Koseki starts a pot of water boiling for rice, tells Krillin and Juuhachigou to make themselves comfortable, and heads into the master bedroom. When she returns, she's followed by another child, blinking sleepily and rubbing her eyes.

Krillin and Juuhachigou exchange glances. They've met their niece before—very briefly—but seeing her now, after what they've just been through with Marron, puts everything in a whole new light.

Suishou is still young enough to be cranky after an afternoon nap. She takes after her father, with sharp blue eyes and long black hair, but the hair has a touch of her mother's curl. Right now, rumpled and wearing a pair of pajamas printed with bunny rabbits, her hair in a frazzled mess, she looks like the most harmless thing ever created. She doesn't seem to notice her aunt and uncle are in the kitchen; she stumbles after Koseki like a small, bunny-wearing zombie or a particularly tiny drunk. Koseki seats her at the table and gives her a cup of water, which she sips quietly.

Suishou. The only other genetic child of a Gero android. Possibly the key to solving the riddle of Marron's damaged ki—or, if something has gone wrong that they can't fix, possibly another victim of the same syndrome.

The thought pushes Krillin to speak. As Juunanagou comes back into the room, trailed by the bickering twins, Krillin scratches the back of his head. “Eh … Juunanagou?”

“Hmm?” The android looks up. It's always a little strange for Krillin to see his wife's eyes in another face, but it's especially nerve-wracking now, knowing what he's about to do. “What is it?”

“Can I talk to you for a minute? It's … fighter stuff.”

Juunanagou raises an eyebrow. “All right, talk.”

“Talk privately, I mean.”

“Koseki and the kids know everything. You can say anything you want in front of them.”

At that, Juuhachigou-san scoffs, thankfully drawing her brother's attention off the reddening Krillin for a minute. “Everything? Even the Tournament?”

Juunanagou stiffens, and for a moment, a look of pure terror flashes across his face. It's gone almost before Krillin can blink, but he saw it. And from her slight intake of breath, he knows Juuhachigou-san saw it too.

He doesn't have to think hard. Clearly, Juunanagou's family doesn't know quite everything.

“What tournament?” Tennen asks.

Krillin jumps in quickly, on firmer ground here. “Just one of the fights we had back in the day,” he says, grinning with a humor he doesn't really feel. “You know your dad and aunt weren't always squeaky-clean! A few things got broken.”

“Oh,” Tennen says, visibly losing interest. While the kids know some of the details of the past, they've heard all the child-appropriate stories (read: the stories generously filtered through a layer of diplomatic lies) before, and “a few things got broken” doesn't rank very high in either of their families.

“So,” Krillin continues, looking back at Juunanagou. “Outside? It'll just take a minute, I swear.”

Juunanagou's mouth is a thin line. “Fine. I need to go clean up out there anyway. Try and keep up.”

* * *

The pair of them head out the back door, crossing the patio and the silent fire pit. Behind them, the sounds of the children's voices and their wives' congenial conversation begin to fade, muffled by the foliage and the sounds of the forest. Barely twenty steps from the edge of the patio, they might be alone in the world. Juunanagou takes his privacy seriously, and the forest is thick here. Evening is falling.

“All right,” Juuanangou says after a few minutes. His hands are in his pockets, and if Krillin was a less kind man, he might say the android is pouting a little. He's got a metal bucket looped over one arm, but it's empty. Probably some mysterious park ranger thing. “Let's get one thing straight,” he continues. “Don't talk about the Tournament in front of my family, shrimp. Ever.”

This would, Krillin thinks, be a good place to hide a body. Good thing everyone's friendly these days, even if Juunanagou does tend to give off the impression of someone with a collection of heads in his basement. “All right, but I wasn't going to. We … we don't really mention it in front of Marron, either.”

“Good,” Juunanagou grunts. They walk on.

“So,” Krillin says.”

“So.”

“So, er …”

“So you were lying.”

Krillin blinks. “Huh?”

“'Fighter stuff,'” Juunanagou quotes. They've reached a small clearing with some moss-covered rocks, and there's the sound of a stream nearby. Yep, not a bad place to hide a body. “And you said something was going on with Marron, and my sister claims the kid's sick,” the android continues, arching an eyebrow. “But Juuhachigou'd get the Dragon Balls or bully one of those magic beans out of your friends before admitting she needs help with anything. So what's going on?”

“Yeah. Er. Well. It's sort of about Marron's health, and about fighter stuff too.”

“What? Has she decided she wants to fight, and you're looking for reasons to say no?”

“No. Right now, she wants to be a veterinarian.” Juunanagou grunts in approval. “Or the next Great Saiyawoman.”

“ … Huh.” Juunanagou considers that for a moment, one eyebrow cocked. “Juuhachigou might have something to say about the outfit.”

“I think Juuhachigou-san's just quietly hoping that idea goes away.”

“Good luck with that. If Marron grows up any more like my sister, she's going to be hell on wheels, no matter what she does.”

Oh thank Kami, a segue. “Well, we want to make sure she grows up right,” Krillin says, kicking at a rock in his path. “Whatever she does, I mean. We want her to be happy and healthy.”

“Uh-huh.” Juunanagou shoots him a skeptical look under his curtain of black hair. “I know the feeling.”

“And that's sort of why we're here.” Krillin halts, forcing himself to be calm. They've fought together, and they're family: Juunanagou isn't going to be irrational. “There's something wrong with Marron's ki. We think it might be in her DNA.”

Juunanagou stops too. “What?”

“We don't know anything about family illnesses, see,” Krillin hurriedly explains. “I don't have any family, and Juuhachigou-san doesn't remember anything much about before she was Juuhachigou-san, and you never said anything about it either, so we don't know if there's something that might be genetic that we can't control, or if maybe Juuhachigou-san being altered had something to do with it. So we went to Bulma, and Bulma suggested we get a DNA sample from you and Suishou—just a little one—and maybe she could do some science stuff with it—?”

A strange look is coming over Juunanagou's face. Clearly, mentioning someone doing anything science-related with his child's DNA is not the best way to get his sympathy. Krillin babbles on, hurrying to get out the details as fast as he can before Juunanagou gets any crazy ideas. “Just for testing! Making sure there's nothing in, y'know, the family. Nothing would happen, honestly, we just want to make sure! Bulma has your blueprints but it's not really the same … heh … y'know?”

Juunanagou's fists clench. That was the wrong thing to say.

“Bulma. Has my blueprints?”

Yep, wrong thing to say. Krillin doesn't back away—after everything they've been through, with the Tournament and everything, he's fairly sure Juunanagou doesn't actually want to kill him—but at that moment, he does still feel a strong urge to be somewhere else.

It's always eerie to see the androids flare with energy. He can see the white glow and feel it, feel his skin burning a little at the sheer wash of power, but he can't sense it. Even as Juunanagou's power spikes and a white glow fills the clearing, making the trees shake as if in a high wind, Krillin's ki senses tell him he's alone.

The reaction lasts only a second. Juunanagou visibly tamps down on his temper and the energy recedes, fading back into his skin.

“Bulma,” he says again. His voice is steady. “Bulma has my … blueprints.”

Krillin nods, a little relieved. “Trunks—the other Trunks, the one from the future—and I found the blueprints when we were checking G—the doctor's lab. We didn't know what was going on then, just that there were androids coming and … well …” He shrugs one shoulder. “We didn't want to die.”

“Yeah,” Juunanagou says. “I get that.”

“So we took them to Bulma. I don't think she's actually looked at them since Juuhachigou-san was pregnant.”

Juunanagou is silent. He looks at the largest moss-covered rock in the center of the clearing, but his gaze is distant. Years and miles away.

Krillin follows his gaze. The rock is unusually square for a random piece of stone out in the forest, and there's a small mound in front of it that looks only recently overgrown. This close, he can see that a metal bird feeder has been crudely riveted to one side of the stone. Judging by the droppings spattered on top of the moss, it's a pretty popular spot for the birds. Something's been carved into the rock, but he can't read it under the moss and droppings.

A grave.

The clank of a bucket makes him jump. Juunanagou has put down the bucket he was carrying.

“C'mon, shrimp,” he says. “Give me a hand.”

* * *

They fill the bucket at the nearby stream, and Juunanagou pours it over the tombstone, washing away the first layer of grime. Then they pull up handfuls of dead grass and fallen leaves, and clean the tombstone until it's sparkling. Krillin, without asking, uproots the weeds that are trying to make a break for it across the small grave mound. Juunanagou rummages in his pocket for a paper bag and tips a handful of seeds into the bird feeder. There's no name on the stone: just a number.

When the job is done, Juunanagou sits back on his heels and looks at the tombstone. From the intensity of his gaze, he seems to be having some kind of silent conversation with it. Krillin wonders if he's praying, but he's never seemed the type. Not after the gods they've all met.

Still, Krillin can't help praying too—just a little. It's less a formal recitation than a vague, jumbled collection of thoughts, about birds and huge looming shadows and a machine who died with a smile on his face.

After a minute or two, Juunanagou rouses himself with a shake. “It's not much of a grave,” he says, standing up and emptying the remaining water into the nearby bushes. “Better than the box under my bed, though.”

“You found his body?” Krillin says, genuinely surprised. “We looked—after the Cell Games, I mean, but—“

But they'd put it off too long, what with people dying and being resurrected and choosing to stay dead and setting his head reeling with a flash of brilliant blue eyes. By the time they revisited the site of Cell's tournament, anything that might have been left of Android 16—Juurokugou—was long gone.

Juuhachigou-san had told him, once, that she'd found her brother standing alone in the wasteland left by the Cell Games. He must have found the body there, before anyone else came looking for it.

But Juunanagou shakes his head. “There wasn't much left,” he says. “Just a miserable little pile of circuits. But he wanted quiet. Didn't seem right to leave him there.”

“I hoped he'd come back,” Krillin says. The admission surprises him a little. “Everyone else did. Everyone Cell killed, I mean. But I guess the dragon … I guess the dragon didn't think he was a person.”

“No,” Juunanagou says bluntly. “He was a person. But he wanted quiet.”

That makes sense, in an aching, sad kind of way. Krillin remembers standing on the Lookout after Cell, waiting and wanting to see his best friend again—only to be told that Goku was choosing to stay dead. Maybe Juurokugou, in his quiet, unassuming way, made the same choice.

Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt the ones left behind, though.

“Dr. Gero’s files say you died,” Juunanagou says abruptly.

Krillin nods. The memories still hurt—more than hurt, they linger—but he can think of it without flinching now. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

“How?”

“A demon named Tambourine. I was a kid.” Krillin looks at Juurokugou’s grave, remembering it. The pain lingers too, a phantom sensation curling in his chest. “Then Frieza, on Namek. I didn’t even slow him down. Then Majin Buu. I don’t remember that one so well.”

“All of you have been fighting all these monsters. They want to, what? Rule the world? Destroy it?”

“Sometimes both.”

“And now there’s gods involved.” Juunanagou’s voice is, if such a word could be used, almost wistful. “You know … I like it out here. It’s quiet. It’s the right thing to do.” A chuckle. “Never thought I’d hear myself say something like that, but it is.”

“I know. I could still make pretty good money in tournaments—regular tournaments—but I like being a policeman. I can really help people, not just entertain or scare them.”

“Koseki,” Juunanagou says slowly. He seems to be trying to put words around a thought, and Krillin waits patiently. He knows his brother-in-law better now—cried with Juuhachigou-san when the android apparently detonated himself to save the Saiyans, and stared in wonder at the final wish—but Juunanagou has never found it easy to talk, and Krillin isn't going to rush him.

“Koseki doesn’t know. About the Tournament.”

That surprises Krillin all over again. He glances up at Juunanagou, who’s tight-lipped and stiff-backed. His gaze is unfocused, a million miles away.

“Why wouldn’t you tell her?” he says. “Chi-Chi and Bulma knew. I understand not telling the kids—that’s a lot to put on them. But didn’t she wonder where you went?”

Juunanagou shrugs. “With the kids watching the island, she didn’t know I’d gone. We were all back inside a couple of hours, after all.”

“But she's your wife. Doesn't she deserve to know?”

“She deserves to be happy,” Juunanagou says flatly. “That means not putting more on her shoulders than she needs.”

“I don't think she'd see it that way …”

“Then it's a good thing the subject isn't going to come up.”

Krillin shakes his head. In his experience, hiding things from women doesn't go well. “She's going to kill you when she does find out,” he says resignedly. “And she will find out. Wives have a power level Jiren will never reach.”

“I know.” Juunanagou looks up at the sky. It's almost wholly black now, and the stars are coming out. “Maybe I'll figure out how to tell her. But not yet. Got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” The android lets out a soft breath. “You can have the DNA samples. Nobody wants Marron to be sick. But if Bulma does anything with it, I'm going to kill her. And you.”

Vegeta will probably object to him trying, but Krillin will doesn't say it. He's known androids long enough to recognize one on the edge of something—even for just a moment. So he nods, and they walk quietly back to the house.

Chapter Text

They spend Sunday with Juunanagou's family. Koseki insists: the morning dawned cold and rainy, and Marron doesn’t even want to go outside, let alone fly over fifty miles with her parents in that kind of weather.

It's a surprisingly comfortable, lazy day. Juunanagou's kids love Marron, and Marron adores them right back, even if the boys are a little too cool to acknowledge that they're having fun playing with a girl. Suishou has no such compunctions: She worships Marron, and Marron clearly loves the chance to be the “big sister” for a few hours. While the adults drink tea, talk, and relax, the kids chase each other around, make faces, color pictures, and have occasional time-outs when a squabble over a toy gets too violent. Suishou trails after Marron like a lost duckling.

That night, after the rain has stopped, they light a fire in the pit on the patio and cook skewers of meat in the flames. Toishi shows off a little for the visitors, too. Once the food is cooked, he brings out a collection of chemicals and throws them one by one into the fire, showing how they can make the flames change color.

Marron watches with wide eyes as the fire turns first green, then blue, then finally a brilliant purple. Her parents can fly and fling energy and fight gods, but Marron is still capable of being awed by the little things.

Koseki is sitting with Suishou. After taking the dirty dishes back to the kitchen, Juunanagou joins them. He sits down cross-legged in front of his wife and says nothing, but leans back a little and rests his head against her leg. She runs her fingers through his hair and murmurs something too low for Krillin to hear.

Krillin's a little more shameless, and makes himself comfortable with his head on Juuhachigou-san's lap. They sit there, watching the leaping flames, while the children take turns throwing handfuls of Toishi's coloring powders into the fire.

It's the quietest night Krillin can remember, and he silently thanks Kami and Dende and Shin and every other deity or guardian he can think of. His wife and child are there, safe and whole. He has a niece and nephews, a sister-in-law, and a brother-in-law who is always going to be a little creepy but who saved multiple universes through sheer stubbornness and has, once again, given Krillin a new perspective on what it means to be human. He has a family.

Whatever tomorrow brings—whatever Bulma might find in those vials of DNA samples, now safely encapsulated in their luggage, and the fresh power readings on the portable scanner—today has been a good day.

* * *

The weather is beautiful on Monday morning. Which is good, because they have to leave extra early in time for Krillin to get to the station and Marron to go to school. The family assembles an hour before dawn, still yawning, on the patio with travel mugs of Koseki's murderously strong coffee in hand.

Juunanagou and Koseki are up to see them off, though the boys are sleeping through it all. To Krillin's surprise, Suishou is up too. When Marron climbs up into Juuhachigou's arms, Suishou clambers down out of Juunanagou's and goes charging across the patio to cling to Marron.

“No!” Suishou whines. “Want big sister!”

Krillin and Koseki laugh, and even Juuhachigou-san smiles. The girls do look like sisters: though Marron has Krillin’s black eyes and the nose situation, both have the pale skin, fine hair, and sharp jawlines of their cyborg parents.

(Is cyborg DNA dominant? Krillin wonders. But it's too damn early for that thought, so he settles for another swallow of coffee.)

Marron clumsily clambers down to ground level again and hugs Suishou. “It's going to be okay,” she promises. “I'm coming back! And when I do, we can be sisters some more!”

Suishou is wiping her eyes with both hands. “Promise?' she demands.

“Super Saiyan Promise!”

“What's that?”

“It's like a promise, but louder.”

“Okay!”

With the crisis averted, each of the twins reclaims their wayward offspring while Krillin and Koseki share a glance of dear gods that was the cutest thing in the world how lucky are we right now?

“Nice work,” Juunanagou tells Suishou as he picks her up again. “You're half her size, and you had her pinned.”

“That's just what Marron wanted you to think,” Juuhachigou-san primly informs him, and lifts off without saying goodbye. Krillin hastily waves to the in-laws and rises up into the sky after her.

More coffee carries him through most of the day. Monday means cleaning up after the usual troubles of the weekend, too, so Krillin has no chance to brood on anything: he takes witness statements, tackles two perps mid-shoplifting, and removes an extremely hungover salaryman from the shopfront he apparently crashed into late on Sunday night. A news photographer tries to get a few pictures of him doing so (one of Satan City's finest, easily carrying a man who's twice his size) but Krillin manages to move fast enough to duck the lens. All that goes up online is a very blurry picture of the salaryman being shoved into a police car, tie still knotted around his head.

Juuhachigou-san will be taking the DNA samples to Bulma sometime that day. The remote scouter has already sent its readings to the Capsule Corp. computers. He tries very hard not to think about what they might reveal, and concentrates on his job.

When he gets home, Marron is brimming with energy despite the long day. She wants to know when they can go visit Uncle and Aunt again. She wants Suishou to come visit. (And the twins, too, even though they aren’t as fun. Princess Marron will be gracious and permit the presence of icky boys in her kingdom. And, yes, apparently she’s a princess today.)

Juuhachigou-san’s been cooking. A lot.

She hasn’t said a word, of course, but Krillin knows the signs of stress. Juuhachigou-san takes to some aspects of homemaking better than others. Usually, she prefers simple, reliable dishes and loses her temper easily when recipes get too complex or require more than an hour to put together. They share meal duties a lot of the time. For Juuhachigou-san to attempt a three-layered cake—with frosting and fruit on top—means she’s been suppressing the kind of mood that would normally result in a sparring session to alarm the neighbors.

Juuhachigou-san is afraid.

Krillin puts on a happy face. He plays with Marron and promises her they’ll visit Uncle again soon, but only if she’s very good and remembers to pick up all of her toys. He retells the story of the salaryman incident and proudly informs Juuhachigou-san that he’s in line for another commendation at work. (She dredges up a smile for him, knowing what show he’s putting on but playing along for their little girl’s sake.) When it’s time for the cake, he’s all compliments—and, in fact, it does taste pretty good, even though the frosting is a little melted and some of the fruit is sliding off, just like Juuhachigou’s plastic smile.

Marron, thank Dende, doesn’t seem to sense the tension. She babbles happily about what she did today and what she wants to do tomorrow and can she have a new dress, Mommy, like the colors in the fire—they were so pretty, Mommy, and Daddy, did you see? Can you make fire do that? Can you glow that color too?

The cake is a big success. Marron begs for another slice, and for once, Krillin isn’t the only one to cave in to their little girl’s demands. Tonight, nothing’s too good for her. Marron gets another slice, an extra half-hour before bed, and two stories.

Finally, the bedroom door closes on their slumbering child, and Krillin lets out a sigh. It’s been a long day, but it feels longer.

Juuhachigou-san is loading plates into the dishwasher. Her back is stiff and her shoulders are set. She says nothing. Krillin would offer to help, but there’s nothing left to do, so he sits at the kitchen table and waits.

Finally, Juuhachigou-san speaks. “Bulma was excited.”

“I bet,” Krillin says.

“She says there’s a lot of data. Her heart rate jumped 37.2% while examining the samples.”

Krillin’s own heart aches. Juuhachigou-san’s eyes do not blink; her look is distant, frozen.

“Sounds like a typical scientist,” Krillin says. “Not even Vegeta gets her that excited!”

The joke falls flat. Juuhachigou-san looks at him.

“She’ll have results soon. We have an appointment. Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Way too soon, but also way too far away. Krillin knows they’ve done all they can do for now, and the data is better off in Bulma’s hands than anyone else’s on the planet. But the look in Juuhachigou-san’s eyes is lost.

“Hey.” He moves closer and takes one of his wife’s hands. It’s warm and smooth, clean unscarred skin. Different from his own stubby, callused hands. Sometimes he still can’t understand how he has this gorgeous creature in his life. “It’s gonna be OK, Juuhachigou-san. Bulma will figure it out.”

She says nothing. Krillin puts a little ki power into his feet—just enough to rise up level with her eyes.

Juuhachigou-san doesn’t cry. Ever. But he knows she wants to.

“It’s OK,” he repeats softly. “I’m scared too.”

At that, she swallows hard and turns away.

“It might not give us answers,” she says.

“It will,” Krillin insists, but she shakes her head.

“It might not. Don’t be stupid, Krillin. Bad things happen when you use a machine for something it wasn’t made for.”

“You’re not—!” Krillin begins, but she cuts him off.

“Krillin. In the world where I fulfilled my purpose, I killed you. All of this?” She gestures to him, to herself, to the little kitchen and the dishes in the sink. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

Krillin’s heart squeezes in his chest. He can’t lose her. Not now.

But she speaks again, almost to herself. Icy eyes half-lidded, looking into nothing.

“Sometimes I remember that none of this was supposed to happen. And that’s good. That’s the way it should be. I want this, Krillin. But …”

Juuhachigou-san’s head droops. She’s been battered to pieces by the warriors of the multiverse, but she’s never looked so broken.

“But it’s still there. This is not what I was … designed to do. I was optimized for something else.”

“But Juuhachigou-san, you’re human—“

“Let me finish! I don’t need you to coddle me, Krillin. I’m not going to be a child about this.” Juuhachigou-san huffs out a breath, ruffling her blonde bangs. “But my brother and I, we’re made to kill. Juunanagou—I think he connected with Juurokugou. That’s what made him turn to protecting nature and all that crap. Family, job. It helps. But when you’re made, you still wonder. If you’re the right tool for the job. If you’re just … making things worse.”

“Juuhachigou-san.” K rillin touches her hand. Her stare is blank, gazing not at him but at past crimes and future destruction. “Juuhachigou-san. It doesn’t matter what someone else made any of us for.”

She lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Us? You’re human, Krillin. You weren’t designed or thought up in a lab.”

“No, but my best friend was sent here to kill us all.”

At that, her gaze focuses on him again.

“If anyone was made to destroy things, it’s the Saiyans,” Krillin says. “I mean, you wouldn’t catch me actually saying that to any of ‘em because I’m pretty sure I’d die again, but they’re wired for combat more than anything else. They used to send out baby Saiyans all across the universe, to wreck stuff all by themselves. Subjugate planets. And man, when you’ve got Saiyans mad at you … that’s when you know what they’re made for.”

Juuhachigou-san lets out a huff. “It’s not the same, Krillin.”

“Maybe not exactly the same. But Juuhachigou-san—“ His hand tightens on hers. “—it doesn’t matter. I was supposed to be a monk, and look how I turned out! Goku was sent here to kill us, and he’s saved the whole world! Just because a—a monster tried to make you to do something, that doesn’t mean he’s chosen what you’ll do forever.”

“You’re so soft-hearted, Krillin.”

“And so are you,” Krillin tells her. “You’re just better at hiding it. I know that you’d do anything to protect our baby girl. That’s not what a machine does.”

Juuhachigou-san says nothing. Her eyes close. She squeezes Krillin’s hand.

They stay there like that for a long time, just sitting together, breathing and letting the tension seep out of them. The house is silent. Marron is asleep, and there are no fights, no broken walls or bellows of rage or gods of destruction intruding.

“You’re a good man, Krillin,” she says at last.

“I’m here to protect and serve, ma’am!”

A smile twists her lips. “You’re such a dork.”

“Heh. Goku had to learn it from someone.”

The brilliant blue eyes are warm as they look at him, and the smile is small but real. She lets out a breath and takes his hand in hers.

“Let’s go to bed,” she says.

* * *

Marron goes to school the next morning with an unexpected treat: a small slice of leftover cake to go with her lunch. She’s thrilled, and will probably brag to all her friends.

Krillin’s taken the day off. After his work yesterday, the shift chief assumes he was a little battered by the salaryman and sternly orders him to go get himself checked out. Krillin never quite knows just how much the other policemen understand or acknowledge about his abilities, but hey, he’ll take it. He won’t leave Juuhachigou-san to face this alone.

For her part, Juuhachigou-san cleans out her closet. It was one of the first things he ever knew about that mysterious ice-eyed blonde: that come hell or high water, when everything else is spinning out of control, she will have a grip on her wardrobe.

As he watches, she hesitates over another pink tracksuit. She likes the color, and the Universal Tournament wasn’t enough to sour it for her—not like Cell ruined vests, or Buu ruined stripes (and chocolate).

But in the end, she picks plain slacks and a slim-cut t-shirt with a spray of flowers across the chest. It’s a sedate, almost matronly look for her. But Krillin has known and loved this woman for years now, and he knows that every choice she makes sends a message. In the Tournament, her tracksuit said I am not worried enough to care about what other universes think. Today, her clothes say I am a mother and a human.

He hopes she believes it.

(For Krillin, there’s never any question: the orange Turtle School gi is always what he wears into battle, and this feels like a battle, somehow.)

They drive, not fly, to Capsule Corp. Maybe they’re hoping to put it off a little longer, or just reaching for a little more bit of normalcy as a shield. They argue over the radio stations and make fun of slowpoke drivers. Once, Krillin hollers “Road hog!” at an extremely large, fat man who’s somehow blocking two and a half lanes with a single compact capsule car. The fat man shouts that he’s going to kick Krillin’s ass. They never end up in the same traffic jam, though, so the fight of the century never happens.

They reach Capsule Corp. headquarters just after one o’clock. The sun is shining, the grass is green, and there’s no sign of Vegeta.

(Krillin’s used to Saiyan sneering and threats, but Juuhachigou-san isn’t in the mood, and if Vegeta turns up to call her a toaster again someone is getting punched into the Earth’s core.)

This time, they don’t go to the corporate machine shops. Security checks a list and sends them straight to the top of the building. To Bulma’s private workrooms.

The place is a mess.

Bulma clearly hasn’t slept on the problem—or slept on anything else, either. Her hair is tousled, there are dark circles under her eyes, and she still wears the remains of yesterday’s makeup. A hazy grin and a lingering smell of overbrewed coffee tell them that she’s run herself even harder than usual.

But she has results. Piles of papers fill the lab. On one monitor, an outline of an android glows faintly.

“Hi, guys!” she says. “This one was a doozy. You won’t believe what I’ve been finding! It was a pretty crazy night.” She stretched, cracking her back. “Kami, it’s been a while since grad school. Might be time for another visit to the dragon … take some years off and get back the old all-nighter endurance.”

Juuhachigou-san isn’t in the mood for chitchat. “I don’t care about your all-nighters,” she says flatly. “What did you find?”

“Er, what Juuhachigou-san meant is, eheh, we’re very grateful for your time.” Krillin laughs and nervously runs his hand over his scalp. It’s a tic he picked up from Goku: messing with hair he doesn’t even have, most of the time. “But, er, we’re very … I mean, this is …”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Bulma flaps a hand at them and pours herself another cup of coffee. “You’re lucky to have me, I know. Nobody else could have seen it, but I found the answer.”

Juuhachigou-san stiffens. “And?” she says.

Bulma slurps from her cup. “Dr. Gero was crazy,” she says matter-of-factly. “But the problem with crazy people is that they don’t play by the rules. They just get an idea and go with it. Logic? Scientific method? What’s that? This guy broke every rule of nature, and he was good at it.”

There’s a glint in her eyes. “Took me hours to unravel what the hell he was doing. I figured it out, though. Those DNA scans from Juunanagou were the final piece of the puzzle.” She taps one of the piles of paper. “Juuhachigou, you and Juunanagou have the same powers, but you also underwent some very different procedures!”

She's positively beaming. Later, she'll probably be a little embarrassed at her own attitude—Bulma knows, better than most, how painful a subject it is for Juuhachigou-san—but right now, her eyes are bright with the glow of discovery. Bulma always did have a touch of the mad scientist in her.

“Get on with it,” Juuhachigou growls. Bulma frowns, slightly annoyed at having the importance of her achievement stepped on.

“Please?” Krillin adds quickly.

“Fine, fine. Look at these.” Bulma pulls up two large, complex charts on her computer. “I'm working completely blind here, though, so have a little patience! I'm pretty much inventing a new branch of applied biology here. Gohan's been instrumental in developing these charts, too, even if he is more of a theory guy. Look. Here on the left, that's Juuhachigou's DNA profile. I've highlighted the relevant values in blue. On the right, that's Juunanagou's. Relevant values in red. See the difference?”

“Bulma, please.” Krillin isn't ashamed of pleading. “Just tell us!”

“No, I'll show you. You need to understand this.” Bulma traces a finger over the charts. “Now, Juuhachigou, you and your brother always were remarkable specimens. You're fraternal twins, but you share a height, basic facial structure, build—within the standard deviations of sex, of course—and strikingly similar, well-ordered DNA profiles. But Gero operated on you in very different ways. I suspect … ” And her face falls. Juuhachigou's eyes are cold, and Bulma appears to remember that she's talking about people, not experiments. “I suspect that you were … chosen … partially for that reason. You and your brother are your own control group.”

She turns back to the chart, suddenly uncomfortable but rallying. “Both of you underwent a battery of shared modifications. Bones replaced with a fiber-like polycarbonate, hundreds of times stronger than any human bone. There's a subdermal network of microscopic pure plasma generators, capable of potentially limitless energy. Modified digestive system to maximize fuel potential. In fact, most of the new parts were biotech of a kind I've never seen before. You can sort of see the beginnings of what became Cell.” Bulma doesn't hold back a grimace at that.

“Up until now, we never had any reason to suspect actual DNA modification. Especially since Marron was born perfectly normal, except for the nose thing—“

“Hey, that is normal to some of us,” Krillin interjects with more outrage than he feels. It lessens the tension somewhat, at least. Bulma grins at him, and Juuhachigou-san lets out a soft “Hrmph.”

“Well, that's a whole other can of worms. The point is, though, that Gero was planning on more cyborgs to follow. Every scientist has contingency plans, notes, and backups, and when he did what he did to you and your brother, he was also creating a backup. If Cell hadn't worked, he would have needed to go back to the cyborg model. He wanted to ensure good, uh, future … material to work with.”

Juuhachigou-san's voice is low. “So he wanted breeding stock.”

“Wait,” Krillin says. “He wanted Juuhachigou-san—and her brother—to—“

“I don't know!” Bulma says hastily. “This is all guesswork! And I think he would have known not to, er, produce additional specimens from two close relations. But he did alter your genetic structure.”

She pulls up another chart. “Normal humans produce ki in varying quantities just as a byproduct of life—everyone knows that. And despite your good genes, you and Juunanagou began as normal humans.”

Yet another diagram: Two blank-featured human bodies with bright lines running through them. The one on the left glows only from the core; the one on the right is threaded all over with tiny points of light.

“When Gero altered you initially, his modifications changed what you draw your fighting power from. Instead of drawing ki, your DNA was told to feed off the energy you drew from your implanted biotech generators, essentially creating a limitless supply of artificial ki. It's not that you don't have ki-like energy. But Krillin and the others can't sense it, because it doesn't register as ki to them.”

Krillin can feel Juuhachigou-san's fingers tighten around his again. Hope, wild and beautiful and terrifying, is swelling inside him. “So Marron—“

“No. Not sick.” Bulma, thank Dende, Bulma is smiling. “Juuhachigou, your reproductive DNA was recoded to produce offspring better adapted for cyberization. Marron has normal, human ki, but she's also unconsciously drawing power from alternate sources, just like you draw power from your implanted plasma generators. I bet you guys go through a lot of lightbulbs and appliances, right?”

“Yeah—yeah!” The words burst out of Krillin. “Stuff's always breaking. And the Wi-Fi never works—”

“He could do that.” Juuhachigou-san breathes out, eyes wide. “He made one—just like that—“

Bulma spreads her hands wide, like a game show hostess announcing a prize. “Ta-da! Marron's draining energy from non-living things. She’s fine. Just mingling her ki with energy you can’t sense.”

Krillin lets out a breath he never knew he was holding. Juuhachigou-san is stiff-backed, but something is shining in her eyes that might be tears if she hasn't fiercely denied that she ever, ever cries.

Bulma is still talking excitedly, gesturing to the incomprehensible charts. “There's a lot more work to do! I suspect little Suishou will be developing similar abilities in a few years, but since in her case the modified DNA came from the father's side and she was exposed to ordinary civilian-level ki during gestation, it may appear differently. She’s got some of the same markers. Krillin, you'll have to get Juunanagou to bring his daughter in for examination.”

“Of course,” Krillin begins, but Bulma is still talking.

“And we should get his boys tested at the same time. They're not genetic relatives, of course, but anyone connected with all of this should probably be checked for ki potential, just in case. Human ki development hasn’t been scientifically studied before the modern era. Besides, Juunanagou himself isn't much of a ki sensitive, so even if his daughter and sons were developing abilities already we'd never know until something blew up.”

Krillin thinks back to the scorch marks on the patio. “I don't know about ki, but someone was definitely blowing something up.”

“There you go!” Bulma sits on the edge of the table, a satisfied smile on her face. “I mean, personally, I’d love to have two more for Team Completely Human and Still Kicking Butt Through Genius, so maybe they can multitask. But we should study them all. There's a lot of work to do!”

She looks at them. At Juuhachigou-san, seemingly frozen as she takes it all in; at Krillin, wide-eyed, wondering what comes next. Her smile falters a little.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes,” she says. “Think about it, OK? I know, this is a lot to take in. You should’ve seen Chi-Chi’s face when she found out she married an alien.”

“Thank you,” Krillin manages to say. “I, uh, I don’t have anything special, but Bulma—you’ll never get another parking ticket in Satan City. I promise.”

“You’re the best! But don’t get yourself in trouble for me. Just promise that when you get Juunanagou to bring his daughter in, you do it while Vegeta isn’t home. His Highness hates it when I dare to be friendly with the 'tin cans.'”

She airquotes the phrase disgustedly. Then she’s gone in a swirl of a sweat-stained labcoat—probably gone to hunt down her son or husband, and shout at them or be shouted at in return. Chi-Chi may have been the first to marry an alien, but it’s Bulma who’s always been the one that’s really out of this world.

But Juuhachigou-san lets out a long, slow breath, and Bulma vanishes from Krillin’s brain. His eyes and heart are full of his wife, who looks …

Kami, she looks lost.

Krillin takes her hand. “Marron’s going to be OK,” he says softly.

Juuhachigou-san blinks. “Energy draining,” she murmurs. “Just like Nineteen and Twenty.”

“Nothing like ‘em at all,” Krillin says. “Those were pure androids, right? Sure, maybe they came from the same designs, but Marron came from us. She’s got special powers.” He smiles. “And we know all about special powers, right?”

“One more thing the old man left us.”

“Hey.” Krillin squeezes her hand. “It’s just DNA now, Juuhachigou-san. Doesn’t matter where it came from. Some of us drain energy, some of us don’t have noses.”

He kisses her. Juuhachigou-san's tears are cool against his scalp.

“She's going to be okay,” he says. Every time he says it, it seems to become more real.

Their daughter. Their Marron. Their little girl with her mother's hair and her father's smile, the child of an ex-monk and a cyborg housewife fashionista who once held Mr. Satan's reputation hostage for a guaranteed lifetime of shopping and grocery money. Marron, who likes playing with her cousins and following Trunks and Goten around and wants to be the next Great Saiyawoman or a veterinarian (or, some days, a princess or an opera singer or a dinosaur tamer or president of the world or the owner of an ice cream store, depending on her mood), is going to be all right. She's not dying. She's going to grow up.

She's going to have a chance to grow up and be happy.

“We’ll have to train her,” Juuhachigou-san says finally. “Just to control it, if nothing else. So she can live a normal life. If she wants it.”

Krillin nods. “Master Roshi—“

“—is not going to be involved,” Juuhachigou-san interrupts. “I don’t want that old creep putting ideas in my little girl’s head. You’re going to train her, Krillin.”

His voice cracks. “Me? I’m not a teacher!”

“You’re the strongest unaltered human in the world, and you have the Kienzan. That’s the kind of fine control she needs.” Juuhachigou-san looks up at the ceiling, her eyes narrowing as she thinks. Krillin’s heart is so full of love—love and relief—that he wants to take her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but she’s lost in her own world now.

A world where their girl has a future.

“Control is necessary,” she’s saying. “Even if Marron never enters a single fight, she needs to be able to live without draining appliances wherever she goes. So we’ll get you to teach her energy control. If my brother can stop chasing poachers for five minutes, we’ll have him teach Marron the Android Barrier technique. It relies on a flow of energy that most ki users can’t sustain, but if Marron can draw from other sources, she should learn it for her own protection. It’ll give him good practice for training Suishou when she gets a little older. He’ll complain about taking the time away, too, so you’ll have to promise to train his boys in exchange. He’s never going to do it himself, and I can’t teach normal humans.”

Krillin goggles a little as Juuhachigou-san coolly hides the last of her fears and lays her plans. Kami, but she’s scary sometimes … She’ll have it all figured out in five minutes. He can practically see lists and dates scrolling through her eyes. Juunanagou, victor of the Tournament of Power and (technically) strongest warrior in the multiverses, is going to be dragged into weekend training for at least the next year.

Oh, well. Krillin did enjoy the barbecue. More time with the in-laws doesn’t sound too bad … Though they’ll probably need to get a place with a bigger yard. And a higher fence. The neighbors have already been traumatized enough by their sparring sessions.

They walk back to the car. Juuhachigou-san is still plotting out loud. Krillin takes her hand and grins up at her, and she falters in her recitation.

“Hey,” he says. “We’ll be OK.”

For the first time in days, he fully believes it. And she does too. She squeezes his hand, almost but not quite to the point of pain, and nods.

“We’ll be OK.”

Chapter Text

Satan City, twelve years later …

“FOOLS!” roars the enormous robot. It stands with fist uplifted, its glass dome gleaming in the bright sun, the figure of the scientist inside controlling it standing in an identical stance. “YOU WERE WARNED!”

It had been a lovely day in the city park. Students eating lunch on the grass; old couples feeding the ducks and walking the winding lanes; a police officer monitoring traffic at the corner with a look of utter boredom on his face. Then a monolith of metal came barreling out of the sky. Now the policeman is on his radio, shouting for backup, and the students and old folks are fleeing as quickly as they can.

The robot is easily five stories tall. It’s shiny and new, too new. Something Satan City has never seen before.

“YOU WERE WARNED!” the scientist repeats. He raises one foot, and his great robot does the same. The foot comes crashing down, crushing the police officer’s traffic box into atoms and smashing a ten-foot-deep hole into the pulverized pavement. “NOW YOU WILL SUFFER THE CONSEQUENCES! BOW BEFORE YOUR MASTER!”

The policeman barely gets free of the box before it’s smashed. His radio is crackling with voices, all demanding updates and shouting instructions. He rolls over and tries to clamber to his feet, but he’s dazed. The foot descends—

—and crushes bare concrete. The policeman is flying.

He’s young. Barely twenty-five, and still learning the ropes of bottom-of-the-rung traffic control in the big city. He’s never flown before. But even he recognizes the young woman cradling him in her arms. He knows the name the city calls her.

“B-Big Sister?” he stammers.

She touches down lightly, setting him onto his feet and brushing a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes. The rest of her hair is tied back in two fluffy ponytails. Her bodysuit is green, like the Great Saiyaman, and she sports a green mask and an orange gi top. Her smile is infectious.

“Get to the perimeter!” she says. “And don’t let anyone cross the line, OK? We’ll handle this.”

Behind her, another young woman is dropping onto the grass. This one is black-haired; instead of the orange gi top, she wears an orange bandanna knotted around her hair. The policeman scrambles for safety.

“What do you think, Little Sister?” says the blonde-haired girl.

“Looks like someone's making a mess, Big Sister!” says the black-haired girl.

“Well, we can't have that, can we?”
“Absolutely not!”

The robot stampedes towards them, crushing trees and sidewalks under its enormous feet.

“YOU CANNOT STAND AGAINST ME, FOOLS!” the scientist roars from his cockpit. “ALL WILL KNOW THE NAME OF DR. KAGO! THE ONE TRUE HEIR TO THE GREATEST SCIENTIST OF ALL TIME! TREMBLE BEFORE ME!”

Little Sister wrinkles her nose. “He sounds like Bra's dad.”

“Bra's dad would know better,” Big Sister says. “And he wouldn't need a robot to make this much of a mess.”

“YOU WILL KNEEL TO YOUR MASTER,” says the scientist, who seems a little irked that they aren't currently doing so.

The Sisters rise up into the air. Unlike the Great Saiyaman, they have no power corona around them: they fly lightly, without any apparent expense of energy. Little Sister glides out in front of the robot, grinning and waving at the man inside, and he bellows something about his genius and sends the robot stamping towards her. Big Sister circles around behind him.

Teasing and firing potshots of colorless energy, Little Sister leads the robot into the center of the park. The onlookers have drawn well back, and there's nothing here but grass and trees. Perfect.

At a signal from Big Sister, Little Sister suddenly shoots upwards, spiraling into the sky. The robot jerks upright, straining to grab at her, and Big Sister pounces.

The blonde slams into the robot's midsection, her fingers digging into the metal and peeling it away. Red warning lights erupt in the scientist's cockpit, and as he struggles to right the robot, Little Sister cheekily sticks out her tongue at him. Then she, too, dives, and begins ripping panels from the robot’s legs.

As their fingers sink into the crackling wires, the robot gives a shudder. It sags to its knees. The scientist's screens dim.

“YOU CANNOT STOP ME!” shouts Dr. Kago, who sounds less convinced this time. The Sisters grin at each other. Big Sister rips out another panel and jams her hands right into the burning energy core of the robot. “THE RED RIBBON ARM—ack!”

The robot collapses, its power draining away. The Sisters are beginning to glow, and energy suffuses them, turning into a greenish-white aura. Little Sister whoops and performs a graceless backflip in midair, practically crackling with power.

“That was good!” she calls to Big Sister. “I feel like I could fly to the moon and back! What kind of energy was that? Nuclear?”

Big Sister examines the sparks dancing on her fingertips. “I don't know,” she admits. “We should probably ask Auntie Bulma. If more crazy scientists are developing stuff like this, she should find out. Maybe she can buy them out or something.”

“UNACCEPTABLE!” says the scientist. The powerless robot has collapsed, making a big dent in the manicured parkland, and the transparent canopy is half buried in grass. Dr. Kago is vainly kicking at the glass, but he seems stuck. “NO MERE GIRLS SHALL OUTMATCH THE GENIUS OF THE RED R—!” Part of the canopy falls on his head.

“Should we dig him out?” Little Sister wonders.

“No. More police will be here any minute, and they'll want to arrest him themselves.” Big Sister smiles. “Nobody got hurt, but I'm pretty sure destruction of public property is still a crime.”

“Disturbing the peace,” Little Sister suggests.

“Carrying an unlicensed weapon.”

“Is a robot a weapon?”

“ … technically?”

Little Sister giggles as they rise into the air again. “Y'know, I asked my dad that once. He said robots can be weapons, but they could also be anything, even parents or park rangers.”

“Yeah, but your dad thinks everyone should be park rangers. He's stuck on the park ranger setting.” Big Sister looks down at the smoking killer robot below them and amends her statement. “Though I don't think he would want a weapon to be a park ranger.”

At that, Little Sister smiles. “I think he calls that multitasking.”

“Your dad's weird, Little Sister.”

They've risen far, and the shape of Dr. Kago and his unlicensed robot is small below them. The cops are swarming around now, and Big Sister peers down at them, automatically looking for one policeman shorter than the rest. She grins as she spots him.

“Your dad's weird too,” Little Sister points out. She's spotted the short policeman too. “He could be doing this kind of thing, and instead he's spending his time arresting people and filling out forms.”

“He says he wouldn't look good in a cape.”

Little Sister giggles again. “He'd trip over it!”

“I saw an old picture of him dressed as Mr. Piccolo once,” Big Sister confides. Below them, Satan City is spread out like a picture postcard. “I don't know why. And he was right. He really, really didn't look good.”

“OK, your dad’s weirder than mine.”

“Hey!”

The girls drift on the warm spring breeze, enjoying the thrum of the new power in their veins. Below them, Dr. Kago is being manhandled out of the wrecked robot. They’re too far up to hear what’s being said—or shouted—but from the look of things, he’s being booked on multiple counts of something-or-other.

“That guy’s definitely the weirdest, though,” Little Sister says. “What was he talking about? Ribbons?”

“I thought he said an army?” Big Sister shrugs. “Whatever. One more crazy old man wanting to rule the world.”

“That sounds really boring. If you ruled the world, you’d be stuck making laws all day. You wouldn’t get to do this!”

With a flare of power, Little Sister shoots forward. Green energy traces across the sky as she streaks away. Big Sister yells “Come back here!” but she’s already powering up, and the chase is on as the cousins fly towards the horizon.

They don’t look back.

END