Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or any of its characters.

A Father's Love

Kakarot, how much do you love your son?

The words echoed in my ears, ringing throughout my head like a bell, sending warning signals flaring out. One look into Broly's gleeful, feverish eyes and it would be impossible for anyone to miss what the Legendary Super Saiyan was plotting. (part of me already suspected)

To kill Gohan.

To force me to watch my son die before my eyes.

I forced a swallow in my throat, an invisible hand gripping tightly over my chest, my heart. My palms were sleek with sweat and my heart pounded loudly in my own ears, but I was thankful that Broly was not able to sense my uneasiness rising in me. No one, not even Gohan, was able to realize that I was experiencing fear. Heh. Most people would claim that I had no meaning for that word, but they were wrong. I do. However, my fear was not for myself.

His intent, his bloodthirsty, too eager intent, nearly overwhelmed me. How could he even devise such a cruel objective? Gohan had no part in this. He did nothing to Broly. He never spoke to Broly, not once, never uttered a word to the massive Saiyan. He has never even met Broly until now. He was but a child - my child to be exact - caught in the crossfire. I was the one Broly wanted, for whatever strange reason it may be. It angered me greatly that he wanted to - dared to drag my son into this mess.

I can remember the first time I met Gohan. Chi Chi, weary but alert, cautioned me to be careful with our newborn son as she gently handed him over to me. My first thought was that he was incredibly and unimaginably tiny! My two, large hands enfolded quickly around him, wrapping him, holding him close to my chest. He shifted, a yawn dragging across his little mouth. A hand blindly reached out and found its way to one of my fingers. Almost immediately, it clasped around my finger, squeezing as hard as it could. Then, he buried his face into my chest, sighing agreeably, soothed by the steady thumping of my heart, falling back to sleep. It was then that I knew that I would be forever spellbound by this child of mine.

The days that followed were those that I have treasured long and deep in my heart. There are just so many things about Gohan that made him so much like me and at the same time, his own person. His laughter and childish giggles were the purest things I have ever heard, so uplifting and joyous. One could not help but laugh and giggle themselves. So that was exactly I did alongside with him, hugging him, cuddling him, tickling him while I did. When he spoke, he spoke a clutter of nameless words, jumbled and utterly confusing, yet made perfect sense to him. His feet trembled slightly as they stood upright for the first time, carefully stumbling their way towards my safe arms to catch him. He waited patiently (or was that a sly smirk I saw sliding across his chubby, innocent face) as I struggled to fit him into his clothes, arms through the sleeves, legs through the pants.

He found wonder and delight in the little things in life, such as a butterfly tickling his nose or the silver fish leaping from the crystal-clear river. He was always curious, running to discover, jumping once surprised, crying when frightened. He forever would ask questions, asking about this and that, curiosity unable to loosen its hold from the child. Why is the sky blue? Where did the sun go after it has set? How did the clouds stay so fluffy and high up above in the sky? And I had such fun inventing and spinning answers for my inquisitive son. The sky is blue because it is reflected off from the sea. The sun went to its bed because it has to sleep too, you know. The clouds stayed so fluffy and high because they're actually marshmallows and they don't want to be eaten by hungry children like you.

But like all children, he had to grow up. My childish answers for his children questions were soon discarded and abandoned, as he began to read and study, learning truly why the sky was blue, where the sun has gone after it has set and how the clouds remained where they were in the sky. Our time spent was not as much anymore since majority of his time was now dedicated to studying and reading. He learned of things that left me baffled and confused, things that really didn't make much of an imprint on me. Still, for my four year old son to know and understand those kinds of things, I was happy, even if it meant that he no longer came to me for answers.

Who would have believed that on the faithful day when Gohan and I would go for a reunion at Master Roshi's house, I would die and Gohan would unknowingly reveal to have a power that exceeded both me, Piccolo and my long-lost brother? I should have known, should have suspected something. When we were taking a walk one day during the springtime, Gohan had zoomed down the hill and was suddenly propelled from his stroller. He was launched directly towards the apple tree in front of him and would have surely died. But something happened that still amazed me to this day. Power burst forth from Gohan and exploded as quickly as it had came, ripping a neat hole through the side of the tree where Gohan was hurtled at. From then on, I knew Gohan was destined for greater things.

Even though I was not present to witness my son's battles, there were spectators who were able to testify. Against the two mighty Saiyans, Nappa and Vegeta, all seemed lost. Yamacha, Chiaotzu, Tien and Piccolo fell one by one, leaving behind the last two defenders, Gohan and Krillin, on their own. Thankfully, they managed to hold it until I arrived. Krillin told me later how Gohan bravely challenged the much bigger and stronger Nappa in a desperate attempt for Piccolo to escape death, knowing full well that him alone stood no chance against his opponent. For if Piccolo died, so would the Dragonballs and our hope to revive our dead friends. He even succeeded in kicking Nappa, so hard that the Saiyan was hurled backwards off his feet and into a mountain of rock. And after Piccolo's untimely death, fired a Masenko strong enough to numb Nappa's arm. His struggles allowed me enough time to arrival to the battlefield and though he does not know it, I was eternally grateful for it, to be able to stop Nappa from killing him.

And then, when Gohan went to Namek to find the Dragonballs and wish back our friends, he came face to face with Frieza, one of the most terrifying and powerful people we had come across. That did not stop him nevertheless. He relentlessly attacked the monstrous being, just as he did with Nappa, leaving no room for Frieza to fight back, for him to even take a breath. He showed some strength, fighting like that. I'll bet that Frieza must have been quite stunned to see that there was a boy, a mere child, capable of standing up to him. All of us were, really. When push comes to shove, there was this hidden, indescribable strength inside of Gohan, waiting and ready to come out, tired of sleeping and not being used. It was Piccolo who hypothesized that it must have been some sort of high emotional strain on Gohan to be able to initiate the releasing of the power. Who else would know better other than Gohan's mentor?

During the three years that Gohan, Piccolo and I trained to fight the Androids, Gohan had surprised and amazed the two of us, more so of me than Piccolo. His power was growing increasingly with each passing month. He may not be as strong as me or Piccolo yet, but man oh man, did he pull some unpredictable ones on us when we least expected. Like that sneak kick he got me to the side. Or that energy blast at Piccolo. It was during these times that I was able to spend more time with him, since my one-year death and decision to remain on the planet Yardrat for nearly a year, we hadn' got much a chance to. And with all the trouble about this new enemy, Cell, I couldn't be happier than to make up for lost time in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, to be with my son.

You could only imagine how proud and blessed I was to watch Gohan, as his power sky-rocketed to heights beyond my wildest dreams. To be the first to witness Gohan becoming a Super Saiyan at his young age. Midnight black hair flashing into a blinding, golden-sun color. So brilliantly intense that it is a hot-white. Mahogany-amber simmering to a fierce, frightening blue. A blue that is higher than any sky, deeper than any sea, clearer than any jewel. And I beheld it all.

Today, I couldn't be anymore prouder, seeing Gohan stand by my side, head high and tall, unafraid. He has come a long way since he was but four years old, innocent and ignorant of the outside world. I have trained with him, watched him trained and I am amazed at the speed of his growth. From a scared, helpless child to a determined, strong-willed warrior, Gohan has, without a doubt, became a dependable and valued fighter of our group of valiant defenders of the Earth and its people.

To answer your question Broly, I love my son more than you could imagine.

That is why you won't lay a finger on him.