Fandom: Dragonball Z
Publish Date: 8/25/2002
Disclaimer: A, B, C, D, E, F, G, I do not own DBZ.
There he sleeps. So calm, so peaceful. Even as he slumbers he smiles, no doubt having a pleasant dream about fighting and training. Or food, perhaps.
I study his face carefully. I have only seen that face in mirrors. The resemblance between him and I is nothing short of breathtaking. Translation—he is one good-looking guy. I have to chuckle.
He is so much like me, in more ways then just appearance. Yes, he has my eyes, my face, and the same gravity-defying hair that seems to enjoy sticking out in half a dozen different directions. But he has more than that. He has my strength, and my stubborness. So much of me in there, yet defintely his own person. At the same time, I can see his mother within him, deep down. That’s a little harder to see, but I know it’s there.
His face wrinkles for a moment, as if something is happening in his dreams. Then he relaxes once again, returned to his peaceful rest. He has actually fallen asleep under a tree out in the forest. His head is leaning back against the tree trunk. I laugh to myself at the way he sleeps. I don’t know anyone else—except for me, maybe—who could sleep like that! Oh well.
The wind sweeps up a little bit, slightly tousling his hair. It stirs him from his slumber, and his eyes open. I can see that he has without a doubt inherited those eyes from me. He yawns, stretches, and looks around, as if in a daze. Upon registering his surroundings, he climbs to his feet, a little unsteadily at first as he shakes off the last remnants of sleep, and begins walking towards home.
He enters the house and sits down to eat. It looks wonderful, and he seems to like it. Scratch that—he loves it. He eats like me too!
After dinner, he takes his leave of the rest of the family and goes to bed. Apparently his nap in the woods wasn’t enough, and he needs more rest. He is asleep almost as soon as his head touches the pillow.
Even in the darkness I can see his face. That peacefulness he has as he sleeps, it’s amazing. There are no worries, no tensions reflected on his face while he slumbers. I’ve never had the chance to actually talk to my son, to be a part of his life, to have an influence on the person he is and will become, and it’s starting to hurt. My younger son will probably never know his father.
I sigh. I must return to the Otherworld, the home of the dead.
Sleep well, I hope that maybe he can hear me in his dreams. Strangely enough, he smiles in his sleep. Perhaps he has heard me; perhaps something has happened in his nighttime reveries. As I drift off to the Spirit World, I take one last look at my son.
Sleep well, Kakarott.