Still, he was a grandmaster in his own right. Thinking back to what his master had said months ago—that this child was descended from a warrior race sowhere in the universe—everything made more sense now. His master had said that many mbers of this child's race were naturally gifted in martial arts, which likely ant their bodies were physically exceptional... Martial artists consu a lot of energy, so they eat more than average.
If one were to explain it using modern science, perhaps this race had undergone so kind of selective evolution in their digestive systems?
Either way, Gohan considered the boy's appetite a good sign. At most, it just ant the old man had to work a bit harder every day.
---
On a remote mountain slope deep within Mount Paozu, several patches of forest were reduced to exposed roots, and the grassy ground bore trenches and large craters.
Atop the slope sat a simple little house. Judging by its appearance—new in so places, old in others—it had likely been partially renovated.
"Waaah! Waaah!..."
A loud cry from a baby echoed from within the house.
"Crying again?" Gohan sighed in frustration and glanced at the large basin of aty bones on the small wooden table (of course, he had already stripped the at off—Kakarot didn't have many teeth yet). "Didn't you just finish eating?"
It hadn't been long since the child had devoured his al like a starving beast, gnawing furiously with his few baby teeth.
Kakarot ignored him, thrashing about and crying with flailing limbs.
"Aiyo, don't cry, don't cry, Goku, don't cry..." Gohan didn't have the heart to scold him. But how could you discipline a child who didn't even understand words yet? And trying to soothe him didn't work either—this little rascal didn't respond to comfort at all. After nearly a year of caring for him, under Jarvis's guidance, Gohan had beco a capable "milk grandpa" and quickly figured out the issue: Kakarot's diaper was wet.
Once he changed the diaper, the boy quieted down, clearly more comfortable, and stared intently at Gohan with that naturally fierce glare of his. It made Gohan feel a chill in his heart as he ca back with the freshly washed diaper.
It wasn't just that the boy looked angry. What disturbed Gohan was the innate savagery in that glare—an almost instinctual ferocity that sent a shiver down his spine.
This wasn't the kind of killing intent born of experience or guilt like in adults. No, it was sothing "pure," an innate trait seemingly woven into his very blood... Gohan could almost envision the tail-bearing race his master had described—how ferocious they must be by nature.
In all his decades of life, Gohan had never seen such a young child radiate such deep-rooted bloodlust.
A wave of pity stirred in him. He instinctively felt that this child in his arms wasn't ant to have such a cruel nature. Most importantly, if even Gohan could sense the viciousness in the boy's gaze, how could his master, the divine Martial Hermit, not have noticed?
If Son Goku were truly a seed of chaos and violence, then how could the founder of the Wu Immortal School—who valued character and integrity in his disciples above all—have gone to such lengths to bring this child from beyond the heavens?
Even if Gohan lacked confidence in little Goku, he could never doubt his master.
Surely... his master had planned all this from the start.
"Waaah!"
Just as Gohan was lost in thought, Kakarot let out another sudden cry. But this ti, he wasn't crying out of distress—he was just making noise for the sake of it.
The tailed boy crawled all over the small wooden bed, rolling and crashing into things, tearing at the sheets, ripping the blankets, kicking the pillow—he just seed to feel better when he was wrecking sothing.
"Goku, Goku, please calm down, okay? Grandpa's begging you here..." Gohan couldn't just let him run wild. It would be one thing if he were just being mischievous, but this kid didn't hold back at all. He had a natural talent for destruction, always finding the weakest spots in things like bedsheets and tearing them apart with ease...
After a while trying to coax him, Gohan realized Kakarot was just getting more agitated. It wasn't the first ti this had happened—it had played out like this many tis over the past year. With a resigned sigh, Gohan muttered, "Oh well!" and reached out to grab the brown, furry tail behind Kakarot.
Snap! Once Gohan had it in his grasp and applied a bit of pressure—
"Ugh..."
Kakarot imdiately stopped flailing and fell limp, his eyelids drooping as his body went slack.
After nearly a year of living together, Gohan had learned a few of the boy's quirks. For one, his tail seed to be a major weakness. Once soone grabbed it tightly, his whole body would weaken, leaving him completely powerless. Back when Master Taro had said the boy had great potential and Gohan had started planning to teach him martial arts, he imdiately realized this tail would be a major liability in combat.
But that could be dealt with later. With Kakarot now cald down, Gohan's eyes glead as he gazed into the boy's fierce yet now slightly dazed eyes.
The boy's feral expression dulled a bit...
"This ntal ditation technique Master taught really does have its uses. Hmm... it seems to share so principles with the mind-interference techniques one learns after achieving martial mastery," Gohan muttered to himself, stroking his graying beard after using hypnosis to soothe Kakarot's rage.
"Hm?"
Just as Gohan was reflecting on his master's teachings, he suddenly sensed a familiar energy entering Mount Paozu. Focusing more closely, he identified two more auras accompanying it—one strong, one weak—all of which he knew well. It was none other than his master Taro, his mistress Hathaway, and the Phoenix.
"Master and Mistress are here."
Gohan couldn't hide his joy. He gently laid the now-sleeping Kakarot on the bed and stepped outside to greet them.
It was already dusk. The blood-red setting sun painted the fallen leaves in crimson. Taro and Hathaway erged from the forest hand in hand, the Phoenix beside them like a ball of fire. Gohan hurried forward, not daring to be slow. After a warm greeting among the three, the Phoenix perched on Gohan's shoulder and began grooming its feathers.
"How's little Goku?" Hathaway asked.
"He's inside. Just finished throwing a tantrum—I managed to calm him down." Gohan rubbed his forehead and looked at his master.
Taro withdrew his gaze from the area around the house and asked, "Why?"
"You knew he'd be like this from the start, didn't you?" Gohan feigned a complaint, then smiled and added, "But I'm guessing you made this visit a year ago exactly for this—you've co to deal with the rage in Goku's heart, haven't you?"
"I wouldn't say 'deal with,' exactly. In fact, that rage can't truly be erased." Taro shook his head, his voice laced with deeper aning. "Besides... it has a reason to exist."
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