Something profound quietly shifted deep inside Jordan's chest.
It was faint. It was brief. It was the specific kind of internal, biological event that barely registered at the very edge of his conscious awareness before quickly settling back into the quiet background hum of absolutely everything else currently happening inside his complex body at any given moment. But he immediately recognized the strange sensation for exactly what it was. It was the legendary Saiyan Zenkai response, actively working its way through Goku's rapidly healed tissue. Jordan felt the quiet, deep satisfaction of a long-held scientific hypothesis finally proving itself true.
The tiny smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth was small, and it was not really meant for anyone else to see.
He looked closely at Goku's bare arm. The brutal fractures had completely knit themselves back together flawlessly. The deep, purple bruising was already rapidly fading from his skin. Jordan gently handed little Gohan back over to his father.
Goku easily took the heavy weight of his young son with the exact same arm that had been violently broken in half just twenty minutes ago. The boy's weight settled into his grip completely naturally, his strong fingers closing securely without a single moment of painful hesitation. Goku blinked in surprise. He slowly flexed his calloused fingers. He silently registered the massive, thrumming new strength effortlessly moving through them.
"That's..." Goku stared intensely at his own arm, then looked up at Jordan, then looked back down at his arm again in disbelief. "This healed significantly faster than I ever expected it to."
Piccolo had gone completely, unnaturally still.
He had not physically moved a single muscle, and he had not spoken a single word, but something deep in his focused attention had suddenly sharpened into the highly specific, terrifying quality of an advanced sensor that had just received completely impossible data. He could feel ki. He had always been able to feel the flow of ki perfectly. And what he was currently feeling radiating from Goku right now was absolutely not the same level of power he had felt radiating from the man before this brutal fight had started.
He wasn't just completely healed. He was significantly more.
How, Piccolo thought furiously, experiencing the particular, burning frustration of a proud genius encountering a physical phenomenon that completely violated their entire foundational understanding of exactly how the universe worked, is that kind of massive jump even biologically possible?
Goku had already reached the exact same terrifying conclusion entirely independently. He intimately knew his own physical body the exact same way a master musician knows their favorite instrument. He knew it deeply, through long, grueling years of constant, brutal use, agonizing damage, and slow recovery. And exactly what he was currently reading from his own muscles did not match a single biological recovery he had ever experienced in his entire life. He was stronger. He was meaningfully, measurably, undeniably stronger. It wasn't a sudden side effect from the magical healing technique itself, but rather a direct biological result of exactly what the massive physical damage itself had apparently done to his cells.
He looked up at Jordan in awe.
Jordan, for his part, was quietly, genuinely processing the massive biological differential between the two brothers. Raditz had taken every single bit as much brutal physical punishment during the fight—possibly even more—and his body had produced absolutely no equivalent power response upon being healed. They shared the exact same bloodline, the exact same warrior race, and the exact same fundamental alien biology.
But they absolutely did not share the same violent history.
Goku had been actively, desperately fighting incredibly serious, lethal opponents ever since he was a very small child. Genuine, terrifying near-death experiences had steadily accumulated across a long, bloody martial arts career that had absolutely never once allowed him to comfortably coast on his natural talent. Every single time his broken body had painstakingly rebuilt itself, it had rebuilt itself directly against a brutal, unforgiving record of actual, terrifying mortal danger. All of that massive, dormant potential was packed tightly in there, compressed layer by agonizing layer, just silently waiting for exactly this kind of extreme, catastrophic physical trigger to finally release it.
Raditz, on the other hand, had spent those exact same long years cowardly finding people significantly weaker than himself and easily winning. There was absolutely no accumulated, desperate near-death trauma to violently release. There was no massive stockpile of dormant, unrealized potential hiding in his cells. There was simply an arrogant man who had gradually gotten older and marginally stronger at the standard, natural biological rate, simply because absolutely nothing in his life had ever brutally demanded anything more from him.
Same exact warrior race, Jordan thought, nodding slowly to himself. Completely different environmental drivers. He mentally filed the fascinating biological data away for later.
"The medical healing is only initial," Jordan said firmly, speaking up quickly before Goku could excitedly try to turn the massive power discovery into an immediate, grueling sparring session. "To fully, properly recover from today's massive cellular damage, your body absolutely needs at least two full days of complete rest. Do not try to physically test your new limits before then."
Goku looked exactly like he was frantically doing complicated math in his head. Then he looked down at little Gohan's face. The boy was still looking slightly worried despite all the cheerful reassurances. "Okay," Goku finally said, nodding with the easy, completely unconvincing agreement of a hyperactive man who had absolutely no real intention of honoring the medical advice, but was perfectly willing to say the words out loud to keep the peace. "Two days of rest. I promise."
"Thank you, Uncle Jordan!"
Gohan waved happily from the secure safety of his father's strong arms. His furry brown tail had completely relaxed, swaying gently behind him. Whatever terrifying nonsense this entire afternoon had been, the boy had apparently firmly decided that the current situation officially qualified as fine.
Jordan smiled and casually snapped his fingers. "Let's go back."
The massive, red Imaginary Space seamlessly dissolved around them.
The bright, sandy beach of Kame House instantly arrived to replace it. The warm coastal air, the sharp smell of ocean salt, and the familiar, comforting sound of actual water moving normally returned in a rush. The bright afternoon sunlight had noticeably shifted toward a deeper, golden evening hue while they had been busy fighting inside the red void.
"Oh, you guys are back already?"
Bulma suddenly appeared from around the heavily disassembled rear section of the alien capsule ship. She had somehow acquired a pair of heavy, gray mechanic's overalls and pulled them on directly over her nice white shirt. Both garments were currently thoroughly, hopelessly stained with something thick and black that had been securely sealed inside the alien propulsion system until very recently. She was tightly holding a massive, heavy steel wrench that was clearly doing real, strenuous structural work in her grip, and she wore the frantic, ecstatic expression of a brilliant engineer currently caught right in the middle of several incredibly interesting mechanical problems simultaneously.
She quickly looked over at Goku. Then she stared in sheer disbelief at the absolute, total lack of any visible physical injuries on anyone in the group. Then she finally looked over at Raditz, who was also currently present, fully ambulatory, and completely uninjured, though he was now wearing a heavy black collar he definitely hadn't been wearing before they left.
"Did everything go okay out there?" she asked suspiciously.
"It went perfectly fine!" Goku answered cheerfully. He carefully set Gohan down in the sand. The boy immediately trotted over to closely investigate exactly what Bulma was currently building, moving with the intense, professional focus of a child who had firmly decided this interesting machinery was now his primary concern. "It was a really good fight."
Standing awkwardly around the capsule's widely scattered internal components, Raditz silently surveyed what used to be his proud interstellar spacecraft. He wore a completely devastated expression that had already moved a significant distance past pure distress, and had settled into the much quieter, depressing territory of a broken man who had fully accepted that today was absolutely not going to improve for him.
The heavy black collar sat cold against his throat. His massive ki—the terrifying energy that had been the absolute foundation of his entire personal identity ever since he was old enough to violently produce it—currently sat at a pathetic, suppressed level that his own child-self would have easily recognized, and his arrogant adult self found deeply, personally insulting. Absolutely every single violent escape route he had been frantically calculating in his head ever since the heavy collar first appeared required a massive amount of raw power he currently didn't have any access to.
I am so incredibly sorry, Lord Vegeta, Raditz thought miserably. It was the deep, private shame of a disgraced Saiyan elite desperately addressing a ruthless superior who thankfully wasn't actually present to execute him. I did not intend for this simple mission to go this terribly wrong.
Jordan quietly observed the defeated alien for a long moment, mentally filed his psychological status as stable and compliant, and then slowly turned around.
Piccolo had instantly registered the heavy look coming his way.
The green warrior straightened his posture just fractionally. His physical weight shifted subtly to the balls of his feet, and his muscular arms loosened slightly from their tightly folded position. It was absolutely not an aggressive fighting stance. It was simply the ingrained, cautious readiness of a smart survivor who had painfully learned today that being caught completely unready by this specific man was an incredibly expensive mistake to make.
"Don't tense up like that," Jordan said, keeping his tone perfectly easy and non-threatening. "The global crisis isn't actually over yet. It absolutely won't be over for another full year, at the bare minimum." He met Piccolo's dark eyes directly, holding the intense gaze. "The temporary, unspoken alliance we have been effectively operating under today... I would very much like it to stay firmly in place going forward."
Piccolo slowly glanced over at the miserable Raditz. He looked at the heavy black collar. He carefully analyzed the pathetic power level he could clearly feel radiating from the once-terrifying Saiyan right now. It was currently sitting exactly level with his own pre-weighted-clothing reading. That was absolutely not a comforting fact that Piccolo would have ever chosen to sit with, but there it undeniably was.
Piccolo rapidly ran the exact same cold, calculating combat math that Piccolo always ran: What is the absolute most strategically sound, survivable position for me to take right here, right now?
"I agree," Piccolo finally grunted, speaking after a tense pause that lasted exactly as long as the complex internal calculation required.
"Perfect."
Jordan's dark eyes lit up with genuine pleasure. He immediately turned away from the demon and faced the sandy beach.
"Gohan!"
Little Gohan immediately looked up from where he had been happily crouching next to Bulma's impressive, scattered wrench collection. He had been intensely studying a glowing alien component he had apparently firmly decided needed a much closer, personal investigation.
"Yes, Uncle Jordan?"
Jordan smoothly crouched down in the sand to be exactly at the boy's eye level. Gohan immediately trotted over to him with the confident, bouncy gait of a happy child who had firmly decided that Jordan's physical proximity was entirely safe and welcoming. Jordan reached out and gently pinched one of the boy's round, soft cheeks.
"Do you remember that secret training plan we talked about earlier?" Jordan asked softly. He pointed a finger directly at the towering Namekian.
Absolutely every single adult in the immediate vicinity processed the terrifying implication of that gesture at approximately the exact same horrified speed.
"Wait. You actually want little Gohan to train in martial arts with Piccolo?!" Krillin's voice cracked. He possessed the highly specific, panicked quality of a man helplessly watching a speeding train rapidly approach a rickety wooden bridge they weren't entirely sure about.
"Him?!" Bulma had immediately dropped her heavy steel wrench in the sand with a loud thud. "You want to leave a toddler with the literal Demon King?!"
"Piccolo Daimaō is standing right there, you idiots," Master Roshi muttered nervously from the direction of his folding lawn chair, adjusting his sunglasses.
Gohan looked up at Piccolo. Piccolo looked down at Gohan.
Piccolo's deeply horrified expression strongly suggested he was also currently hearing about this insane training plan for the very first time, and he already possessed several incredibly strong, violent opinions about it that he had not yet managed to successfully organize into spoken language.
"Uncle Piccolo?" Gohan tried the words out, speaking in the small, clear, polite voice of a respectful child attempting a brand new honorific title just to see exactly how it fits.
The strangled sound Piccolo made deep in his green throat was absolutely not a recognizable word in any known language.
Goku suddenly raised his hand high in the air.
Everyone on the beach immediately turned to look at him in shock.
"I fully support it," Goku announced happily. He spoke with the uncomplicated, absolute directness of a simple man who had actively thought about the complex problem for exactly three seconds, and had firmly arrived at a final conclusion he was absolutely going to hold to. "Gohan learning how to fight from someone as incredibly strong as Piccolo is a really good idea. This is good!"
The child's own father's enthusiastic endorsement landed heavily on the beach with exactly the massive, unshakeable weight it always did in these bizarre situations. The entire room completely recalibrated itself around his confident statement.
Piccolo stared at Goku in sheer disbelief, then looked down at tiny Gohan, then stared blankly off into the middle distance. He wore the completely shattered expression of an ancient, evil being who was currently being forcefully forced to compute an impossible, ridiculous scenario he had absolutely, positively not consented to compute.
The terrifying matter, somehow, was officially settled.
Much later, as the vibrant sky finally moved toward deep, starry dark and the mouth-watering smell of a massive dinner wafted out from the small kitchen, Goku quietly appeared right at Jordan's shoulder. He was wearing an expression of highly unusual, intense seriousness.
"Jordan," Goku whispered, keeping his voice carefully pitched down so the others wouldn't hear. "You only pushed so hard for Gohan to train with Piccolo because you secretly wanted to keep Piccolo firmly connected to us, right? You did it to force him to maintain the alliance against the Saiyans."
Jordan just looked at him.
Honestly, Jordan thought to himself, I mostly just wanted to get your incredibly powerful son a competent martial arts teacher before Chi-Chi's tiny window of blissful unawareness permanently closes, and you all spend the next critical year completely missing the single greatest training opportunity on the planet.
He briefly considered saying exactly this out loud. Instead, he just smiled slightly and said: "Something exactly like that, yeah."
Goku nodded his head with evident, deep satisfaction. "I thought so. For the ultimate sake of the Earth's survival, little Gohan is making a very small, necessary sacrifice." He suddenly laughed out loud. It was the warm, entirely unself-conscious, booming laugh of a simple man who had just successfully resolved a highly complicated situation entirely to his own personal satisfaction. "I was actually really scared for a minute this afternoon! I kept thinking Chi-Chi was definitely going to be absolutely furious with me when we got home. But we are totally on the exact same page here!"
Jordan just stared at him.
He looked closely at the cheerful, smiling face of a man who was genuinely, completely happy about the outcome of a massive life decision that his terrifying wife was absolutely going to find out about at some unavoidable point in the very near future.
"Right," Jordan said slowly, patting Goku's shoulder. "We are totally on the exact same page."
He wisely did not add anything else to the conversation.
Several hundred kilometers away, standing in a quiet kitchen that smelled strongly of an elaborate dinner rapidly going cold, Chi-Chi stood frozen at a wooden dining table. The table was currently missing several heavy, fragile items that had definitely been resting on it just a moment ago.
The massive Ox King sat nervously in the corner. He held his small soup bowl at a very careful, calculated distance from the primary trajectory zone, and he desperately tried to think of something helpful and calming to contribute to the terrifying silence.
"He probably just got caught up talking to his old friends," the Ox King offered weakly, his voice trembling. "You know exactly how Goku is when he gets excited. He really doesn't mean to—"
"He can get caught up talking to his stupid friends and still manage to make one single phone call!" Chi-Chi snapped. Her dark eyebrows had achieved a terrifying, sharp angle that clearly communicated several violent things simultaneously. "Just one call! One! Gohan has his advanced math class early in the morning!"
"Yes, he does," the Ox King immediately agreed. He agreed because the statement was factually accurate, and also because agreeing with her right now was the only correct, survivable choice in the room.
"I gave him incredibly clear, explicit instructions before he left this house."
"You certainly did."
Chi-Chi stared down at the empty table. Her clenched fingers were very, very still.
"I have a terrible feeling," Chi-Chi said. Her voice was suddenly much quieter than her previous angry shouting, and therefore it was significantly more alarming to hear. "I have a feeling that something incredibly stupid has happened today that I was absolutely not consulted about."
The Ox King prudently said absolutely nothing in response, which was incredibly wise of him.
Outside, through the shattered kitchen window, the quiet evening settled in deeply across the peaceful countryside. It descended with the calm, absolute indifference of a massive world that had absolutely no opinion whatsoever about the terrifying storm that was rapidly coming.