The Son Family's Nanny

When Son Gothao and Son Gochi were one year old, Son Goku had another "major responsibility" to deal with besides training.

"Piccolo!"

Son Goku's voice came from outside the Gravity Chamber. Piccolo wiped away his sweat and stepped outside, where he saw Son Goku holding two children around one year old.

"Watch Wuhao and Wuqi for me." Son Goku handed the two children to Piccolo. "I'm going to train."

Piccolo froze.

He looked down at the two little ones in his arms. One had messy black hair and grinned at him, showing a whole row of tiny baby teeth. The other had pale blue hair and was clutching his clothes, big eyes blinking.

"W-wait!" Piccolo panicked. "I... I don't know how to take care of kids!"

"It's fine, it's easy," Son Goku said, waving a hand. "If they're hungry, feed them. If they're thirsty, give them water. Just play with them."

"But—"

"Good luck!"

Son Goku dashed off, leaving Piccolo and the two little ones staring at each other.

"..."

Piccolo stood there holding the two children, despair written all over his green face.

"I... I'm King Piccolo..."

"And now... I'm babysitting?!"

"Waaah—Daddy—Daddy!"

Maybe the sudden departure of Son Goku had scared Son Gochi, or maybe being held by someone with green skin had frightened him. Either way, he suddenly started crying.

"Waaah—Daddy—Waaah—Daddy—"

Son Gothao started crying too.

"D-don't cry!" Piccolo rocked them frantically. "I... I haven't hurt you!"

Their crying only got louder.

Cold sweat beaded on Piccolo's forehead, and terror filled his eyes. He tried to calm them with his psychic powers, but the two Saiyan hybrids were completely unaffected.

"Damn it... damn it..." Piccolo gritted his teeth, then suddenly remembered something. "Right... ki..."

Piccolo took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

He carefully drew on the vast energy within him, not the violent battle ki, but the gentlest, calmest wisp of it.

Namekians had a natural affinity with nature, and their ki carried the rhythm of life.

A faint, pale green glow seeped from his palm, almost too dim to see, and slowly enveloped the crying children.

That ki was warm and peaceful, with no hint of aggression. It simply surrounded them gently, like a silent comfort.

A miracle happened.

Wuqi's cries gradually quieted. He sniffled, his obsidian eyes curiously fixed on Piccolo's green face, his little nose twitching. Then he did something Piccolo never expected—

He reached out and grabbed one of Piccolo's antennae.

"Ho... horn..." The little one's tearful, babyish voice was hard to make out as he tugged on it. "Green... green... antenna..."

"Ugh!" Piccolo winced. A Namekian's antennae were extremely sensitive sensory organs, connected to the central nervous system. His whole body stiffened, and he nearly pushed the child away. But when he saw Wuqi's little face, still streaked with tears but finally smiling, he gritted his teeth and didn't pull away.

"D-don't pull that..." Piccolo managed through gritted teeth, though, surprisingly, his voice held no anger. "That's... a very important organ."

"An... antenna..." Wuhao had stopped crying too. He leaned in and patted Piccolo's chest, making soft little smacking sounds, as if testing the firmness of the Namekian's muscles. Then he reached out too, aiming straight for Piccolo's other antenna.

"Wait—" Piccolo didn't have time to stop him before the second antenna fell into the little one's clutches.

Each of the two little ones grabbed an antenna, laughing and drooling.

This... this feeling...

He looked down at Wuqi, who was holding his antenna, then at Wuhao, who was grinning up at him.

The two little ones radiated pure, flawless life energy—the fiery, warm ki unique to Saiyan and Earthling hybrids. There was no killing intent, no scheming, only pure, unconditional trust.

Why...

Didn't he hate it?

From that day on, Piccolo became Son Gochi and Son Gothao's "personal nanny."

At first, he refused—and very firmly.

"Son Goku!" Piccolo grabbed the collar of Goku's gi as he returned from training, the veins on his green face bulging. "I came here to get stronger! Not to be your family's nanny! Starting tomorrow, don't even think about dumping those two little ones on me again!"

"Just one hour, please!" Son Goku pressed his palms together, looking sincere. "Chi-Chi went to visit Master Roshi, and I really have no choice!"

"No!"

"Then... how about I train with you in exchange?" Son Goku blinked. "At full power."

"..." Piccolo's hand loosened for a moment.

"...Deal." Piccolo turned his face away, his voice muffled. "But just this once."

But "just this once" quickly became an endless cycle of "one last time."

Piccolo realized that he had actually started looking forward to his "babysitting hours." He told himself it was only because Son Goku owed him training time.

But the Namekian's keen senses made it impossible to lie to himself.

When Wuqi learned to walk, the first person he toddled into the arms of was Piccolo.

The first time Wuhao called him "Uncle Piccolo," Piccolo stood there stunned for a full minute, then turned away, a suspicious blush spreading across his green face.

"I... I'm not your uncle..." he muttered, but hugged them tighter.

More than half a year later.

Inside the Large Gravity Chamber, Piccolo was throwing punches under fifteen times gravity. His moves were several times sharper than before, and green ki blazed around him.

"Uncle Piccolo!"

Piccolo's movements stopped instantly. He immediately shut off the gravity generator, drew in his ki, and went outside.

Wuqi and Wuhao, nearly two years old now, were standing outside the Gravity Chamber.

The two little ones had grown quite a bit. They were wearing baby-sized martial arts uniforms from Capsule Corporation, each holding a crooked little wildflower.

The flowers looked pretty battered, with several petals missing and their stems bent all over the place. They had clearly just been picked from the garden.

Wuqi's black hair was even messier, and there was a smudge of dirt on his face, as if he'd just rolled around on the grass. Wuhao's pale blue hair had grown longer, its soft sheen catching the sunlight. His big eyes were full of anticipation.

"For... for Uncle Piccolo..." Wuqi said in his babyish voice, rising onto his tiptoes and trying to hold the flower higher. He was almost two now, and spoke much more fluently than before.

"Flower..." Wuhao said, rising onto his tiptoes too. Carefully, he tucked the blue wildflower into Piccolo's collar. "Looked a long time... only... two..."

Piccolo froze.

He looked down at the two crooked wildflowers, barely clinging to life, then at the two little ones' innocent, hopeful smiles.

Their little hands were still smudged with dirt, grass clippings clung under their fingernails, and their knees bore fresh scrapes.

An unfamiliar warmth welled up from the heart of the Namekian, usually used only to sense the ki of his opponents, and slowly spread through his entire body.

Damn it...

He cursed under his breath, but his voice came out so hoarse it hardly sounded like him.

So sweet...

He crouched down, moving with astonishing gentleness. He softly ruffled Wuqi's messy black hair, then stroked Wuhao's pale blue head.

"...Thank you," he said.

His voice was so gentle he could hardly believe it himself.

Wuhao took the chance to throw himself forward, wrapping his little arms around Piccolo's neck and planting a loud kiss on his green cheek.

"Uncle Piccolo... you're the best!"

Wuqi copied him, leaning in to leave a milky, drool-smeared kiss on Piccolo's other cheek.

Piccolo went completely stiff.

These little guys...

Honestly...

...I can't say no to you.

He reached out and pulled both children into his arms, one in each hand.

His embrace was so tight that Wuhao and Wuqi both let out a soft "Mm," but neither struggled.

In the distance, Son Goku leaned against the wall, watching with a knowing smile.

"Piccolo..."

"Welcome to... the Son family."