Goten yawned. He blinked his eyes sleepily, the cool evening breezes the only thing that was keeping him awake, and thus, in the air. Thinking better of flying, the eight-year-old descended in a slow arc towards the ground. His mom would be waiting up for him to get home. He would be lectured about being late and then about sparring with Trunks. A smile came to the tired child's face. Whenever he and his fellow demi-Saiyen got together, bruises were sure to result. Actually, he had won this spar, but it had left him slightly more worn out then usual and so he had taken his time flying back from Trunks' home to his house. Now the woods were tinged with a darker blue from the approaching nighttime. It was mid-spring and the little April flowers gave their sweet scents off to be carried by wild baby breezes. The same breezes gently tossed the young boy's hair. Goten stifled another yawn. He was only a ten minutes walk or so from his house. The stream that flowed along the path murmured a gentle song. He stopped to dip his hand into its chilly waters. Thinking to take a short break there admist the little flowers that were just closing up for sleep and near the stream that continued to murmur its tune, he settled against a tree that curved slightly. "It sounds like a lullaby," he whispered. His voice was carried away by the breeze, along with the flowers' perfume. Wandering in dreamfields, his mind drifted gently on night's ocean.

Chi-Chi glanced up at the clock worriedly. Goten still hadn't arrived home yet. She could have sent Gohan off to look for him but her oldest hadn't been feeling well and had gone to bed early. Her other young one should have been in bed too. She knew that there were few things on the Earth that could seriously harm the young super Saiyen but he was just an eight-year boy. She pulled on her shawl and went out under the darkening sky to search for her missing child.

She found him where he had fallen off to sleep. He was leaning against an old tree which seemed to hold him almost protectively, in his dreams. His untamable black hair, inherited from his father, was matted to his head as he rolled slightly to one side. His small hand slipped off his stomach as he turned. Chi-Chi mentally shook herself out of her reverie. It wasn't often she was able to view her troublesome young ruffian in such a peaceful manner. As one lonely star watched, she lifted his hand and held it lightly in her own. His skin still held that childhood softness that babies and young children carry. But there was already the beginning of calluses forming. Similar calluses had existed on her husband's hands, and did exist on the hands on her oldest son. Battles and spars had placed them there. As she raised her hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, she noted his scratches and bruises from his day with Trunks. She sighed wearily but affectionately. There was really just no way to quell the burning Saiyen thirst for battle. Goten stirred and opened an eye. "Shhhh…" Chi-Chi lifted a finger to her lips and winked. The strongest woman on earth lifted her son with ease and pressed him close to her. Very shortly she had him tucked into bed in time for the rest of the stars to come out and join their lone comrade. She sang to him as he once again lost himself in slumber.

Far away (as we judge things in corporeal terms, he was actually quite near in terms of hearts) a man wearing a tarnished halo watched as his wife tucked his last gift to her in bed and sang him to sleep.

He knew that he couldn't be there in person but his thoughts would also flow towards them. All he could do was pray that his loved ones would stay safe. Chi-Chi, Gohan, Goten. Now all were sound asleep, curled up in their respective worlds of fantasy. Well, maybe not. Goku grinned as he watched his youngest son struggle out of his sandman-spawned realm into the shadows of his room. Goten stared at his dark ceiling at the funny shapes the moonlight made as it entered in from the cracked open window. That one - half shadow, half light. It looked familiar. The pattern reminded him of his own flyaway hair. A stray gust of night breeze touched him; its chilliness summoned him back under his warm blankets. There was no weight to the spirit hand that rested on the his son's wild black mane, so like his own. Goku hummed lowly, then sang the last verse to the song.