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Many people have asked Gohan about what training with Piccolo was like in his youth. Most times he'd just laugh and say that his mentor was strict but not exactly the demon everyone saw him as. Piccolo had given his life for him and would do so again if asked, Gohan struggled to say anything bad about his time alone with him.
Then one day, when they were thirteen, Dende had asked about the time before Piccolo.
“What was it like when you were alone?”
The question carried so much weight to it, even if Gohan's best friend hadn't known it then. At the time he'd been holding Goten while sitting on the edge of the lookout, Gohan brought his brother who looked so much like the man he killed close and said the truth.
“Lonely.”
It had been lonely. Dende quickly switched topics.
Gohan doesn't like thinking about those six months, back when he was alone, having to face death for the first time. Not only the idea of possibly losing his own life but also taking life to sustain it. He had always tried to get it over with quickly, he didn't want them to hurt for long.
The first month was the hardest, survival wise. Gohan went without food for days on end, really, at that point he was considered the food. He narrowly avoided death so many times. Looking back it's silly, Piccolo was always nearby, Gohan always had the power he needed to protect himself.
(Gohan stares at the horrible unnatural angle his ankle is currently bent at, tears streaming down his face. His screaming had stopped an hour ago.
His daddy would know what to do but his daddy's gone.
And Gohan’s alone. So alone. He might be the last person left alive.)
The second was when things got easier and harder.
All Gohan could do was think of his mothers face, her voice, her warm hands that magically soothed any pain. He had missed her. She would have scolded him if she had seen his matted hair and tiny bruised hands, a prince should always look proper. And even back then Gohan had the feeling he was anything but proper anymore.
When Gohan was nineteen his mother had softly confessed that she was still mourning the kid she lost when she let him go to Kame house all those years ago.
They were in a rush. She never got to properly say goodbye.
(Time goes by so slowly, and when it does pass days bleed together.
Gohan dunks his head into the ice cold water of a river, for a fleeting moment he's tempted to never go back up. He holds his head there as seconds pass, his lungs ache, he goes dizzy. When he pulls back water drips down soaking into his gi, desperate gasps for air turn into sobs.
He hardly feels human anymore. Then again, uncle had said he wasn't.)
By the third month he started forgetting his father's face.
One day he had woken up and realized he could no longer visualize the face of the same man he called out to after a nightmare. The same man who he thought of when he stared at the stars wondering what heaven was like. Something Gohan wouldn't find out for himself till years later when he's not as young, albeit still a child.
(Gohan sits by a fire, the burns on his hands proof of his struggle to start it.
The lifeless body of a wolf, his only company, sits across from him behind the flames. Its eyes are so devoid of anything, it had felt fear in its last moments when Gohan turned his blade against it. He wonders if his father's eyes held the same emptiness, if his father felt the same fear.
He gets up, grabbing his sword.
He has to eat.)
Oddly enough Gohan can never remember the fourth month, not like he can the others.
He knows something terrible happened, that the memory isn't a good memory, but he just can't bring it into focus. It causes a dull ache deep in his chest, a dull, pounding ache. The painful thud, a constant reminder.
It's overwhelming. It always is.
(“Don't go! P-please! Please don't- don't go!” Gohan clings to the body of his only companion.
The small dinosaur stares at him as he tries to stop the bleeding from the gaping wound in its side. Gohan cries himself into puking.
He doesn't leave its side for two days, the smell of rot and death clings to him for the next week.
Grief is a horrible thing.)
Five months alone in the wilderness does something to the mind, or at least the mind of a very sleep deprived four year old drunk on pain. Gohan wonders if he had gone a bit insane.
It was also the same amount of months needed for Gohan to start avoiding his own reflection.
Blood, mostly others, sometimes his own, often stained his hands. At some point he stopped caring about washing it off. Whenever he saw what he looked like, stared for too long, examined his face too deeply. Gohan saw a monster, one that would haunt him long into adulthood alongside Cell and Raditz.
(Gohan eats some wild berries from a wonky, misshapen bowl he made himself. He tries his best to Ignore the taste of blood and dirt that comes from his fingernails.
Just a few moments ago he had to tear the top of his gi off to tie around his arm, the orange of his clothing stained red. It's almost embarrassing that he didn't notice the wolf pack stalking him.
He looks around, he won't be eating meat for a while, he won't be able to stomach it. Why is it easier to take life then preserve it?)
Piccolo had come to him halfway through the sixth month, telling him it was finally time. That he'd earned his keep, proved that he was worth something.
The pain to come was nothing compared to those six months alone.
When Gohan was fifteen Piccolo apologized, he ruffled Gohan's hair, told him that he was getting too tall and apologized. He had given his mentor turned second father a weird look and told him there was nothing to be sorry for. Piccolo wasn't to be held guilty for his past misguided mistakes.
Gohan thinks he would've done the same had he been born with knowledge of every atrocity humanity committed.
(For the first time in months Gohan woke up feeling somewhat rested, somewhat.
That night he had fallen asleep with his eyes glued to that shadowy figure across from him. Dark eyes met even darker ones through flames, he swears he could hear his mentor's heartbeat, but perhaps it had been his own.
“You better not cry tomorrow. I don't care if you haven't slept, you're still training.”
Piccolo was alive and breathing.
“Ye- yes sir-!”
That's all Gohan could ask for.)
It had been lonely. That's what Gohan tells people, truly it had been so much more. He believes that the bone deep sadness he had held onto when he was five years old will forever be with him.
And that's okay, Gohan's strong enough to carry that weight till the day Shenron doesn't bring him back.