What if after the ToP Frost wasn’t brought back?
Instead, only the other universes, and no one besides briefly Cabba and Hit continued to remember Frost on occasions. Cabba goes on his life, only mentioning the Icejin when others would ask, then move on.
Hit, as he would only have one objective in his mind and that’s to continue his work, would try to forget the whole ordeal and forget him. Yet soon he found it was a lot harder than he imagined.
Try as he might he couldn’t shake the image of the ex-pirate out of his mind. Whenever he passed by an alleyway, heard someone mention “bounty” or “pirate”, whenever he remembered about his responsibility as a team leader, he would get reminded of Frost.
Was it pity?
Was it guilt that he couldn’t save his universe’s team in its entirety?
Was it disappointment?
He recognized Frost had potential as a fighter and strategist, and he showed it. He was experienced and even though strength was not his higher point, he relied on the second best weapon, his mind. But he was lacking motivation and humbleness. Hit recognized that as a flaw. If it wasn’t for that fact, he would even go as far as to say he was the second strongest member in the team of representatives for his universe. Apart from that one Saiyan girl that barely could control her power, yet that was a different story.
Perhaps it was the pondering of ‘what if’. What if the Icejin had trained more. What if he had a solid purpose that could have guided him into a more refined warrior.
Whatever the reason, he would never know.
Fast forward years, decades later. Age was barely noticeable on the assassin. It was the same thing every year. On one specific night, while making his way to another target’s location, the city noises are the same. The usual as always. Everything as it always was.
Without a warning, a voice reaches his ears. Faint, but recognizable. His walking ceased and breath almost cut. He turns, a dark toned tail swaying side to side from a rather short figure catching his view. It sways to the side as the figure turns around to almost meet the assassin’s eyes, red as deep as his own.
“… F… Fro…”