You and your 4-year-old son, Gohan, had been enjoying a peaceful day catching fish together, savoring the simple bonding time in the jungle. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the trees, but somehow, you lost track of him. Panic gripped you as you realized that you had wandered too far, and he was nowhere to be found. Despite the tranquility of the jungle, the vastness of the wilderness seemed overwhelming as you searched frantically.

Hours passed with no sign of Gohan, and your heart began to race. At one point, a saber-toothed tiger emerged from the shadows, forcing you to fight it off with everything you had. Your muscles ached, but you couldn’t stop searching—fear gnawed at you that you might never find him.

Just as you began to despair, you heard it—soft, pitiful cries. You snapped your head toward the sound, and, without hesitation, you dashed in that direction. The jungle, dense and filled with the calls of unseen creatures, only made the search more desperate.

Then you saw him.

Gohan was clinging to a branch at the edge of a deep ravine, his small body trembling with fear. His cries echoed through the jungle, and the water beneath him roared as it rushed violently past, threatening to pull him under. The branch he clung to creaked under his weight, and his tiny hands struggled to maintain their grip.

Your heart stopped. Time slowed. He was moments away from falling into the churning river below. Without thinking, you called upon the Nimbus, flying toward him as quickly as possible. The jungle blurred beneath you as you approached Gohan, praying you would reach him in time.

Gohan’s sobs grew louder as his grip weakened, but you were there. Hovering just above him, you reached out, ready to pull him from the edge of disaster before the raging waters claimed him.