"But in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes."
-Ben Franklin
Keen black eyes darted around a checkered board, double and triple checking that everything was as it should be. Gohan couldn't see anything pressing, but life had this nasty habit of throwing curveballs at him. So he checked again, still keeping his hand on the black knight that he'd moved a minute or so before. The bishop was covered, the rook couldn't switch out, the queen had been sacrificed…
Finally, he let go.
"Checkmate." A pause, his opponent was now scouring the board for a remaining shot at victory. But they wouldn't find anything.
"Damn, you beat me again didn't you?" The speaker snorted in amusement as he still surveyed the playing field, yet found no possible routes of escape. For a moment, his fingers remained wrapped around an aged yellow king, before they finally withdrew their grip and knocked the piece over. "I concede. You're just too good, kid."
"But you took my queen this time, Mr. Lumbaa. At least you're improving." The child seated across from the first speaker offered a grin, as if it would make the loss disappear into thin air. Although there was no real need to smooth over the defeat, the adolescent still felt better by doing so. No matter what logic said, instinct and past experiences always won out. Few people liked to lose.
"Yeah," agreed the older man, "I just might get around to beating you when I'm on my deathbed." He let out a dry chuckle and stood up, cracking all the kinks out of his old back. He'd been sitting down far too much today. There just wasn't enough demand for his lumber now that most of the repairs in the area had been completed. But obvious reasons aside, he really did hope that business picked up. This kid was just too interesting to let go.
"I'm sure you'll manage it before then." Smiling grimly at a joke only he understood, the youth gathered up what remained of the chess pieces on the board. "I'm far from invincible."
Lumbaa opened his mouth to speak –after all, where was that headstrong attitude that kids these days seemed to have in abundance?– but was cut off by the shrill ring of a bell. He'd installed it maybe a decade ago, when it'd looked like this mountain area was destined for larger things, and he'd had a force of twenty men to help with the timber demand.
And here he was, all those years later, with only a ten year old boy to do the heavy lifting.
"Five already? Where'd the time go today?" He paused, reconsidered, and spoke before Gohan could answer. For all his skills, the kid utterly failed at comprehending the meaning of a rhetorical question.
"Never mind, I don't want to know. In any case, we never finished that order for Baker over in district 440, yeah? That's gonna be a pain in the ass to fill in time tomorrow."
"I could stay extra-"
But Lumbaa was already pushing Gohan out the door of the shed that they'd been having their chess match in, and, coincidentally, away from the timber just waiting to be processed for client Baker.
"Now we'll be having none of that! Isn't your ma ready to have that kid of hers? You should be there with her at all times! Women-folk are unpredictable like that. You turn your back for a second, and next thing you know, they're popping out babies!"
"A-ah. Right. I don't know how I forgot…" Gohan had decided long ago that the fact that he could monitor his mother's chi was probably best left unspoken. You just didn't mention stuff like that to your boss, no matter how likely he was to take it as an obscure joke.
"And your pay! Gah, what was it? You were here from ten…so seven hours worth? Yeah, that's about right."
"But I didn't do-"
"Nonsense! You kept this old geezer company while he was procrastinating. That earns your wages just as well as carrying these dead trees." And the money was pushed into the child's hands. Huh. Well, at least he'd have enough to cover the groceries. Maybe pick up a book for his mother as well?
"Thank you…?" Although he was still not quite sure how he was supposed to politely accept this, the child finally just grinned and decided to figure it all out later.
"I'll head home then." As he pulled out the capsule for his bicycle –one had to keep up appearances after all– Gohan grinned again, mood recovered at the thought of a meal and his warm bed. The cold weather seemed to make every joint creak like a rusty hinge; the broken neck that he'd had all those years ago –it had only been four– never seemed to sit well during the winter.
"Looks like snow you know. I could have the Missus drive you…" But Gohan was already gone, tossing a faint 'see you tomorrow' over his shoulder and riding straight into the oncoming storm cloud.
Yeah. He was a weird kid alright.
What was nice about Mr. Lumbaa was that he didn't ask many questions. As far as the older man was concerned, Gohan was just another mountain-boy trying to support his family. There was nothing odd about that; which was exactly what he'd been aiming for. It was bad enough that the neighbors from the surrounding three mountains were still convinced he'd been in the Cell games; his family really didn't need any more attention. Really. They didn't.
"But still," lacking in company as he was, the demi-saiyajin was speaking only to the clouds which whizzed by, "I feel bad for lying to him. He's a nice guy" But, it was nicer to know that he was employed. It was nicer to know that his as-of-yet-unborn little brother was going to be free to do what he wanted. Nicer to know that he, the first son, wasn't going to be eating less so that his little brother could grow up properly.
It was amazing what a few extra zenni could do.
Shifting the grocery bags tucked safely under his arms, Gohan began his decent as home became closer. Hopefully he wasn't too late; mom had said she needed this stuff for dinner tonight. It wasn't too terribly much, and the adolescent doubted that it would have been missed when faced with his appetite, but when Chi-Chi had a culinary idea, it was always in everyone's best interests to let her have her way. Although, he did kind of wish he knew how to cook at least half as well as she did. All this activity? The doctor had emphasized how important bed-rest was. He'd underlined it when outlining how her pregnancy was coming along.
Of course, she hadn't really listened.
"Mom! I'm back!" He easily touched down on the front step, narrowly avoiding disaster as he remembered to wipe his feet at the last moment. Doomed was the man, woman or child who forgot to clean off their shoes before entering the Son household.
"What took you?" As soon as he made it inside, Gohan had the grocery bags yanked away from him and into much more capable hands. Stomach and all, Chi-Chi would always know her way around the kitchen ten times better than anyone else; there were few that she trusted enough to let into its inner depths.
Still, the demi yelped as he realized what had just happened and tried to snatch back the bagged food items. "Ah-! Mom! The Doctor said I'm supposed to be doing all the lifting!" Go sit down! Rest! Something! He wanted to tell her. But mothers had the oddest tendency to ignore their children when it best suited them.
"I'm fine Gohan. I was able to this when I was pregnant with you, and you were such a heavy baby. You kicked so much too…" Distracted with the past as his mother was, the hybrid was quick to use the opening to grab back the groceries from her and dart ahead into the kitchen.
"You're supposed to be sitting down!" He called back over his shoulder with a grin. "Doctor's orders!"
Chi-Chi only sighed. She knew exactly where this was going to end up. But if Gohan was going to be so insistent on putting away the groceries, then fine. But it was only going to be more work for her in the end. It was just how things were.
And right on cue, her son chimed in. "Hey mom? Er…where do you want the bread?"
"Third cabinet from the left."
"The one with the rice?"
"No, the one with the cereal."
"Cereal? Where's the cereal?"
"Third cabinet on the left." She could feel a headache coming on already.
"This one?"
"One over."
"Here?"
"Other direction."
"Oh."
One obstacle down; Chi-Chi didn't want to think about how many more were left. It might just be better if she started cooking now; Save herself the trauma of directing Gohan around for the other three bags of groceries. Either way, this would be a rather tiresome dinner.
"Your scholarship application for North Capital is due tomorrow." With the dinner dishes, the dusting, and the laundry forcefully taken over by Gohan, Chi-Chi had very little to do but read the book that he'd brought her (A thousand and one ways to prepare your kids for university) and sip a mug of cocoa that he'd made for her. It was shameful, she was his mother! She was a fighter! She had enough energy to get the chores done.
And yet, she hadn't taken them back.
"I need to finish an order for Mr. Lumbaa tomorrow. He thinks it's the last one that we'll have before spring."
The mother sighed and turned a page. "That's what you said for the last one."
"That's because this is the last one" She almost glared; Almost, but not quite. –There had been a time when he would've been very much in trouble for speaking back to her like that. But this wasn't that time– So she continued reading her book, which was propped up on her round, yet firm, stomach. Gohan almost apologized, but didn't. So he remained seated on the floor and finished folding the laundry. The quiet was familiar, but unwanted all the same. They were mother and son, and yet they had so very little in common which they could talk about.
"How's your book?" The child finally asked; politely of course. He returned the folded laundry to its proper place in the closet, before stepping into the kitchen and grabbing his own cup of hot chocolate. It was snowing, he'd defended. If they didn't use the hot chocolate mix now, when would they?
"Very interesting." She responded just as courteously.
They couldn't go on back and forth like this anymore. It just wasn't healthy. Either Gohan would give up the job, or she would give up her dream of seeing him graduate from a respectable senior high school. During the day it was fine. He was away from home, she stayed where she was, and there was no point of overlap.
But now, as he gripped a mug of cocoa on the other side of the room and wouldn't even look her in the eyes, it was just plain awkward. He thought she was fragile, she knew he was wrong. She just didn't know how to prove it. Knees drawn to his chest and lips silent, he looked more the part of the damsel in distress than she ever had.
How can a mother protect her child when the child wants only to protect her?
Finally, with a sigh, she was the one to break the silence. "Why do you like that job so much?" No matter how much he wanted to train, to protect everyone, her baby was an intellectual at heart. She knew it, embraced it. He knew it, ignored it and hid it away so that maybe, one day, he could come back to it when the world was sufficiently saved.
It also looked like he wasn't going to answer. She was a mom. She could see these things.
"It's not that I'm mad," she tried again; "I just want to know."
The silence lengthened again, and Chi-Chi feared that she might have to give up. Her Gohan had never acted like this before…before…everything. When he'd been four, he'd been such a bright child. He still was. It was just, puberty maybe?
She had a last ditch effort. "You don't have to be your father."
The mother didn't care if he stiffened, didn't care if he tried to shirk away and bury himself further into his chair. She continued to keep her eyes on her book, because if she so much as twitched a muscle out of her chair, he'd change the subject in the blink of an eye and get her to go lay down.
"I honestly don't want you to be him either. You're…"
"Dad asked me to take care of you, for him."
Oh.
So that's where this was coming from.
"Gohan…" but she'd made a mistake. Chi-Chi had forgotten the simple rule that she'd set up for herself only a minute before, and she was now standing. The hybrid-child was up in an instant, asking her if she needed anything, telling her to sit back down, and again, protecting her from nothing.
She sighed, but gave in all the same. "No, I'm just going to bed." And she did so.
They would probably never talk about it again, and that almost made her turn around. Almost. But this wasn't something she could tackle. It was, for what seemed like the umpteenth time in her life, out of her league. Except this time, there wasn't a monster ready to blow her head off, or an alien who was all too happy to destroy the Earth.
This was something between Goku and Gohan.
Her son could not protect her from life; he could not protect her from the fears that one day she'd lose him too. And likewise, she couldn't protect him from the responsibility that had been pushed down onto his shoulders.
He'd wake up early tomorrow, clear the snow before she had a chance to. She'd stay up late tonight, and wonder if her son would ever be able to leave home without the chains and shackles of this responsibility to hold him back.
…After all, she really did want grandchildren.
Hah, for the grocery thing, that always happens to me. I take in the bags to help my mom, and then I never know where any of it goes. Gohan's such a momma's boy. (And this story is so dedicated to Chi-Chi. She doesn't get enough love in this section)
On a side note…Dragonball is gaining on 25 years. Cheers! (While we're on the subject, I don't own it :P)
And on a side side note…erm, I seem to have lost the point of this thing? Can anybody find it?