Translation. Again.

I picked up this Gohan-centered story because I had a blast writing it some years ago and somehow it feels good to go back to it. I dedicate the translation to my English-speaking friends who like Gohan much more than I do.

Warning : I made a darker Gohan than the canon. I always have a hard time believing that, living the events he lived as a kid, Gohan could turn into the goofy, easy-going young man we see in the canon. It could never be his true self in my mind.

Either way, I hope that some of you will enjoy the story.


Waiting for the night to fall


Chapter 1

Sitting on the deserted roof of the building with his back against the wall of the mechanical room, Gohan was staring at the end summer sky. The sun wouldn't bring himself to set and his light kept reflecting on the scarce clouds and wrapping them into changing colors. This sky reminded Gohan of others skies and he found himself remembering a game he had played with his father ages ago. Both of them would look at the clouds for hours while making out the shapes of animals in their wooly forms. Gohan was a child then.

However, right there and right now, no matter how carefully he would study the clouds, none of them was willing to look like something familiar. The clouds above him were just stupid, useless clouds and they wouldn't even be able to drop the slightest drizzle to soothe the scorching heat. Gohan was no longer a child anyway. He had just turned seventeen and his father was long gone.

He sighed and gave his watch a weary glance. He still had more than half an hour to wait. He opened his backpack and scanned its content. There was a big book of literature inside. Gohan was supposed to read it whole before starting school the following week but he hated literature. All these subtle, complicated words put together in order to describe simple, uninteresting things - he didn't see the point. He took the book out of the bag nevertheless, trying to ignore how dejecting its weight felt in his palms.

His mother had always worried a lot for his future and for the time being, she was especially concerned about him going to high school. If truth to be told, the prospect made him nervous as well. He had never attended a classical school and he wasn't sure he would be up to the teachers' demands. He had gone through tests and he had been told that he had passed them. Regarding sciences he had even been brilliant, they said - He was so clueless about school that he had needed someone to explain him the grading system as to understand the result of his work.

The grades in literature had actually been weaker and it was the reason why Chichi decided he would have to read this huge book about classical authors. There was no way Gohan could be weak in any field. He had to excel at everything. Since the age of four, he had been asked to excel at everything. He was used to it and he had always meekly met the demands of adults.

He opened the book on a random page and stumbled across the portrait of a writer supposed to be a major reference. Gohan gazed at the picture while trying to meet the painting's sad eyes. The man had obviously not been the funny type. By reading his dates of birth and death, Gohan could count that his life had hardly last twenty-nine years. The teenager rolled his eyes and closed the book with a dry snap. It sounded much too depressing to him and he was too nervous for that right now. He peered at his watch again. Twenty minutes left.

He packed the book away and his thoughts drifted to highschool once again. The level of the classes wasn't his only concern. It was also about the others - The other students, the teachers, people in general. He knew he would be more or less able to make it with the adults. His mother had been so adamant about respect and politeness that he was quite good at coping with the cryptic world of adults. Yet, his classmates would be something different. Gohan had never dealt with people his age. Life had never given him this opportunity. Sure, there was Goten, but Goten was his brother and he was still a little boy. It didn't really count as an experience.

Gohan was wary at the thought of finding himself in the midst of standard teenagers with normal lives and normal parents. Unlike Gohan, the other students would have spent their entire lives among their fellow-men. Gohan had no doubt he would feel awkward in their company and he was aware that he was likely to be seen as a weirdo or as a moron – if not both. Thus, he was both curious about this careless world, and worried to find out whether he could really belong to it.

He fumbled in his backpack for a small bag. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a photo out of it. He lit a cigarette and contemplated for a while the rings of smoke he managed to form with his first drag. Hours of waiting like those had allowed him to become skillful at this little game. He peeked at his watch. Ten minutes left.

The light of the day had ended up fading and a slight breeze was gently ruffling his dark locks. His mother would cut them off in a few days. His shaggy hair didn't look serious enough to attend highschool.

He grabbed the photo that had been packed with the cigarettes and studied it for an instant. The twilight was bothering so he lit up his wick lighter and placed the flame closer to the picture. It was the picture of a wrinkled man with a long face and drooping features. The guy's hair was a mix of salt and pepper. It was pulled into a ponytail with thick sideburns on both side of his jaw. He was wearing a very confident smile although he had likely been unaware of being photographed as the cliché had obviously been captured with a telephoto lens.

Gohan watched him for a long time at the dim light of the flickering flame. He wondered who this guy could be. It was the sort of question his mind was asking less and less and he would seek answers even lesser. Gohan was aware that it didn't really matter any longer at this point. His conscience wasn't exactly dead though, and he still kept giving a thought to the identity of the people on the photos if only a few seconds. Yet, his questioning was more like a silent prayer by now, a sort of by superstition. Basically, Gohan knew he didn't really care.

In the beginning, knowing the people's names and lives seemed important but in the beginning, he had only been fourteen. At that time, he still believed that his father was watching over them and that seasoned jobs in the farms would be enough to feed Chichi and Goten in wait for better days. Back then, Gohan had no doubt everything would be all right soon because everything always ended being all right.

The first time the man had offered him the deal about the people on the photos, Gohan had refused. He had even been deeply shocked. Despite his annoyance, he had decided to say nothing to his mother. He wasn't sure how she would react by hearing that someone had recognized the kid who had overcome the horrible Cell but he was sure she would be infuriated about the way people were trying to use her son's gift.

Yet, the man came back. He said he was called Mr. M. and as a naïve child as he was, Gohan had believed at first it was his real name. Yet, no matter his real name, Mr. M. seemed to be able to know where Gohan could be found any time. It was puzzling. Each time they met, Mr. M. told him a little bit more. Mr. M. only wanted the good of the world - Just like Gohan, after all. And what Mr. M. would ask of him was something Gohan had already done. And Gohan knew that too many qualms could cost lives - lives of beloved ones - right? Still, Gohan refused the offer each time. He was young, but he felt there was something wrong in the deal.

Then, there had been a terrible winter. It had been terrible for crops and even more terrible for Gohan's family. These dire times had the boy realize that his mother couldn't cope with the situation and that his father wouldn't help them anymore. Chichi could have asked for other help though. There was Grandfather Gyumao, there was Bulma, there were all of his father's friends but Chichi was proud. Gohan couldn't blame her. Her pride and her children were all she had left. She had asked for help at first but it had cost her too much to do it again. Too many times had Gohan heard her sob in the kitchen at night, when she thought he was asleep. He couldn't bear with it anymore.

The next time he saw Mr. M., he accepted his offer provided that whatever Gohan would be asked, it would only serve the world's sake. Mr. M. had promised without a second thought that the boy's services would - of course - only be required for the good of all, while congratulating him on his clever choice. Of course.

The fire devoured the picture and Gohan let it fall to the ground, flaring like a torch faintly stirred in the night breeze. The night had fallen by now. The young man stubbed out his cigarette and rummaged his backpack to take the binoculars out. Then, he packed off the rest of his stuff and stood up. He walked closer to the edge of the deck. He was dressed in black as to melt into the shadows and, as a last caution, he pulled his dark chech* over his mouth, before crouching behind the ledge of the roof. Then, he placed his binoculars at eyes level and start his watch.

The building was high and looking out down the facade of a hotel across the street. Gohan didn't like it. He was in a crowded tourist area which meant people all around – Some passers-by, the hotel's valet, two grooms watching the entrance, customers getting in and out. The young man observed their ballet for a while and checked his watch.

It was past five minutes already. He resumed his watch through the binoculars all by taking a gum out of his pocket with his free hand. Chichi wouldn't like to smell tobacco in his breath. When it was about the smell on his clothes, he always made up a story about the customers of the restaurant where he was supposed to work in, but he had to be careful about his breath.

A car that could match his information ended up stopping at the valet's level. A driver climbed down and leaned himself against the door, with the obvious intention of waiting patiently for his passengers. He had a brief talk with the valet. It was time. Gohan started his mental count.

One - The driver. Two - The valet. Three - A groom loaded with suitcases near the entrance. Four - An old lady with an overexcited poodle. Five - A bleached blonde woman with a thick fur, completely insane by the current heat. Six - An old wrinkled guy with sideburns walking at her arm. The ray of pure energy pierced his forehead at such a dizzying speed that the people around had a hard time understanding what had just happened. Even the sexy bleached woman didn't immediately grasp the reason why her immaculate fur had so suddenly been stained with red.

The guy with the sideburns slumped to the ground with a dull sound, and only at that moment, a mix of the shrill screams of the girl with the fur and the hysterical barks of the poodle echoed up to the roof where Gohan was crouched, his motionless finger still pointing in their direction. He crawled back cautiously, and stood up when he was out of sight from the street. Ignoring the clamors resounding in the air, he lost no time reaching the opposite end of the roof and flew away soundlessly, heading right to Barney's district.

He landed in a dark alleyway. Standing in the shadows, he got rid of the chech* still covering his mouth and put on a denim jacket over his T-shirt. Then, he walked to the street, spitting out his gum and lighting a new cigarette as he headed for the entrance of Barney's Inn.

"Gohan, my friend! Are you on a ride tonight?" Barney welcomed him from the counter.

Gohan scanned the place. It was Friday night and Barney's inn was filled with young people eating ice cream and drinking beer - Barney had never been a great stickler for the rules. Gohan smiled at him and stepped to the bar.

Barney was a tiny, half-bald man. Gohan had worked a while for him, but the young man had to give up any hope of career as a waiter due to his clumsiness. However, Barney and he remained friends and the bartender agreed to be Gohan's alibi for Chichi every night Gohan would feel like "being on a ride". Barney was the type to believe that young people should be allowed to have a blast once in a while and Gohan was so serious – too serious – in Barney's mind, why would it harm to have him unwind from time to time?

Gohan sat on a stool. "Hi Barney, I felt like a beer."

"You know you're not exactly of age for that, boy. As you're not of age for that either," the barman objected while pointing at the cigarette.

"I think I heard about it," Gohan replied in sarcasm as he knew Barney loved a little preach before allowing everything that was supposed to be forbidden.

Gohan pulled his phone out of his pocket and rested it on the counter, making sure it was on. He checked the messages while Barney served his beer.

"Another girlfriend?" the bartender muttered by giving Gohan a side-glance.

"Sort of" Gohan nodded with a half-smile, his eyes still glued to his screen.

"It's forbidden to smoke in here, it is a public area," a young girl's voice snapped.

Gohan raised his head in disbelief and found himself facing a girl with piercing aquamarine eyes. Although she was short, her fists on her hips and her disapproving face conveyed her deep irritation at him.

He had a slight puzzled frown. "Ain't that forbidden too?" Gohan retorted pointing at the glass of beer Barney had just rested on the counter for her.

She had a faint flinch but it lasted the blink of an eye. "How do you know I'm not old enough for that?" she spat in annoyance.

Gohan squinted in disbelief. "Everything in you screams that you're not in age," he hissed.

"She's right, Gohan," Barney cut off with unease. "Put out your cigarette. It obviously bothers her."

Gohan raised an eyebrow and turned to him in astonishment. He had a second thought but he ended up dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out on the floor already strewn with other cigarette butts.

"At least I don't bother anyone," the girl added with a shrug while grabbing her glass.

"For the moment," Gohan grumbled grudgingly.

The girl ignored him. She stepped away and joined a table where other young people were already seated. He watched her all the way long, a dull annoyance running through his nerves. A blonde girl sitting at her table gave him a glimpse and waved discreetly at him.

Gohan didn't pay her any mind. "Who does this girl think she is?" he groaned before sipping his beer.

"It's Videl Satan. She's the daughter of the great Satan, didn't you know?" Barney said in a low voice.

Gohan had a faint start and couldn't help his eyes to turn back to her. She was now talking cheerfully with her friends. So, Hercules Satan had a daughter. Gohan couldn't prevent his mind from pointing out that he had himself no longer a father. No glory, no father. Yet, he recognized Satan's eyes. Hercules had the eyes of a coward while she had the eyes of a know-it-all, but they were all the same.

"Would you like to join us?" a slick voice asked just beside him. He was snatched out of his thoughts and realized that the blonde girl had walked to him. He gave her a stunned stare.

"My name is Erasa. Are you alone? Why not come and sit with us? Videl isn't as bitchy as she looks," she resumed with a warm chuckle.

Gohan remained speechless. He didn't expect the offer.

"So?" Erasa insisted.

Gohan's phone vibrated at that very moment. He seized it at once and read the message. The job was done, the pay was there. He just had to go and get it. Mr. M just told him where.

"Another time, maybe," he answered before gulping down the rest of his glass. He pulled out a note for Barney and stood up.

"Too bad," the girl said mischievously, as Gohan had already pushed open the door of the inn by waving goodbye at Barney.

ooo0ooooo0ooo

* chech: scarf used in Arabian countries to struggle wind and sand. I found no English name for them.