Obviously I don't own DBZ...

Notes: This is part one of a large series I'm working on. To be honest, I have no real direction, more like a general idea; I'm basically letting the story write itself. Within a lot of these chapters, you're going to find roughly translated various languages. Either Google translate for yourself or scroll to the bottom of each chapter when you're finished for a read out. Much like Toriyama, I don't consider myself a romance writer as of late. I used to frequent this site as a Vegebul writer years ago. But I lost interest in DBZ for a while and switched to writing under a pen name for a Showtime series I'm currently obsessed with. Buuuuttt after going to the theater like an uber nerd after years of fangirl dormancy, here I am, back at it. But this time I'm trying a stab at some minor Trunks romance in this one. At least in part one. But if you're a Vegebul fan, you'll get your fix too. Mostly I'm writing this for the adventure. Enjoy!

P.s. I hated GT so that doesn't exist in this future.

P.P.S. If the title offends you, Guest who left a mean review, turn right around and shove that ridiculous attitude right up your bum. I'm not even referring to whatever 'Lord' you follow. It's for fiction purposes. Get over yourself, child.

P.P.S.S Jeez I changed the title so everyone would stop being butt hurt. Happy now? I can't believe some people were offended by a title.

Possession

1

A Seed is Planted

A pounding resonated beneath his feet. It started small, tickling the soles, but grew until the room around him shook with immense force. His windows blew both out and inward, the glass cutting his arms and face as he attempted to shield himself. The Namekian named Sipho screamed in fear and confusion along with the harmony of calls all around him. Their entire planet, fresh and new, barely twenty three years old, felt as it had on that fateful day long ago, when a tyrant force has pillaged all which the surviving Namekians had fought to save or rebuild. On old Namek. Only this shaking was without warning or lava, without a golden haired savior.

Sipho gripped the ground and crawled his way out of his family's modest home. Gritting his teeth, he flinched away the books and bottles which pinged off his head and body. Finally, he managed to throw open his front door and see outside.

His village was a young one. Birthed by a Namekian named Tafari. They were each, all twelve of them, Tafari's offspring, save for Sipho and his two sons.

Most had made their way outside and were gathering around the small oasis, cleaving to the Ajisa plants. Sipho dug into the dirt and joined them, crawled up a tree, his face pressed into a plant. His sons, nowhere in sight, were likely still visiting Moori. Sipho wept in hope that the boys were all right.

The winds picked up, taking belongings and pieces of Namek, creating giant tornadoes that could be seen spreading rapidly across the horizon.

Then suddenly the wind stopped. Everything stopped. The sky rained dirt upon their heads.

Sipho let go of the plant and stood firm, looking at the wreckage. Fortunately it was minimal. He assumed a weeks worth of repair.

"Nini ilikuwa kwamba?" one of the children asked, his eyes bulging and lips trembling.

And worst to happen yet, a weight came upon them. Terrible and crushing, knocking everyone to their chest and backs. The air pressure was too much. Those that could will hands to their throat, gasped silently and blood pooled in their eyes and mouth, dripped from their ears. But eventually that stopped too. And there was only blackness. Empty space and twinkling stars.

Screaming, Dende shot up in bed and held his chest. Pouring sweat, he looked around and saw his bedchamber. Nothing had changed. Aside from having knocked over his glass of water on the nightstand. Glaring at his feet, Dende gripped the sheets and shut his eyes hard. Not to wipe away the image; his antenna swayed and his energy levitated the pillows behind him, he felt around vast space in search of Moori. Unbeknownst to Dende, who was far too focused, Mr. Popo had barged in, panicked.

The genie creeped over to Dende, a worried expression marring his face. He touched the bedpost and waited patiently.

Breathing hard, Dende opened his eyes and met Mr. Popo's. He still gripped his blanket. Though now instead of focus, Dende's face made Mr. Popo gasp. The Namekian's eyes swelled with tears.

"Dende?" Mr. Popo uttered, meek and concerned. "Aren't you feeling well?"

"Popo," Dende gritted out, "something awful is happening. I can't find New Namek."

Leaning on the bed with wide eyes, Mr. Popo stuttered, asking if the planet had been destroyed.

Dende shook his head, grinding his teeth and staring into space. "No," he bit out, "it's just gone."

Far below the clouds, resting on a small patch of land in the suburbs of West City, stood a split level town home. Painted tan and olive, with two patios; one upstairs and the other nearest the lower level garage. On the roof was a swing set and modest pool area. Surrounding the home was a cul de sac of resembling houses, sidewalks, and the neighborhood farmer's market. Beyond that stretched small time mom and pop shops, an elementary school, and highways leading out into the bigger city. A homey place. A peaceful residence.

Shouting erupted from the town home and shook the rooftop. Suburban moms in their mini vans came to a dead, shocked stop and joggers fell over while a group of basketball players turned to stare at the Son residence.

"Videl, listen to me!" Chichi growled, yanking her daughter-in-law's cup away from her. In turn, splashing the juice on Videl's dress. "I've been through pregnancy twice now, and I can tell you this, if that baby is anything like his father, you're going to have to do more than drink juice and eat an egg for breakfast!"

Sighing, seated by himself at his kitchen booth, Gohan let his forehead his marble. They had been at this for weeks now. His mother was incorrigible, refusing to let Videl treat her own pregnancy.

"I'm eating six square meals a day!" Videl harped back, trying to fight for her glass. The juice sloshed about into the stream of sunlight leaking in through the kitchen windows. "My doctor says I'm perfectly healthy!" she yelled, slapping the glass finally and shattering it against the counter top.

Chichi gasped, blinking at the mess. And then, in usual fashion, clenched her fists and shut her eyes, boiling inside. Gohan cracked an eye and swore to himself that his mother's face turned five shades of red and purple.

"You know what, mom," Gohan breathed, sitting up slightly to prop his chin in hand, "this is our second time. I think Videl knows what to expect this round."

Looking triumphant because of her husband's backup, Videl crossed her arms over her bulging abdomen. She upturned her nose at her taken aback mother-in-law. Flipped her chopped blueish, black hair.

"Gohan!" Chichi roared, turning her rage onto her now cowering son. "How dare the two of you gang up on a poor defenseless grandmother! I'm only trying to help! You just wait until your father hears about this!"

The front door stood open behind them, illuminating a short and bulky figure. It took a moment for the child's presence to register with her bickering family. She stood hip-high to even her mother; extremely small for her age because she had been born prematurely. Her hair was flat and onyx, pulled back in a long pony-tail. Her eyes the same shape and shade as her father's, but with her mother's softer nose and mouth. Her jawline resembled her grandmother's, as did her often brash and unapologetic attitude. She took off the backpack, which was twice her size, and straightened out her white and blue school uniform. Her eyes never leaving Chichi.

"Grandpa's home?" she asked, walking calmly to her father's side after shutting the door.

And with that came silence.

Gohan stared down at his five year old daughter. He held his breath. Damn his mother and her big mouth. Since his father's departure at the last World Martial Arts tournament, all Chichi had done was live in denial. And every time she went to talking about Goku, Pan would get upset. She missed him perhaps worse than anyone. Gohan, he was used to his father's leaving. He knew his father would be back after training Uub. He'd be back and for while at least, he'd stick around. Whatever the reason for Goku's recent adventure, Gohan knew it was important. He understood. Pan on the other hand was a child and understood very little. And Chichi needed to stop talking as if Goku was coming home any minute. It would probably be more like years.

Videl halted Gohan's inner dialogue when she bent down and held Pan's shoulders, soft smile on her face and touched Pan's cheek. "Not yet," she said warmly, "but maybe later we can visit Dende, and you can talk to Goku."

And just like every time, that was enough to quell Pan before she started in crying for her beloved grandfather.

Gohan glared at his mother, pushing at his glasses. She stared back at him, apologetic for once.

Miles away, tucked into a canyon beneath a waterfall, Piccolo meditated. But it was not peaceful. Nor had it been for the past twenty four hours. Kami was restless within him. Finally giving up on inner battle, Piccolo gave over his mental reins. He hoped this would allow him a quick rest, if nothing else. He found himself traveling through time and space. Lost among the stars. Delving deeper and deeper. Life forms zipped by, galaxies whirled around him. It was dizzying. Finally his search came to an end amid emptiness.

What's your problem, you old kook?

After receiving no response, Piccolo quieted once more and gazed around the vacuum of space to which his consciousness had traveled. He allowed his energy to focus in his cerebrum. If Kami wouldn't fess up, Piccolo would find out for himself. At first he did not recognize the galaxy. Because it looked different. Stars and planets were missing. In fact, a great portion of the galaxy no longer existed. The once great spiral was now more of a straight line. Within him, two voices whispered, breaking his focus only a little. He struggled to make sense of the words and worries. Nail and Kami. Both of them were upset. 'Gone.' That was the only word he understood at first. 'Home,' that was the second.

Gone?

A sinking feeling attacked his stomach and Piccolo opened his eyes with a jolt. The galaxy he'd visited had been that of his home planet's. Quickly he shut his eyes again and searched once more. Coming to rest on the place which New Namek usually orbited, Piccolo looked for rubble. Signs of destruction. But there were none. It had simply vanished. Along with most of the surrounding galaxy.

"But what does this mean?" Piccolo asked himself aloud, once again opening his eyes and staring at the water around him.

Back in West City, after a delicious diner, Gohan found himself surrounded by the three most important women in his life. Literally. Each of them held onto either his elbow or back as he placed two fingers against his forehead and transmitted all of them to Dende's tower. Their arrival, usually met by either Dende or Popo, went unnoticed. The platform was eerily still and silent.

Videl let go of Gohan's back and took Pan's hand. She began walking towards the fish pond nearest Dende's front door. Pan jumped beside her, full of excitement, unaware of her father's sudden concern.

"This sure is strange," Gohan hummed as his mother gazed around. "Both of them are in the Time Chamber," he said quietly, more to himself. "With Piccolo," he trailed and turned his back, eyes staring up and lost in the clouds as he zoned in on their auras.

"Well where is everyone," Chichi asked, scowling with her hands on her hips. Quickly she yanked Gohan's shirt collar and pulled his face to her level. "Are they even home?" she asked him, expectant. And when he didn't respond within seconds, she harped, "Gohan, say something!"

"Mom!" Gohan urged, pulling from her grasp, "calm down." He ruffled his shirt and joined his wife and daughter, Chichi close behind. The three knocked on the front door and waited patiently. With his hands in the pockets of his black slacks, Gohan tried to appear calm, but his heart beat rapidly and he felt a sense of unease. He could tell that Piccolo was angry. And he could sense Dende's sorrow. But he didn't want to alert his family or worry them. After all, it could be something simple.

Common sense told him otherwise.

Pan knocked again, then looked up at her mother with a confused frown just as the door creaked open. Mr. Popo stood before them, grim. Shaken.

Forgetting his former stance, Gohan barged past Popo and toward the Time Chamber, leaving behind his worried family. As he reached the heavy wooden door, they opened, halting Gohan's run. He blinked between the two Namekians before him. Their moods had not changed since he'd felt them out. Piccolo's face reflected his inner fury and Dende was pale.

"Gohan," Dende greeted him, "I'm glad you're here. It saves me the trouble of telling you this telepathically."

"What's going on?" Gohan asked Dende but looked to Piccolo.

"There's been a disturbance in our universe," Dende said, wasting no time, barely containing his panic. "I don't quite understand it myself," he added, glancing at Piccolo who nodded for him to continue, "but I need you to get everyone's attention. Bring everyone here! Right away! I only want to explain this once. Hurry, Gohan!"

Translations: "Nini ilikuwa kwamba?" is roughly "What was that?"