Disclaimer: This story is a not-for-profit fan work based on Akira Toriyama's Dragon Ball series. I claim no affiliation with Bird Studios, Toei, or FUNimation.
The Smile
It had been one day since the funeral. Two days since the Cell Games. Gohan lay awake in bed, alone with his thoughts. On the surface he was okay; his family and friends had commented several times on his remarkable composure, and it wasn't as though he was trying to put on a front for their sake. But now that he had time to think, time to let it sink in, he couldn't escape that day. It kept playing over and over in his head. His father standing before him, telling him that he was proud. And then he disappeared. "Daddy, come back," Gohan whispered as he rolled over in bed. I still need you.
Sunlight poured in through the window. If only things had turned out differently. . . Goku had assured him over and over that it was all right, that he had done well, but Gohan wasn't quite convinced. Instead, a single, guilty thought looped infinitely in his mind:
It was my fault.
Goku had told him countless times that wasn't true, and Gohan wanted to believe him. Really, he did. But right now it was just too much. He flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling. A small sigh escaped his mouth. "Daddy. . ."
A muffled sound came from the next room. His mother was softly sobbing, he realized. Gohan shifted uncomfortably. Please, not now. The guilt was growing. My fault. He had to get away.
Gohan found Piccolo waiting for him when he arrived at Kami-sama's palace. Relief washed over him, and he ran to his friend. He threw his arms around Piccolo's waist, not caring how the Namekian might react. He buried his head in Piccolo's chest and sobbed. Piccolo stiffened, taken aback by the boy's behavior. But his expression softened, and he ran his hand through Gohan's spiky shock of black hair.
After about ten minutes Gohan began to untangle himself from Piccolo. He looked up at his friend and smiled timidly as he wiped the last of the tears from his face. "Thanks," he said. Piccolo gave a brusque nod in return.
"Piccolo?" Gohan asked. "Would you mind if we go somewhere else and talk?"
Piccolo regarded the boy carefully and conceded. "Sure thing, kid."
The two flew in silence, with Gohan leading the way. They landed in a clearing near Mount Paozu where they often sparred. Gohan flopped down on his back and sprawled out on the grass. Piccolo sat cross-legged next to him. "Piccolo?" Gohan ventured as he stared up into the sky.
"Yes?"
"Dad didn't have to die."
"Gohan. . ."
"I should have finished Cell off sooner."
"Kid, stop blaming yourself for what happened. It wasn't your fault."
Gohan was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. "Dad said that, too. But the thought just keeps running around in circles in my head."
Gohan turned toward his mentor. "Piccolo, how come I'm the one who had the power to beat Cell? Not Dad, not you, not Vegeta — me?"
Piccolo considered the boy for a time before responding. "I don't know, Gohan," he said. "I don't think any of us know." And he wondered if it was all too much. All that guilt, all that power – it was a huge burden for anyone, much less a small eleven-year-old boy. Gohan had been through so much already – he had seen more pain and destruction in his few years than most see in an entire lifetime – and now he bore the additional burden of being the most powerful fighter in the world. He had never been particularly confident in his abilities, and controlling his power had been difficult enough before this. Was it too much?
Kid, if I could bear this burden for you, I wouldn't hesitate for a second.
"I know," Gohan said softly.
The ill-disguised surprise on Piccolo's face told Gohan that he hadn't been intended to hear that. He blushed. "Sorry," he said awkwardly.
"It's all right," Piccolo gruffly assured him.
Gohan stared at the sky. "It's hard to believe that just two days ago the world was on the brink of destruction," he mused.
"And you managed to prevent that."
A bitter shadow of the familiar Son smile crossed Gohan's face. "But," he said, "I didn't prevent my dad's death. I could have if I had killed Cell when Dad told me to, but I didn't. And he died because of it."
"It wasn't your fault, kid," Piccolo snapped. "Son made a choice. He didn't sacrifice himself so you could spend the rest of your life beating yourself up about it; he did it to save the earth. He was a hero, Gohan, and so are you. He was proud of you, kid. What you did. . . you made us all proud."
Gohan was silent. A few minutes passed before he spoke again. "Piccolo," he said finally, "Dad was there. He was with me when I beat Cell. I don't think I could've found the strength to do it without him. He gave me advice and encouraged me, and I could feel him. And I felt him at the funeral yesterday. I know he's with me now, and I know he always will be, but I wonder if that's enough. There's just so much power, so much guilt, so much craziness in my head right now." Gohan closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.
Gohan smiled faintly, again only a shadow of Son's smile. "Thanks for listening, Piccolo," he said softly. Then an idea popped into his head. The smile broadened slightly, and the boy's eyes flashed mischievously. "Hey, Piccolo," he said, "do you want to spar?"
Piccolo's eyes widened slightly in surprise. That was sudden. But he grinned in response. "Sure thing, kid."
Gohan made the first move. He flew at Piccolo and punched. The motions were so familiar he barely needed to think. Punch, kick, block. He poured everything he was feeling into each move. Relief washed over him as he lost himself in the motions.
Piccolo watched Gohan closely. It was amazing how much the boy had improved since the last time the two of them had sparred. His movements were so fluid, and each attack had an intensity all its own. The boy had a fierce determination today, and Piccolo could see that he was pouring his whole self into this match. Piccolo smiled inwardly. The kid had come a long way
Two hours later, Gohan plopped down on the grass, dripping with sweat and laughing. "That was great, Piccolo," he said. "You pulled some really incredible moves."
Piccolo stood next to the boy. "You did pretty good yourself, kid. Gave me quite a workout."
Gohan laughed some more. "You think so?" A grin stretched across his face. This time it was really there—the famous Son smile. And Piccolo couldn't help but smile, too. It looked like Gohan was going to be okay.
After all, he had his father's smile.
Authors Note (Oct. 2010): While it may seem a tad pointless to re-edit my old fics instead of just channeling my energy into fresh works, I see this as a good opportunity to get back in the DBZ mood and make little tweaks based on my current understanding of things. Again, most of the edits here are minor mechanical fixes and language polishing, but I did make one significant update: Gohan is no longer powered up while sparring with Piccolo. This was done because a.) its been pointed out that Piccolo would be no match for SSJ2 Gohan, and b.) I realized that its unrealistic for the character. Id say that Gohan is pretty wary of his SSJ2 form, even years down the line and even in battle. So, no powered up sparring here.