Gohan is 14 years old, and still in a deep depression over Goku's death.

All appearance and/or personality differences are intentional.

VIDEL won't come in till much later, but she will be vital to the story.


Son Gohan had never been the type to have many friends, if any at all.

His late father's comrades were always around to talk to, but over the years, he had distanced himself from even them. After Goku died prior to his son's victory at the Cell Games, Gohan had become a hollow version of himself. He had always been quiet and reserved, but now he kept almost exclusively to himself.

It didn't take long for Chichi to notice the immense change in her son's behavior. Concerned for her eldest son, she made multiple attempts to reach out to him, hoping he would talk to her about his issues. But Gohan's dissociation had quickly gotten out hand. She first realized this the day Cell was defeated, when Gohan, Krillin, and Yamcha had stopped by to deliver the news of her husband's death.


It was late at night, hours after Cell's defeat. Gohan wanted to go home alone, but the others insisted on following him. Piccolo was especially persistent on coming, but Gohan had gently reminded him that his mother wasn't the Namekian's biggest fan. But he had no excuse for turning Krillin and Yamcha away, so he was stuck with them tagging along.

There two were no doubt helpful in delivering the news to Chichi and consoling her; despite being mature for his age, Gohan was only eleven years old. He wasn't equipped with the mental skills to handle such an intense situation now that Goku's death was permanent.

However, Gohan still seemed eager to get the duo to leave. He stood an intentional distance from Krillin, Yamcha, and his wailing mother, chewing the inside of his mouth and staring out the window. Any attempt by the men to urge Gohan to join them in grieving was met with an averted gaze and quick shake of the head.

After about an hour of this, Krillin and Yamcha decided it was best to leave the Son family to mourn for the night. Gohan jumped at the chance to see them out the door.

While Yamcha was his typical oblivious self, Krillin was more than put off by Gohan's lack of emotion. Even as they stepped outside to say their final goodbyes of the night, he couldn't help making one last attempt to reach out to his best friend's son.

"Are you sure you'll be alright, Gohan?" The monk asked gently, desperate to read something on the boy's face. "This isn't going to be easy, y'know…your mom-"

"Don't sweat it guys, I'll make sure she's okay," Gohan beamed at them from the doorway, which did the opposite of easing Krillin's concern. "If I can beat Cell, I can take care of my mom, right?"

Krillin's brow crumpled with worry, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck. "Gohan, I gotta say…I'm not sure how I feel about you seeming to take this all so…so well…" The monk glanced up to Yamcha for backup, who caught on quick.

"Yeah, kid, maybe we should stay for a bit longer or something–" he was cut off by Gohan conveniently leaning his arm against the entrance, blocking him from coming back inside.

"It's pretty late," Gohan replied coldly, still smiling. "You guys should really go home."

Catching onto the boy's firm tone, the men nodded.

"If you or your mom need anything, just ask us, okay?" Krillin hated the thought of leaving, but it was clear they were getting nowhere with Gohan tonight.

Yamcha nodded eagerly. "Yeah, anything at all, just give us a call. Or hell, come visit. You're always welcome with us–" he barely finished his sentence before Gohan slammed the door shut. The duo glanced at each other and sighed heavily before departing to their own abodes.

Chichi was still on her knees, weeping for the loss of her love. She felt a small hand on her shoulder, and glanced up into the deadened eyes of her once wonderstruck son.

He leaned over and embraced her tightly, burying his face in her neck. Chichi was shaking as she wrapped her arms around him, holding her son close. They sat for a while in silence, Chichi sobbing and Gohan rubbing his hand along her back to comfort her. His motions could only be described as a sweet, awkward melancholy - a child taking on a role too big for him.

Finally, he spoke quietly:

"I'm sorry, mom."

That was all.

No tears.

No breaking in his voice.

Just a defeated apology.

And with that, he pried her arms off him and stepped away up the stairs without another word.

Chichi waited for Gohan to come back down and continue to grieve with her, but he never did. And she cried alone into the night, knowing now that Goku wasn't the only person the Cell Games had taken from her that day.


To make matters worse, the next day Gohan switched out his room, which had once been down the hall from his parents, for the small attic where the Son family kept only storage. Gohan insisted it was so he could get fresh air from the large window that opened to the roof, but his mother knew better. Her son just wanted to be alone, as far away from everyone as possible.

Still, she respected his wishes to avoid upsetting him further.

Chichi had watched, her brow creased with worry, as her son packed up his belongings and dragged them up the stairs to his new sanctuary. One from which he would barely come out from ever since. Running her hand down her pregnant belly, she bit her lip and prayed, for both her and her unborn child, that Gohan would come around to the light eventually.

That was three years ago.


Gohan sat on the roof of his home and watched the sun rise in the distance. Like most nights, he hadn't gotten much sleep; the dark circles under his eyes were evidence of that.

The fourteen-year-old stood up and climbed down through the large open window into the attic that was his room. He grabbed his black messenger bag, stuffed in his iPod, a sketchpad, and a couple of books before heading down the stairs.

Gohan always made sure to take light steps in the morning to avoid waking his mother or Goten. His three-year-old brother, as much as Gohan loved him, could be the occasional pain. Always clinging and asking to play when all he wanted was to be left alone. Gohan knew it wasn't Goten's fault; the toddler only wanted his big brother to show him love and affection, which he had an abundance of for the child.

He just dreaded attachment to things that weren't permanent.

The teen stopped by the bathroom to take a quick glance in the mirror. He was dressed in his usual attire: black jacket and red t-shirt, slim black jeans, and combat boots. His hair, which had grown out to just slightly past his chin, hung over his pale face in a dark, gothy mess. His blue eyes peered out from behind his bangs, an illuminating splash of color that contrasted with his dark apparel.

Ensuring his sleeves were pulled far down his arms, Gohan stepped down the stairs and continued out into the chilly morning air. Hugging his jacket to him, he put his earbuds in and turned his iPod to maximum volume. He began walking towards the city.

When his father died, Gohan slowly began to prefer walking over flying. He preferred anything that would eat up more time. Ever since the Cell games, the days seemed to drag on endlessly, as if existing itself were a chore.

However, being half Saiyan, his walking was still vastly faster than that of a human, and he reached the city in just a couple of hours.

As usual, his dark attire in the bright city drew an unwanted emphasis. Several passersbys glanced over with looks that ranged from confusion to disgust.

Damn, people, Gohan grimaced to himself. Figured you'd be used to me by now.

He came here nearly every day, to sit atop the city buildings and overlook everyone and everything from afar. Walking over to his favorite spot – a ten story high publishing building – Gohan went around the back and flew up to the top. Sitting cross-legged on the concrete roof, he pulled his sketchpad out of his bag and began drawing, taking the headphones out of his iPod so it would play aloud as he worked.

This was Gohan's typical routine. Overlooking the city, indie beats playing softly beside him.

He watched the older couples shop in the morning. He watched the kids release from the high school his mother had tried forcing him to enroll in. (He had adamantly refused; he insisted it was because he already knew everything they could possibly teach him, but really he just knew he would never fit in with other people his age…

…or anyone, for that matter.)

Gohan used to wonder what fascinated him so much about being in the city. He certainly wasn't fond of people; he hardly communicated with his own family and friends. Until he finally realized, it wasn't the people he was interested in;

it was the sensation of being alone without feeling lonely.

Eventually, Gohan put his drawings up to read one of his books. Going on into the night, he listened around him as the stores began to close and the lights started to dim until he could hardly read the words before him.

Out of nowhere, it began pouring rain.

Gohan hurriedly thrusting his book and iPod into his bag to avoid them getting ruined by the rain. He headed to the back and casually hopped down from the building, his Saiyan abilities making it an easy feat. He was about to go ahead and fly home, but thought better of it. He had always enjoyed the rain, and it wouldn't hurt to kill a few more hours.

Gohan stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket and began his trek home, head cast down at the ground. The rain had already drenched him, flattening his hair until it mopped over his face.

The night clubs began opening, their neon signs like a spotlight on his camouflage in the dark. Drunken men and women scattered in and out, occasionally knocking into the annoyed teenager as he walked down the street.

That's when he saw it.

From his peripheral vision, Gohan caught a flash of black, racing into the middle of the street. Squinting closer, he realized…it was a cat. A small black cat with bright lavender eyes. He stopped in his tracks, looking closer at the creature, when he noticed that the feline was also staring right back at him.

Gohan felt his breath catch in his throat. He'd always held a special fondness for cats. He would have gotten one a long time ago, had his young life not revolved around fighting villains from worlds outside his own. But since no one in his life had ever seemed concerned with what he wanted, he had never asked.

But this cat was different – she had some strange pull on him, and he took a step closer, intrigued by the odd sensation he was feeling.

A burst of light came from around the corner. A car, likely driven by a drunk party-goer, was accelerating down the rain-covered road.

Headed straight towards the black cat.

The car lights flashed in his eyes, blinding him for a moment. But the black cat appeared frozen in fear.

Without thinking, Gohan dived forward. For the first time in forever, he felt his Saiyan instincts kick in, and he levitated. He flew out into the road, in front of the speeding car, and caught the black creature in his frozen hands. He felt the car graze him before he toppled onto the other side of the street. He was so preoccupied with the cat that he hardly took a moment to acknowledge how out of practice his abilities were.

Shaking and gasping at the intensity of what he had just done, Gohan looked down at the shivering cat. His body was curled around her protectively, and they were both soaked from the rain. They held their gaze again, his blue eyes and her purple.

Purple eyes on a cat? Gohan furrowed his brow. There was something strange about this creature that he couldn't put his finger on.

Gathering his things, he stood up and cradled her in his arms.

"Hey little girl," he spoke softly, lightly scratching her chin. "You got a name?"

The cat purred, her eyes narrowing, as though challenging the boy to conjure one up himself.

Gohan laughed, his lips breaking out into the first smile his features had known in ages. He took the cat's little paw between two fingers, as if holding her hand. "Alright then," he whispered. "Guess I gotta make one up then…. let's see…."

He thought back to moments before, when he had first locked eyes with the little cat. The way his heart had stopped, and the world seemed to freeze. As if she had some sort of power over him, like she controlled the universe and everything in it with her glaring lavender eyes.

Gohan smiled down at the cat, who purred back up at him.

"Guess we're going home… Miss Atomic Bomb."

Gohan slipped her into his messenger bag, leaving enough open space for air. And for the first time in years, he flew his way home.


"Miss Atomic Bomb" — The Killers