The album had been on the top shelf of his closet, shrouded in darkness, silently collecting dust.
Gohan, who had been rummaging through his closet in search of an elusive text book, had discovered the musty book only when it crashed to the floor at his feet.
He took a step back, eyes focused on the album. He frowned. How did that thing get in here? Weird . . .
Now Gohan couldn't remember ever owning such a thing. So, naturally, he was curious. Slowly, the boy kneeled down to retrieve the album. As soon as his fingers scraped the surface, he felt a sudden, shocking jolt of electricity tear through his arm, making its way to his shoulder.
It had not been painful, but it was the sheer surprise of it that had caused the boy to jump back.
Heart pounding in his chest, Gohan took a few more cautious steps back. Static electricity, he told himself, rubbing his hand. Had to be.
He didn't really believe it. Against his better judgement, he reached for the album once again. He cringed as his fingers made contact with the dirty cover. Gohan squeezed his eyes shut, expecting another shock.
No shock. He sighed in relief.
See? Just static electricity.
The cover had once been a dark red, but now it was a faded pink. One of the edges had been torn off. Printed on the cover, in neat gold letters, were the words PRECIOUS MEMORIES.
Gohan, sitting on his bed, opened the ancient photo album. The stench floated of mildew floated out from the pages. Gross, he thought.
He began to flip through the pages. As he soon discovered, nearly all the pages were blank. However, there was one photo in the very back. It was a family portrait. Black-and-white.
Gohan saw himself as an infant, his father (who held Gohan close to his chest), and his mother. But . . .
But there was a boy he did not recognize. A boy of about eight. He resembled Goku in many ways, most notably, his spiky black hair. He had a soft, pallid face, and piercing eyes. This boy stood in front of Gohan's mother, who had her hands on his shoulders.
Instead of a smile, the boy wore an angry scowl.
Who . . . is that? My brother?
Well, who else could it be?
His brother? Where was he? Alive? Perhaps dead?
All Gohan knew was that he wanted some answers.
Never knew I had a brother . . .
He decided he'd ask his mother.
She was in the kitchen, standing over a large pot of soup.
The sweet smell floated down the hallway. Gohan's stomach grumbled.
"Hey, mom."
She turned, wearing an apron and clutching a wooden spoon.
"Yes, dear?" Her voice was soft and pleasant.
Gohan showed her the album. As soon as Chichi's eyes fell on the book, her mouth dropped open. The spoon slowly slid out of her grasp and clattered to the floor. "I want to know who the boy is."
"G-Gohan . . . where did . . . you find that?"
"It was in my closet."
Chichi shook her head. "D-Don't lie to me. Now tell me, where did you find it?"
"I told you, I . . ."
He saw his mother's hand lash out and felt a stinging pain rip through his cheek as it connected solidly with his face. Gohan's eyes watered. His ear had gone numb.
"You . . . you slapped me!"
Chichi quickly snatched the album from his hands, then pulled him close in a tight hug. He could feel her heart thundering in her chest. "Gohan . . . I don't want you ever going up in that attic again. I've . . . I've told you before not to go up there."
"But, mom, I didn't!"
"Gohan, go to your room."
"But . . . "
"Go." Her voice was firm.
Gohan reluctantly followed orders.
Later that night, as Gohan lay in bed, his belly full, he wondered about his brother.
Chichi had told Goku about Gohan's discovery.
At dinner, Goku and Gohan had a little talk.
"Now, Gohan, your mother has told you not to go up into the attic."
"But dad! I never went up there! Please, I'm telling the truth!"
Goku sighed. "If you're going to lie to us, then I guess we're going to have ground you for a few days. Maybe then you can tell us where you really found the album at."
"Will you just tell me who the boy is? Is he my brother?"
Neither Goku nor Chichi had replied to his question.
Gohan then promptly excused himself, disgusted.
Now, here he was, struggling to get to sleep.
I'll try again in the morning. They're hiding something.
There was a slight rustling sound outside Gohan's door. It was fast, brief. It almost sounded like footsteps.
Gohan sat up in bed. "Hello?"
Heavy silence.
It's nothing, Gohan told himself.
He continued to repeat it to himself until he drifted off into a troubled sleep.