a/n: Don't know why I wrote this. Inspiration kicked in, and here we are. I haven't watched Super yet, and I don't think I'm planning on watching it. I think it's too out there, you know, in the universal scale, but there's hardly anything new about it, just more power ups and more generic villains. I don't even think Gohan or Chi-chi or Goten had much of a role in it. I like DBZ better so this story would be focused on that. I've written this with character study in mind and for the sake of drama so don't expect much fighting as well.

My other stories are put on hiatus temporarily. Real life caught on and I had a lot to handle. Writing just have no niche anymore. I'm still planning on continuing all of my works so y'all don't have to worry. Well, if anyone waiting for them happened to read this, anyway. Please accept my apologies.

disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z or anything recognizable from the DB franchise. This was written for entertainment purpose only and I have gained no form of profit from it. No infringement is intended.

Chapter I

The lake was serene as always, its calm surface reflecting the colorful sky overhead. A canopy of trees surrounded its rim and a gentle waterfall cascaded on one end with a familiar rhythm. The long fingers of the coming dawn touched the picturesque scene, bathing it in an almost otherworldly glow. He had witnessed this marvel countless of times, and yet it had never failed to take his breath away. There was something soothing about that constancy—a fleeting moment that he knew belonged only to him.

He sighed contentedly, languidly lounging on the soft grass while soaking in the few instants that he could get just for himself. It was a rarity these days, to be honest, and a luxury for the past several years of his life. He remembered things differently a long time ago, back when he was just a kid and his father was still alive. They used to come here all the time, whenever they could sneak away from his mother and her constant need to nag and make him study. His father would take him here to swim, fish, or just have a fun time together. The carefree and happy-go-lucky attitude he had was always infectious, his merry laugh echoing in the woods and, often times, even the woodland creatures were drawn to his warm presence.

Gohan missed his father. He missed his smile, his laugh, and his ever-optimistic outlook in life. He missed the aura of peace and protection he exuded; the promise of happiness and security that was entwined with his very existence. He was all that, he supposed, a personification of hope.

That man was, and still is, his hero. Son Goku had never been perfect. He wasn't completely faultless and he'd made a lot of bad decisions in his life, but everything he did was for the good of the many. He had sacrificed so much, saved the world so many times to even count, and yet he had never asked for anything in return. Goku never had the best of luck either, but he had always managed to make even the darkest of days to be one of sunshine and rainbows.

Goku was gone. He was gone, and he refused to come back. He was dead, and it was all Gohan's fault.

Bitterness laced around Gohan's heart, the beautiful scene of the lake now ruined for him at the mere memory of his father's final moments. The smile, his words; it haunted him anywhere he went.

Gohan gingerly stood from where he dawdled, heaving the large fish the size of a whale he caught onto his shoulders and starting to walk in the direction of the Son's home.

The lake wasn't that far from their house. A wide expanse of a grassy plain lay beyond the forest that enclosed the serene lake, its soft dewy grass sparkling on the morning light. On top of a hill was the small dome-shaped structure that his father built with his own two hands—home. For a moment, he saw its chimney billow smoke, he saw his mother standing atop the hill in front of the door with her fists on her hips while his father smiled at him sheepishly behind her, scratching his head in that familiar way that he'd inherited from him. Then, the image was gone; all that's left was a small lifeless house.

The door of the quaint home opened and his little brother's cheerful face greeted him.

"Gohan! You're back! Wow, that's even bigger than yesterday!" he exclaimed at the sight of Gohan's catch, his eyes widening with glee and wonder.

Son Goten was a carbon copy of his father physically, from the way his hair spiked to the brilliance of his smile. It was almost painful for Gohan to look at him, especially with the identical clothes he wore, but the understanding in the boy's eyes always pulled him back. Goten wasn't his father. He was innocent, but he wasn't naïve; not anymore, because he had to grow up too fast, too.

Gohan could never hate his father, but there were times when he came too close. He understood the man's reason for refusing to come back, but he just couldn't accept it. Goku had been gone for almost seven years, and true to his word, no world-threatening villain came to terrorize the Earth. No evil king or emperor trying to take over the world, no army, no Freeza, no androids, no Cell, but there was so much more darkness in the world that Saiyan strength couldn't just blast away with an energy beam or beat to a pulp.

Like the matters of the heart—the ethereal wound he left on Chi-chi's soul that a sensu bean couldn't heal. Like hunger, that unrelenting fear that tomorrow he would have to leave his baby brother at home to hunt so they'd have food to eat. The loneliness, the helplessness of watching Chi-chi stare into nothingness while the baby begged for attention and affection. That burden of taking care of both his catatonic mother and his infant brother alone when he was just a child himself.

The first few years had been the most difficult.

His mother was still in the state of denial and she refused to believe that her husband wouldn't come back anymore. She was angry and temperamental in the day, and she cried the nights to sleep. His father's friends visited often, Krillin and Bulma the most frequent among them, but his mother's fits of hormonal rage had driven them away, even the Ox-King whom had long since been taken away by his duties as a ruler but used to occasionally check up on them was naught to come anymore. She didn't want to see them. She wanted her family left alone in peace. She wanted her husband back.

Chi-chi never shouted at Gohan, she never blamed him for anything. He always thought that she just didn't know what he'd done during the games, but he'd liked to believe that it was because she loved him very much. He didn't understand what heartbreak was back then.

By the time he had realized she was pregnant, she was already drifting. Gohan didn't know if he should cry in happiness or despair, he just… cried. He was going to have a younger sibling, but to be born in a broken home like this… What was he supposed to do?

Gohan did his best to look after his mother then. She was getting sickly, growing more and more unresponsive with every passing day. It got to the point that he'd have to spoon-feed her strained fruits and vegetables or other soft food and soups. Feeding that paltry food to a pregnant woman wasn't healthy at all, especially when she's carrying a half-breed Saiyan that rapidly seeped through her strength, and he knew it. So, he visited Korin once every couple of months to request some sensu beans, which he would then grind and add to his mother's meals to fill the slack.

Gohan promised himself that he would not let go. He wouldn't fail his mother, and definitely not the life she carries in her womb. He owed it to her, to his father, and to his little sibling. He was scared and angry and confused, but he refused to let go. He needed them as much as they needed him. He wouldn't, couldn't abandon them.

"Hey, squirt," Gohan said with a smile. "How's mom?"

The cheer on Goten's lips became strained. "I woke her up at sunrise," he replied. "I drew her a warm bath."

Gohan patted his head. "You did good," Gohan praised. "I'll just take care of this fish and then I'll give her the bath."

"Let me do the fish, Gohan," Goten volunteered.

"Goten—" the older boy started to disapprove.

"I've seen you do it enough times and I think I can do it now," Goten cut off. "The water will turn cold. Besides, you need to wash yourself, too. You smell fishy," he added with a wrinkle of his nose.

"Are you sure?" Gohan asked. He couldn't refuse his little brother when he used his wide pleading eyes on him.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Please?" the boy said.

Gohan sighed. "Fine. But you better be careful, okay? You're just gonna gut the fish and cut it to pieces. I'll be the one cooking it, alright?"

"Okay," Goten chirped, happy that he was able to help his big brother in some way. It was moments like this that Goten separated from their father's likeness. He was cheerful and carefree most of the time, but he understood life better than Goku.

Gohan watched as the boy raced inside the house and to the kitchen to retrieve the knives and basins before hurrying down the river at the foot of the hill to clean the fish. It was useless to worry about the little kid's safety; after all, there wasn't much in this mountain or perhaps the whole world that could or would hurt the small demi-Saiyan physically. Gohan reassured himself of that fact.

He headed inside the house and took a shower, washing the grime and dirt he got from his incursion in the woods. The water was warm, and it soothed his muscles. He finished quickly and dried himself, donning a new set of clothes before walking towards his mother's room.

Gohan hated going there. Everything about that room reminded him of a life that was just once upon a time. When he was a child, he used to cower in his parent's bed during a storm, cocooned by his mother and father's warmth while they reassured him that everything was going to be okay. His father's multiple gis and clothes were still in the closet, his pictures decorating the walls; it all depicted a wonderful occasion and a happy family. Gohan wouldn't take them down—they were all beautiful memories, he even occasionally cleaned his mother's vanity and redecorated the furniture in the room.

Standing in front of the door, Gohan dispelled all the negative thoughts from his mind before coming in. The curtains were drawn and the morning light filtered through the windows. His mother was seated, her back on the headboard. Her hair was unbound, cascading down her shoulders like black streams; it was thin and brittle, greying a bit on the roots. Her empty eyes were sunken, her cheeks gaunt, and her lips were chapped, her collarbone painfully showing from the neck of her pajamas that were loose and just too big. Her bony arms were folded on her lap, her legs neatly tucked in the blankets. She was like a worn-out and delicate doll; frail and lifeless.

She had regressed to this hollow husk of a human being ever since his father was gone. She woke up every morning and fell asleep at night, she breathed, and she could eat, but she wasn't alive. She must have died with his father during the Cell Games, and the eternal dragon couldn't bring her back either. It was a miracle that Goten had survived, much less been born. Gohan had to rush her to the nearest city, Satan City that was then named Orange Star City. The baby had to be cut out of his mother's womb because she was catatonic to push him out.

Goten came out fine. He was a healthy baby demi-Saiyan. Chi-chi was unresponsive all throughout her pregnancy, but Gohan liked to believe that she fought for Goten's survival, too; the baby wouldn't have survived otherwise. There was still something in her that was still alive, and Gohan wouldn't let that go. Goten was a miracle—a blessing. He was another reason for Gohan to keep living and fighting the intangible darkness.

Gohan smiled at his mother, albeit forced.

"Good morning, Mom," he greeted, his tone joyful. He received no reply but it didn't bother him; he expected nothing, anyway. "It's time for your morning bath."

Gohan gently scooped her from the bed and carried her to the adjoining bathroom; she was weightless in his arms when he could snap her bones with a wrong twitch. Gohan was a teenage boy, almost eighteen if he wasn't mistaken, but he already felt desensitized of the attractiveness of a woman's body. He barely hit puberty when he started taking care of his mother; feeding her, bathing and cleaning—everything. He was almost ashamed that he'd seen all of her, but he was too determined to keep her to stop. He felt like he might lose his sanity and control if she or Goten slipped from his fingers; he won't be able to bear to lose either of them.

Gohan talked to her while he washed her hair and cleansed her pallid skin, telling her of his day and his plans in life although she had nothing to say. When he was done, he dried her and put on her clothes, braiding her hair carefully after combing the tangles away. He carried her down the stairs and seated her on a wooden wheelchair he made for her. It was rudimentary, but he made sure it was comfortable.

Goten then came bounding inside with the basins of fish meat. He smiled at Chi-chi before kissing her cheek.

"Good morning, Mom!" he cheered. He was so gleeful as always, his grin stretching from ear to ear.

The older Son watched as his brother carried the basins to the kitchen before running back, ready to take part in their morning routine. Gohan patted his head as the boy wheeled their mother outside, chattering to her about something or other with the grin still firmly placed on his face. The morning breeze and sunshine would do well for her health and Goten's optimistic attitude was always a plus.

With the two gone, he went to the kitchen and cooked the fish. His culinary skills were pitiful at best, but he learned little by little as the years went by. The food won't last long, at least until dinner, but Goten was frugal and responsible enough to understand that he'd have to save some until tomorrow when Gohan could hunt and forage again. Well, even if he can't, Dahlia would be here to regulate him. He packed a sizable lunch for himself; it was Monday, after all, and he couldn't go to school without food.

It was his third year in high school. He'd been attending since he turned fifteen after learning about the scholarship the school offered. His full tuition was free and even provided monthly stipends for miscellaneous expenditures and books, which helped pay the bills in the house, as long as he kept his outstanding grades. It was a good investment of time and effort; he liked to think that it would make his mother proud. After all, she'd always wanted him to be a scholar.

When the front bell rung, Gohan smiled. Fetching his satchel from his room and stuffing his lunchbox inside, he ran downstairs to open the door.

An old herbalist lived at the foot of Mt. Paoz named Dahlia. She was mute and alone, having no family members anymore. Gohan met her four years ago while wandering in the mountains, and he'd instantly taken a liking to her. She knew who he was, who his father was, and what they could do; still, she had that understanding and fond smile that would always be on her face whenever they met. She came to their home every weekdays, riding Nimbus, the golden cloud. She happily looked after Goten and his mother when he went to school. Gohan was eternally grateful for her, but she'd always dismiss his gratitude. She was just happy to have something to do; they were the nearest if not the only neighbors for miles away, and she absolutely adored Goten.

Dahlia had a ready smile on her face when Gohan welcomed her, a basket of vegetables, fruits, and loaves of bread on her arms. She relinquished it to Gohan when she passed the door, and he took it to the kitchen.

"I have to go. I'll see you later, Nana Lia," Gohan said, giving her a salute.

Dahlia smiled, shooing him away urgently. Gohan grinned at her before racing out the door.

Gohan jumped into the air and flew his way to Satan City. It went without saying that Nimbus would stay at home; Dahlia might need its services.

.oOo.