Orphaned; Chapter 1
Disclaimer- I do not own DragonBallZ, DragonBallGT, or DragonBall. Thank you, have a nice day : )
Note: Ah, I know I haven't finished 'Breakdown' yet, but I've hit a sort of block. I've also been working on this fic at school, because the only file of 'Breakdown' that I have is on my computer. So I started writing a new one. Don't worry, though! Breakdown will be finished! I am working on them both… biggest mistake of my life…
Warnings- I have severely distorted reality in this one (when do I ever not?) and I've got little kids acting like geniuses. I mean I've got four-year-olds acting way mature. But bear with me, here. Oh yes, possible tissue warning if you're sensitive about death…
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It was dark- much to dark for his liking. It had been pleasant, but now it was time to go. The baby's world was suddenly filled with bright light and sound. He opened his eyes slowly, afraid of this new world and what creatures might inhabit it. A watery image swam before the child and came into focus. Men and women stood looking down on him, all wearing white, their mouths covered with surgical masks.
"Congratulations," The doctor holding him said, "it's a boy." The boy was handed over to a tall man wearing orange who smiled down at him.
"Chichi, honey, look. We have a son." Chichi smiled wearily up at Goku.
"Son Gohan. After your Grandfather." She said, breathing heavily. Goku nodded. "Let me hold him." Goku gave Gohan to Chichi, who looked fondly upon him before closing her eyes. "Take him, Goku." She gasped.
"Are you all right?" Goku asked as he took Gohan back.
"Sir? I need to speak to you." The head doctor took Goku aside. "Your wife is very weak and has lost a lot of blood. We're going to take her into surgery, but…" He trailed off.
"Don't worry. Chichi is strong. She can make it through anything." Goku replied confidently. The doctor nodded and nurses wheeled the new mother out of the room. Goku took Gohan to the nursery to wait.
Half an hour later, the doctor returned.
"I'm sorry." Was all he said. Goku nodded, picked up Gohan, and took off, his heart in shock. Only when he arrived back home did the full force of what had happened hit him. His wife was gone, never coming back. Never again to smile at him as he came into the kitchen with a huge fish in his arms, never again to laugh with him or cry. He placed Gohan in the crib that had been prepared for him. What was he to do? 'Until death do you part.' the preacher had said. What was that supposed to mean? He was parted from his intended life-long mate. It was too much to bear this emotion rushing through him; he had to let it out somehow. An aura flickered and steadily grew as Goku's body tried to handle this new stress. Within seconds, Goku had passed his maximum. His hair flickered gold for an instant before the power faded away and he dropped to the floor, lifeless. His spiritual heart had already broken from the ache of losing its soul mate, and his physical heart gave up trying to handle the pressure of such enormous power in an untrained body. The infant Gohan wide-eyed at this display of power that, unbeknownst to him, would effect his life from this day forward.
Miles and miles away, Goku's arch-nemesis felt the flux and fade in a familiar ki signature. Piccolo's curiosity pulled him toward that place and he found himself standing at Goku's open front door. The scene that met his eyes stirred a mix of emotions within him; his long-time rival dead at his feet, but not because of him, and what could only be Goku's son staring through the bars of the crib, seemingly deciding whether to cry or not. Piccolo decided that he was not happy at all at the death of his opponent. To avenge his father, Piccolo had wanted to be the one to kill Goku. It was his life. What kept him going. What kept him training. Now what? His eyes drifted to the baby. Goku had killed Piccolo's father, so Piccolo would kill Goku's son. He picked up the now crying child by the front of his shirt, ready to kill the last Son in one fell swoop. Fortunately for Gohan (or perhaps, fortunately for Piccolo, cause Gohan was really crying now.) Piccolo's sense of honor kicked in. What was he doing, killing a defenseless child with no power to speak of? Better to let the child live, and then, if he did discover his true heritage or power, he could be disposed of easily. Piccolo looked at the headboard of the crib where Gohan's name was carved.
"Son Gohan." He said thoughtfully. "You are very lucky to have caught me on a good day." Gohan just looked at Piccolo and gurgled happily.
Four years later, a haggard looking woman looked over her spectacles at the small boy in front of her. He had a head full of black hair that never went one direction, though the caretakers of the four-five division of the orphanage were constantly trying to brush it out. It was morning and the head caretaker of the division had brought the boy here. The woman looked through her files. There had always been something strange about this boy. He was more mature than other children his age and sometimes displayed a higher mentality than the others. He had been brought here when he was no more than a few hours old by a very strange character indeed. He had been tall and green with pointy ears and a dangerous manner about him. He had told her only what was necessary- the boy's name and what had happened to his parents. So here he was in her office, not for the first time, accused of causing a disturbance after all the others had gone to sleep. The woman massaged the bridge of her nose.
"Gohan, would you care to tell explain why you woke up all of the other children in your division?" She asked, already guessing at the reply.
"Sorry, Miss Marx, but I didn't mean too. I had a bad dream." This ending sentence was so lame Gohan could have kicked himself. But it was true. Miss Marx pushed her glasses up.
"Another one? That is the third time this week. Perhaps you should talk to somebody," Miss Marx suggested.
"I talk to my friends," He answered, though he knew this wasn't what she meant.
"I mean a professional. Someone who can listen to and interpret your dreams and even be your friend."
"I'm not seeing a shrink." Gohan stated flatly. The director sighed, pursed her lips, and took another look at the boy's file.
"You are dismissed." She said. When he was well out of the room, she perused the file once more just to be sure she hadn't misunderstood. The report from the director of the 4-5 division stated quite clearly that the other children had seen Gohan glowing. And the director had confirmed it! Of all the nonsense… Miss Marx pushed a button on her intercom. "Sally? I need to speak with Anne of the 4-5 division."
"Ok Miss Marx." Replied the secretary. A few minutes later, a nervous redheaded woman walked in.
"Anne, I've just read your report on the boy in your division. Son Gohan?"
"Oh yes. The one with recurring nightmares." Anne glanced apprehensively at her employer's paper-covered desk.
"You said he was glowing."
"Um, that. Right. Well, all the children saw it."
"You said he was glowing."
"Yes. I saw it for myself."
"Anne, have you ever heard of a flashlight?"
"Well, yes, Miss Marx, but the boy was sleeping. And when he woke up with that yell, the glow was gone."
"He was glowing." Miss Marx shook her head in disbelief. "Fine, you can go." Anne left. "Perhaps she aught to see a psychiatrist as well." Thought Miss Marx, going back to her papers.
The Z gang had lost touch with each other over the years. This prompted Master Roshi to organize a small get together for all of his old friends. They had all been so out of touch that no one knew anything that was going on with anybody anymore, except, perhaps Bulma and Yamcha, who had just reconciled after another fight. Master Roshi called Krillin, Bulma, Yamcha, and Goku just to be sure that they could all come. Everyone said yes in a heartbeat. Everyone, that is, except Goku.
At the Son house, a sudden shrill ring pierced the four-year silence shrouding it. Birds took flight form their nests in the rafters to escape the rare, unwelcome noise, rousing some of the thick coat of dust that now lay on the once clean furniture. They passed through the door that had rusted so that it stayed ajar. Dark shadows passed over the small mound of dirt that served as Son Goku's grave. Piccolo had provided an honorable burial for his most honorable opponent.
Master Roshi hung up the phone. 'Oh well,' he thought. 'Krillin can go and get Goku when he gets here.' If only he knew.
Well, that's it. Kind of sad, but tell me what you thought. Till next time, toodles!
~mysticGohan33~