Son Goku shivered as he stretched out his arm. He pulled his first-born child close to his chest, cradling the hope of tomorrow. So tiny, so fragile; he held the baby like delicate porcelain. For all his strength, the weight of the responsibility was immense in his arms. Every moment of his life, all the triumphs and tragedies, the sum of his labors, had been a single golden path leading to this moment.
"I think I finally understand, Grandpa." A smile curled on his lips. "That's it! I'll name her…Gohan."
The baby cooed. So small and pink, yet so vibrant. The name must've agreed with her.
The midwife said, "Isn't Gohan a boy's name?" But Goku hardly heard her. She stood there, towel draped over her scrubs, waiting for a good answer.
A shrug is a good answer.
For thirteen years, Son Goku had followed that golden path of destiny. Fourteen, counting the year spent in the Hyberbolic Time Chamber. His labors continued, his accolades multiplied. In his wake, a swath of reformed villains and toppled tyrants. Hero and father. The mythic Super Saiyan. Every challenge he'd ever faced, he had overcome through grit and determination.
But as he stood in the wastes, ki aura fading, panting with exhaustion, it seemed the golden path had finally reached his end. Perfect Cell hovered high above, gazing down on him in judgment. Cell's apotheosis had begun.
Son Goku had fought the good fight. He'd used every trick and stratagem he'd accumulated in a lifetime spent locked in battle, only for it all to come up short. Now every muscle in his body creaked in protest with each movement, and he had to admit…he just didn't have what it took. It was a humbling experience.
Cell, ever the gracious 'god', exhorted him to eat a senzu bean, and get back in the fight. It was no use though. While something in his blood screamed at him to get back into the melee, to see this through to the bitter end, Goku's better half, the humanity impressed into him by his friend's love tamped down that voice.
Because Son Goku was not Earth's last, best hope. He glanced up at the bluffs where Gohan watched. A bitter note of regret tugged at his heart. He'd not been the father he'd hoped to be for her. She'd grown up so much without him, dutifully put her shoulder to the plow to make up for his shortcomings. She'd never had a normal childhood. It had all been spent at war. Or training for the next war.
War…he'd never thought of it that way. Goku's Saiyan heritage gave him a natural lust for fighting. It made him feel alive, and nothing fulfilled him more than honing himself against the grindstone of conflict, texting his mettle against the next adversary. It had always been different for his little girl.
Goku fought because he loved fighting. Gohan fought because she had no choice. A soldier, not a fighter. Piccolo had been more of a father to her than he'd ever been, and his heart ached at the thought. He looked up at her and saw nothing but absolute faith in him. I don't deserve you, Gohan.
"Well, that's it then," said Goku, "You're really strong. I'm throwing in the towel." His wispy aura flickered out.
He expected the next part. The torrent of incredulous abuse from Cell, complete with threats to mass scatter the Earth if he didn't get back in the ring. The utter shock from the Z Fighters. Especially Vegeta. Goku suspected he'd never live this one down.
Cell re-iterated his next round of death threats, but Goku really wasn't listening. For a self-described Perfect Being, he was a little slow on the uptake. "Relax, the tournament's not over. There's still another fighter left, one who's more than your match."
Cell scoffed, "Is this a joke then, Goku? I've already had a turn with your C-listers. Even the 'Prince" there doesn't hold a candle to you."
"Nope, no joke."
"Oh, a battle of attrition then. Frankly, I'm impressed Goku, I didn't know you had it in you. You send these mooks to soften me up, and then you'll swing in as the pinch hitter in the end after I've worn myself out beating them into chunky salsa. It won't work, mind you, but it's the thought that counts I suppose."
"Nope, just one of them."
"You sure about that, Goku? They're not going to last long in the ring against me. Though I suppose Tien could Kikoho himself to death, just for old time's sake."
"No, not Tien."
"Then who is it? You're boring me here, Goku. This stalling act better stop."
Goku beamed at his daughter. "Gohan! You're up. Go give him hell."
A chorus of "what!" filled the desert air.
Goku leapt up to the ridge, landing beside his distressed daughter. He calmly set a hand on her shoulder. The trembling stopped, but she still looked up at him with such dread. It wasn't fair to put the weight of the world on her little shoulders. "Listen Gohan, I know he looks intimidating. But I meant what I said. You're the one with the strength to defeat him."
"That can't be right," she said, barely above a whisper.
"I know you can. Tell me, was there anything out there that you couldn't handle? Anything Cell did that was beyond your strength? Anything I did you couldn't do?"
"No, I just figured you were holding back, feeling him out before committing everything."
Goku shook his head. "I wasn't holding back, I went all out. Whether you realize it or not, Gohan, the truth is you're stronger than me."
The poor girl was torn between the warmth of praise and her own doubts. Goku did what he could to shut out Piccolo's protests, and encourage her to rise to the challenge. By the end, he knew she still didn't believe it. But like she always had before, she'd do her duty. Even if it killed her.
She cast aside the cape, descending into the valley. Cell loomed overhead, casting his shadow over her. The bio-android smirked, offering to humor Goku. I'm sorry, Gohan. I could lie and say this would hurt me more than it will hurt you. But I really don't have a choice. Something sleeps inside you, Gohan, and seldom awakens. It must awaken.
Cell descended to Gohan, haloed by the glare of the sun, his arms and wings spread in crude parody of some angelic figure. Munching on a senzu bean, he touched down with the grace of a dancer. He took a single step forward before squaring up.
Gohan's thoughts drifted towards how impossibly tall he seemed, looming over her. She knew he was imposing, but up close he seemed titanic. He crossed his arms, shaking his head with disgust.
"So Goku sends a girl, not even fully grown, to do a man's job? Perhaps I overestimated him. He's your father, right? I guess he's as big of a disappointment to you as he is to me. I almost pity you. Won't stop me from killing you, but hey, no hard feelings."
She found a measure of resolve. Something about the way Cell smirked reminded her of her dad. A man she had…complicated…feelings toward. Something about this parody crafted from the genes Piccolo and her dad (among others) brought that resentment out. "This is pointless," she huffed.
"Pointless? Didn't your father teach you about head games, girl?"
"The posturing is stupid too, but I meant the whole fight. It's stupid. There's no point to any of this. You're carrying out some pre-programmed instruction from the madman who created you like some robot."
"How dare you—"
"Look, if you're going to kill me, then you're going to at least listen to what I have to say first."
Cell grumbled, but let her finish.
"There's no point to any of your murder. To blowing up the earth. Or ruling over it like some tyrant-god. It's just emptiness, and I find it profoundly sad that all you can think to do is hurt others. There's so much you'll never see or know."
"Ugh, this sentimental bullshit is killing me." Cell turned towards Goku, shouting like a prophet in the desert, "See, this is why you don't send a girl to do a man's job, Goku. So when I'm finished killing your spawn, I'll kill the rest of you. But Goku, I'll be especially slow to kill you."
Gohan growled, clenching her fists. Something began to stir, and she felt the ki begin to wisp out of her.
Cell noticed immediately. He snickered, casting his snide glare at her. "Oh, so you do have some fight in you. Interesting."
Her father shouted the gospel from the mountain tops. "Yup, Gohan's always had a power inside her that only came out when she was angry. If Dr. Gero was half as resourceful as I think he was, he would have filed that information away into your brain."
Cell laughed. "Now I'm interested. So if I get you mad, girl, I'll get the fight your daddy promised."
Gohan wondered just what her father was planning. Why tip the hand, and give away the element of surprise? But it was already done. Gohan drew all the strength she found in her, bracing for the attack that was sure to follow. She knew he'd toy with her, torture her, and try to get her riled up.
But the attack didn't come. Instead, Cell produced eggs one by one, all the while smirking at her. The eggs hatched into deformed miniature of Perfect Cell, each one born into the world cackling with malice.
"I threaten you with a hideous death, and not a peep out of you, Gohan," said Cell. "But I even mention harming your daddy, or your little friends up there, and suddenly the fight flickers to life in you. Very interesting. I wonder what will happen if I sent my little brood over there to kill them."
She gasped. Her fists tightened into white knuckle fury. With a word from Perfect Cell, the Cell Jrs leapt into battle against her friends. In a moment of pure instinct, Gohan summoned up more power than she knew she had, and shot after them. Cell was there in an instant, and she barely dodged his roundhouse kick.
He was fast. Impossibly fast. She kept mere microseconds ahead of his attacks. Dodging, parrying, redirecting. The power behind each blow shook the earth. She tried counterattacking, feinting, even letting the blows connect. Anything to throw off his tempo so she could just get to her friends. But it was to no avail.
All the rest were barely surviving against the Cell spawn. Even her dad, the greatest fighter she'd ever known, was in trouble. She was angry at him for tossing that stupid senzu bean at Cell instead of eating it. She was angry at Krillin for losing the bag to one of the Cell Jrs. And most of all, she was angry at herself for not being able to stop the madness. This was how it always was. Never strong enough. Never brave enough.
That brute Nappa had already torn Launch apart. Gohan quivered in her little shoes as he drew in a deep breath. Chaozu had self-destructed in vain to stop him. He was an unstoppable force of pure Saiyan hate. Tien Shinhan had put his entire life force into a Kikoho blast that had shaken the very earth, and that bastard was barely wounded. She sensed death approaching with the ki flowing in Nappa's chest. He belched out an incandescent wave of energy, and she couldn't escape it. The fear froze her feet. Then Mr. Piccolo stepped in the way of the blast, burning up his very soul to power a ki shield to save her.
It was always the same. Everyone was fighting her battles for her. Even when she did find her courage, she watched helpless. She'd seen Namek turned into a graveyard. The same fate would now come to the Earth, and she'd have a front row seat for it.
She gritted her teeth, and dug deeper for reserves of strength. She landed a cross on Cell's perfect jaw, and nearly managed to slip by him. But his next blow struck her in the solar plexus, sending her careening through a hundred meters of solid rock.
Gohan gritted her teeth. Each second ticked away painfully as she regained her bearings. She blasted free from the mountain with a wave of raw ki. Everyone's energy, even the ever proud Vegeta, was flickering like a candle in the wind. She locked eyes with Cell, and felt the cold contempt well up in her. She channeled that power into her hands, planting her feet squarely just like she'd practiced ten thousand times.
"Masenko…ha!" she cried.
The blast momentarily drowned out the morning sun in intensity. Cell braced himself, a momentary flash of surprise dancing on his face. The Cell Jrs were distracted enough to buy at least a little bit of time. But when the roar died away, and the smoke cleared Cell remained little worse for wear. And the moment of reprieve she'd bought ended.
Gohan knew that she'd only been on Namek for five weeks. It had felt like years. The constant guerilla war against Frieza's soldiers had worn her to the nub. Hiding like vermin from their patrols. Watching villages slaughtered, helpless. Only picking off a few in ambushes with Krillin. Never enough. She could taste the ashes in her mouth.
Even Bulma played her part. She wasn't a fighter. But she still seemed so brave, so cool. Bulma was everything Gohan looked up to, the kind of woman she hoped she'd be when she grew up. Wicked smart, resourceful, stylish, assertive. But still kind even under that prickly exterior. Namek was as far from her element as possible, but still Bulma managed to find a way to help, sabotaging or subverting the Frieza soldier's tech.
Gohan supposed that's why it had been so hard to see her shot by Zarbon. She wasn't a threat to him, and he'd still killed her. Gohan had been in denial for a while of course. The Solar Flare had bought them their escape. She even patted herself on the back she carried Bulma's limp body to safety.
She found a little hollow to hid in while she tended Bulma's wound. That violet alien hadn't used more than a thimbleful of his power…but that little beam of light from his finger had punched right through Bulma's chest. "You're going to be alright," cried Gohan, willing herself to believe it. So much blood, it just keeped flowing no matter how hard she tried.
"Kid," Bulma coughed. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. "You have to leave me."
She seemed so calm when she said it. It unsettled her. "I just gotta put a bit more energy into the healing technique. I'll have you patched up real soon."
The bleeding wasn't stopping. She tried harder. Bulma put a gentle hand on hers. The woman gently shook her head. "I enjoyed the time we spent together. Promise…you'll make it."
Reality caught up to Gohan. Freiza had all seven of Namek's Dragon Balls. And Bulma had just died in her arms. This was forever. As the light faded from Bulma's eyes, she wished she'd had thought of something better to say.
It hadn't been forever. Somehow they'd pulled through, beyond all hope. They'd snatched the Dragon Balls from the jaws of defeat, and with it the hope for all those who'd died. Her father became the Legendary Super Saiyan, cast down the tyrant Frieza, and avenged all those who'd been crushed under his regime.
But as the present battle against Cell wore on, there were no easy miracles. No matter how deeply she reached for strength, or a trick to turn the tide, Cell always stayed just out of her reach. Sure, she'd struck him many times. She'd even drawn blood. But he always hit her back just as hard, and always kept on control of the terms of the fight. And her friends were dying by inches.
Her father, the greatest fighter she'd ever seen, the hero who'd always swooped in to save the day, had placed his trust in her. And she was failing him. It gnawed at her.
And that brute still wouldn't listen to reason. This was all so stupid, and she was the dumbest of the bunch for not being able to see a way out.
Gohan made the mistake of bring up Eighteen in the verbal jabs. She called him a monster for devouring the young cyborg, and he just reveled in it. She froze when she heard Eighteen's voice come from the monster's mouth. "Oh Gohan," the mirage of Eighteen cried, "You should have killed me when you had the chance. It's just one life, versus the rest of the world…"
The Cyborgs had been nothing like Gohan had expected. The first two had been kind of a let down after all that Trunks had hyped them up. They'd spent three years training for what turned into turkey shoot. Nineteen and Twenty, however, had turned out to be the wrong ones. Nineteen, alias Dr. Gero, had retreated to his lair to activate the real threats, Seventeen and Eighteen.
Those two had turned out to be an enigma. Incomprehensively more powerful than even Future Trunks had expected, yet nowhere near as malicious. Two bratty delinquents only a few years older than Gohan.
When she'd first met them, she watched helplessly as Eighteen savagely laid Vegeta and Piccolo out like it was child's play. The blond cyborg was beautiful, graceful and severe. She seemed almost impressed when Gohan confronted her, exhorting her not to kill anyone. The older girl chuckled and rustled her spiky black hair. Eighteen laughed at her confused reaction, and declared "I'm too old for you, kid." Only after did Gohan realize she'd been blushing.
When Bulma handed her the kill-switch, it felt heavy in her hands. She couldn't explain the feeling of dread at carrying the supposed salvation to all their problems. She steeled herself to do the right thing. But when she finally arrived, and Semi-Perfect Cell was nearing his goal, she didn't find anything easy or right about it.
She wished Trunks had been the one. He at least had the hate in him to pull the trigger. It'd be the simple choice, trading one life for so many billions. But when Gohan looked at Eighteen, she didn't see the monster of an alternate future. She saw a scared teenage girl. Betrayed, kidnapped, experimented on. Deeply wounded and alone, now being hunted by a real monster.
When it had happened to Gohan, there ended up being a light at the end of the tunnel. She'd lucked out. There had been no comfort for Eighteen. And she couldn't bear the thought of snuffing out Eighteen's light. Destroying the remote proved surprisingly easy.
She tried everything in her bag of tricks to help Eighteen get away. It hadn't been enough.
Gohan couldn't tell how many of the others were still alive anymore. Their energies were lost in the cascade of ki coming off Cell. She could see the Cell spawn still kicking their bodies, and hoped that this was a good sign.
Cell had shrugged off most of her attacks, even the Kienzan technique she'd borrowed from Krillin. He paused his onslaught to monologue again. It went in one ear and out the other. A girl can only hear so many speeches from megalomaniacal tyrants before they all sound the same.
As she searched for a way to reverse the fortunes, something metallic clattered in front of her, interrupting Cell's monologue. The stern but surprisingly friendly giant had apparently survived his abortive attempt at self-destructing to take Cell out. Sixteen's battered but still functional head smiled so warmly at her.
He'd arrived shortly after she'd returned home after the jaunt in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. He claimed that he was setting aside his programmed vendetta against Goku to deal with the greater threat. Goku immediately accepted, but Gohan had felt more skeptical.
Whatever skepticism she felt quickly vanished. Sixteen had been warm and friendly to her. They'd spent a few days birdwatching, admiring nature, and avoiding the feeling of impending doom looming with the Cell Games. He might have been made of silicon and metal, but he was simple and gentle, and free from the Saiyan egos that had put the world in this mess.
Now he'd clattered in to deliver his words of encouragement. And judging by the evil grin on Cell's face, his last will and testament.
"Gohan… I know how you feel. You're gentle, you don't like to hurt others. You are afraid of the righteous anger you keep buried in you. But it is because you cherish life that you must protect it. Some beings can't be reasoned with. They must be fought. Seize your anger, and wield it like a weapon."
Cell advanced, murder in his eyes. She began to intercept, but something in Sixteen's voice held her fast. "Sound advice," Cell lectured, "But I won't have any interruptions."
Sixteen didn't take his eyes off her as death came. "Please, drop your restraint. You have the strength. And the wisdom to use it justly. I believe in you. Just…let it all go."
Cell stamped the android out of existence. The rest of the world faded from perception as she watched in silent horror. The lights flickered out in Sixteen's circuitry. She couldn't hear the smug bullshit coming from Cell's mouth. Another friend gone. Sixteen had no soul to be wished back, no afterlife awaiting him. Even in the darkest future, everyone else she'd known had an eternity awaiting them, a great journey beyond the mortal realm. Sixteen had only now, she thought bitterly, and he sacrificed it anyway for the hope that the sun would still rise tomorrow.
She felt the rage building inside her. Not boiling like in the past. It was cold. Pitiless. It was an anger she could not control. And for the first time in her life, she did not try to.
The sun turned black as sackcloth amidst the gathering energy. Lightning cracked the darkened sky. Cell reveled in his moment of triumph, sure of his victory. He was so sure he'd broken her, that this would be the testament to his perfection. She'd make sure he'd choke on this moment.
The winds whipped in a vortex around her. The ground sundered under the cascades of ki flowing from her golden aura. Lightning crackled across her skin. And the power kept coming.
The seven Cell Juniors paused to watch the gathering storm. Cell squared up, sure he'd get his duel. The look on his face when she rushed passed him…that was priceless. He seemed slow as molasses chasing after her. To Gohan, it looked like he wasn't taking this seriously yet. Good. It would make killing him that much easier.
But first, a flag on the play. Too many Cells on the field. She slapped the head clean off the first one as it kicked Krillin in the ribs. With a second ki-charged blow, she atomized its body, taking no chances on their regeneration abilities.
They immediately sensed the danger, and at Cell's order prepared to murder their opponents. She punched the next one as it prepared to blast Trunks point-blank as a third held him up by his hair. It exploded into a squall of gore, bathing Trunks in viscera. The third dropped Trunks and tried to flee. She allowed herself a tiny grin. It only made atomizing it that much easier.
The remaining four were dead before they could land a single blow.
Tien looked up at her like he'd died and gone to heaven. Vegeta…was taking the humiliation at the hands of a half-breed as well as could be expected. Piccolo and her dad…looked at her with this reverent awe. It reminded her of how she'd looked at them.
She handed off the liberated senzu beans to Piccolo before turning her gaze towards Cell. He growled at her as he summoned all his power. He looked like a petulant child throwing a tantrum for being ignored.
She briefly contemplated the quickest, most efficient way to kill him. But what was left of her compassion rejected that. She sensed something she could never feel before. There were two distinct energy sources in Cell, separate from his ki. If it was what was left of Seventeen and Eighteen, then she owed it to them to pull them from this hell. There was no guarantee, modified as they had been, that they could be wished back by the Dragon Balls.
Gohan remembered all the science lessons her mother had drilled into her. The methodology. Hypothesis. Experimentation. Revision.
"So," Cell boomed, now fully powered up, "Are you ready to fight me now, brat?"
"No. I'm ready to kill you. But you have something of mine. So I'm afraid this is going to hurt."
"You're damn right—" said Cell, before being abruptly cut off by her fist punching through his core. Just as quickly as she'd advanced, she dropped back, avoiding his counter attack.
The results were promising. The energy signatures had shifted in Cell in response to the violent punch. She hoped it wasn't adding too much to the agony they must be in. But she steeled herself, and reminded herself of the surgeon's scalpel. Violent, painful; but also loving.
She began to torture Cell with her experiments, deflecting all his attempts at counter attacks. Each punch or kick working to shift the energy signatures around in him. It took more experimentation than she was comfortable with to get a working theory roughed out. All the while, Cell began to grow more desperate.
Twice, he tried redirecting her focus by attacking her friends. His attempts were pitiful enough to be defeated. After the seventy-forth gut-wrenching blow, he must've got a vague inkling of what she was playing at. Because his frustration turned to terror. He tried his hand at copying Vegeta's Final Flash to pull the temple down around them. She redirected the planet cracking ki blast harmlessly into space with some effort.
This was exhausting work. But she compared her own vast reserves to Cell's dwindling energy, and was confident of the margin of victory. It took only a few more blows before Cell was doubled over on the hard ground, wretching.
"I'm sorry, what was that," she mocked, as she strolled closer. "Can't hear you now that you're choking on your ambition. Lemme help you with that." She pulled him upright, wrapping her arms around his gut. With a quick upward thrust, the process was complete, and Cell vomited up an alive and intact Eighteen.
Watching him flail around, his body giving out now that it no longer had the energy to support it…was satisfying. It reminded her of a star collapsing at the end of it's life. She let him go through his agonies, and turned to Eighteen. She was covered in some sort of bile, but as Gohan cradled the cyborg, she felt the life begin to stir in her.
Eighteen returned to consciousness in a panic, flailing in Gohan's arms. "Shh, I've got you, you're safe now," said Gohan. It came out far too clinical, but it would have to do. She brushed the bile out of Eighteen's eyes. The cyborg looked up at her, still afraid, unfamiliarity reflected in her eyes.
Gohan saw the flash of recognition as Eighteen relaxed. "Gohan, right?" the cyborg said between coughs, "You bleached your hair…it looks good, but didn't I warn you I was too old for you?"
Super Saiyan Rage Mode or not, she still blushed. "Sorry, I've got to go rescue Seventeen. We'll…uh, discuss this later."
Something about that girl made Gohan tingle. But she couldn't afford to lose her focus at a time like this. Semi-Perfect Cell was recovering from the shock of the forced down powering. It was time to finish this.
Unfortunately, while evil is smug and short-sighted, it is also petty. Shockingly petty. Before Gohan had much of a chance to pound a drum beat into Cell, he began gathering his ki at an unsustainable rate, shunting all the excess into his body. As he swelled like a balloon, Gohan realized her error. Once again, she'd traded one life for billions.
She struggled to remain calm as Cell prepared his vengeance. The arithmetic was simple. She was the only one of the Z Fighters to have not needed to be wished back yet. And while she hadn't quite gotten a hang on the Instant Transmission yet, she'd seen her dad do it innumerable times over the past year. She prayed it would be enough.
She'd take him to one of the false leads they'd chased on their journey to Namek, and they'd die together. Gohan glanced back forlornly at Eighteen. The cyborg struggled to stand, sensing the half-saiyan was preparing to do something stupid. I better get this over with, Gohan said to herself.
I can do this. Not like there was anything to lose. Well, I could take Cell somewhere with billions of alien people on accident. Or screw up and still make him blow up here. Okay, better not think about that.
But before she could go through the motions of the Instant Transmission, her dad popped into view right in front of her. "Sorry kiddo, but I've already asked too much of you. My turn. Tell your mother I'm sorry."
Goku ruffled her hair one last time. And then he blinked out of view, taking the monster with him.
Author's Notes: I just recently rewatched TFS DBZ Abridged, which has rekindled the love I felt for DBZ way back when it was first airing on Toonami. So you can thank the lovely people at Team Four Star for inadvertently delaying my other fics with yet another one.
So this one's a bit out of my usual mold. I suppose it's good practice for fight scenes, but I tend to find the emotional valence at play in a fight is more interesting than the fight itself, especially in text.
Also, this AU is brought to you by my shameless love of yuri, and gratuitous Dune references. I really have no interest in rewriting the whole timeline, and I figured I could convey important points of difference through flashbacks. Gohan is also a bit older in this timeline; his canonical age kind of tugs at my suspenders of disbelief.
Also, apologies to the Eighteen/Krillin fans. It's not that I dislike the canon pairing, and I figured it was more merciful to kind of nip that pairing in the bud than to have the potential conflict lurking.
Anyway, reviews and constructive criticism is always appreciated.