Dressed in a baggy set of Mr. Satan's less eccentric leisure clothes, Son Gohan emerged from the bathroom. His hair was damp and fell adorably on his forehead. He took in the room.
It was a good-sized guest room; neat and containing only a dresser, a full-sized bed, a bedside table with a lamp and a clock radio, and a set of dark brown-patterned autumnal curtains, which were currently pulled back to reveal a large double window with a low, wide sill. Videl was perched expectantly on the edge of the bed when he emerged, atop the brown comforter, which matched the curtains. Her gaze was fixed on his approaching form with steely intent.
"So tell me, Gohan. What is this "league" of yours like?" she inquired.
Gohan rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. He didn't feel at liberty to sit on the bed beside her, but standing in the limelight was making him uncomfortable.
"Well, it's, um..." Videl jumped up and snatched his arm.
"Sit," She commanded. He complied, feeling much like an obedient dog. Gohan sighed.
"Well, my family is part of the Z fighters."
There was a moment of silence, During which neither of the two took a breath. Both of them were very still, as though there were some wild animal present that would flee at the slightest twitch.
"Some of us are kind of...alien, to the earth, but this is our home and we protect it with our all."
The dead silence continued; Videl's eyes were as wide as saucers. A few of her fingers jumped involuntarily as her mind raced for explanations to fill in the gaps of this broad-range overview.
"My father is Son Goku."
The colour drained from Videl's face. She took a deep breath, another, and then, because it couldn't be helped, she collapsed.
"Videl! Videl! Wake up! C'mon!"
She stirred as the voice made its way to the foggy recesses of her consciousness. Slowly, the voice brought Videl Satan back to reality.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! That was way too much information, way too soon. We'll go a little more slowly from here on out."
Videl opened her eyes and sat up, slowly, a supporting arm around her shoulders.
"Is it true?" she asked.
"It's...well...it's...yes." Gohan stammered, averting his eyes from her face.
"Son Goku...he was the golden-haired man who perished on the battlefield? From the old world martial arts tournaments?"
"Yes."
"And you...you are..."
"The little boy. I was eleven."
Both stared intently into the other's eyes, Videl with astonishment and some measure of confusion, and Gohan with the purpose of reading her reaction.
For once, neither gohan nor Videl could think of anything to fill the vulnerable void of this revealing silence.
Finally, Gohan blinked a couple of times and took up her hand, to dispell the daunting atmosphere. He felt a sharp pain in his chest unrelated to his injuries when her small hand jerked slightly in his grasp.
Videl blushed violently.
"Come on, now. Talking like this will do nothing in the way of healing. What we need is a meal to distract the dark thoughts. Do you have any food? I'm half starved," Gohan rambled, pasting his trademark goofy grin on his face. His stomach growled, as if for emphasis.
Videl smiled weakly. He was so strange, and funny...out of nowhere she began to laugh; a genuine sound that burst right out of her. Gohan, slightly surprised, soon began to laugh as well, until the whole atmosphere of the room had lifted like a blanket. He leaned back across the bed and pushed open the curtains with one large hand.
"Would you look at that; the sun's just rising now!"
"Come on, you. Let's get some food into you," Videl prompted, still rather cheery.
Gohan's head whipped around and his stomach growled simultaneously, much to his chagrin.
"Let's," he responded, after collecting himself.
Boy, was the journey about to begin...
Kira-sama is a lazy person...or at least that's what Kira-sama wants you to THINK. (Perhaps - but this has not been confirmed - Kira-sama was engaging in activities involving death and shinigami...but then that information, in such a case, would be highly protected...)