a/n: Yo, y'all. Hows yous? Gosh, I have nothing to say. Thank you to those reading this, the awesome reviewers, and those who were interested at least in seeing where I'll take this madness.

Why Videl? Well, I say why not Videl? She's kickass and bouncing with personality. I like characters like her. Besdes, there's no other female character in DB who suited Gohan better than Videl, in my oponion.

disclaimer: Guys, let's not be too redundant. I'm not gonna write it here because it'll just make me face the reality that I'm poor.


Chapter IV

Her fists collided on the punching bag with an unrelenting succession, pounding with increasing force as she beat the crap out of the inanimate object. Sweat beaded on her forehead, down her temple, and dripping on the polished wooden floor unbidden. Her sharp cobalt eyes were glinting with frustration; her lips pursed to a straight line as she imagined someone's face was the one her wrapped fists were digging into. She grounded her teeth, unstopping on her implacable attack even when the bag ripped and the sand within it started trickling on the gym floor.

Truly, Videl Satan's wrath was undeniable.

She had been inconsolable for weeks, her temper flaring with every little thing. She had spent most of her spare time in the gym, ripping out the sandbags in her training that it scared her father's disciples to be in the vicinity whenever she came to the dojo. If ever the police called her in to help, the criminals who were unlucky enough to be confronted by her were often beaten black and blue. Lieutenant Foster was reasonably unimpressed, and the officer had made sure to let her know how displeased he was by constantly getting on her case.

Videl knew she was being childish, that she was acting immature over something so trivial, but she just couldn't help it. It was a downside, she supposed, of having a fiery temper and being spoiled for far too long. Since that day seven years ago, no one had ever the gall to refuse anything she desired. She was Mr. Satan's only daughter, and everything she wanted had always been handed to her on a silver platter.

To be refused and humiliated, her pride took a huge blow and she couldn't brush it off no matter how hard she tried.

The nerve of that guy. How dare he refuse her? And to do it so bluntly and directly, it's as if he didn't care who she was. To be completely truthful, Videl wasn't that much bothered by Gohan's dismissal of her, if anything, it intrigued her—what irked her was that he endorsed her to someone else, to Pen Paige, no less, after she'd showed him her ridiculously pathetic grades.

Videl liked to believe that she was smart enough. The only reason she was flunking her courses was because of her recurrent absences during classes. Every time she ran out to fight crime, she missed most of the lectures and tests, some of them a prerequisite of the following ones, leaving a gaping hole in her understanding of the lessons and evidently being left behind compared to the rest of her classmates. No matter how big the incentive her professors gave her whenever she was excused, it still wasn't able to pull her inadequate exam scores to an acceptable average.

Videl knew her grades have been steadily deteriorating, but she'd always thought that martial arts and saving the innocents always came first. School was inconsequential in the face of that—how do you even use Algebra in practical applications, anyway? That's just stupid.

It was pathetic, she knew, her perception of education and the actual results marked on her papers, and she hated that. To have so much pride and yet with such a devastating flaw, what would her Daddy say when he found out?

It was the reason she was so angry. She felt so livid because she had showed her papers to Gohan, showed him how awful her status in academics were—her most degrading flaw, and he just threw it back to her face! And as if to add salt on the wound, he'd recommended her to Pen Paige, of all people! Pen was the number one resident nerd before Gohan showed up in OSH. The guy was a certified blabbermouth; he'd prattle on and on endlessly about useless trivia after useless trivia every chance he got to anyone who would be fool enough to listen to his cringe-y high-pitched voice. Videl might as well just attend remedial classes all through sem-break than spend time with that asthmatic nerd.

Her opinion of Son Gohan just plunged all the way down like a rock in the ocean. It took every ounce of strength Videl had not to march towards the boy every time she saw him and deck him across the school's front courtyard, and then strangle him to death just for good measure. Damn, what if he told everyone else about her grades? Oh, God, she might just really kill him.

Videl gritted her teeth in frustration.

Still as aggravated as she came in, Videl went out of the gym. She mechanically unwrapped her hands as she walked along the halls, ignoring the maids and household helps buzzling around the Satan Mansion. Her room was just a few corridors away, and she'd prefer to take her shower there than in the built-in facilities in the gym.

When she went down in time for breakfast, Hercule Satan was already on the head of the table while reading the morning newspapers.

"Good morning, Dad," Videl greeted dryly, taking her usual seat. The dinner table was long and large, a smooth mahogany that was far too spacious for two people. "How many times do I have to tell you to stop reading that on the table, Dad," she scolded.

Hercule shifted his hold on the page, peering at her from the edge and giving her his signature goofy smile. "Don't be so stiff, sweet pea. Daddy's just admiring his latest front page picture. See, don't I look dashing?" the World's Savior asked with a grin, showing her a picture that had his redundant pose.

Videl glared at him, Hercule visibly shrunk on his seat. He folded the paper and laid it on the empty chair on his other side.

Breakfast was mandatory for the father-daughter duo to share. Being both busy with their own lives, they had barely time to spend with each other. Breakfast was the only exemption. No matter what business they had, they always made sure to have time for eating the first meal of the day together.

Hercule Satan was a ridiculous buffoon, off and on the camera. Other people might see him as the iconic indomitable hero who saved the world, but to Videl, he was just her dad. He was boastful, egotistic, and ostentatious, but one thing he would never be was a horrible father. Videl knew how eccentric her father could be, what with living with him for all of her life, but he had never neglected Videl. As a matter of fact, everything he did was for his darling begotten child. Videl could tell him to conquer the world, and he would do so in a heartbeat; he made sure that Videl understood that as she grew up.

"I'm glad you're training real hard, Videl," Mr. Satan said after the meal. "The 26th WMat is just around the corner. You've been doing real good."

Videl smirked at her father. "I know, Dad, so you better watch out. I might just snatch that belt from you when we meet in the ring."

Hercule laughed, the very same bombastic laugh that lured in the crowd. "No, no, sweetie pea, you're a hundred years too young to be thinking of surpassing me." Videl scoffed at his arrogant attitude. "And will you stop traumatizing my students? If you must train as you do, you should just do it here in our own gym."

"Tch, your students? You don't even give them lessons, so how can they be you students?" the girl asked bitterly. Videl herself couldn't even boast that she used her father's Satan Style of Martial Arts. She had bastardized some of his moves, mixed it with a variety of other katas she learned from her old dojos, and modified it to suit her build and size. It was safe to say that she was more self-taught than actually the one inheriting her father's flashy fighting style. "And traumatize? All I did was punch a sandbag," Videl added defensively.

"Sweetie, you've ripped almost thirty punching bags this week," Hercule Satan informed her. "Is there something bothering you? You know you can tell me anything, Videl," her father said, solemn and sincere.

Videl did not know her mother; she died during childbirth. Hercule Satan was all she'd ever had. The man was the one who taught her how to throw her first punch, the one who had encouraged her when she was hopeless, and who'd wiped her tears and made her smile when she cried. Since the day she was born, Hercule promised that he'd never leave her side. It would always be the two of them against the world.

"I know, Daddy," Videl replied with a roll of her eyes, "but it is something personal. I don't want to trouble you over something so petty, anyway."

Hercule frowned suspiciously. Videl could almost see the clunky gears in his head grinding each other with metallic clangs. "Is this about a boy?!" he exclaimed with a realization, standing abruptly from his seat.

"Dad—" Videl started to protest, irritated. He always got like this whenever they broached the topic of her and the possibility of an intimate relationship with the opposite sex. He's too overprotective that it was suffocating. It's not like she can't take care of herself. Besides, her problem with this particular boy wasn't even something like that.

"Tell me his name!" he continued, his voice booming inside the dining room. "Did he hurt you? He did, didn't he? I'll break every bone in his body, strangle him to death, and then bring him back to life just to kill him again in a more painful way!"

"Dad, stop overreacting. It's not like that," Videl reasoned, her own temper flaring.

"Like hell, it isn't!" Mr. Satan proclaimed. "Tell me his name right now!" he demanded, his eyes intense. "Tell me!"

"It's Gohan, damn it!" Videl shouted, her jaws squared while she gritted her teeth, her palm striking the top of the table in exasperation.

Surprisingly, Hercule Satan blinked, his anger ebbing like the tide from the shore.

"Gohan?" Hercule asked, almost delicately, "You mean Son Gohan the country boy?"

Videl scoffed, crossing her arms on her chest. "The very same," she answered brusquely. "I reckon you two knew each other, after all, you recommended him to OSH three years ago."

The large man slowly took his seat, his mind wandering. "Oh, yes. Son Gohan," he mused aloud. "He was a nice boy, last I talked to him. Amiable young man, polite, too."

If Videl didn't know any better, she might have thought her father was trying to intimidate her, but she did, so she knew that Hercule was just fidgeting. Was he nervous? Why? Was it about Gohan? What was their connection? The raven-haired pseudo-cop narrowed her eyes at her father.

"You…" he paused, eyeing her as if seeing her for the first time. "You have a relationship with Son Gohan?" he asked, his forehead knotted with anxiety.

"What? No! Of course not!" she vehemently denied.

Hercule Satan let out a relieved sigh. "Thank goodness," he said. "Son Gohan is a very nice boy. If he did anything to wrong you, I'm sure it's not intentional, sweetcakes."

Videl was bewildered. That's it? He's seriously just telling me to let it go despite not even knowing what the damned country hick did to offend me?

The raven-haired darling of Satan City felt like flipping the long mahogany table in frustration. What did it say about her when even her very own father was telling her to just forgive that stupid doofus?

"So you know him that well, huh?"

"I bumped into him three years ago, conversed with him for a short while, and took an instant liking to him. He's exceptionally polite for a boy his age so it's hard to forget him. How is he these days? It would be nice to talk to him again," Mr. Satan said pensively.

"So you're telling me that you had one conversation with this strange country boy and then you just suddenly know him so well that you're siding with him instead of your only daughter? Gee, that's very reassuring, Dad," Videl sarcastically countered, her eyes now mere slits.

"V-Videl," the World Martial Arts Champion started to say, shrinking from his daughter's obvious animosity at his docile reaction towards the mysterious boy. "You know it's not like I'm picking him over you, it's just that, I know the boy." Mr. Satan took her petite hand in his, cradling it gently while he sorted his thoughts. Videl's face softened, knowing it meant her father was about to tell her something very important, something he would dare not tell anybody else. "Son Gohan, Son Gohan and his family, we owe them a great debt, me especially. I have committed a grave sin against him and his, and I thought they would resent me for it. You don't know how surprised and relieved I was when I met him three years ago, and he forgave me so easily. He was so good, so understanding, I thought I would never meet someone so pure. I would've hoped to talk to his father as well, to apologize…

"Listen, sweetie," the Savior of the World earnestly pleaded, gazing into her eyes. "That boy, Son Gohan, is a very special person. When you are in grave danger, when the world is ending, or if everything around you starts crumbling, go to him. Seek his help, and I know he will never turn you away."

I hate to inform you, Dad, but he already did… Videl thought wryly.

Still, she looked at her father skeptically, her intrigue and curiosity towards her peculiar and secretive schoolmate growing exponentially at her father's words. A plethora of questions rose from every corner of her mind, cluttering her already chaotic head.

Who is Son Gohan? All Videl knew of him was that he came out of nowhere with no background to speak of. She tried to research about his family, but his parents were even shadier than he was. His father wasn't registered in any municipality—a common consequence for living isolated from civilizations, while his mother was from the East District, which was as vague as it could get. His address was located in the middle of a perilous mountain range—in the 439 Mountain Area, no less, so deep in uncharted and unexplored wilderness that it's exact location was impossible to pinpoint. For all she knew, he could be an alien from outer space and she wouldn't be surprised. How the heck did he meet Hercule Satan? What did he do to attain her father's highest regard? What was her father's debt to his family, and why didn't she know anything about it? She'd been making his life miserable since the day they met and he didn't even called her for it. Videl's face burned in shame. What did they talk about three years ago? To say that Videl was confused was an understatement. She wanted to demand all the answers that were suddenly so pressing she felt like she'd go mad with anticipation if she didn't get them.

"I want to pay my debt in full today," Mr. Satan added, his expression turning determined. He finally stood from his seat in the dining table, as if remembering a very important task ahead of him. "Alistair," he summoned the head butler of the Satan household who instantly appeared beside him, "call Mayor Tom Demure and inform him that I will not reconsider. My speech for tonight's party is final and undebatable. The world deserves the truth, and so I will give it to them. It is seven years overdue."

The butler nodded, he bowed respectfully at the Satan patriarch and retreated in the office to do as he was bidden. Mr. Satan smiled at Videl, and then resolutely left the dining room to prepare for the event tonight, leaving a baffled girl behind.

What was that all about?

.oOo.

Videl patiently held her posture, trying desperately to keep up with her best friend's merciless twisting and tugging of her raven locks. Make-up was supposed to come first before styling the hair, but since the tomboyish girl refused to wear as much as Erasa had deemed mandatory, they deigned to just touch up a simple one after elegantly doing her hair. Despite the blonde girl's urging, Videl had not visited any salon. She thought it was an unnecessary waste of time, effort, money, and patience, especially patience.

Unlike Erasa, Videl wasn't vain, nor was she particularly beauty-conscious of herself, but she like to believe that she wasn't a slob. It was the reason why although she could barely tolerate dolling up for a gala, she still endured the annoying chore and made herself presentable to the world's socialites.

Tonight wasn't exactly a special night. The Satan Gala was an annual opening party for a weeklong celebration of Martial Arts, and more importantly, Hercule Satan's heroic deed seven years ago. The last WMAT was held on the end of the week, and it was announced that the same would occur on the current one as well. That meant that the tournament was finally this week, and Videl was quite looking forward for it.

Videl grunted when Erasa finally declared that her hair was done with a last tug. She looked at the vanity mirror, studying the different person on her reflection with the fancy hair. It was knotted and twirled into complicated curls, neatly congregating at the top of her head with a sprinkle of pearl-studded pins. Short locks of her hair splayed above her eyebrows, curling elegantly to frame her face. Erasa put a light make-up on her, just a touch to accentuate her simplicity and innocence. Videl's dress was also a simple thin-strapped night-blue silk dress that touched her knees in front but lagged on her heels behind, partnered with a thin shawl hung on her elbows. She donned on some pearl earrings to match her hair, and a thin silver chain necklace with a small round diamond pendant that dipped on her modest cleavage. As usual, her choice of attire was more for her own comfort and mobility than a means to please others.

Erasa, on the other hand, looked ravishing on her tight silver dress, a long slit running down from the top of her left thigh that generously exposed her fair skin. Her short blonde hair was sleek and pinned behind her head, her lips painted velvety red. She matched perfectly with Sharpener's white suit and silver tie, which was to be expected since they were each other's date. Videl's was her father, looking dapper in his own black tux; his large afro styled the same but with a new shine.

By the time they all went down in front of the Satan Manor, Alistair was already waiting for them with a white limo prepared.

A ball of trepidation knotted at the pit of Videl's stomach when their transport finally parked at the entrance of the hotel that hosted this year's Satan Gala. A long red carpet was spread on the front stairs, a buzzle of cameras flashing every second. Like moths to a flame, the horde of reporters tried to crane and lung beyond the railing set up for them when their company disembarked from the limousine. Videl let out a tolerating smile, enduring the endless flashes and senseless questions from the paparazzi as her companions soaked it for all it's worth. Admittedly, it took longer for their group to reach the double doors than any other guests did.

Videl held on to her father's arm as they entered the large hall. Chandeliers sparkled as it hung atop the high ceiling, bathing the elegantly fashioned room with a soft glow. Round tables were organized neatly across the wide space, a podium set up in the front and center, and appetizers were spread on the long corner tables. Black and white were the dominant colours, which was fitting since it was tonight's theme. The party haven't officially begun, so the guests mingled with each other pleasantly while waiters wandered around carrying drinks on trays. When she and her father came into view, everybody stilled, and then clapped their hands while some raised their drinks to welcome them. It was a common courtesy Videl learned to expect, after all, Hercule Satan would forever be the Satan Gala's guest of honor.

When the Mayor started to walk towards their direction, Mr. Satan excused himself to go talk to him, leaving Videl with her two blonde friends. The pleasant atmosphere let the other guests resume their acquaintances and she stuck with her current company.

"Mayor Demure went all out, as always," Erasa commented, her eyes wandering about the ballroom before it landed on her best friend's face. "By the way, V, you've been stiff all afternoon. What's up?"

"I noticed, too," Sharpener butted in after snagging a flute of white wine from a passing server, whom had then given him a stink eye that the blonde jock ignored; technically, they were all still a minor and not legal to drink. "You look nervous. Mr. Satan, too. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet when we arrive at your house."

Videl pursed her lips. She was nervous although she would never admit it out loud. Something was about to go down tonight, and she had a feeling she won't like it. She glanced at her father while he conversed with Satan City's mayor. They weren't arguing, but they didn't seem to agree with each other either. Her father was planning something, and it was definitely something monumental. Whatever that will be, she doubt it will be anything good to her nerves.

Videl snatched Sharpener's flute and downed it in one swallow, wincing at the slight bitter tang that drew a line through her throat. "Ugh," she moaned. "It's nothing, E. Don't worry about it. Let's go around and say hi to everybody. I think I just eyeballed a superstar," Videl reassured, distracting her friends. She didn't see any star, but she might as well have. The Satan Gala was an iconic once-a-year high-end party; anybody who was a somebody in the socialite society was intended to attend. Big shot actors, models, superstars, the world's politicians and business tycoons, moguls, and magnates were all there, if not to meet her father, then to establish connections at least. Even the elusive and private illustrious Briefs have attended at least a couple of the galas for the past years; Videl had met Dr. Brief and his wife Bunny in passing once.

Erasa's face lit up like Christmas lights. "Oooh, really? Who? Oh my gosh, that guy is totally super cute! Isn't he one of the faces in the 'Most Eligible Bachelor'?" the girl squealed in her friend's ear. "Com'on, V, let's chat him up."

"I'm heading for the table," Sharpener said.

They agreed to separate, Videl getting dragged away by her best friend and forced to socialize, while Sharpener stuffed his face with the offered hors d'oeuvre. The evening passed relatively uneventful. That is, until the toast for dinner.

Everybody was already seated, waiting for Mr. Satan to climb the podium for the opening speech and propose a toast. Videl sat with her friends in her own table not far from the podium, her father on the head table with the mayor and his colleagues. The round of applause for the World Champion when he ascended the stage was generous, and Mr. Satan grinned at the gathered crowd with his usual jovial enthusiasm, a glass of champagne ready on his hand.

Silence hung in the hall when Mr. Satan took the microphone. He cleared his throat, greeting everyone a pleasant evening. There was no paper of speech on his hand, so he everything he was about to say was impromptu.

Videl was anxious, but she was excited as well. She wanted to know what her father will reveal. In part, because it will tie his connection to her classmate, Son Gohan, and finally shed light on his mysterious character. She stared at Hercule's face, her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed to thin line.

Mr. Satan exhaled, and then he fell abruptly on his back with an echoing thud, a bullet buried between his brows. The glass of beverage he held shattered to a shower of broken pieces. Someone from the head table let out a piercing scream, and chaos erupted within the ballroom.