Yeah, this chapter…as few things to note as always:
1) Hmm…I think I was supposed to warn you about something somewhere but I forget.
2) I just watched the Valley of the End via Naruto today and have never had such an adrenaline rush in my life. It's almost like the time I saw Goku's initial transformation on TV back in the day though I have no idea how this relates to the story (sweat drop)
3) Grammar, spelling etc checked but if my editing seems somewhat lax this time (even for me who has no attention span under normal circumstance), it's still to do with crud times occurring in the life of Nature Kid so extra special apologies today.
4) A thank you to everyone that read, reviewed, faved etc and a special thanks to those that have private messaged me, I will get back to you shortly, I promise!
35: A Bad Idea
Gohan threw himself into the search for the Dragonballs, blocking the torment that was sure to follow his latest encounter with his father. He used everything his mentor had taught him about how to push aside emotional responses to act logically and rationally to changing situations but even with such severe focus, it still took him far longer than anticipated to acquire the next two Dragonballs.
Time was against him now. According to the information provided by Shorai and Sensou, the dragon was due to appear in just a couple of days and even if he really pushed himself, he would still be cutting it pretty close. It irked him that he'd had so much trouble, that he had to stay on Earth longer than necessary.
The longer he stayed on this planet, the harder it was to keep himself disciplined. Only yesterday, he had caught himself thinking about dropping back home, hiding in the trees and watching his mother bustling in the kitchen, preparing food for the two hungry mouths she would still have to feed.
No good would come of pulling that sort of stunt, Gohan knew that.
So why was it so hard to do the right thing and leave it be?
He flew through the rain, his gi slowly becoming soaked as he blinked at the Dragon radar showing a Dragonball situated far out in the ocean. He had a dreadful feeling in the core of his being that he would have to dive for the blasted thing. Though a warrior, and a powerful one at that, he was still human…well…half human…and he still needed to breathe. If the ball was situated at the bottom, or worse, in some sort of trench then he would have to spend the afternoon coming up with a plan, something he had neither the time nor the patience for at the moment.
As he soared through the thick, dark clouds, he caught a glimpse of something tiny, like a blotch on the storm-tossed sea being bombarded with waves. His eyes narrowed when he realised the Dragonball was associated with that blotch.
Dropping out of the air, he kept his eyes fixed on the blotch until it became a discernible land mass.
His breath caught.
"It's like fate is doing this on purpose," he muttered, running his hands through his hair as he took in the slowly enlarging image of Kame House, the last place he had really been welcome before he'd been taken by Raditz and the whole messy ordeal of his life had begun.
He paused above the house, staring avidly at the storm shutters, judging the Ki signatures he could feel inside to try and determine who they were.
5 of them and only one he recognised as Krillin.
Who were the others?
Had he met them before back when he was just a little boy?
He ascended carefully, ignoring the spray of salty sea water on his skin as he touched down in soft sand. The fine granules of the ground felt pleasant under his feet and the palm tree waved a violent greeting as the wind picked up.
He stared at the storm shutters and waited for a few moments, letting his Ki send out a steady rhythm to let the inhabitants know he meant no harm.
After an agonising 10 minutes, Gohan heard the distinct click of a latch and the door opened a crack.
A disbelieving eye regarded him.
"G-Gohan?"
The monk honestly couldn't believe what he was seeing. What the news had dubbed the storm of the century seemed to have blown Goku's wayward son to him. He gawped at the demi-Saiyan, unable to quite believe how much he'd changed, how tall he was, how thin, how mind-bogglingly powerful his Ki was.
His gaze was cold and distant as he laid eyes on the monk. His mouth was set into a thin line and his cheeks were hollow. Krillin recognised the scar of deep-rooted anguish in Gohan's face and his heart cried out to the boy he had grown somewhat attached to on Namek.
"Come in, you'll get soaked to the bone," Krillin said simply, opening the door to let Gohan inside.
The boy hesitated for a moment and Krillin was under the uncomfortable impression that he was being clinically examined, assessed for weaknesses. He tried hard not to let it bother him though he didn't enjoy the feeling of being looked at like he was prey. It was an obvious by-product of mistreatment, Krillin had been a warrior long enough to recognise the signs.
Eventually, Gohan jerked forward, his movements graceful but…strange, in a way that put the monk on edge though he couldn't really explain why. He frowned curiously as Gohan stepped over the threshold of Kame House, his feet not making a sound as he moved across the creaky hard wood.
Krillin fought the urge to swallow uselessly. When Piccolo had suggested that they wait for Gohan to come to them, he never in a million years would have thought that the boy would choose him to approach. Goku, sure, Piccolo…maybe…but him? Gohan had known him for all of an entire afternoon? And in that time, the poor boy had to watch him being pulled apart at the seams, what on Earth was Gohan doing here?
But even as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer.
"Ah, you're here for the Dragonball," Krillin commented evenly.
Gohan said nothing and Krillin found it almost impossible to keep himself staring into that hostile face for long.
"Would you like some tea first? It'll warm you up," Krillin suggested, feeling awkward as he led Gohan through to the kitchen.
He was experiencing a horrifying sense of the surrealism, the same uncooperative feeling he had felt on Namek when the boy had just shown up in front of Porunga and Krillin had passed the telepathic link to King Kai over to the boy like he was passing a telephone. Here, the boy had been missing for years, his disappearance cutting into Goku so much that he was hardly the same person and Krillin was talking to him now like he always dropped by for a simple visit.
'Meditation helps to create clearer thinking my arse,' Krillin thought to himself, scowling as he thought about the apparently useless lessons he had learnt at the temple in his youth.
Gohan simply shook his head, his eyes moving swiftly over the little room before he pulled out the Dragon radar.
Krillin took a moment to muster up the courage to ask the next important question and opened his mouth to begin forming the first syllable but he froze when 18 appeared in the doorway, her bright eyes wide as she regarded Gohan.
Gohan stared at her for a moment, his eyes dropping automatically to the set of her stomach.
He could feel a Ki signature attached to the slight bulge protruding from 18's light blue shirt.
And he remembered the way that Krillin had looked at her when he'd forced Cell to regurgitate her.
Something moved inside him and his expression softened for an instant.
Krillin didn't miss the fleeting crack in the impenetrable, indifferent mask, making a point of studying it before Gohan's expression smoothed back over.
18 simply glared at him, her eyes ice cold as she scooted around him to the fridge to grab some lunch. Krillin shot her a pleading look as she straightened and closed the fridge door, wobbling slightly as the baby inside her shifted. Krillin stretched out a hand to touch the small of her back and steady her.
It was obvious to Gohan that they were every bit a family.
It made his heart burn.
"You are Gohan," 18 stated bluntly, her voice monotonous and deep for a woman. Gohan nodded, trying to gauge her without relying on his Ki sense which was only picking up the faint signature of the baby.
"According to Krillin, I owe you my life," she said matter-of-factly, reaching back into the fridge for a grape juice.
Gohan pointedly said nothing. He hadn't meant to save anybody with the stunt he'd pulled on Cell. He didn't deserve any credit for it.
This was getting too weird for him.
What on Earth had possessed him to approach the house as he had? Why hadn't he approached stealthily like he had at his own home? Why hadn't it occurred to him to push his Ki signature down this time?
Was he losing control of his mental faculties as much as he was of his manifesting power? Did the two go hand in hand?
He shook his head; he had to get out of there.
"Please Krillin, the Dragonball," Gohan said in a quiet voice, his eyes still harsh. Krillin blinked at him, suddenly noticing the dark rings under his best friend's son's eyes and the way his cheekbones seemed to jut out at more of an angle under the harsh glare of the kitchen lights.
He really was thin, his dark hair was matted from the rain and despite the rough fabric of his armour, he was beginning to shiver as he stood firm in the kitchen, goosebumps rising on pale skin.
18 stared at him levelly, at the being that had saved her life, the one she'd apparently brutally murdered in another timeline, the one that was simply a miserable kid in this one. Before becoming pregnant, she'd never felt particularly…motherly but something about the way the boy was resolutely ignoring his own discomfort was stirring up painful feelings for her, emotions she had only experienced when she'd felt the first flutterings of the baby inside her.
She owed him her life.
"Krillin, I moved the Dragonball this morning so we could prepare for the storm, why don't we get it together while Gohan grabs something to eat."
Gohan's eyes were dark, radiating unappreciative suspicion as she grabbed Krillin's hand and frog-marched the little monk out of the kitchen before he could protest. She waited for the boy to follow but the sound of one of their creaky cupboards opening alerted her to the fact that he had decided to take advantage of their food stocks after all. Listening to Krillin's stories about Goku and Vegeta's appetites had paid off. Obviously the boy had inherited the Saiyan appetite and was unable to resist such an offer.
"We can't let him leave," she hissed at her husband the moment they were out of what she calculated as possible ear shot.
"What? How the hell are we supposed to stop him?" Krillin shot back. "His Ki is through the roof!"
18 scowled darkly at him.
"Must it always end in violence? His Ki level doesn't have to matter," she spat at him. "Why not keep him talking until he feels comfortable enough to stay? We can't let him leave like that, the boy's a wreck and this is coming from someone who was kidnapped and experimented on."
Krillin flinched involuntarily, his hand tightening in hers. No matter how much she assured her husband that her past experiences no longer bothered her and that he should let it go too, he had never managed to quell the rising rage inside him when he thought about how Dr Gero had treated his wife. If she was truly honest, deep down, she was quite flattered that Krillin continued to get so outraged at the idea.
"It is pretty weird that he just came waltzing through the front door this time," Krillin admitted thoughtfully. "Goku said he just went Mission Impossible and stole the ball at their house…maybe he does want to talk…"
"That's it," 18 agreed enthusiastically. "And I think you're the one that he needs to talk to."
She shoved him back towards the kitchen, giving him a pointed look, a bright blonde strand falling over one of her eyes in a way that made Krillin's mind go blank.
"Okay," he said automatically, smiling at her as he nearly walked into the kitchen door.
18 rolled her eyes at her husband's antics and turned on her heel to distract the others, Master Roshi, Oolong and the turtle.
Gohan glared at the door to the kitchen, listening to the muffled conversation between Krillin and 18. With all the time he'd spent in Sensou's dark dimension, the one that had deprived him of almost all senses, his ears had become somewhat refined.
He heard each word perfectly, as though Krillin and 18 were still standing in the same room with him and he winced when he heard Krillin say that he couldn't stop Gohan if he wanted to leave, recoiling as 18 suggested they talk.
It really had been a mistake to approach the place directly. Clearly he wasn't thinking straight. With the creature fast approaching Earth and the encounters with his dad to keep him company, he hadn't been getting a lot of sleep and his judgement had obviously been crucially impaired.
Snarling now at the doorway, he turned, slinking across the kitchen and opening the storm shutters with a deft hand, allowing the window to swing violently open so the rain and wind could tumble into the kitchen. He climbed up on the counter and paused, snatching up an apple in the fruit bowl before taking off once more into the storm, eyes glued to the Dragon radar as he flew above the roof and settled down in front of one of the upstairs windows. With pointed apathy, he kicked the window until the storm shutters splintered and the glass broke.
He could hear voices from downstairs, gasps, yells, noises he had become familiar with over the years in Sensou's training dimensions and he ignored them, scanning the room quickly for his prize.
Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled out across the dark sky and Gohan caught a glimpse of orange sheen set on a little bedside table.
The 6 star Dragonball.
He licked his lips as he sauntered forward, his hand closing over the cold, heavy glass of the ball.
"Gohan!"
The demi-Saiyan started, freezing where he was as his eyes roved to the sight of the monk in the doorway, 18 behind him with wide eyes.
Gohan's stance was openly hostile.
"My apologies for imposing," he said simply, stashing the Dragonball in his pocket in one graceful movement. "And my apologies for the window. Unfortunately, I don't have time to stay and talk."
18 blanched but Gohan ignored it, ambling towards the shattered window once more.
"Congratulations on the baby," he added in a steely voice as he took off into the wind and rain. Krillin stood frozen in the doorway, his mouth hanging open until he managed to choke out a 'Gohan wait!' though the boy was long gone by then.
For a while, 18 stood with Krillin in the doorway, her hand coming up to rest on her belly, her thoughts jumbling as she thought about what Gohan had shown her, the bitter looks, the closed off expression, the fact that he refused to harm either herself or Krillin even when they tried to meddle, even when he was angry…
Her hand fell over the bump in her stomach until she'd fallen into a rhythmic motion of stroking the bulge.
"Well, that could have gone better," Master Roshi commented idly behind her as he made his way down the hall towards the stairs to the kitchen. 18 jumped and nearly fell forward with the sudden movement, blinking after the old martial arts master. Though she was almost 40 times stronger than him, the old man still managed to sneak up on her.
He had purposefully been avoiding the retrieval of what was now the last Dragonball.
The radar confirmed that it was situated high above him, at the highest point the world had to offer and though Gohan had never been there, he knew that it meant the Dragonball was at the lookout, with the current guardian of Earth.
After some serious deliberation, Gohan decided to approach flying low through the thick evergreens providing a radius of dense undergrowth around the base of Korin's tower. His Ki was pushed just low enough that he was able to fly and detect other Ki and he reeled as he felt Piccolo's presence blooming to life in his mind, his energy steady and rhythmic as he meditated high above the Earth.
Despite Piccolo's attachment to Kami and his obvious absorption of his previously separated self, the boy had never imagined that Piccolo would take up residence on the lookout of all places. The place just never seemed to suit the ex-demon who was most comfortable in the remote wilderness listening to the steady flow of the waterfall and living entirely off of the land itself. Considering Piccolo's various absorptions, his personality had obviously changed enough that the lookout could become a home for him. It baffled Gohan and made him sigh out in frustration as he veered up into the branches of the one of the evergreens bordering the tower.
With Piccolo in the mix, things were likely to get complicated. As previously proven, stealth was almost ineffective against his almost mentor and with ears like that, Gohan was sure that he would be able to hear even the subtle inhalation of breath, the steady beat of his heart, things that Gohan had no way of masking.
His only hope was to be quick enough to grab the Dragonball before Piccolo could react and that idea was risky in itself, involving split second decisions from Gohan navigating a place he was completely unfamiliar with. It wasn't exactly the best solution to the current dilemma and, factoring in Piccolo's advantage of being on home turf, Gohan was certain that it would end in some form of conflict but he was painfully aware that he had no time to come up with anything else, the end creeping closer with every passing second he wasted.
Taking a deep breath, he allowed himself to power up to max, ignoring the complaints of the surrounding foliage as his aura licked at pine needles and dark leaves.
There would be no more hiding and no mistaking his intentions now.
He took off like a bullet, streaking through the air at such a high speed that the atmosphere itself seemed to part before him, until he felt like, if he could just push himself a little further he would be travelling through a space between dimensions, a non-existent space where his speed wouldn't be destructive.
Within a second, he had reached the tip of the lookout and had launched forward, aiming for the ornately decorated building situated in the centre of the sea of white tiles. He vaulted past Mr Popo without so much as a backward glance, hearing the cries of protest as repercussive winds bombarded the djinn, tearing the watering can out of his hand until it hit the ground with a sharp twang and water spilled out in an easy flow across the floor.
Checking the radar, Gohan darted into the building, heading up a set of grand steps to a narrow corridor which led directly to what he was looking for. The bright luminescence of the Dragonball sparkled tantalisingly at him from its position atop of a reverent podium in the centre of the room. Surrounding it was a number of other priceless trinkets, symbols of ages past and relics that were probably very powerful.
Gohan didn't smirk as he stepped forward. His teal eyes were narrowed, his lips set into a hard line.
Although he had been fast, Piccolo had obviously been able to intercept him by thinking ahead, his Ki currently flaring out agitatedly from the next room. His almost mentor was waiting for him as he continued to travel forward, leaning up against the curved wall with the air of someone who was keeping calm in a situation that would normally garner a highly emotional response.
Gohan glared at him with defiant eyes.
Silence fell between them for a moment as Gohan stopped, his body turned slightly to face his mentor, one of his feet still pointing towards the Dragonball.
Piccolo sniffed and pushed himself up from the wall, walking slowly towards the Dragonball and picking it up, turning it so it refracted the light.
"This is the last, I presume?" Piccolo asked, his eyes deep and probing.
Gohan said nothing, his own eyes sharp and calculating as he kept them locked with his mentor. Piccolo felt a stab of misplaced pride as he realised that Gohan was taking the time to read his intentions, to try and sift through the layer of nonchalance to find the true meaning of Piccolo's words. It was something the ex-demon would have tried to teach him, if the boy had remained his pupil.
"You know, I've been entrusted with the protection of this particular Dragonball at Dende's request," Piccolo said, watching as a frown flickered over Gohan's features.
Gohan took a moment to sift through the names he knew, recognising the one that Piccolo had mentioned but unable to place a face to the name. He had a vague, dreadful feeling, at the back of his mind, that something traumatic was associated with that name.
"He asked me to work under the premise that, should someone come seeking this ball, I make sure that their wish is pure before I relinquish it," Piccolo continued, his expression stony.
Interestingly, Gohan visibly flinched and Piccolo found himself fighting the urge to let his own brow crease in thoughtful concentration. That tiny movement spoke volumes about what Gohan thought he was doing.
Piccolo had no desire to push his former student, no desire to increase the pain already obvious on his young face but he had to know.
He had to know the truth behind why Gohan was collecting the Dragonballs. There was no possible way they could leave the boy to his own devices at this crucial point.
"Is your wish pure Gohan? Why are you collecting the Dragonballs?" Piccolo asked bluntly, knowing the best way to create an impact was to be straight with the boy.
Gohan's eyes remained level and hard but his stance dropped ever so slightly, defensive.
"I can't tell you that Piccolo, I already explained this," Gohan said darkly, his voice low and echoing through the dome-like structure.
Piccolo had never been particularly interested in the development of humans but the fact that Gohan's voice had deepened, even in the few weeks he had been back on Earth, struck something within him. He had no idea how to react to it.
"What's stopping you?" Piccolo pressed, taking a domineering step forward.
In response, Gohan took three steps back and if it was possible, his expression became more belligerent. If Piccolo had possessed hairs on the back of his neck, he would be forced to admit to them standing up in something resembling fright. The look was almost entirely that of a stranger, certainly something Piccolo could ever imagine crossing the features of the child he had known, the one person he had ever truly considered his friend.
Gohan's earlier words came back to him and he balked beneath the weight of the statement that he had never allowed himself to think true before now.
'I'm not…good anymore…the little boy you knew, your friend, no longer exists. You'll…you'll just have to accept that.'
Gohan continued to watch him with an inimical gaze, closed off to the pain that was currently playing on his old friend's face.
"I don't want to hurt you, but if you continue to stop me from taking the Dragonball, I won't have a choice," he stated coldly.
Piccolo allowed the pain to wash through his features, laid bare before the demi-Saiyan, hoping against hope that Gohan's natural empathy for people suffering before him would win out against the impregnable emotional armour he had donned.
"Why does it have to come to that Gohan?" Piccolo asked, his voice climbing a little so the deep tenor resounded around the dome like a boom. "Why can't you just tell me why you're collecting the Dragonballs? What's going on? I can tell just by looking at you that this is not a selfish endeavour, something's going on – it's obvious."
And it was.
Gohan realised all at once that his behaviour, the patterns of his mission were obvious. He'd been so caught up in believing that everyone would view him as a threat collecting the Dragonballs the way he had been that he had never considered the possibility that they would think along the same lines as Piccolo, that something was wrong and Gohan was trying to handle it. He never imagined that they could still think that he was pure, that they didn't understand the situation to such a degree.
The simple trust, despite his years of absence, allowed a trickle of pain to stab through his emotional armour like a fatal arrow wound.
His fists clenched beside him. His Ki started to build causing the relics in the room to rattle on their podiums or from their positions against the wall.
"I just don't want any of you to be unnecessarily hurt," Gohan said, in a voice so quiet that anyone else would have missed it. Piccolo's ears were too sharp. His heart stopped in his chest.
"If you just let us deal with it quickly and quietly…it doesn't have to be a disaster," Gohan whispered angrily, the rage bubbling to the surface to distort the indomitable mask of stoicism.
Piccolo choked on the breath that he was holding, his eyes widening and his heart, a moment ago frozen, started beating in hyper speed.
A disaster? Let us deal with it? What did Gohan mean? What cataclysm was waiting for them in the near future? What was Gohan trying to do?
Piccolo fought to steady himself as he watched the demi-Saiyan before him, his bright eyes turned down towards the floor as he tried to regain his composure, his teeth were grit and bared. In a moment, Piccolo's authoritative personality kicked in and a sense of urgency overwhelmed him. He had to know what was coming.
"Gohan what-
Something sharp slammed into his chest, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him back against one of the domed walls. His head snapped against one of the curved stones and stars burst behind his eyes.
He groaned, feeling the sting of static pulses of hostile energy jumping over his skin. When his vision cleared, he realised he was being pinned upright by an outlet of Ki that had originated with demi-Saiyan. Tiny lightning cracks of azure light were sparking between the dark tresses of hair on Gohan's head.
His eyes were bright with energy and serious as they met Piccolo's. The Namekian tried to swallow the excess saliva pooling in his mouth.
"Just stay away from me," the boy hissed venomously, creeping forward to pluck the Dragonball out of Piccolo's twitching hand. Piccolo struggled for words, resisting the energy still cementing him to the wall.
"Stay away from me and stay away from the dragon when he's summoned," Gohan instructed, pivoting smartly on his heel. He took a couple of determined steps forward and the despair taking root in Piccolo's chest seemed to bite down on his heart. He tried to reach out to the retreating demi-Saiyan but his arms still wouldn't move.
"Ngh…Gohan…" he muttered through the pain.
Gohan's movements stiffened but he continued to make his way out into the corridor, breaking into a sprint when he was out of eye shot.
As soon as Gohan's energy left the lookout, Piccolo sank to the ground, finally free.
Dende found him a few minutes later slumped against one of the mystical taiko drums of old mumbling incoherently. Once Piccolo had been healed, he'd given Dende a stern look and told him to call on the other Z Fighters. It was time for them to start thinking of more pro-active ways to proceed.
Gohan knew that it was imperative he call the dragon and use the wishes as instructed and as soon as possible. The cataclysm was due to arrive early the next day and he had to make sure there was a back-up plan should the dragon not be able to grant his wishes (something he was still dubious about).
Still, considering what was going to happen, in each scenario he had considered playing out before the blue dragon, the tenuous freedom he had been granted to collect the Dragonballs was going to be stripped. Whether he died in battle or whether the dragon allowed him to call Sensou, after tomorrow, he would no longer be permitted to traverse his home under his own power. He would no longer have the choice to return to the house in the mountains.
He knew that this was going to cause a lot of trouble for him and he knew, considering his slips in control, that this wasn't a good idea but it seemed as though nothing could stop him from veering off course and heading towards the familiar house to pay one last visit.
He kept his mind purposefully blank as he dropped out of the sky, choosing to sprint instead through the undergrowth to avoid Ki detection. He only wanted to see it, just one last glance at the only place he had ever been truly content.
He approached cautiously, slipping between the shadows of the bushes until he could make out the familiar bricks through the leaves and he squatted there for a while, just appreciating his nearness to the place. When that was no longer enough, and when he was sure that he couldn't sense his almost mentor skulking about the place, he shifted closer – hidden behind a trunk at the edge of the trees, staring at the window of the room that had once been his.
For a split second, he had the most powerful urge to simply abandon all sense and check out his old room, maybe grab a few personal items to keep him company through the gruelling hours in Sensou's various training dimensions. But of course, he'd only come for a final, long distance visit. This wasn't something meant to encourage interaction even if it was just between himself and his old things. He grappled with this desire, enforcing discipline in Sensou's absence.
Finally the powerful feeling ebbed away and he was able to sit in relative silence, thinking about his parents, about his father and what he had done to the man when he'd first arrived, assuring himself that when he disappeared again, it was for the best and hopefully this time, he would never have to return.
He knew that Shorai and Sensou were probably huddled together in Shorai's dimension right now, watching him sitting idly around like some kind of slacker but for the moment, he honestly couldn't care less. This was the only true moment he had ever taken for himself, the only moment he had ever relented to selfishness. It would be the only moment of his life.
Cutting off all further thoughts, he let his senses extend until he could feel the presence of his father, his Ki pulsing steadily. For the next couple of hours, Gohan simply allowed himself to appreciate Goku's closeness, not allowing a single complicated thought to permeate the light haze of cathartic loneliness, regret and untainted love that had fallen over him. Tomorrow, he would call the dragon and complete his mission, tonight he would be exactly what he was, a lost boy still yearning for the presence of his family, and nothing more.
So Gohan's in possession of all 7 Dragonballs, will he be able to summon the dragon in time? Will the dragon grant his wishes? Will I ever stop watching Naruto?
Find out next time on…FUTURAMA!
The Matrix is for old people (rofl)
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