Obviously I am seriously apologetic for the time it took to update this chapter. Everyone has been very patient and for that I am grateful. If anyone wants to know why I've been so late, please head on over to my profile, otherwise I won't bore you with that here heh. As always, things to note:

1)I realise that Dende has been able to heal every heinous injury presented to him so far including going so far as to knit the bits of Gohan's brain together but I'm going to assume that near death experiences with emphasis on specific blood loss are a little different because of the amount of energy lost etc. If someone's bled dry, it makes sense that having a mass of energy whacked back in their system would cause them to go into systematic shock…well at least that's how it makes sense to me (sweat drop)

2) Another important note that I forgot should be here…but I forgot…damnit.

3) Spelling and grammar checked as always though obviously madness persists and my concentration is terrible at best so forgive me for any errors oh dear patient readers.

4) My update schedule will continue to be a bit sporadic but I will try and get some semblance of system in place again. I will let you know when updates become regular again.

37: Upheaval

"Gohan, no Gohan!"

"He's losing blood fast, we'll have to get him to Dende or he'll…"

"Goku you have to concentrate!"

"It'll be okay son, I promise, everything will be okay…"

It took a long time for him to process anything coherent.

Gradually, he became aware of a muffled darkness stretching on and on for miles around him, the same every way he turned and he wondered if he was back in the sensory deprivation dimension that Sensou had fashioned to train him.

For a while, he drifted, purposefully keeping himself in a state of half awareness, conscious of the fact that something awful had happened to him and that he didn't want to remember the details at the moment.

'I don't deserve to live.'

Images played groggily across the darkness, of his father as he'd known the man when he was a little boy, of the various horrible things that had happened on Namek, of the little boy he had seen wearing his overalls when he'd gone to take the 4 star Dragonball from his house.

'You are a danger to them.'

He could feel the phantom pulses of aches far away and idly considered that what he felt could be the last ties to his physical body.

Because that was what had happened to him that he wasn't too keen to remember.

He'd died…right?

'I admit, I am seriously disappointed that you've decided to oppose me after everything I've done for you, after the control I've taught you.'

Sensou's voice rang through the darkness, clear and sound, provoking a sharp pain to explode through him. He cried out, surprised when he could hear his own voice and began to drop, the sensation of falling mingling with agony.

Something was happening around him, the comforting pull of the darkness was starting to lose solidity.

'We took you because of what you were destined to do to the universe.'

He gasped, his breath ragged as new images exploded before his eyes in hyper-speed. He saw himself sitting before Piccolo with his teeth clenched together, his face red, his hair bright blonde and fists balled up, resting on his knees. It was the same image that Sensou had shown him that day, the day he had begun to question why he'd really been taken.

But this time…

…he could feel the power.

He could feel it building inside him, manifesting much quicker than he could ever hope to control, growing without his consent so he was in a constant state of agitation, his blood running hot in his veins-

"Ah."

His eyes snapped open. For a couple of seconds, he was completely disorientated, unseeing as the remnants of the vision faded to be replaced with the reasonable images of reality. His breathing began to slow, becoming deeper and even as he calmed down, finally able to absorb his surroundings. He frowned lightly, lifting a shaking hand to wipe away of film of sweat over his face. The movement was stiff and awkward which suggested he had been lying in the same position for a long time.

He had expected to find himself either strewn out on the grass in the clearing where he had fought Sensou, numb from wounds that were so deep they'd bled him almost dry or to find himself in the fabled checkout station of the afterlife, waiting to be processed into hell. What he found instead was that he was in a fairly small room with a white wash ceiling and chipped yellow walls. His head was turned to the side so he was facing the corner of a little oak wood desk piled high with books, papers and ink pots. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a closed wooden door.

For the first time in a decade, he was situated in some kind of bed. He could feel the plush elevation of a pillow behind his head and the caressing softness of a duvet pulled high over his body. Beneath him, a sturdy mattress offered support for his thin frame.

As he tried to make sense of it, he caught a fluttering motion out of the corner of his eye and turned his head, regretting the movement instantly when pain exploded through his temples. He groaned, the low noise escaping from somewhere in his chest and his eyes caught on the open window above his bed, the curtains flying out as a breeze wafted through the room.

He inhaled slowly, smelling the scents of the outside, the familiar aroma of grass and sunlight.

Of course he knew where he was. He'd been dreaming of this place for as long as he could remember; had cried himself to sleep countless times missing the comfort of this place, his place…the only place that had ever truly belonged to him.

Why was he at home?

What had happened?

Mentally preparing himself for the pain, he lifted his head up and scanned the room briefly, looking for a guard, a carer, someone but there was no-one there.

His frown deepened as he allowed his head to fall back into the folds of the pillow.

If no-one was there, did that mean that this was some sort of illusion? A memory playing out before he truly died? Was he still in that clearing on the verge of wasting away?

The thought, he knew, should have disturbed him but at this point, he was beyond caring. He was weary, so weary and he'd had enough. Sensou's betrayal had taken it out of his spirit.

Sensou's betrayal…

Had the warrior god really been wished successfully to the mortal realm only to side with the cataclysm to wipe out existence? Had Gohan really been the cause of that albeit indirectly? It sounded like some awful nightmare, ludicrous, completely surreal…and yet…

Gohan sat up, ignoring the protestation of his aching limbs. His head was screaming as he swung his legs out from under the duvet but he made a point of gritting his teeth and squinting as necessary against the daylight pouring in from the window. He was unsure of the extent of his injuries, whether he was alive or dead, if he what he was feeling was real or just some lingering, phantom pain but whatever it was, he was sure he'd endured worse under Sensou's tutelage before. If he was conscious, he could move.

His legs shook beneath him as he stood and his stomach, once calm began to churn as he shuffled towards the wooden door at the end of his room. Gingerly, he wrapped one arm around his waist to ease the nausea, noticing that the movement was freer than normal, his armour had been removed. His gi, interestingly enough, was still mostly intact though there was noticeable shredding around the heart and a worrying hole in the abdomen to the left side.

He was aiming for the door. Once he reached the door and pushed it open, he was sure he would know if he was alive or dead and would be able to proceed accordingly. If he was dead, he would be processed into hell and that would be the end of it. If he was alive, he had to find Sensou, had to try and fix the disaster he'd brought into the world.

His hand rested on the door handle, his vision blurred disconcertingly around the edges and he pushed down.

The door swung open.

Gohan blinked disbelievingly, his legs threatening to give way completely beneath him.

He was left looking at the ordinary hall of the Son home, the one that he had passed through not a month before as he'd infiltrated the premises to retrieve the first Dragonball. If he was dead, surely he would have been met with the sweeping visuals of the afterlife – the door to his room acting as a something symbolic to signify that he was ready to truly move on.

Maybe he was thinking about it too much.

He could hear muffled voices down the hall and strained his ears to try and catch a few words. Unfortunately, the speakers were mumbling too much, their comments drowning under what sounded like a TV news reader though Gohan was able to discern the unique tones of his father, mother and almost mentor, Piccolo.

Pivoting, he started to trudge along the hall towards the living room only to run into someone emerging from the bathroom.

He caught a brief glimpse of thick, iconic black hair and stopped, blinking steadily as Goten caught sight of him, turning to regard Gohan out of curious eyes.

The two boys froze, locked in a stalemate as they took a gauge of one another. Gohan's eyes were cold, disapproving as he got a closer look at the little boy that resembled his father so closely. His eye twitched as he realised that Goten was wearing his overalls again, unsure of how he should feel about that. Goten was regarding Gohan out of wide, interested eyes, slightly afraid of the dead look in the depths but intrigued because he'd never met an older boy like this before. This boy was white as a sheet with large bruises under his eyes and he was almost abnormally thin. He didn't look like any hero Goten had ever seen before; in fact he looked more like the villains in his story books…

Goten opened his mouth to say something, taking in a deep breath. Gohan's eyes narrowed as he watched the child, knowing somehow that whatever was about to come out of the kid's mouth was going to be something quite blunt but just as Goten was forming the first syllable of his sentence, Goku appeared from the living room on his way to the kitchen and both boy's attentions were diverted.

Goku glanced down at his youngest son cluelessly and then up at his oldest, his expression contorting into one of serious concern.

Gohan shrank away from the expression, unfamiliar with this show of blatant worry. The old guilt was trying to make itself known through the churning in Gohan's gut. He didn't deserve this man's concern, it was painful to look at knowing of how much hurt he was capable of inflicting.

"Gohan, son, you shouldn't be out of bed. You sustained some pretty serious injuries against that guy and it's not really a good idea to go moving around until you're completely hea-

"How long was I out?" Gohan asked gruffly, the nausea and headache making him snappish, grumpy.

Goku stared at him as he leant against the wall, his breathing shallow and discouraging.

"Two days," Goku said. "We took you to Dende but by the time we got there, you'd lost a lot of blood. Dende managed to heal you but he's not a miracle worker. You were…you were in a pretty bad way. We thought you'd probably already passed by the time Dende got to work on you."

Something flickered in his father's face, the ghost of a complicated expression that Gohan couldn't really identify. He squinted at the man, trying to figure him out but the expression was so fleeting that Gohan was unsure if he'd actually seen it all.

"Where is Sensou? Have you been tracking his Ki? Has he made any-

Gohan cut himself off as his legs crumpled beneath him. He blinked in mild surprise and threw an elbow out on a reflex, aiming to catch himself before his head hit the hard wood floor but instead of impacting the ground, he felt strong hands on his shoulders steadying his descent until he was sitting on the ground with his father behind him, offering a supportive frame.

Goku felt his heart clench as the boy stiffened beneath his fingers, his muscles tense and uncomfortable. He was itching to ask Gohan some serious questions but knew the boy wasn't really up for story time at the moment.

Goten watched it all in silence, a rarity for him. Normally, he'd be running around like a mad man, bugging his dad about the newcomer, asking if he could help with anything (Goten liked to help), but instinct told him that this was a situation that required silence so he simply speculated, absorbing as much as he could about this stranger.

"Your mother would have a fit if she saw you like this," Goku commented light-heartedly and despite himself, Gohan felt his muscles relax slightly. His father always knew what to say to make a situation better…even after all the time that had passed…though he felt awkward being comforted when he'd gone so long without a sliver of kindness, had endured disabilities far greater than this.

"I need to know where Sensou is," Gohan pressed, his voice lower and gentler as he struggled to get back up again. The pressure on his shoulders from his father's hands strengthened and he found himself rooted to the floor, glancing over his shoulder at the man who was wearing a stern expression.

"There's nothing you can do at the moment Gohan, you're not well enough to go chasing that guy."

Gohan couldn't believe what he was hearing. What did his father know of his capabilities? What did his father know of the times he had been forced to get back up and carry on fighting though he was beyond spent? If Sensou had taught him anything it was that it didn't matter how badly injured you were – if the fight was still going on, you had to get over it and keep pushing.

He struggled a little more violently against Goku's grip; perturbed when his Ki refused to rise to help him put up a fight.

"It doesn't matter if I'm well enough or not. Sensou said he was going to wipe out existence and with that pet of his, it won't take him long. Frankly, I'm surprised we're not already in the midst of a full scale Armageddon if I've been unconscious for 2 days."

The pressure on his shoulders increased momentarily and he felt himself being dragged backwards. Alarmed, he lashed out, ramming his elbow back into Goku's side, the hard bone connecting with soft flesh, embedding in vulnerable muscle. There was a low 'oomph' from Goku but he didn't stop moving, taking his hand off of Gohan's shoulder to wrap around the boy's waist, resting his head on Gohan's back as he pulled the boy into an awkward embrace.

Gohan was frozen as the Saiyan warrior hugged him, all thoughts in his mind jumbling together until they made up nothing but the violent feelings of discomfort and endless reams of painful, clawing guilt.

He'd done it again.

He'd hurt his father again.

Strangely, his eyes locked with Goten's and the fear in the little boy's gaze almost made him lose his mind.

"L-let me go, let me go!" Gohan blurted out, starting to struggle in Goku's grip, his eyes wide and his voice younger than it had been before, almost afraid.

Goku fought against his reaction to this display, biting the inside of his cheek to stop his eyes from pricking.

This wasn't right.

A boy afraid of an embrace from his father wasn't right.

Gohan's breathing was starting to speed up; his heart was thudding against Goku's head through his back. Stubbornly, Goku held on, not knowing if this was the right thing to do or not, only knowing that as a father with a distressed child, embracing was the only way he knew to calm.

"Gohan, Gohan calm down," Goku said in a soothing voice. He tried to shift so he could encapsulate Gohan further but as he tried to shift, his side seared and he hissed out in agony.

Gohan stilled only when he heard his father hiss like that and Goku lifted his head off of the boy's back, craning his neck to peer into Gohan's expression which seemed suddenly vacant.

Goku seized his chance.

"Listen Gohan, you can't go right now. You'll only get yourself killed."

When Gohan said nothing, Goku took it as a cue to continue, throwing Goten a re-assuring look over Gohan's shoulder.

"There are a few of us in the living room trying to figure out what to do next. If you're feeling up to it, we'd like you to talk to us, tell us as much as you know about this guy. We can form a plan together and…we can beat him together. Okay?"

Once again, Gohan didn't respond and after a few more seconds, Goku loosened his grip, pulling his arm away from Gohan's waist and scooting back, though he didn't want to. Oh how much he didn't want to let that boy go, the pathological fear of him disappearing should Goku let go for an instant ingrained in his system.

Gohan sat perfectly still where Goku had left him.

"Daddy?" Goten asked uncertainly, his voice wobbling.

Smiling at his youngest son, Goku opened his arms and Goten needed no further prompt. Abandoning his instinct to stay still and silent, he sprinted into his father's arms and buried his face in the orange gi, crying loudly.

"H-he h-hurt you!" Goten hiccoughed and Goku pulled a face as Gohan visibly winced.

"Shh Goten, I'm fine, shh," Goku muttered, cradling his youngest son close and stroking his dark hair.

Whilst Goku was comforting the younger boy, Gohan focussed on composing himself, regulating his breathing and allowing his heart rate to return to normal. The outright shame and repugnant horror he felt at the harm he had caused Goku, the real Goku again made him squirm. It was like a fire under his skin, burning through his veins and beneath that was the chilling feeling of self-loathing.

'I don't deserve to live.'

"You shouldn't have to deal with something like this…" Gohan said, the comment dropping into the air like a lead weight between them. Goku's whispered comforts to Goten ceased until all that could be heard was the youngest boy's quiet sniffling.

"This was my mistake, my error in judgement, I should be the one to fix it and the longer I leave it, the more people die because of what Sensou's trying to do."

'Not only that but I'm not safe…it's not safe to be around me.'

Goku stared at his son's back, blinking slowly.

"No offense son but you kind of got your butt kicked last time you faced him alone."

Gohan's head whipped round and his eyes were hostile. His lips were drawn tight and his energy, despite being vastly depleted, bulged ever so slightly. Goku suppressed a smile as he was met with the full potency of the glare. He knew that look well having seen it so many times on the face of Vegeta. Saiyan pride, it seemed, was hereditary.

"I wouldn't worry too much about the damage done by that guy…Senzo was it? Anyone he kills can be brought back with the Dragonballs once he's defeated. We only have to live with the devastation left behind for a year – we've already got Bulma tracking down the Dragonballs so consider it taken care of."

Gohan started to protest but Goku wouldn't let him.

"In the meantime, I think we'll have a better chance of defeating Senzo if we train and combine our strengths. Besides,"

Gohan's eyes widened ever so slightly as Goku's expression suddenly became fierce.

"I won't see you fight him alone again."

For a long time, Gohan didn't say anything, his eyes fixed on his father trying to take an accurate gauge of his expression, what it meant and suddenly, he knew. He knew that resisting his father's will in regards to this was a fruitless exercise because if Gohan went off to try and engage Sensou in conflict, Goku would just follow him and it wasn't like Sensou would agree to taking their fight to an uninhabited dimension or anything like that so his father would just get mortally wounded or some such. If he wanted to insure his father's safety…

'I literally have no choice but follow his plan.'

Gohan sighed out his frustration and gripped at his hair, tugging hard.

This wasn't fair.

Of everything that had happened to him recently, to be trapped with his family when he was nothing short of a ticking time bomb, a danger to the universe…It just wasn't fair.

He shuffled round and glowered at the Saiyan warrior whose expression changed dramatically when he read the reluctant acceptance in his son's eyes.

The living room of the Son house was crowded and Gohan's fingers itched as he stood outside the doorway. The sickening scramble in his stomach was becoming more violent, spurred as the urgent voices melded together, the discussion becoming more heated. Vaguely, he wondered if it was too late to change his mind about combining forces and escape.

Goku watched the pallor of his son's face change from white to low grey and tightened his hold on Goten anxiously. It was obvious that Gohan wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to be bombarded with the crowd of his extended family, especially after the way he had reacted to Goku's close proximity but as much as he had assured Gohan not to worry about the populace of Earth because of what they could achieve with the Dragonballs, they were still under something of a time limit. There were only so many people on Earth to destroy after all.

Taking a deep breath, Goku put his hand on Gohan's shoulder, unperturbed when the boy stiffened, before moving into the room ahead of his oldest son.

"Goku, you've been gone for an age," Krillin's voice rang out above the background buzz of the current conversation. The others quieted.

"Sorry, I got held up. Gohan's awake now and-

"Gohan's awake? Is he okay? Does he need something?"

Gohan winced at the sound of his mother's voice, a fresh of wave of guilt battering his abused system as he registered the slightly frantic pitch of the poor woman's words. Involuntarily, he took a step back away from the sound, appreciating the emptiness of the hallway, the option to retreat if he couldn't handle this.

"He's fine love," Goku assured her. "He's agreed to try and talk to us about how we should proceed."

"Hmph, agreed nothing, the brat owes us an explanation."

Vegeta's voice and something in his tone calmed Gohan down. The prince he understood, the underlying hostility was something he was familiar with, could recognise. He wondered if Vegeta would hold a grudge about what had transpired at Capsule Corp. Knowing the prince's track history, it was beyond likely.

Silence followed for a moment and Gohan gathered up everything he could inside himself, preparing himself for to meet everyone in a way that he had never allowed himself to believe would ever become a reality. Silently, he tip-toed forward and peered into the room, his eyes lingering on his father who had thrown Vegeta a warning look.

The prince huffed indignantly and averted his gaze, an action that surprised Gohan somewhat. Since when had Vegeta paid attention to anything other than Goku's fighting prowess? As far as Gohan knew, it wasn't in Vegeta's nature to take a warning from a potential enemy without some sort of retaliation, even if this way a peaceful stalemate of some sort.

There was a shift and Goku turned back to face the doorway. Gohan's breathe caught, dread lurching up inside him.

This was it.

"Come on Gohan," Goku's voice called softly.

Gohan took a step forward and almost used the momentum of the movement to take off in the other direction. He didn't want to present himself to his friends and family like this, didn't want them to see him with the sweat of unhealthy exertion running down his contours of his face, the dead look of someone that had been recently injured about his eyes. He wanted to project the impregnable shield of indifference that he was used to, that he had been taught to cultivate, feeling too vulnerable in his current state.

Still, his comfort zone had been all but shattered the moment Sensou had confessed his true intentions; he didn't have the resources to hand to present himself as he would like. Everything had literally been turned on its head.

He would just have to take it as it came; adjust to his surroundings as he had adjusted to Sensou's training dimensions.

He stepped over the threshold to the living room confidently and his eyes swept the room. In an instant, he'd taken in the presence of Krillin, Yamcha, Vegeta, Piccolo, his mother, android 18 and Bulma, the last of which was sitting on the floor with a boy sporting a bright curtain of lavender hair and Bulma's blue eyes. Gohan's appearance was met with an array of complicated expressions; some of them shone painfully out and tore at his resolve to remain firmly planted where he'd paused. It was easy to run away, harder to stay and do the right thing to fix his mistake and this time he would stay. It was all he could do.

There was an ominous pause, and then Chi Chi uncurled herself from her position on the easy chair, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes and running down her face in thick rivers.

Gohan blanched.

"Oh Gohan, my baby!" Chi Chi cried, throwing herself at her oldest son who dodged out of the embrace the same way he might have dodged a choke hold. His face remained impassive as he held his hands up, warning her not to touch him but there was a spark of panic in his eyes that Goku recognised. In an instant, he was beside Chi Chi wrapping a strong arm around her waist, holding her in place.

"He's not ready for that Chi," Goku muttered gently as Gohan took a step back.

Chi Chi shot Goku a devastated look and then turned her watery gaze on her son once more.

"Why? Gohan honey, what happened to you? Goku went to Namek to try and get you back with the Dragonballs there but you never came h-home and then w-we couldn't go b-because-

Goku cut her off with a concerned hush and Chi Chi devolved into unintelligible sobs. Gohan remained frozen in front of her, not knowing how to react beyond blind panic to something he just didn't understand. This ease of emotion was just so uncomfortable for him. Within Sensou's training regime, he had learnt quickly that crying got you nowhere at all; showing weakness was an offense that just became…non-existent after a while. Even before he had been taken by Sensou, he had learnt under Piccolo that crying was useless. His eyes skimmed the room to the Namekian warrior who was regarding the boy with a purposefully guarded expression.

"Chi Chi, why don't you go and fix Gohan something to eat? I bet he could use one of your hearty meals to get his strength back and he probably missed your cooking," Goku suggested carefully.

Despite the power of the sorrow that had overcome her, Chi Chi still managed to dredge up a disdainful look to throw her husband.

"Is that just a way to get me to make something for you Son Goku?"

Goku grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head. Chi Chi dabbed at her eyes and freed herself from the entanglement of her husband's arms.

"Well, it does look like you could use a good meal," Chi Chi managed between slight hiccoughs, looking Gohan up and down, her eyes lingering on his slim waist. Gohan said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes wary as he met his mother's. The agile posture and the flighty look made a lump rise up in Chi Chi's throat again but this time she contained herself, holding her hand out for Goten to take.

"Come on Goten, you too Trunks," Chi Chi called to the boy in Bulma's arms. "Help me make some cookies for everyone and I'll give you the first ones out of the oven."

Gohan's head whipped from his mother's face to the boy in Bulma's arms as his face lit up and he scrambled up off of the floor, darting over to Chi Chi with admirable dexterity.

"Alright!" he shouted eagerly, grabbing Goten's hand as the younger boy was set down on the floor. The three of them marched together out of the room, Chi Chi at the head. Gohan's eyes lingered on the two boys until they disappeared from sight.

Once they were gone, his shoulders relaxed slightly and his eyes snapped back to Piccolo. With the released tension came a reminder that he wasn't entirely healthy and a lingering haze fell over his vision. Despite the fact that he hadn't consciously changed his posture or expression, he felt someone grip his hand and drag him onto the couch next to Krillin.

He let out a small sound of protest, blinking at Bulma's aggressive face and staring down at the feminine hand clamped over his thin wrist.

"Sit down before you pass out or we'll never get anything done," she scolded, pouting slightly.

Gohan exhaled slowly, trying to resign himself to the discomfort he was going to feel for the next couple of hours. Of everyone left in the room, he owed an apology to almost all of them and had no idea where to start. They all watched him expectantly.

"What would you like to know first?" he asked in a quiet voice, dropping his eyes to his knees where the fabric of the gi was well worn.

"We need to know of any exploitable weaknesses that insane mystery fighter has so-

"I would like you to start with what's happened to you," Goku said, cutting across Vegeta who scowled at his Saiyan rival angrily.

"Kakarot, we don't have time to work through the boy's life story, we only need the essentials so that we can come up with a battle strategy."

From the corner of the room, Piccolo shook his head.

"Goku's right Vegeta, we'll need Gohan to start at the beginning. This isn't like any enemy we've fought before where we've had a working knowledge of their backgrounds or thought processes, this is a total unknown. Anything Gohan can tell us might be of aid, even if it seems like an insignificant detail."

The Saiyan prince met the Namekian's relentless eyes with bristling irritation and the two of them seemed to be engaged in a silent argument for a moment. Eventually, Vegeta broke eye contact, making a noise of disapproval and folding his arms across his chest.

On the floor beside Gohan's seat, Bulma shook her head, sighing the sigh of the much put upon.

"Go ahead Gohan," Piccolo said, his voice noticeably gentler.

The boy before them ran a hand through his dark hair and collected his thoughts, knowing it was important to be as coherent as possible.

With a shuddering breath, he began his tale.

It took Gohan almost 2 hours of non-stop talking to lay down the basic facts of his various abductions. Carefully, he explained why he had been taken, only able to confirm that Shorai had been plagued with a negative vision concerning his future and that it was important that he be trained to make a difference in the important battles he was to get involved with. He couldn't bring himself to reveal the whole horrifying truth, unable to admit to being a cataclysm himself – too ashamed and ransacked with guilt over the whole affair.

He elaborated on his various levels of training under Sensou, always being taken to new dimensions with weird, often hostile developments and his sessions with Shorai. Up until he'd mentioned the seer, Goku had listened with a grim expression, his heart festering with the truth of his son's hard life but as Gohan's thoughts turned to the meadow and the time spent learning various abilities with his friend Tonbo, Goku watched as the stoic look on his son's face melted slightly and he felt his own small spark of relief. Whilst Gohan had been abused and manipulated during his time away, whilst he'd endured suffering that none of them save Vegeta could ever begin to imagine, he'd at least met some good people somewhere along the way.

"I do have some seer gifts but they're not very potent," Gohan was saying, a note of disappointment in his voice. "I've only ever managed to succeed at seeing the future literally a few seconds before something happens and even then, it's usually really obscure stuff I see, nothing that really matters."

"Still, that's something though," Krillin offered in awe, "Maybe you should talk to Baba about seeing the future, she might be able to offer a new take on things and then we can try and see if it's possible to win against that psychopath."

Standing to his left, 18 snorted.

"Being a bit optimistic there aren't you Krillin? If what Gohan says is true and that Shorai guy is the official seer for the authority of that dimension, what else could Gohan learn from Baba?"

Krillin shrivelled under his wife's cold gaze and Piccolo motioned for Gohan to continue. Gohan picked up the narrative, explaining about his various Super Saiyan transformations and how he'd managed to go far beyond the limitations of an ascended Super Saiyan after the Cell Games by pushing himself to explore his powers in entirely new directions.

"It's like using different triggers to access different energy," Gohan explained. "I'd seen dad become a Super Saiyan, which is apparently the easiest transformational trigger for someone with Saiyan blood, and I'd followed that path instinctually. My higher energy comes from a different trigger though because of my Saiyan blood, I was never able to completely break away from that transformation which is why I still have light eyes when I power up fully."

Vegeta frowned, slowly absorbing this new, priceless information. So that's what the brat had done to become so powerful? Discovered a new 'trigger'? Had he been thinking about his own power too closed-mindedly to progress beyond what he had already achieved?

Suddenly, Gohan's face grew more sombre, his hands clasping the fabric of his gi hard.

"I've fought Sensou a few times over the years but honestly, I've never seen the full extent of his power. He's an excellent strategist and he knows tonnes of powerful martial techniques. All I can really tell you is that he favours the techniques that he taught me first, the 'Jinsumi' and the 'Netsuki' being among some of his most frequently used moves but he may have just been limiting himself to them to teach me."

Gohan shrugged noncommittally and continued to explain what he knew; elaborating on the threat that Shorai had seen a month prior, the blue dragon dropping through the atmosphere of Earth to face the gathering of Z Fighters below. He told them how Sensou had confirmed that he had some sort of special technique that would stop the creature and how Gohan wasn't allowed to use it because of the risks involved. To get around the problem of Gohan's perilous deployment, Sensou had sent him for the Dragonballs to try and wish him to Earth.

"I didn't think they would grant wishes like that but it's a testament to how clever Sensou really can be. He spent a long time studying the lore of the Dragonballs and constructing those wishes, knowing they would work."

A long silence followed this revelation and Gohan was grateful for the momentary respite. He hadn't spoken so much in months, the warrior god not being much of a conversationalist when he was in Gohan's company, and the boy found himself wishing that he could go out and search for a decent water source to take a good long drink. As the silence stretched on, he could feel his father's dark eyes probing into him and squirmed a bit. Though he had revealed the essential need-to-know information pertaining to his life so that the others could consider viable strategic plans, he had purposefully omitted some of his more horrific experiences, not only for his own sanity but for the sanity of his father. The man was already clearly suffering through what Gohan had told him about the brutality associated with his existence up until then…

'You shouldn't worry about it dad, I'm not worth it. You'd understand if I'd told you everything…but I can't…'

Piccolo cleared his throat suddenly, a thoughtful frown in place.

"Gohan, is there anything you can tell us about Sensou's behaviour? His attack patterns? Anything predictable that we can look out for when fighting against him?"

Gohan stared at the Namekian and took a moment to consider, trying to gather up every scrap of knowledge in his system about the warrior god and ignore the heavy feeling lying over his eyes. This house was warm; the current company had no ill intentions for him so all he wanted to do was pass out for a while. He staved it off.

"…He has a short temper…and he takes pleasure in playing with his opponent. When I've fought him before, he's always tended to take quick control of the rhythm of the fight so he can manipulate it and catch me off guard."

Piccolo nodded, making a mental note, his eyes pensive and relentless as he stared at the demi-Saiyan. Gohan squirmed under the scrutiny.

"It's obvious that we're going to need to train up before we face Sensou and that beast again…Gohan, would you be willing to train us so we're at least up to your standard? Without that, I doubt we'll be anything more than fleas to that warrior."

Gohan blinked, his eyes widening.

'That's the whole reason I agreed to stay for this,' he thought to himself, shuddering as he inadvertently imagined what could have happened if he'd left when he'd had the chance, his dad recklessly following him to try and help fight Sensou with nothing but the ascended Super Saiyan transformation to keep him alive.

He nodded calmly and Piccolo breathed out a sigh of relief, his brows pulling together again as he continued to think.

"It would be good to know how much time we have before that warrior completes his destruction of Earth…" the ex-demon mumbled. "I wonder if Dende might be able to provide an estimate…"

Gohan blanched when his thoughts turned to Shorai and Tonbo and he mentally kicked himself for not worrying about them when he'd been recounting his life story before, too caught up in providing a flowing narrative whilst subtly leaving out the more unsavoury chunks of information so he wouldn't have to live up to his predicted fate of universal destruction. Now that he thought about it, considering what had happened, how long Goku had said he'd been unconscious for, he realised that both of them must be worried sick though with Sensou's revolution, he wasn't even sure if they would be keeping tabs on him via the dimension window anymore.

He would have to try and make contact as soon as this was over. Perhaps Shorai could provide them with a clearer estimate of how long they had to work with.

"We might need to utilise our remaining time in the Hyperbolic time chamber," Piccolo was saying with a scheming expression, in full tactical flow now. "I might ask Dende about that later…I could draw up a plan of action…would have to factor in how long everyone had left to spend in the void, who should go with who for how long…"

Gradually, the conversation turned away from Gohan and his mis-adventures so the demi-Saiyan was able to keep quiet for a bit, just observing as the other Z Fighters threw ideas around of how to proceed. Goku remained unnaturally silent, keeping his eyes on his son and trying to keep himself in check as he mentally repeated what Gohan had told him about his life.

Oh, what that boy had been through.

He knew that Gohan had probably held back on talking about his more traumatic experiences but what he had heard had been bad enough. No wonder his son was afraid to embrace him if every embrace from the age of 4 upwards was just the beginning of a brutal attack. No wonder Gohan was so blasé about going off to fight the enemy when he was hardly well enough to lift his head if he had been forced to keep on going every time he received a serious injury…

He could see in his son's muscles the wear and tear he had suffered, could see the resignation in the boy's expression to pain and suffering, almost like he was numb to it.

And inside Goku, a bitter, righteous anger was starting to bloom like a burning flower.

It was similar to how he had felt right before he had transformed.

This new enemy, the one currently threatening the Earth and by extension, all of existence, was the cause of all of his son's pain. He smirked to himself, his dark eyes flashing teal for just a moment.

No matter what they ended up planning, even if they ended up doing the worst thing possible and gave the enemy even more of an advantage, this was a battle he would not lose.

Will the Z Fighters get strong enough to oppose Sensou? Will Gohan ever reveal the more gruesome aspects of his life to Goku? Will Trunks and Goten eat the first cookies out of the oven?

Find out next time on…SILENT HILL!

Don't go to Mount Paozu!

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